The knights of Camelot waited nervously in their cells, worried for their friend. Merlin was cursing himself for letting Gwaine go instead of himself. Lancelot had done his best to reassure Merlin, but couldn't speak very freely with the other knights sitting in earshot. The sound of a crowd cheering and booing could be heard faintly, almost as if it was coming from above them.
"Do you think he'll be alright?" Merlin said, staring at the wall in front of him.
"If anyone is going to survive a fight, it's Gwaine." Arthur replied, trying to force hope on his words. "After all, he's been in a million of them." Percival attempted a sympathetic laugh at Arthur's poor joke, but could only mange a scoffing sound. Gwaine was the main focus on Merlin's mind, but the next thought that always seemed to come back was "food". None of the knights had eaten since they left their campsite. So at least one day since they'd eaten last. Merlin pushed aside all thoughts of food or water, focusing on his friend. Because he had opened his big mouth, Gwaine was in danger. Again.
"I hear someone coming!" Elyan suddenly hissed, all the knights turning as much as their shackles would allow to see who was coming through the doors. The could hear the door creak open, the sound of multiple men evident. Merlin practically shook with relief when Gwaine stumbled forward, and was shoved into the cell by a guard.
"Are you alright?" Merlin whispered, concern lacing every word.
"You should see the other guy." Gwaine said between groans. Merlin strained to asses the knights injuries. The ones he could see would heal, leaving only small scars.
"Speaking of the other guy..." Leon muttered. Merlin's head shot up, noticing the guards dragging a body in the direction of the Wyvern doors.
"No..." Merlin said, his voice quiet. The opponent was only a teen. A Druid girl. She hadn't deserved to die, but because of this blasted tournament, Gwaine had been forced to kill an innocent girl.
"Merlin, I'm sorry, mate." Gwaine attempted to soothe his distraught friend in some way. "I didn't want to kill her, but it was either me or her." Merlin clenched his jaw, nodding. The knights couldn't understand why he was upset. The druids were Merlin's people, in a sense. They didn't mean anyone harm.
Merlin was forced out of his thoughts by the shrieks of Wyverns, and the horrible sound of flesh being torn. He closed his eyes, focusing on anything else.
"It's time for the next for the next competitor." One of the guard's stated, unlocking the cell doors. "Master Thane has requested that I take all of you up to the box, except for the servant boy." The knights voices protested as they were grabbed harshly by the guards, to be lead out, and the voices grew louder when one of the guards grabbed Merlin, and began to take him down a different hall.
"Where are you taking him?" Arthur demanded. The guards remained silent as he held on to the thrashing prisoner. Merlin shook with all his might against the guard that held him, but was ineffective. The men had left their captives shackled, which prevented Merlin from using his magic. The shouts of his friends grew distant as Merlin was taken.
"Where did you have them take Merlin?!" Those were the first words out Arthur's mouth when they reached Thane's "box". The box was a large balcony that overlooked an arena, allowing those who sat in it to see all that went on both in the crowds, and in the arena.
The arena itself was nearly as large as the citadel in Camelot, and, when the sun hit it at the right angle, a golden orb seemed to shimmer around it, closing off the arena to any outside forces, and keeping its gladiators in. It was clearly magic at work. Thane gave a dismissal wave of his hand, before taking a seat at an ornately carved throne. Arthur had to admit, the craftsmanship was exquisite. The throne was a bleached white, and ornate runes were carved into nearly every inch of the material.
"Greetings!" A voice boomed in the arena and its stands. The knights all looked to see another box, though less fancy, at the opposite end of the arena. A woman was standing in it, wearing the most ridiculous outfit the knights of Camelot had ever seen. "Greetings to all! Are you ready to see a fight to go down in history?" The crowd roared, demanding to see their favorite champions. Names flew through the air, though one was most prominent.
The Death Cat.
That seemed to be the spectators main focus. Arthur glanced at the others warily. Nothing named "The Death Cat" could be good. The announcer motioned for the crowd to quiet down, and after a few moments, the arena was settled into a tense silence.
"We will not be having our favorite champion join us quite yet, I'm afraid." A few drunken "boos" came from the crowd, but the woman brushed them off. "But instead, we have some new competitors!" That seemed to excite them again. "Please greet our new gladiators with a traditional welcome!" The knights watched in horror as a massive man stepped out, armed with the largest battle axe they had ever seen. But that wasn't the worst part. It was who he was fighting.
Merlin was dragged roughly down the halls by Thane's men. He dug his heels into the ground, hoping to slow them, but to no avail. Merlin hadn't felt so helpless in a long time. He shackles that banged against his wrist somehow prevented him from using magic to get free. Even if he managed to take put all the guards, the shackles would prove difficult to remove.
"Where are you taking me?" Merlin said after a moment. He might as well know what to expect, if not anything else.
"You need to be prepped." The warlock raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. The guard kept walking, not interested in giving him one. After what seemed like an eternity of being dragged around by rough hands, they reached a large pair of doors, even larger than the ones that opened to the throne room back in Camelot. The doors swung open, revealing an array of weapons and armor. Merlin felt a hand on his shoulder, then was sent spiraling forward into the room. Somehow, he managed to catch himself from falling, before turning to give the guard a dirty look.
"Pick your weapon and the armor that best suits you." The guard said, not showing any remorse.
"No, he's not normal." The second guard cut in.
"Thanks." Merlin muttered, avoiding the guard's glare.
"What I mean, was he only gets a weapon." The first guards expression changed from his usual scowl to one of shock.
"Surely you can't be serious?" He said incredulously. "He won't stand a chance!" Merlin didn't like what those words implied. The second guard shrugged indifferently.
"Thane's orders. He only gets one weapon." The first guard seemed to recover from his shock, but still seemed displeased at the treatment Merlin was receiving. The man walked forward, expectantly waiting for Merlin to pick a weapon. The warlock scanned each item, debating the pros and cons of each item. To Merlin, the cons were all the same.
He couldn't fight with a weapon.
Shrugging, Merlin decided on a broadsword that hung on one of the racks to the wall farthest from him. When he reached to grab it, Merlin curled his lip in disgust at the blood that flecked the blade. He forced himself to shake it off, grasping the hilt firmly. He gave the guards a small nod, and they began to move him to the other side of the room where another set of doors lay, though these ones were smaller. The doors creaked open, revealing a small, dark room ahead. The guard gave him another forceful push, and this time, Merlin didn't catch himself. The man who had said he didn't get armor snickered, turning to walk away.
"Wait!" The other one said, pointing at Merlin's shackles. "At least remove these." With a snort, the cruel guard tossed a set of keys towards the one who seemed more merciful.
"Do it yourself." The guard walked over to Merlin, a look of pity on his face. Quickly, he unlocked the shackles, and Merlin rubbed his raw wrists. The guard began to stand up, but froze, glancing back at his comrade, who had no interest in what was going on.
"Listen," he started, grasping the warlock's forearms. "You're about to fight a man much larger than yourself. He's chosen a battle axe, and he's strong. But he's also very slow, and extremely inexperienced. You need to get behind him, and land the killing blow." The guard outside the doors cleared his throat, clearly irritated. "Good luck, kid." Merlin nodded, surprised.
"Thank you." He whispered back. The guard bolted out of the room, and Merlin watched as the doors closed, plunging the room into darkness. He picked himself up off the ground, holding the sword tightly in his hands. In front of him, a gate slowly opened, causing Merlin to squint as sunlight streamed through. Loud cheering rang in Merlin's ears, but was drowned out by the pounding of his heart. The young warlock took a deep breath, and mustering every bit of courage he's ever had, stepped outside.
Hey guys! I hope your liking this story! For the arena, I kind of imagine the "Grand Master" arena from Thor: Ragnarok, but on a much smaller scale. I hope that helps y'all picture it in your head.
Peace out,
-InkFanatic