Now, before you kill me, I just want you to know that this is probably the most difficult chapter I have ever written. It might not seem that way to you when you read it, but it felt very impossible for me. Please don't think that I just left this story for a while and then started writing this a week ago. No, I've been trying hard to write this chapter since the last update. Please just remember that while you're stabbing me with an ice pick. Enjoy!
Merlin watched in stunned silence as the knights laid Arthur's unconscious body on Gaius' patient bed. Merlin felt numb all over and his mind was completely and utterly blank. The only thing that marred the numbness was a faint but persistent feeling that soon dread and far worse emotions were going to crash down upon him. Merlin knew this numbness wouldn't last forever and he would have been grateful for that fact if he hadn't known that as soon as it lifted misery unlike any he had ever known would engulf him, swallowing him whole. So for now Merlin let the blank emptiness wash over him as Gaius began to treat Arthur because he knew that at any moment he would begin wishing that he had never set foot in Camelot.
King Arthur may have been unconscious, but that didn't mean his mind was devoid of thought. In fact, his subconscious was tossing and churning with a billion different thoughts, feelings, emotions and memories. In truth, he had no serious reason to even be asleep. He wasn't injured, he wasn't tired, and he hadn't so much as bumped his head. He was only unconscious at all because the stress and trauma that his body had gone through by nearly dying and then to have a comforting, but still ultimately foreign, power enter his body and heal it faster than it could comprehend. That, coupled with the shocking discovery he had made as a result and the slight pushing of Merlin's magic to go asleep had rendered him unconscious without any real need.
But even though his body didn't need the rest, his mind required a chance to process and understand all that had occurred and come to terms with a startling piece of information. But, as Arthur was discovering, the more he thought about everything the less surprised he was.
"I could take you apart with one blow."
"I could take you apart with less than that."
"There's something about you, Merlin."
Words from the first time they had met. Images of Merlin pulling him out of the way of a knife flashed into his mind and for the first time Arthur realized how unlikely it was that a peasant boy with slower reflexes than a prince or dozens of knights had been able to react so quickly.
And then Gaius' words—words that had been so full of conviction and strength despite having been recently tortured.
"Contained within this great kingdom is a rich variety of people with a range of different beliefs. I'm not the only one seeking to protect you. There are many people who believe in the world you are trying to create. One day you will understand just how much they've done for you."
And then there were all the times when Merlin had disappeared or gone off somewhere during or near a time of need and then for that danger to miraculously disappear to fade away for reasons beyond Arthur's understanding.
Arthur saw that terrifying night at the Isle of the Blessed when they had been surrounded by Dorocha and Merlin had said,
"You don't know how many times I've saved your life."
Image after image of all the times Merlin had willing attempted to give his life for him assaulted Arthur's mind. The poisoned goblet, the other instance with the poison and the labyrinth, running straight into the Dorocha, volunteering to be the sacrifice at the Isle of the Blessed and countless other times or instances where Arthur could swear Merlin had been about to. And not to mention those haunting words that he had never been fully able to banish from his thoughts and had never failed to chill him to the bone.
"I'm happy to be your servant until the day I die."
So many things that Merlin had said to him finally made sense. Every odd action, every strange disappearance, every lame excuse.
"Are you really going to face this dragon with me?"
"I'm not going to sit here and watch."
And Merlin's seemingly unfathomable bravery in even the worst of situations. He always had a chance to stay behind, but he never did.
Merlin always believed in him. Never once had Merlin given up on him or betrayed him.
And as Arthur's life was replayed in his own mind, he began to realize how many impossible conditions he had been in, only to have miraculously come out of mostly unscathed without any rational explanation as to why he was still alive. But now he had his answer—Merlin.
That idiot had saved him countless times and Arthur had never even once acknowledged the sacrifices he had made and thanked him for it. Worse than that, Arthur had treated Merlin like dirt. Had called him lazy, useless, stupid. But no more.
Slowly, Arthur Pendragon started waking himself up; he couldn't afford to be sleeping any longer. He had about a thousand apologies to make.
"Arthur's going to be all right, Merlin," Gaius said, looking up for the first time in a while from the king's prone body. "But you already knew that."
Merlin had been staring out one of the windows in Gaius' chambers for the last ten minutes without moving or making a sound. The numbness still encompassed him, but for how much longer Merlin didn't know.
"What did you tell the knights?" Gaius asked.
Without turning around, Merlin answered, "That Arthur hit his head hard and the blood on his clothes was an enemy's. I also told them that he could have other injuries and that it was best we got him to you as soon as possible."
"Well, good job healing him, Merlin," Gaius said sounding slightly awkward probably because he couldn't understand his ward's strange behavior, "he hasn't a mark on him."
At that, Merlin crumpled and started laughing a sick, manic laugh. Merlin turned to face Gaius and the old man could see tears of despair and pain streaming down his cheeks even as he laughed. "A good job?" he asked, his voice was so full of different emotions that Gaius couldn't even begin to identify one. "I didn't do a good job, Gaius," he almost sneered, "I messed up! I did the one thing I've been training myself not to do since I was five."
A bewildered and rather scared Gaius asked, "What could you have possibly done, Merlin? You saved Arthur. And whatever it is, I'm sure it's not that bad." Gaius needed to calm his ward down because he wasn't sure that in his current state Merlin was completely sane.
Merlin chuckled again and the deadness, the utter lack of humor in that sound chilled Gaius to the bone. "It's not that bad?" he asked almost incredulously and Gaius found himself taking an involuntary step back. He didn't know this Merlin. "I did the worst possible thing I could have done."
"I—" Gaius began, but Merlin wouldn't let him speak another word.
"He knows, Gaius," Merlin said, practically yelling, "Arthur knows I have magic!"As soon as Merlin spoke those words he completely deflated and sunk into a chair. He put his face in his hands. "And now he's going to die," Merlin continued in a small voice and Gaius could tell he was close to tears, "all because of me." And with that, Merlin broke down into tears.
But these weren't ordinary tears of sadness. These tears contained the raw pain and fear and despair of over six years. Everything Merlin had worked for, all he had suffered—it had been all in vain. Merlin had held in every tear and every drop of grief. All the anguish and pain and fear he had locked away. Merlin had kept everything inside because he had to and the only thing that had given him the strength to do so was the hope that Arthur and their destiny presented. Now that was all gone and there was nothing left in Merlin that was capable of stopping everything he had endured from spilling out.
Merlin sobbed uncontrollably and each and every inch of his thin body shook from the waves of sorrow rolling through him.
Gaius' heart broke and he walked over to his almost-son. He placed a hand on his shoulder, but didn't say a word. There was nothing he could say. The knowledge alone that Merlin's secret was now revealed to Arthur scared Gaius more than anything had in a long time. But seeing Merlin like this…the boy was broken, there was no other word for it. Everything Merlin was, everything he had been forced to become had now crumbled to pieces.
So many things had been stolen from Merlin. His innocence, his childhood, his ability to live free and unafraid, people he loved, his well-being, his cheerfulness, his self-worth, his hope, his control over his own magic, and now…Arthur. Now there was nothing left but a sobbing shell of the great man Merlin really was—everything else had been taken from him.
Finally, Gaius spoke, his voice breaking, in a desperate attempt to save some part of his ward, "Merlin…we'll find a way to save him."
Merlin glanced up at his guardian, his face red and wet. "There is no way, Gaius," he said, his voice thick with sobs, "Kai told me so. Every prophecy I have ever heard has come true. Arthur is going to die and it's my fault." The boy buried his face in his hands again.
Gaius wanted to say something, comfort him, tell him it was all right, but, in truth, there was nothing to say. Arthur was going to die.
Gaius glanced over at the prone king and something caught his eye. Lying on a table next to Arthur was a very familiar pendant. It was Merlin's pendant, the only thing that could control his magic. And it was smashed. That bluish stone was cracked in half and Gaius could see little wisps of magic fluttering out of it.
And that's when Gaius realized the full meaning of the absence of that necklace on Merlin. The boy's magic was no longer out of control. Before, all it would take was the smallest emotion to send books and chairs flying everywhere. But now, not so much as a candle lit despite the torrent of emotions inside Merlin. That could mean only one thing…Merlin's magic had given up hope. It had stopped fighting…forever.
Finally, after what felt like a thousand years, Merlin lifted his head and got to his feet. Gaius' hand dropped to his side limply. Then the warlock began walking to the door, completely silent and devoid of tears.
"Merlin, where are you going?" Gaius asked, surprised at yet another change the boy's mood.
Merlin stopped and turned his head to look back. His face was emotionless. His face was the absence of everything. It didn't seem right that it was Merlin's face. "Nowhere, Gaius," he answer and his voice was dead. "It's all gone, I have nothing left. There is nowhere for me to go." Then he turned away and left the room without looking back.
Merlin let his gaze wash over the shining lake. He always came here when he was sad, or hurt, or lonely. It had always been a source of comfort to him, but now…nothing. In many ways it just made him feel worse.
It was dark and the moon was reflecting in the shimmering pool. The scene was probably beautiful, but was no longer capable of seeing beauty. His whole world was ash.
"Freya…" he began, but honestly didn't know what to say. Words usually spilled out of him whether he wanted them to or not when he was here, but not today. "I messed up. I made a mistake." Merlin felt his heart begging to cry, but his tear ducts wouldn't listen. His eyes remained dry. "You said I saved you…but you were wrong,—" his voice broke for a moment—"I couldn't save you. I couldn't save anybody. Not you, not Morgana, not my father, not Uther, not Lancelot, not the countless innocent lives that have been lost since I came to Camelot. And now Arthur."
Merlin sniffed even though there was no need and looked down at his boots. He shuffled his feet, kicking up dirt. "And I finally figured it out." He looked up at again and stared at the rippling water and search with his eyes for some sign of the woman he loved. "I finally know what my destiny is. Kilgharrah and everyone else who tried to predict what my purpose is were wrong. All this time I haven't been the one who's going to save lives, stop death, and bring about Albion and the return of magic! I'm not great, I'm not powerful, I'm not Emrys! My destiny is to…" Merlin paused. Emotions were blocking his throat and making it hard to breathe. But Merlin forced the words out. "I'm destined to fail. Doomed to be unable to save those I love for all eternity. I'm a…a failure."
Silence filled the air and Merlin said nothing. Time passed and Merlin didn't move an inch from where he stood looking out over the lake. Wind rustled leaves and branches creaked, but Merlin stayed still as the awfulness of everything washed over him. Arthur was dead. Everything he had worked for was gone. His life was over, that is, if he had truly ever had one in the first place.
"My, my. Aren't we lucky, men, that the warlock is all alone?"
Merlin spun around the instant the voice shattered the thick silence. Emerging from the trees in front of him and surrounding him so that his only exit was the sparkling water, were eight tall, darkly clad, men. Most of them had swords drawn, but two of them actually were pointing arrows at his chest. Slightly in front of them all was a man who seemed, judging by his demeanor, to be the leader. He had an odd, hungry and manic glint in his eyes.
Instinctually, Merlin brought up his hand and summoned his magic, but instead of immediately coming to his aid as always, it slowly, sluggishly began to rise up. Merlin tugged and pulled at it, trying to get at least enough magic to send a few of them flying backwards, but to no avail.
"Doesn't the warlock look surprisingly similar to a frightened deer, men?' the leader asked in the tone of someone who believed everything and everyone to be his playthings.
Without lowering his hand and still attempting to call up his magic, Merlin warily asked the men who were still not moving from their positions, "What do you want?"
The leader smiled and the moonlight seemed to reflect off his teeth. "Why, a ransom has been put upon your head, sorcerer," he replied in that same obnoxious, belittling and patronizing tone, "and we have come to collect you so we may reap the rewards."
The rest of his men grinned and, almost as one, took another step toward him.
Merlin, with the last ounce of fear and self-preservation left, pulled enough magic free to send a white wave of energy out of his palm and straight towards one of the men. It hit one of the two archers and he crashed to the ground.
Instantly the band of men descended on him, rushing towards him so quickly Merlin hardly had a chance to blink. They grabbed him and held him still. Merlin struggled against the vice-like grips on his arms, but physical strength was not a quality he possessed. He tried to use his magic again, but the power no longer responded to his call. In fact, he could hardly feel his magic at all.
But suddenly, he didn't care anymore. He had fought out of an urge for self-preservation, but why did he care? His life was over. Everything that had once mattered to him was now gone. Merlin stopped struggling and hung limply in the holds on his arms. And what little magic inside him he could still feel squirmed and then…disappeared altogether. For the first time in Merlin's life he couldn't find his magic…and a part of him didn't even care.
The leader walked over to the fallen warrior and nudged him slightly with his foot, then looked over at Merlin. "You just had to go and kill one of my men, didn't you?" he asked rhetorically. He walked angrily over to him and stuck his face uncomfortably close. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find the right people for the kind of work I specialize in? None of them are ever skilled enough, cruel enough, or greedy enough." He half turned to one of his men to Merlin's right. "And tell me, Sebastian, what do we do to those who harm us?"
The man in question was the other archer and he grinned—he was missing a lot of teeth—and said, "Eye for eye, sir."
Merlin wanted to care about the rather crazy people around him, but his emotions all seemed to fall flat. Images of Arthur dying and crying out in pain flashed in his mind and without his magic he felt hollow. Even so, he couldn't help but feel a small flicker of fear at the archer's words.
"That's correct!" the leader announced louder than was necessary in this small clearing. "We take what was taken." He nodded his head and Merlin saw Sebastian draw an arrow and then let it loose.
Pain ripped through Merlin's shoulder and he cried out, doubling over and gasping. Merlin could hear his heart pounding in his ears and slowly, very slowly, he glanced at his right shoulder. A long, seven-inch arrow was imbedded in the flesh and muscles of his shoulder and the cloth of his jacket around the wound was already dark with blood. Dizziness overcame him and, though he had suffered far worse pain than what he was currently experiencing, he felt less…strong, as if all the strength he'd had to endure any pain whatsoever was gone. For the first time in his life Merlin realized how much his magic had been protecting him, how many walls and how much strength it had given him.
The leader roughly grabbed his chin and forced his head up so that Merlin had to look at him, albeit through bleary eyes. The leader's eyes roamed over him, as if searching for something he had expected, but could see. "I was told," he said in a much lower, but not exactly quiet, voice, "that you would put up a considerable fight. That it would be difficult to subdue you. That," he pulled a leather pouch out of his pocket, "I would have to use this to prevent you from using magic to kill us all." Merlin felt the smallest spark of confusion.
"But it seems," the leader continued, even quieter as he continued looking for some explanation on Merlin's face, "that my employer was wrong. You are not a formidable opponent. You use your magic once and then poof! It's gone." He leaned in even closer so that his nose was almost touching Merlin. The warlock couldn't have pulled away even if he had possessed the energy to. And then the man whispered so faintly that Merlin could scarcely hear it. "Not very impressive."
Then, abruptly, the leader pulled away and turned his back on Merlin and his voice resumed normal levels. "But just in case, I think I'm going to use this." He waved the leather bag and then handed it to one of his not-so-merry men.
The man came over to Merlin and pulled an object out of the bag. It was an iron brand that glowed red-hot and had a small handle with which the man held it. Merlin's eyes glanced at the bag and realized that either this branding iron or the pouch had to be enchanted, because there was no way something that hot wouldn't have burned through something as simple as leather.
The man with the iron nodded to his compatriots and they rolled up the sleeves on Merlin right arm, jostling the arrow wound in the process and making Merlin's vision go dark for a moment. A second later, when his sight cleared, Merlin saw with horror that the mercenaries or whoever they were had his arm held out so that his palm was facing up. The glowing brand was right next to the thin skin in his wrist and Merlin could feel its intense heat. Suddenly he was very, very afraid of the pain that was to come and he tried to pull away, but it was useless.
Out of the corner of his eyes Merlin saw the leader turn back around and Merlin glanced at him. For the first time Merlin looked at the man's soulless eyes. Recognition flashed in Merlin and anger surged through him. This leader, this man was the one he had seen watching him and Arthur in the trees when they had been attacked. That meant that this man and his men were responsible for Arthur nearly dying and for him finding out. He could see it now. That same glint of joy at another's pain.
Anger at what this man had done and all the pain and death he had now caused boiled through Merlin and he wanted nothing more than to slit his throat. But before Merlin's magic had even the smallest chance to reawaken, the brand was pressed to the tender skin of his wrist.
Pain seared through Merlin and the last thing that the warlock knew before he passed out was the smell of his own flesh burning.
Arthur sat up, gasping and already nearing fully awake. Blankets covered him and he pushed them off and got to his feet. One of his knees buckled momentarily, but despite that he was already halfway to the door when Gaius stopped him.
"Sire! Where are you going? You shouldn't be on your feet so soon after being injured."
Arthur spun around to face the old man and, though he was doing a good job of disguising it, the king could see the anxiety and apprehension in his eyes. Arthur would bet anything that Gaius knew Merlin's secret and was now aware that he did, too.
"I need to find Merlin," Arthur replied. He was tired of secrets and hiding things and he was hardly in the mood to pretend that he wasn't desperate for some answers to his million questions. His brain had been racing while he was unconscious and now he knew exactly what he was going to do.
"Sire," Gaius said, "you really should rest, your injuries are—"
"What injuries, Gaius?" Arthur asked angrily, cutting him off. The physician was just trying to stop him from finding Merlin, and he'd had enough of people manipulating him. Arthur was still shirtless and to prove his point he spun in a circle. "There's not a scratch on me. I feel healthier than I have in a long time and you know it."
Gaius opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it upon realizing that he had nothing to say.
Arthur sighed. He really didn't want to be angry at Gaius or anyone. Mostly he was just frustrated with himself for being so oblivious for so long. "Gaius…" he began, "I know." The old man stiffened. "And I believe you know, too."
Gaius tried to protest, but Arthur wouldn't let him. "I'm sick of the lies, Gaius, and nothing you say will convince me that Merlin isn't a sorcerer." The physician's eyes widened slightly. Arthur nodded his head, his suspicions confirmed. "And judging by your reaction," he continued, "you are perfectly aware, and probably have been for some time now, that Merlin has been practicing magic."
"Arthur, Merlin isn't," Gaius started again, but at the look on Arthur's face he stopped.
"Please don't lie to me, Gaius," Arthur said, sadness that everyone seemed to be lying to him about one thing or another and that they thought he was so stupid coloring his tone some. "I saw Merlin heal me, and don't say that I was hallucinating, either." Arthur massaged his forehead because of the pain that was building up there. He just felt so confused. "That's why I need to find Merlin. We have a lot to talk about."
Arthur was about to say something else, but his eyes suddenly caught on an object he had seen before. It was that necklace that he knew in the core of his being had, somehow, hurt Merlin. At first Arthur just felt uncontrollable anger, but then he realized it was broken. Concern filled him and Arthur instinctively knew that Merlin was in trouble.
Arthur, now beginning to panic, turned on the physician. "Gaius, I need to know where Merlin is right now!"
But for whatever reason, Gaius didn't seem to quite see the panic, or perhaps he just mistook it for anger. "Sire, you know I have always been loyal to you, but if it's the choice between you and Merlin I will never fail to choose him. Merlin is like a son to me."
At Gaius' words Arthur calmed slightly and understanding and guilt washed through him. Gaius was being so difficult because he was afraid for Merlin. Thinking about it now, Arthur didn't doubt that it had been hard all these years living with such split loyalty.
The king ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry Gaius that I ever gave you reason to think that I'd hurt Merlin," he said sincerely. "And I know I've been oblivious to a great many things, but don't think I haven't noticed how Merlin had stayed at my side regardless of danger or even what I had ordered him to do over all these years." Arthur chuckled grimly. "In fact, to this day Merlin is one of the few people left who haven't betrayed me. Sure, he rarely ever obeys any of my commands and is the most insolent person I've ever met, but…." Arthur trailed off. The king then shook his head to clear his thoughts and went on, "The point is, Gaius," he realized that the old man had a few tears welling up in his eyes, "that I know that wouldn't find a better friend if I searched the ends of the earth for one."
Arthur walked over and picked up the broken necklace that felt oddly warm and tingly. "Merlin, years ago when we hardly even knew each other, endured torture for me." He looked back at Gaius, whose eyes were pained from the memory. "So if you think I could ever hurt Merlin after everything he has done for me—and I probably don't even know it all—then you don't know me."
Arthur dropped the necklace and headed for the door, calling over his shoulder as he did so, "I'll find Merlin, with or without your help. I have a lot of questions and, depending on his answers, he will either be fired and provided with someplace nice in Camelot to live comfortably, or, if he answers the way I hope he will, he'll be fired…" he reached the door and glanced at the weary guardian, whose face was a mix of emotions, "and greatly promoted."
"You would promote a sorcerer?" Gaius asked with such hope in his voice. Arthur merely nodded. Gaius sighed. "Then, sire, you might find Merlin by the lake. He goes there whenever he's unhappy or confused. I'd imagine he's both right now."
Arthur gave Gaius a grateful look and then left.
As Arthur ran to the lake a thousand questions, concerns, and random thoughts flew through his head. Why did Merlin go to this place when he was unhappy, and how often did he feel that way? What would Merlin say to him? Maybe Merlin was angry at him for taking so long to notice. Was Merlin even there or had he left Camelot entirely?
And roughly every ten seconds Arthur's mind would drift back to his questions about Merlin's magic. How long has he been practicing it? Why didn't he tell me? What was he using it for and why did he start learning in the first place? Did he honestly not tell me because he thought I'd kill him?
And the thousand, million worries continued to pester Arthur relentlessly until he finally reached that shining pool of water.
The first thing Arthur noticed was how utterly beautiful the lake was. The second thing was that Merlin was nowhere in sight. But it was the third thing which caught his eye that was the most disturbing and grabbed his full attention.
Arthur looked down into the water that reflected so much—the moon, the stars, the nearby trees and bushes—and saw that the most shallow parts at his feet had stopped being clear and reflecting. This water didn't look silver in the moonlight; instead, it seemed almost black. If there was one thing Arthur knew about water, other than one needed it to live, it was that it appeared black during the night only when blood stained it.
And, sure enough, as Arthur gazed at the ground beneath him, he saw unmistakable traces of blood. Merlin's blood.
"Merlin!" He yelled, spinning around in the hopes that he'd glimpse him. Perhaps it wasn't Merlin's blood, perhaps something bad hadn't happened to him, perhaps—
Arthur's thoughts were cut off by a low groan somewhere to his left. He dashed to the spot and for a moment he hoped it was Merlin, mostly unconscious but, other than that, completely and totally fine. But as Arthur's turned his gaze to the body on the ground he came to the conclusion that today was really not his day, that wishing for something good to happen was just a waste of energy. Because the face he saw when he looked down at the body was not Merlin's. In fact, it wasn't even a face he recognized.
The man's whole chest was burnt and it had to have been quite painful, but, to Arthur's surprise, the man opened his eyes and chuckled. "If you're looking for that little sorcerer, then, you're going to be searching for a very, very long time." He coughed harshly, but his face continued to grin as if it was his birthday.
Whatever ounce of pity Arthur had felt for this man whilst he was unsure of who he was or why he was here instantly melted into white, hot rage. He grabbed the injured man and pulled him close enough so the rat had no choice but to look at Arthur. "What have you done with Merlin!" he roared.
The man merely chuckled his grating chuckle once more. Swiftly, Arthur let go of him and stood up. Then, before the man had time to process what was happening, Arthur brought his booted foot down on his crispy chest.
The man howled in agony and tried to squirm away out from the terrible pressure being exerted on him.
After ten seconds, Arthur lifted his foot. "Tell me what you know about Merlin or you're going to have a permanent imprint on your chest in the form of my boot."
"All right, all right!" the man cried.
Arthur knelt down next to him once more. "Good." Though his voice was slightly calmer, the anxiety and rage inside him was anything but.
"The sorcerer is gone," the smelly villain panted. "The men I work with took him."
Images of Merlin being captured, hurt and bound burned through Arthur's mind and the panic consuming him gained another inch on his frail sanity. "Why?" the king growled. Arthur's hands twitched and spasmed, reacting to his desire to cause this scrawny man even more pain.
"Because the witch told us to!" the man shrieked out.
Arthur's hands stilled and his face went blank. "Morgana? She sent you here?" his voice had taken on a deathly calm quality.
The man shook his head vigorously. "No, not her." Suddenly the fear vanished from his face and he began to chuckle darkly as only true villains could. "Someone far worse. She makes Morgana look like a tame house cat. Compared to her, Morgana doesn't know the first thing about causing pain, about making her enemies suffer." His cruel laugh grew louder.
Arthur fumbled around him and found a rock which he promptly dug into the man's chest. And though his face contorted in pain, he continued to laugh as if he was the happiest man alive.
"What is she going to do with Merlin? Why does she want him?" Arthur yelled over the demented man's chuckles.
The man stopped chortling and gazed up at Arthur seriously. His eyes were deranged. "Oh, King Arthur, you have no idea," he said merrily. "You see, she doesn't want his power or to use him. All she wants is to make him suffer. Apparently, he wronged her years ago and now she is determined to cause him more pain than any other living being has ever had to endure."
Arthur grabbed him again, he had finally lost all control over his anger; everything in his vision was red. "Which way did they go?"
"Towards the Border." He began to laugh again. "But it won't matter even if you start out this very minute."
"Why not?" Arthur roared, only refraining from beating this man to death because he had important information.
"Because," the man said, "even though she told us she was going to make his agony last a very, very long time, a few hours in her hands would make any man, regardless of how powerful he was, completely and utterly lose his mind." He threw his head back and his laugh echoed through the whole forest. "By the time you reach him there won't be anything of the man you call your friend left."
I know, everyone wanted Arthur and Merlin to get a chance to talk, but that was so not in my plan. In order for everything I've been working towards in this series to actually happen, Merlin can't talk with Arthur right away. I know, I'm sorry. I want them to sit down and have a nice chat, too.
Thank you so much for sticking with this, everyone. Believe me, I have no intention of abandoning this story. Hopefully the next chapter flows easier. Please review.
