"Oh, it's you," Merlin said flatly. "Again."
Arthur stared openly at the sorcerer-cum-former-manservant at his feet, his mind blank with shock. In all the scenarios he had constructed in his head since receiving Nimueh's letter this had never even featured as a possibility.
What was going on?
"I don't..." he started. "What is...Rolph -"
Merlin laughed nastily, his ruined face twisting into a mocking sneer. "Oh yes, your precious Rolph," he said, drawling the name. "Your observational skills haven't improved any since I 'left' you. Sometimes I wonder why you're still alive. Then I remember a certain stupid sorcerer who didn't learn his first lesson." His face darkened and something like pain briefly crossed his features. "Of course, then it simply became too late."
"Too late?" Arthur repeated stupidly, confused. He stared at the man he had thought he would never see again, a man alive and (mostly) whole staring at him nonchalantly from his seat on the floor. A man who was certainly not the blonde, cheerful servant he had expected. The Prince opened his mouth and closed it, opened it to speak and shut it again, gawping like a particularly stupid fish. Events were moving too quickly for him to follow. "How are you..."
"Here?" Merlin finished. "Were you expecting someone else?" He shrugged his bony shoulders nonchalantly. "Terribly sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "The package isn't quite as pretty," baring his teeth in a spiteful grin, "but it's far more genuine."
Arthur blinked as pieces began falling into place. Rolph's burgeoning disrespect and banter as he-as Merlin, and how was that even possible? -had begun to let his guard down. The familiarity and, yes, bond that had begun to develop between them. Rolph/Merlin's determination for Gaius to know he was still alive - Arthur huffed a dry laugh, recognizing how well he had been played back then. The boy's seemingly naive and illogical loyalty to a prince he had never met.
Arthur winced at his hubris of the last few months as he realized that he should have recognized that particular brand of blind loyalty immediately, what with the way Rolph had tried to foolishly throw his life away for Arthur on a regular basis. Only Merlin had ever genuinely cared for the well being of Arthur, the man, and not Arthur, Crown Prince. Arthur had to half-smile at that - Merlin hadn't given a toss for the prince, and had regularly demonstrated that to the entire court given the slightest opportunity.
How had Arthur discarded their entire relationship as a falsehood? A falsehood supposedly coming from the court idiot who couldn't manage a lie to keep himself out of the stocks, let alone ingratiate himself with the Crown Prince for some nefarious purpose.
All his soul-searching of the past few months was finally coming to one simple conclusion.
Merlin was a sorcerer. Merlin had lied to him for over a year. But Merlin was his friend, he was in need, and Arthur couldn't give a damn about anything else anymore.
The sorcerer raised an eyebrow in an unconscious impression of Gaius as the thoughts flitted quickly through Arthur's mind.
Merlin was here and he was alive. A heavy weight was lifted off Arthur's shoulders as he accepted the evidence in front of him. Anger briefly flickered to life in his chest as he thought of the worry he had experienced thinking that Merlin could have died, when all the time the servant was skylarking about in disguise; but it died as quickly as it had arisen as his eyes traced the swollen disfiguration on Merlin's face and the hot flush of shame rose to take its place. That was his work. What possible right did he have to Merlin's trust?
Why had he stayed? Did his loyalty to Arthur really go that deep?
He was the very best friend to you, you know, Nimueh's voice echoed in his memory.
If they were ever going to heal the gaping rift between them – if they even could- it was going to have to start with Arthur. He stepped forward and reached out his hand to the kneeling boy, intending to clasp his shoulder in a gesture of friendship.
He was totally unprepared for what he got. Merlin was up on his feet and on the other side of the cave in an eyeblink, his body half-crouched in a defensive position and his hands out in front of him threateningly. "Don't fucking touch me," the sorcerer hissed violently, spittle flying from his lips.
Arthur started in shock at the speed and aggressiveness of the movement, his battle instincts kicking in as he leapt back and groped for his swordhilt.
And Merlin started to laugh. It was a dry, rasping noise, a sound dragged out of a shredded throat and echoing harshly within the stone walls of the cave, so utterly lacking in humor or joy that it seemed to swallow the noises of the forest. It sent shards of ice through Arthur's chest and he flinched as the sorcerer rocked on the balls of his feet and the horrible, shredded sound grew louder and louder, feeding on its echoes as it grew and sliced painfully into Arthur's ears.
"STOP IT!" he shouted wildly, jumping forwards and grabbing Merlin by the shoulders. He shook him hard, twice, thinking nothing further then getting him to stop the hysterical – he didn't allow himself to think the word mad – noise before it drove Arthur to kill him, or himself, or both. The laughter cut off as though sheared with a knife and the sudden silence made Arthur's head reel for a moment.
Merlin snarled.
Arthur only realized the stupidity of assaulting a frenzied sorcerer when Merlin's eyes flashed a burning golden and he felt his hands forcibly removed from the man's shoulders. He stared into the impossible glowing orbs and opened his mouth to apologize but too late -his stomach suddenly dropped and the caves walls sped past as he was thrown backwards into the air.
His head slammed into the cave wall with a crack.
"Not again," Merlin hissed at him as Arthur tried to blink the stars from his vision. He tried to think through the pounding ache in his head and realized dazedly that he couldn't move; Merlin had pinned him to the cave wall, arms spread in a mockery of a sacrificial pose. "You won't do it to me again. I won't...I can't!"
His voice cracked on the last word and Arthur wrinkled his brow in confusion.
"Merlin..." he tried tentatively. The man was shaking, violent tremors running the full length of his body as his burning golden (green?) eyes continued to stare holes in Arthur. His body was still crouched in a half-standing position with his back pressed tightly against the cave wall, and the prince was struck with the image of a wounded animal, cornered and frightened and without hope or any way out.
And all the more vicious.
"Merlin," he repeated gently. "I know you have no reason to believe me, but I am not going to hurt you."
It must have been the wrong thing to say. Merlin's shaking hands clenched into claws and he flew across the space dividing them, grabbing Arthur by the throat and pushing his head hard into the stone. Bound as he was, the prince could make no move to defend himself and flinched at the sudden movement, gasping slightly as Merlin grabbed his throat and squeezed. He could still breathe-barely- but as a knight he was all too aware how little further movement it would take to crush his windpipe completely. He froze.
"Not hurt me, huh?" Merlin breathed against his ear. His whole body pressed against Arthur's as he pressed the prince harder into the wall, his breath ghosting lightly on Arthur's face and making him shiver. "It's to be games again this time, then. But I've got nothing left to play with, Arthur. Nothing."
There was definitely green, Arthur thought a little hysterically. Merlin's eyes were so close to his he could see every bloodshot line, every design shading his irises, the gold burning into his eyes and making him see afterglows in the dark of the cave. Yet while the gold was terrifying, the flame glowed with a purity and brightness that inspired awe and joy in Arthur's heart, seeming to see right into his soul and burn out the shadows lurking within. It did not inspire horror or darkness.
The other did.
He could see it clearly now, bolts of olive sparking and flashing within Merlin's dilated pupils as he pressed closer. It was a murky, dirty color, one that inspired thoughts of swamps and decay that turned his stomach and repulsed him. He had seen it before.
The servant lifted his head and the torchlight highlighted his features for the first time. Arthur gasped in shock and horror and stumbled backwards, hand before him to ward away the apparition. Rolph's pupils were gone, leaving glowing, crazed green orbs that roved restlessly beneath his sunken eyelids. Remember your nightmares, Prince Arthur, the ones that you won't even admit to yourself? Your fault.
Arthur swallowed thickly, Adam's apple bobbing against Merlin's restricting hand. He had almost forgotten Nimueh's attack in the shock of seeing Merlin again. No wonder she had been so pleased, the tactician in him thought clinically. She got two for one here – Merlin was obviously trapped in the lies her magic had crafted around him and had focused on him, Arthur, as the cause. And he had no defense against Merlin, magic or no, the last of his barriers destroyed when the first drip of blood had fallen from his friend on a forest floor in the middle of nowhere. The other man had no way of knowing his newly-acknowledged importance to the prince and no reason to trust Arthur's protestations of friendship. Yet Arthur knew, deep inside, that as broken as Merlin was now, murdering Arthur would be the final straw that snapped the sorcerer's mind. He would be utterly destroyed.
And so they both would fall.
He had to explain this to Merlin; get through to him somehow.
"Mr'ln, l't m' go," he choked out with difficulty. While he could still breathe the restriction was beginning to make him feel light-headed and he was going to need all his wits about him to successfully navigate the minefield of his manservant's mind. Merlin's thumb stroked his throat lazily as the sorcerer chuckled harshly in reply.
It was not a nice sound.
"Let you go? So you can play with me again? I don't think so," Merlin replied, almost gently. His free hand trailed softly down the side of Arthur's face and the prince shivered in reaction. "Do you know, all those times, all those games and I never lifted a finger against you? The beatings, the brands, the...other things. I really believed," he added wistfully, turning the golden eyes away from Arthur, staring at something only he could see. "In you. In us. I thought, given time, you would realize that I was only for you. That my life was for you." His hand tightened convulsively on Arthur's throat and the prince choked, trying to struggle against the invisible restraints as his air supply was abruptly cut off. "But you never did," Merlin bit off harshly, ignoring Arthur's futile attempts to move. "Never. A lie, that was all it was. The dragon, your so-called 'friendship.' I should have known. And now you come here to try again."
The golden eyes turned back to face him. Arthur struggled to understand, his vision being taken over by black and golden dots as he fought to keep his eyes open. His throat burned for air as his struggles against his bonds grew weaker and weaker. Merlin was killing him, he realized with some astonishment.
"Do you know how it feels, to have the very skin flayed from your bones?" Merlin's eyes had gone distant again, the murky olive color growing stronger and more pronounced in his pupils. "Every nerve becomes a white-hot bolt of agony, flames within your blood building upon one another until you scream and scream and forget your own name in the desire to have it stop. While the man you thought was your friend stares at you with cold eyes and brings it down for another go, looking through you as if you were less than the dirt beneath his feet. While you writhe and plead for death, for release from the pain, while you try to explain your loyalty and the reason for your lies as you gasp every bloody breath- and he turns away. Do you know how that feels, Arthur?" he whispered against Arthur's temple. "Maybe you should. We have ourselves here a golden opportunity, after all."
Arthur felt ice crystallize in his gut as he listened to those cold, dispassionate words. Oh Merlin, he thought miserably. My God, what has happened to you.
He blinked blearily, knowing that the next few moments would decide the fates of both him and his friend forever.
He went totally limp in Merlin's hold, letting his muscles go lax in an effort to conserve his remaining air as he put his fate totally in the sorcerer's hands. With his last few seconds of consciousness he tried to keep his eyes focused on the golden-green orbs before him, searching for Merlin inside the warped magic, beneath the pain and fear and false memories. If he could just reach him - the real Merlin would never hurt him. Arthur didn't know where his faith came from, but he felt it deep within his bones, a truth that could never again be refuted. He just needed to reach - make him see -
I am here and I will never hurt you again. I need you, my friend. Don't do this, for both our sakes.
But his time finally ran out. Arthur struggled desperately to stay awake but his lungs contracted painfully and finally gave up their desperate fight for air, his remaining vision tunneling to black. His head fell forwards limply against the restraints.
I'm sorry Merlin, Arthur thought muzzily as his eyes began to shut. I am so, so sorry.
He had just enough time to know he had failed again.
Then darkness rose up to swallow him.