Chapter 7
Arthur woke to the first glimmer of dim sunshine trying to fight its way through the fabric of his curtains. He opened his mouth to yell at his incompetent manservant for failing at his job once again when the memories of the last few days crashed back into him and he gasped at the force of them.
"Merlin!" he muttered urgently, and threw the covers away as he jumped out of bed.
The pull of new skin and lingering soreness reminded him that he'd been injured (should have been dead – again) and was still healing, but a peek beneath the bandages convinced him it was fine to ignore the ache. The wound was almost gone, and even the twinge of the Questing Beast's bite had disappeared.
He suddenly paused in the act of pulling his tunic over his head, a strange conversation from a month ago flashing through his mind. Merlin – appearing to say goodbye. Arthur – surviving something not possible to survive.
That skinny, incompetent idiot had done it then, too, hadn't he! Done something dangerous and highly illegal to save the prince's own skin.
And how many other times had he done it in the past?
With a frustrated growl, Arthur yanked the shirt down and then threw on the rest of his clothes with renewed vigor. He was so intent on stuffing various things into a satchel, wondering where exactly Merlin kept most of what he wanted, that he almost missed the urgent but quiet knock on his door.
Panicked, he shoved the pack under the rumpled covers of the unmade bed and sat on the edge, trying not to look guilty as he hollered, "Come!"
Morgana and Guinevere slipped quickly inside, closing the door. The king's ward looked at him and gave an uncharacteristic sigh of relief.
"So, you are alive," she said, trying to sound her normal self and failing completely.
"Of course, I'm alive. Why would you think I wasn't?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because Uther seems to have completely lost his mind, refusing to tell me anything, refusing to let me speak to Gaius, and then…after what happened to Merlin!" Her voice grew in anger as she spoke, her customary fire returning as she began pacing the room. "For all we knew, you could have died and he was trying to keep it hidden!"
Two days ago, Arthur would have shot up, launching into an argument about how that was his father and her king she was accusing of madness, but somehow, that desire had just fizzled away as he thought of his missing servant…
"Wait, what?" he cried, suddenly catching the end of her words. "What happened to Merlin?" he demanded, surging to his feet, terrified that something else had happened while he slept.
"He's been banished," Guinevere spoke softly, sounding very near tears. "Didn't you know?"
"Your father ordered him taken to the Perilous Lands!" Morgana was seething. "The Perilous Lands! Some reward for saving the country, and your life –" she continued, but Arthur stopped listening, his heart unclenching slightly.
Banished, as his father had said. But not burned. They weren't here to tell him of the pyre Uther had ordered built while he was asleep. Or even of one two days before. They weren't here to tell him that on top of it all, his father had lied to him when he was most vulnerable.
Merlin was still alive. Injured, alone, and highly incapable of taking care of himself, but alive. And that meant Arthur could find him.
"Well, I'm not dead," he said shortly, breaking into Morgana's rant. "So, you can go now." It wasn't that he was angry with her, but he couldn't very well sneak out to rescue his hapless servant while they were standing in his room.
Morgana exploded.
"Don't you care at all? Doesn't it bother you that your servant, who follows you around like a loyal puppy and just saved your life, has been banished to the worst place on earth? Can't you see the unfairness? That what Uther is doing is wrong? I thought you learned this lesson, back when Merlin drank poison for you! Thought you'd grown a little! I can't –"
Arthur's temper flared at the unfair accusations. "Of course I care!" he shouted, running his hand through his hair. "But there's nothing I can do right now so if you could –"
"Morgana," Guinevere's soft voice cut through their argument and they both turned. Unnoticed by either of the royals, the quiet serving girl had been straightening Arthur's chambers – to keep herself busy and because she'd seen a need and a way she could help. She'd just started making Arthur's bed and was now holding up the lumpy, incriminating pack that she'd discovered hiding under the covers, a small, knowing smile on her face.
Morgana stared for just a moment, then turned to Arthur who was a fighting a strange mix of anger and embarrassment.
"You're sneaking off?" she asked shrewdly, eyebrow cocked.
"Well, I would if people would stop dropping in without notice!" he grumbled impatiently.
Morgana smirked, though it looked a lot more like a smile. "It seems that for once, I have underestimated you," she said loftily. "Come on, Gwen," she added, turning on her heels. "Let's leave Arthur to get on with it."
Guinevere set his bag back on the bed and turned to obey her mistress, but she paused by Arthur and tentatively placed a hand on his arm. "Find him, please," she whispered pleadingly. "Keep him safe."
Arthur nodded firmly. That was exactly his plan. Guinevere nodded gratefully back and then followed Morgana from the room.
When the door closed, Arthur let out a sigh of relief and then burst back into action. He slung up his pack, strapped on his sword, then grabbed his oldest, least-adorned cloak from the wardrobe and rushed out of the servants' entrance. The fleeting thought crossed his mind that he shouldn't just abandon his duty like this. He should report to his father, help with repairs to the damaged castle and city, deal with angry visitors who had arrived for a tournament that had now been canceled, but then he remembered the look of pure goodness he'd seen on Merlin's face right before he blacked out as the boy saved him with magic, remembered the agonized screams he knew had been real that had pulled him back to consciousness, and he squared his shoulders and didn't turn around.
Arthur made it to the stables without meeting anyone else in the eerie shadows of early morn, but his luck ran out when he entered the dimly-lit building. A figure rose stiffly from a pile of straw, slapping dust from his clothes.
"Leon?" Arthur asked, staring in surprise. "Were you sleeping in the straw?"
"Sleep is a very generous term for it," the normally good-natured knight grumbled.
"Why?" Arthur blurted, beyond puzzled.
The knight reached down and picked up a pack that had been hidden before. "Because princes who are disobeying their father's wishes don't normally send out messengers to announce their departures," the man muttered.
Arthur felt sure that some of Gaius's medicine must still be running through his veins because his knight was making absolutely no sense. Leon saw his confusion and laughed, stepping toward him with a rather pronounced limp and gripping his shoulder.
"When I heard you had awakened, I knew it was only a matter of time before you'd end up here, and I also knew that this is not a quest you should undertake alone."
"So, you slept in the stables so you could catch me sneaking off so you could sneak off with me?" the prince fought the urge to laugh.
"Well," the knight admitted, limping over and beginning to saddle his horse, "to be honest I rather expected you to come in the middle of the night."
Now Arthur did laugh, turning to see to his own horse. "I would have, but my father had Gaius drug me," he finished bitterly. Then his frown returned. "Are you sure you are fit for this, Leon? You're obviously injured."
"I will manage fine, don't worry about me."
Arthur felt a swelling of affection for the older man, wondering what exactly he had done to deserve the good and loyal people who surrounded him, working in the shadows and asking for no reward or praise. He was starting to discover just how many of them existed and it was humbling. "Leon," he said seriously, stepping toward the knight and extending his arm to grasp the older man in the knight's grip. "Thank you," he said honestly.
"It's an honor, Sire."
"This isn't without risk, though," Arthur went on, all laughter gone as he thought of the very sobering reality of what he was doing. He was defying his father, but his father was also the king. "The king is not in a forgiving mood. I will pay for this when I return, I'm certain. I can't be sure I will be able to protect you from his wrath."
"I'm not asking for your protection, sire. I'm aware of what I'm doing and what I'm risking," Leon answered firmly. "A knight must be loyal to his king and his vows, but a man must also be loyal to the convictions of his heart. Sometimes, when those are at odds, a man must choose. I'm making that choice, of my own free will, Arthur, because eventually kings and kingdoms will change –" he leveled a very pointed look at Arthur that once again made him feel humbled – "but a man has to live with his choices and actions forever."
"Still, I don't want to see you in trouble for this, Leon," Arthur answered, moved by the knight's honest confession. "It would probably be much easier if I just went alone, as I planned."
"What? And let that night in the straw be for nothing?" Leon cried, in mock outrage. "Arthur, remember who taught you to be stubborn. Like it or not, you have my loyalty and my help. This is the right thing to do; it's the noble thing to do, and I'm coming. I've been relieved of duty for several weeks because of my injury, and what a knight does in his free time is up to him. Besides, I'd much rather ride out with you than lie in bed and drink those vile potions Gaius concocts."
"HA!" Arthur laughed, slinging himself up onto his horse. "You're sneaking off, too! Perhaps it's not my father we should fear when we return, but rather Gaius!"
Leon grimaced, using it to hide the wince as he copied the prince's actions and mounted his horse.
"Still, thank you. I know what you're risking," Arthur added again.
"You're my prince," Leon said with conviction, and Arthur again detected something different – some measure of respect and loyalty and honor that had changed slightly, perhaps deepened – in that statement. It sobered him and filled him with a new sense of purpose. It was something he'd have to talk to Merlin about, once he found the idiot. He nodded at Leon, and then the two eased their horses quietly from the stables and out into the still-sleeping town.
00000
Dark.
Merlin's whole world was dark now. It didn't matter if he was sleeping or awake, the darkness was ever-present, like a second skin.
And cold. Everything around him was cold and so horribly still.
The thickness of the receding sleep and the bitter coating left on his tongue told Merlin he was rousing from the depths of one of Gaius's potions, and as the constant, gnawing pain returned full force he couldn't deny that he was completely awake.
Still, the darkness remained – pressing in, smothering, mocking.
And always would. Because Uther had taken his eyes.
He was blind.
Merlin had never been afraid of the dark, perhaps because even though his life had been hard, he'd always felt protected and loved. His mother had taught him to live life boldly and without fear, to be the light when the darkness tried to crowd in. And of course, he'd never really been helpless or completely lost – he'd always had his magic to protect him and light the way, except that now, Uther had stolen that, too. For the first time in his life, Merlin was truly helpless.
And so, for the first time, he was also very much afraid of the dark.
"Gaius?" he whispered, his voice rough and broken, like a half-swallowed sob.
There was no answer.
"Anyone?" he tried again, but all he heard was the faint echo of his own words off the stone of an empty, undefined space.
He shuddered and fell silent, even more frightened now he knew he was blind and alone.
That fear grew as the hours passed, to the point it outweighed the pain of his injuries. No matter how much he hurt, he couldn't stand lying there, stretched out and exposed, so he forced himself to move. He shifted and moaned, discovering limbs bound in chains that clanked and rattled eerily in the cold blackness, until he'd managed to wedge himself into the far corner of the pallet bed. Then he sat there, back against the hard stone wall, uninjured leg pulled up to his chest and the blankets he'd found wrapped tightly around his shaking figure, his bandaged face pressed against his knee and the fingers of his hand tightly gripping the cold, iron bars of the cell wall to his right, as if that contact could somehow ground him in this new, terrifying world of darkness and silence.
It was in that position that Gaius found him, hours later and body gone stiff from pain and fright, when the old man was finally allowed to make his welfare visit.
"Oh, Merlin, my boy," he heard his mentor sigh as a gentle hand touched his skin that had started to sweat, the first signs of a fever and infection.
"Gaius," Merlin breathed, leaning into the hug his friend offered, but still refusing to give up his white-knuckle grip on the bars.
"You should be lying down," the old man chided gently.
"The darkness was smothering me," Merlin answered softly, and while he was rather sure Gaius didn't understand his statement, the physician didn't press it. "You're allowed to visit?" he asked to change the subject, feeling some of the fear slip away now he wasn't alone. He heard the sound of a lock clicking, of footsteps moving off, and realized for the first time that a guard must have brought Gaius to him, had relocked them both in whatever cell had become Merlin's new home, and had now left them for the time being.
"Yes, for now, to help treat your injuries. And you've developed a fever."
"I know," Merlin replied. "My foot is burning. And a spot on my left side."
Gaius clucked his tongue, and then Merlin endured several long, painful moments as the physician worked to flush infection and rebind his wounds.
"The guard left your supper. Could you eat a little, before I give you the pain medicines that will make you sleepy?"
"I'll try," Merlin said quietly. He'd try anything, if it meant prolonging the time Gaius could be with him. "But first…the privy hole…can you help me?" he asked, ashamed to need assistance but aware now of another pressing need he couldn't keep ignoring.
It was inelegant and clumsy, Merlin hopping and leaning heavily on Gaius, tripping over lengths of cumbersome chains, but together they succeed in getting the warlock where he needed to be, accomplishing the task, and returning to the uncomfortable bed, where Merlin lay winded from just that small exertion.
"Arthur has sneaked off to go looking for you," Gaius said quietly as he brushed gentle hands through Merlin's dingy hair. "He accepts you, Merlin, magic and all."
A warmth flooded Merlin for the first time since he was brought to this horrible dungeon, though he couldn't bring himself to smile. "He will be a great king," he whispered in return, grateful his sacrifice hadn't been completely in vain.
"I could tell him…someday…when he returns…" Gaius started, but Merlin shook his head quickly, knowing exactly what the old man was implying.
"No," he said firmly. "He must never know, Gaius. You promised."
Gaius sighed, but said nothing else on the matter. "Can you eat now? There's broth and some hard bread."
It was hardly a feast, but given he was a condemned sorcerer being held in the darkest, most secret prison in the land, Merlin knew it could have been a lot worse. He struggled back to his corner with Gaius's help, and then swallowed the few shreds that remained of his dignity and allowed his almost-father to feed him.
After a while, footsteps sounded beyond his cage as someone approached. "Gaius, it's time to go," an unknown voice said.
"Just a moment," his old friend replied to the guard, then Merlin felt the edge of a vial press against his lips.
"Drink this to help fight the infection," Gaius ordered.
He obeyed, gagging slightly on the taste.
"And this for the pain and to help you sleep," his friend said, presenting one more.
Merlin swallowed again, and then Gaius's hands were urging him out of his corner and back down on the hard bed, fussing with blankets and smoothing over his hair before gripping his own hands tightly.
"Don't succumb to the darkness, my boy," the old man leaned down and whispered in his ear. "Fight to keep the light. You are strong, the strongest person I know, and you can survive this. Now rest, and I will return as soon as I can."
Sadly, Merlin nodded, even as he was forced to let go of Gaius's warm, familiar hands. He listened as his mentor gathered up his things and left the cell, the lock clicking into place once more. As the sound of footsteps faded away, the boy slipped his fingers back out from under the blankets and resumed his desperate grip on the iron bars of his new home, the tears he'd refused to let fall while Gaius was there to see now wetting the bandage around his missing eyes as he gave in to the pull of the sleeping draught.
Author's Note: I'm late again, but only by a week. Also, I'm sure I will find a million glaring typos when I look at this in the morning, but I'm still throwing this up tonight because if I don't, it will be another week before I get to it. I'll just have to fix anything I come across that I missed later.
Again, thank you to everyone who is reading and following. As always, I'd love to hear what you think.
