Chapter 8
Merlin dreamed of his mother that night. All during the hours of his drug-induced slumber she danced through his head, the way he remembered her from his childhood – laughing at his little jokes and holding him close when his boyish heart broke and the tears came flowing out, when the place that was supposed to mean home and safety rejected him again and again because he was different.
"The world will not always be kind, my little bird," she soothed. "But you always can be. And the world will sometimes be dark and cruel, but you don't have to let it win. There is a light inside you, Merlin. Share it – it's your gift. What makes you special."
He woke to the same darkness as before, but somehow her words still seemed to echo in his mind, making it less fearsome.
He would never see her again – never again be held in her arms – but he still knew what she would want.
Don't let them win, Merlin.
Keep your light, Merlin.
His mother would want him to fight.
Gaius wanted him to fight.
Even Arthur, though his friend could never know the truth, would want him to fight.
Merlin thought of his prince, defying his father to try and find him.
He thought of Gaius, willing to risk death for his sake.
He thought of a dragon – chained and left alone in the dark for twenty long years, filled with bitterness.
And he realized no matter how scared he was, how much he now hated Uther, he didn't want to become the same.
He might now be fated to live in the dark, trapped in a small stone and metal box, but somehow, he knew he still wanted that life to make his mother proud.
The black still pressed in, stealing his breath… The cold silence still made him shiver and twist and feel so very alone… The bed was hard, the chains restrictive, and his wounds throbbed… There was a hole left deep in his soul where his magic used to sing that ached like a severed limb… And the all-encompassing fear did not suddenly go away. But he stubbornly clung to the memory of his mother – of home and light and goodness – while his battered fingers gripped the metal bars like a lifeline, and he forced himself to promise her that he would not give up.
Somehow, he would not change, not let the darkness win. That was his vow.
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The flames of a small fire danced merrily, eating through the dry wood and filling the dark clearing with the comforting scent of smoke. Arthur and Leon sat in silence on either side of the little blaze, each lost in thought. Arthur stared at the fiery tongues, mesmerized by the shapes they created, soothed by their warmth.
Did Merlin have a fire tonight, wherever he was?
Was he warm? Was he safe? Was he hurt?
Suddenly, the friendly, little flames morphed in the prince's mind. They grew and intensified, became the angry inferno of a pyre, burning hungrily through wood and cloth and flesh, devouring a terrified, dark-haired boy…
Arthur blinked and looked away, shaking his head to clear the vile image. "What do you think of magic, Leon?" he asked his companion quietly.
The knight looked up, pulled out of his own musing. He took a moment before speaking, obviously gathering his thoughts. "I think that it is far more nuanced and complex than we have been taught to believe," he finally answered carefully.
"Do you believe it's evil?" Arthur pressed, leaning forward earnestly.
"It can be. We both know that – we've seen it."
"But it's not always," the prince filled in. His hand drifted to his chest, rubbed at the bandage that covered an almost-healed wound that should have been mortal. "What Merlin did, it wasn't evil was it."
"No, it wasn't," Leon agreed.
Arthur sighed, shifting on the ground and running his fingers through his hair as his thoughts continued to whirl. He was confused, angry, somewhat frightened, and so many other emotions he didn't even know a person could feel all at once. "All my life – everything I've ever been taught – everything my father and Camelot stand for…how can it all be wrong?"
"It's not all wrong," the knight answered quickly. "Your father is a good king. But even good fathers and good kings have flaws."
"He sent Merlin away, without question, even though Merlin saved my life," said Arthur, anger creeping back in. "He would have killed him, if he wasn't my servant."
Leon didn't answer that statement and for a while they fell silent, but Arthur's thoughts were plaguing him and refused to be held back.
"I should be angry with him, you know. Furious. I mean, the idiot has lied to me for a year now, breaking the law right under my nose! I should abhor magic, like my father, and hate the very thought of Merlin, want him dead or rotting in jail…"
"But you don't," Leon prodded gently.
Arthur shook his head. "No, I don't. I mean…he's Merlin! The boy stops to help worms off the flagstones after a rainstorm. How could he be evil?"
Leon laughed. "I know what you mean. But, are you sure it isn't more than that? Perhaps the fact that he's also your…friend?"
Arthur frowned, shifting away from the flames and reaching for his sword, an unconscious gesture whenever he felt slightly vulnerable or off-kilter. "He's just my servant, not my friend. Besides, princes can't have friends," he said shortly.
"I thought we'd already established that not everything your father taught you was the truth," Leon quietly answered back, his words bolder than normal.
Arthur refused to answer that, though the truth of it rang through him uncomfortably. "Did you know?" he finally asked, when the silence stretched too thin. "That he had magic?"
"No," Leon answered. "Though I probably should have, as I think back now."
"Do you think anyone knew?" Arthur asked, strangely relieved by the fact that Merlin had been lying to everyone, not just to him.
"Gaius," Leon answered firmly.
The truth of that statement slammed into Arthur hard. Of course the old man knew. Merlin was like his son; he would do anything to protect him. "So that's why Gaius has fallen from my father's favor," the prince muttered quietly.
"Truthfully, he's lucky he kept his head," the knight said darkly.
Arthur frowned. Gaius was indispensable to the kingdom, and the closest thing Arthur had to family outside of his father. To know he was living in fear, was in danger in his own home… It added to the anger and horrid confusion the prince was already feeling. "We should sleep," he said abruptly, tired of conversation. "I'll take first watch – your leg needs rest," he ordered, falling back into command. It was the truth, but he also needed time in silence with his own thoughts to figure out exactly what he was feeling.
Leon nodded and settled down on his bedroll without argument. A seasoned knight able to grab a bit of sleep anywhere, it wasn't long before his quiet snores joined the crackle of the wood in the clearing. Arthur, however, remained wide away, his thoughts in turmoil as he kept his gaze on the deceptively innocent flames.
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All his life, Merlin had never been very good at being still. Even when injured or sick, which had been often in his childhood, he'd fought the need to stay down and heal. Gaius had often told him that he deserved to grow up to be a physician, as revenge for being the worst patient ever.
Now, as the hours of what he thought was his third day in his cell wore on, he found himself growing restless, despite the fact he was still terrified and in pain.
Don't let them win, Merlin, he kept hearing his mother's voice whisper in his mind.
He sighed, even that small sound echoing strangely in the unknown darkness, and forced the numb fingers of his right hand to release their anchor-hold on the grid of bars. The world around him was a formless void, which only fueled his sense of panic and terror. But he wouldn't be going anywhere better for well…ever. Somehow, he needed to know what was around him, to give some kind of definition to this space where he would need to carve out the rest of his sad life.
Using the bars for leverage, he sat up and pushed himself back to his corner again where he could lean against the stone wall.
"Start small," he whispered.
He took a deep breath and reached stiffly for his own bare feet. With slow, careful fingers he felt the metal cuffs that circled his ankles, judged their width and thickness, where they were rough and how close they were to his skin. His legs were sore and bruised beneath them (as were his wrists,) leftover gifts from when he'd struggled while bound to Uther's torture slab.
Those were thoughts he didn't want to dwell on; he quickly slipped his fingers down to find the chain that connected the shackles, following it link by link, trying to gauge its length so he could memorize it.
"About two feet," he whispered again, forcing himself to speak out loud to combat the silence but unable to summon anything more than a whisper yet.
Next, he gently examined his injured foot. There was no change to his inability to move it, but he still had feeling and the wounds appeared to be healing better now that Gaius had flushed out the infection. Maybe somehow, with patience and creativity, he could figure out a way to still get around.
"Not like I have far to go anyway," he muttered.
After that, he moved quickly up his own body, using his fingers to examine his hurts, find the ragged state of his clothing, discover how much give he had in the manacles on his wrists. He hesitated slightly when he reached his neck, not even wanting to touch the thing that had cut him off from his magic.
Merlin had heard about chains that could restrain a sorcerer's magic, but he had always rather hoped they were just a myth. After all, magic was everywhere – it came from the earth and the air, from the heart and the soul. How could a piece of metal stop the very force of life?
But somehow, through dark magic he couldn't even begin to comprehend, someone had figured out how to do just that, because the proof was locked cold and solid around his own neck.
Grimacing, he brushed his fingers across the offending metal. He expected to find it smooth and unmarked like the bands on his wrists and ankles were, but he was surprised. Cut deep into the surface were harsh lines that circled the entire piece.
"Runes," he breathed as his mind finally lit up, though knowing that didn't bring him any closer to understanding what the collective symbols meant no matter how carefully he examined them.
Eventually, he gave up. Instead he took a moment to feel the chain that was attached to the collar. He knew it tethered him to his cell, that it was locked to a ring stuck fast in the very stone of the back wall, but he didn't know how long it was, how far he could move. He would have to figure that out…but later; he wasn't quite done.
Taking a deep breath, his reluctant fingers traveled upward to his face. It was the first time he had touched it since Uther took his eyes. He didn't reach for his wounded eye-sockets – couldn't yet bear the thought of feeling emptiness where it never should have been – but he did allow them to trace the edges of the bandage, follow it around his head, try to accept that it was as much a part of his appearance now as his beloved neckerchief used to be.
Arthur used to tease him mercilessly about his fashion choices. At first, when they were just getting to know each other and the prince had been a much bigger prat, it had been a bit mean.
"What's that thing?"
"Raiding the rag pile again, Merlin?"
But Arthur had changed, grown up a lot, and now the teasing was much more good-natured…like the ribbing between brothers.
"Don't forget your neck-warmer, Merlin…"
"There's a spot on my boot, Merlin. Just use your neckerchief…no one will know the difference…"
"We really need to update your wardrobe, Merlin. It's embarrassing…"
He touched the bandages one last time and then lowered his hands to brush over the collar at his neck before he let them fall back into his lap, wondering bitterly what Arthur would think of these additions to his wardrobe.
"I finally lost the neckerchief, Arthur," he whispered to the empty air.
"Only three days down here and the little sorcerer brat has already gone mad, talking to himself."
Merlin jumped a mile at the unexpected voice from the front of his cell, shrinking back into his protective corner as his chains rattled. He'd been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't even heard footsteps approach.
"Who's there?" he asked hesitantly.
"Someone who's glad to see the likes of you in this cell, though if you ask me, you should have been on a pyre instead. Still, at least this will be the easiest job in the kingdom, after what the king did to you… Walk down here five times a day to make sure a batty sorcerer whelp hasn't flown the coop, then sit around playing cards for the rest of my shift."
"You're one of the guards," Merlin said softly, trying to calm a heart that was still racing from the unwelcome surprise.
"And you're a crippled blind bird in a cage, boy." Merlin winced as the guard unknowingly stole his mother's old pet name for him, turning the comforting word into a cruel sneer. The door on the front of his cell suddenly rattled threateningly. "Don't get too comfy, little birdy," the man snarled, and then Merlin heard him turn and stalk off, back to the path that would return him to the real world, where people who weren't prisoners got to stay.
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The boy sat frozen for hours (at least it felt like hours, but he also had to admit that he'd completely lost his ability to track the passage of time) after the guard left, afraid to move. For the first time he realized how isolated he was – how vulnerable. Anyone could sneak up on him and he'd never know it. They could come and hurt him, drag him away, take him back to the torture chamber and he wouldn't see it coming and couldn't fight back. They could watch him, just creep up and observe his every moment, and he would never know! That guard had said he would check five times a day – had guards been checking on him five times a day since he was locked up and he'd never even noticed? Was the awful man standing there right now, watching and hating him?
His hair prickled and breath quickened, paranoia grabbing him hard, and he brought his good leg close, burying his face in his arms, his mind screaming.
I don't want to be here! I don't want to be here! PLEASE, LET ME OUT!
Please, LET ME SEE AGAIN!
Please! Gaius! Arthur! ANYONE!
But he didn't dare let those anguished cries actually leak past his lips because now he realized that while he might feel so terribly alone, he could never really be sure that he was. His life was on display for the few who knew of his existence, and privacy was just one more thing Uther had taken away.
Don't let them win, my son.
My boy, you must keep fighting.
The imagined voices of his mother and Gaius kept at him, though, nagging at his brain.
Come on, idiot, you're usually a lot more stubborn than this.
And Arthur's voice joined the others in his head.
"Shut up," he muttered without raising his head, very near tears. "Just shut up and leave me alone."
I'm the prince, Merlin. You can't tell me to shut up. And I won't leave you alone until you stop hiding.
"I'm in a cage," the boy said back, fully aware that he was arguing with a voice in his own head, but too tired and hopeless to care. "There's nowhere to hide."
How do you know until you look?
Merlin raised his head from his arms and let it fall back against the cold stone behind him, sighing in defeat. He was locked in a dark pit in the ground, who knew how many miles away from a prince who didn't even know where he was, and yet Arthur had wormed his way into Merlin's existence and mind well enough that somehow, the prince was still yelling at him.
"Bloody prat," he whispered, then forced himself to ignore the fear of who might be watching and unfold.
He spent the next chunk of time crawling around his cell on hands and knees, a painful and humiliating experience but another harsh, new reality of his life. The metal box was larger than he expected, but completely empty other than the pallet bed and the privy hole in the corner, and the front side that held the door was beyond his reach. The chain that attached to his neck abruptly choked him before he could reach it, but a vague sense of something in the space before him led him to believe that the wall of bars wasn't too far away.
"Home sweet home," he whispered, massaging his sore neck before rolling back onto his knees for another pass around the cell, slower this time so he could start to create a mental picture of the space. It was hard, building images through touch. It took so much concentration, not to mention the anguish crawling on the rough, stone ground caused his injuries and knees, that he actually forgot about the guard's impending return until he was startled once again by a shout.
"Merlin! What happened?"
The boy paused his searching abruptly when he heard Gaius's panicked cry and twisted so he was sitting on the ground, his chains clanking around him. He heard hurried footsteps and the door of his cell rattled.
"Open this up at once!" the physician demanded.
"Back off, old man," the harsh voice from before spat and Merlin heard the very familiar sound of a weapon being drawn. Worry shot through the young warlock. He fully understood why the guards would be hostile toward him – Uther's hatred of magic had been learned well by most of the people in the kingdom – but Gaius was liked and respected.
"I'm under orders to check on him," Gaius responded, though Merlin detected a tremble of fear in the words that most people wouldn't catch.
"Brat's just on the floor, not dead. Now step back, or you can join him."
"I'm fine, Gaius," Merlin muttered shakily, trying to reassure his mentor even as his own mind raced at the thought of what all this meant, fear returning.
There was rustling and undefinable noises for a moment, the click of the lock opening, and then Gaius shuffled quickly inside. He was followed by the clatter of a tray being carelessly thrown on the ground, spilling what it held.
"Make sure the sorcerer brat eats," the guard laughed, and Merlin was sure it was his dinner that was now scattered across the filthy floor. "You have an hour." Then the door clanged shut and the faceless guard stomped off.
Various bundles dropped with small thumps as Gaius rushed to his side. "What's happened?" his old friend repeated, crouching with difficulty before him, his gentle, warm hands touching his face and arms, looking for new injuries.
Merlin reached out shakily, groping until he found the physician's arm.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! He'd been so stupid! Selfishly moaning and wallowing about his own fate, never once pausing to wonder what was happening to his friends and those he cared about. Gaius had stood up for him, defend him to the king, saved his life! Gaius had also sheltered and protected him for over a year, a crime punishable by death!
"Gaius!" he whispered in horror, gripping tightly and ignoring the man's questions as he felt something building inside of him, something he'd been suppressing since his world had fallen apart. "You're in trouble! Because of me and my magic! Because you cared for me! Are you a prisoner, too? Have they hurt you? Please, tell me!" he begged, tears starting.
"No, no, my boy," Gaius soothed, his hands now on Merlin's shoulders and face, trying to calm him, but the boy had been too long alone in the dark and silence with only his worst fears for company. He found he couldn't stop the meltdown now it was started.
"He's going to kill you, isn't he!" Merlin wailed, his voice breaking. "As soon as I'm well enough, he's going to kill you for protecting me! It's all my fault and I can't stop it this time!"
Merlin had never cared for Uther, but he'd also never really feared him either, believing with the innocence of youth that somehow luck and fate would protect him and if not, his magic would always be there if he really needed it. But the last few days had completely obliterated that delusion. He now knew exactly what kind of man Uther was and what he was willing to do. The king had tortured, crippled, and blinded a boy not even seventeen…locked him away…would have killed him without thought if he could…
Merlin truly feared Uther now, and the thought of what the mad king would do to this man he loved so much was more than he could take. So suddenly, he was sobbing, the pent-up sorrow and emotion he'd been unable to express for his own loss finding escape as he gripped the only father he'd ever known.
Then Gaius was next to him, sitting on the hard ground and gathering him into his arms, rocking and soothing.
"Sh, sh, Merlin. It's okay, just breathe. It's not true, I'm just fine. I'm not locked in a cell. I'm not going to be killed. I'm not in danger. Just breathe, my boy. I'm fine."
"But…the guard…" Merlin hiccupped, unable to turn off the panic and tears now that he'd given them release. "They would never dare speak to you like that before! They respect you!"
"Uther is very, very angry and I'll admit I've lost favor with the king," Gaius said. "But I'm not going to die, Merlin. I promise."
The chains on his wrists prevented Merlin from throwing his arms around the physician like he had only a month ago on the Isle of the Blessed, but he reached out and tightly clutched his robes, burying his face in Gaius's shoulder as he soaked up the comfort of the familiar cloth, breathed deeply the aroma of herbs and wood smoke that teased of home. "I'm sorry, Gaius…" he mumbled. "I'm so sorry… It's all my fault and I'm so sorry… Please forgive me…" he pleaded, his voice muffled.
A hand cupped the back of his head and loving arms pulled him close. "There is nothing to forgive, my boy."
They stayed that way for a while as Merlin fought to calm down. Eventually, though, Gaius eased his hold and pulled away.
"Merlin, why are you over here on the ground? Did someone hurt you? What happened?"
The boy sniffed and wiped the back of a hand across his cheeks where tears had leaked from beneath his bandages, chains jangling with every movement. "I was just figuring things out," he said quietly.
"Figuring what things out?" He heard Gaius stifle a groan as he climbed slowly to his feet.
"The space," Merlin answered, crawling self-consciously back toward his bed before his friend could strain himself further by trying to help him stand and hop. He reached the hard, wooden ledge and clumsily managed to pull himself up and collapse onto it. "What's around me."
"Oh," Gaius answered, his voice incredibly sad for just a moment before he slipped on his professional physician mask. "Your wounds are far from healed yet, my boy. You should not be crawling around in the dirt."
"How else am I supposed to get around when no one is here?" Merlin replied, allowing Gaius to help him completely onto the bed and letting him fuss with the blankets.
Gaius sighed but didn't answer, instead stepping away to retrieve his bags of supplies he dropped as well as salvage what he could of Merlin's dinner from the ground.
"Tell me the truth," Merlin said later as he nibbled on a dusty bit of cheese, propped once more in his safe corner while Gaius finished tying off the last bandage that had been changed. "Will my foot heal?"
"The wounds will close, yes."
"But the ability to use it? Will I be able to move it again, walk on it?"
"I don't believe so," the old man answered sorrowfully, patting his hand. "I'm sorry, Merlin."
So that was it. Permanently blind and crippled. Even if Merlin were ever to be released from his prison, he was essentially useless now anyway, no good to anyone, even as a servant.
He swallowed thickly and turned his face away – suddenly exhausted – but he won the fight to keep his emotions reined in this time. Tears wouldn't change anything and he'd cried enough for one day.
"Tell me what I've missed," he requested quietly. "Tell me about everyone."
Gaius helped him lie down again, tucking surprisingly warm blankets around him, then settled carefully on the edge of his narrow bed and took his hand.
"Gwen came to see me today, worried about how I was coping with your absence. She's volunteered to help take over some of your chores you used to help me with, until I can…until I…" His voice broke and he didn't finish. Merlin was grateful. He wasn't sure he could handle hearing about Gaius's need to find a new apprentice now. "Anyway," the old man continued rather thickly. "She's very sad you're gone and misses you."
Merlin shifted his right hand – the one not clasped in Gaius's aged ones – so his fingers could clutch the bars once more, a physical anchor in his dark void that was becoming an unconscious habit.
"Sir Leon, who was under strict physician's orders to remain abed has disappeared," Gaius continued, his voice lighter now. "I suspect him of sneaking off to keep our errant prince company."
For the first time in a long while, Merlin let a tiny smile form. "I'm not the only bad patient," he muttered tiredly.
"Indeed, my boy, you are not," Gaius laughed gently.
As his mentor spoke quietly, filling him in on all the latest palace gossip – everything from the servants down to the kitchen cat who appeared to be pregnant again – the exertion of the day began to take its toll. He never even heard the guard return to order Gaius out; by then he was fast asleep and lost in a world of peaceful dreams where life was still light and good.
Author's Note: Thank you so much for the support! Your comments and reviews, as well as follows and likes mean so much to me! Life is a little stressful right now and they honestly keep me going. I wanted to apologize for not responding to any of them lately – trying to survive to the end of the school year. But I also wanted you to know that I read and cherish each review, and as soon as I can, I will be responding.
Thank you!
