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Chapter 10: Caught
"Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable." - Anonymous
For all those that would live to tell the tale of the Battle of Camelot, the siege of Pelinor, each and every one of them would mention the same thing.
When the portal opened and the creature appeared, the events to follow in the days, months and years after were something that no one could have predicted.
At the time however, all anyone could think, both enemy and ally alike, was the sheer terror of seeing those blue eyes sweep the Hall, assessing and observing.
It looked sentient, which was ludicrous to consider but at the same time, it seemed completely within the realm of reason. For a few moments, nothing could be heard in the room save for the sounds of the wolf breathing. It hadn't moved from its initial position. It stood over Arthur, who still lay on the ground beneath it.
King Pelinor was speechless for words escaped him as did the comprehension of what he was seeing. When he looked to his men, he saw that that they too, were struck dumb by the sight before them. Clearly he could not look to them for answers, so he resolved to get his own.
"What in the name of the Lords' is that?" Pelinor breathed, and simultaneously regretted doing so. The Wolf, who had been staring across the entire expanse of the room now turned its attention on him. It bowed its head low again, bringing its eyes level with Pelinor, and looked around the immediate vicinity. The knights still remained as they had been, held in place by four or five men each. The gargantuan head turned towards the group of men closest to it, five burly strong men who had Sir Percival held to the ground in a vice-like grip.
The beast growled, low and guttural, the sound reverberating around the room, in the direction of the men. But they didn't move. In fact, they appeared to be frozen in fear. It waited a second and when they didn't make any sort of movement, the beast lashed out with a foreleg, batting the two men 20 feet across the room with the sheer power of brute strength.
There were shouts of horror as they landed with dull thuds, groaning in pain, limbs akimbo and remained there. The other men had let go of Percival when the first two had gone and now backed away from Percival, who stood up immediately, taking his sword and shield up from the floor, bracing for whatever happened next.
This time when the beast swung its attentions onto the other soldiers holding the knight's hostage, they all let go instantly, fearfully backing away slowly, so as not to incite its rage. The gesture of goodwill did nothing to help them, since the Wolf charged forward, snapping its jaws violently. The screams that followed were gut wrenching and the Knights blanched in bonafide terror, watching as muscle was wrent from bone and bone from flesh. It was enough to drive a sane man to the brink of insanity.
When it deemed the job done, it turned and padded back to Arthur, blood dripping steadily from its mouth and staining its canines. The Knights jumped back up and readied themselves, facing the Wolf. They didn't understand what was happening but they weren't sure that the animal meant them no harm, so they had to be on guard.
And for a moment, it looked to be that their fear was well founded, when it snarled suddenly, lips curling back to reveal the razor sharp teeth once more. Then it padded forward, and the Knights and the King of Camelot found themselves standing directly under the belly of the creature. Nothing and no one could approach them without getting past it.
Pelinor by this point rallied his troops who seemed to regain focus and began to attempt the assault once more.
But they were not to get very far with it. Wolf only had to rear its head back and howl and the sound it produced so was loud and aggressive that all who were in the vicinity to hear it, froze in place. All the knights glanced to each other and their King. They understood none of what was happening. This beast, as unlikely as it seemed, appeared to be protecting them. For there was no other word for the behavior it displayed.
There was a loud shout suddenly, as one of the Sorcerers that Pelinor had with him called out some sort of incantation. His hands glowed bright and for a moment, the Wolf appeared to falter. It stumbled back and cocked its head, studying the man, who was breathing heavily with the exertion of spell. His stone cold blue eyes flared, in a way that transfixed them, and the man screamed, his body contorted with pain, reduced to a quivering silhouette on the floor, completely incapacitated. Then, the beast swung his head towards the others and tilted his head again. It might have been endearing in a smaller animal, but this?
This was as if it were asking, who's next?
Out of fear, all the opposing forces began to retreat, even Pelinor and his sorcerers, leaving behind the man that lay on the ground. They made for the door, but the Wolf followed their movements and leapt ahead, landing with a resounding thud right before them. There were yells of fright and they ran to the opposite, with Wolf keeping pace easily. He moved swiftly and his growls were low and shook the room. Most curious of all, causing murmurs to flood the room, was that the Wolf appeared to be focused only on Pelinor and his men, it didn't even look at the other knights, the knights of Camelot, except to push them out of the way by his tail or by huffing in their direction, letting them know to get out of his way.
When it looked as if the Wolf were satisfied with where had left the soldiers, the Camelot Knights rushed in to take charge, holding Pelinor's forces at bay and keeping them right there. The other sorcerers dared not try anything else in the presence of the beast which now circled away from them. Pelinor yelled at his sorcerers to do something.
"Go on you blithering idiots! It's just a mutt for Lord's sake! Surely you absolute imbeciles can come up with something to rid us of the pest?!"
But even as the sorcerers, driven with fear of their King, turned to Wolf in order to attack it, they never had the chance. It gave them exactly the same treatment that their earlier comrade had faced. Soon, all Pelinor was surrounded by was a multitude of men, writhing in pain on the ground, completely incapable of doing anything besides screaming out in anguish.
The beast clearly felt its job was done it swung its head again around the room, assessing the situation again. It had rounded up the main perpetrators and wrapped them up neatly for Arthur and his men. The Wolf then slowly meandered towards the portal which had remained open the entire time, swinging its head around the entire time, making sure everyone stayed where they should be. However, before it got there, the King placed himself directly in his way, leading the animal to come to an abrupt halt.
The king regarded the animal with equal parts and apprehension and curiosity. The latter seemed to have more control and the King made no move to approach it but bowed partially, keeping his head up to keep an eye on it.
"Thank you. Without you, all would have been lost today." He spoke slowly, still wondering if the animal could understand him or if he was just speaking gibberish to an animal that had conveniently helped out when he needed it. The soldiers around him whispered amongst themselves, wondered if the King had finally lost it. He appeared quite ridiculous, standing in front of it, speaking formally.
Still, the creature did not (could not?) say a word, beyond the panting, and it did not break eye contact with him. It regarded the King with a sort of wary caution but bowed his head as if in deference, ever so slightly. Arthur's eyes widened as it did so, finally catching the look of actual intelligence in the animal's eyes.
It was sentient, Arthur marveled. On the one hand, he knew that if this were truly the case, then it could be nothing else but magic. But on the other hand, it was an animal that was almost the size of a small house, and yet seemed completely aware of its surroundings and that was more the more frightening assumption.
The next move Arthur made, he made completely out of curiosity and when he thought about it in the future, he would remember thinking only that he had to see if the Wolf understood him. Something about the animal was so familiar that he was unable to convince himself to keep his inquisitiveness in check.
He held out a hand, tentatively, towards the Wolf, inching closer as the creature watched Arthur in a manner that was both wary and confused. Soon, he was no more than 20 feet away and the Wolf hadn't moved, save for snarling every now and then as some sort of warning.
Then, as Arthur came closer, almost enough to touch his snout, which had lowered to Arthur's level, the crystal on the Wolf's chest flared brightly and painfully. The Wolf reeled back and Arthur collapsed to the ground in agony, the kerchief tied around his wrist turning searing hot against his skin and pain coursing through his head. It felt as though he could feel an insane amount of anguish, but whether it was his own or someone else's he couldn't tell. It seemed to want to swallow him whole and he could only gasp as the onslaught continued.
As soon as Arthur hit the ground, his Knights were at his side, which Pelinor seemed to take as a sign to attempt one last hurrah. He rushed the soldiers directly in front, with nothing but his bare hands and pure will.
Of course, he had neither the strength, nor the know how that was required in escaping an army of this magnitude on his own, considering the fact that his own men seemed not particularly inclined to follow him any longer. They were too frightened of the creature that still stood amongst them, even more now that it was behaving erratically.
Pelinor was immediately struck down and held there by Percival, who had quickly turned his attention to him while the rest of the knights worked quickly to wrestle the kerchief off Arthur's hand, while the King writhed on the ground.
The Wolf took advantage of the chaos in that moment to leap back into the void, leaving Arthur to yell after it in futile, through his own pain.
"Wait!" The second it crossed through the portal however, the pain vanished, and Arthur felt his head clear completely.
"Sire!" Lancelot's gasp managed to tear Arthur's attention away from the Wolf, if only because he had never heard it like that before. He looked down to see that Elyan had finally taken off Merlin's scarf only to reveal a nasty scar on his wrist, in the perfect cast of the shard of crystal that had been wrapped within the folds of the scarf. The same crystal that now lay on the floor in between Arthur's legs, glowing red hot.
Arthur looked at the crystal, remembering the jewel on Merlin's chest. His eyes widened.
Surely not.
When Merlin woke up, to say he was disoriented would have been an understatement. He was shirtless, and dressed in the tatters of his original trousers. His head spun and he struggled to understand what had happened.
The last thing he remembered was watching Arthur and Gwaine and the others being herded into the throne room by Pelinor's forces. He crouched on the floor, wincing as he felt the wolf prowl in the back of his consciousness, deep in the recesses of his mind.
Then Pelinor had fought Arthur and the King had gone down, losing his sword. From there his memory was hazy at best.
The more he focused however, the more of it came back to him, slowly. He inhaled sharply, after remembering the horrified look on Arthur's face, some 15 feet below him.
Merlin staggered to his feet and all but ran to the door of the room, practically throwing himself out. He shut the door behind him, leaned on it, mind racing in abject terror.
He barely remembered the change taking place, he had no idea when he ceased being Merlin and the Other took over, but what he did remember, distinctly, was the feeling of piercing, burning pain when Arthur's hand came close to him.
It had felt like pure fire spreading over his chest, and yet at the same time he had been drawn to it. Arthur had seemed affected by it too, the man had gone down instantly, holding his wrist. Merlin had used it as a distraction and escaped in the ensuing pandemonium.
Arthur
Merlin's eyes widened in realization, recalling the look in Arthur's face as he took in Merlin's form. What if he had somehow recognized him? His blood ran cold at the thought. If Arthur found out Merlin was alive, Merlin would never forgive himself. He knew full well what kind of threat he was to his King and to his friends.
He leapt to his feet and ran to the ante chamber and started throwing things to ground, picking what items to keep and what to leave behind. It was the only way to survive. He would have to leave. If he didn't and he was discovered, Merlin couldn't imagine what he could say to his King, to Gaius, or to the others when they saw what he had become.
As he started to gather the items Merlin had picked out, he suddenly paused. He hadn't left the castle through normal means in a long time, the few forays he had made had been through the portal. That meant that the outside of the castle was undisturbed with no signs of life. He couldn't use the mirror because as far as he could tell, it allowed him only to travel through it to get to Arthur and that was the last place he wanted to be right now.
If Merlin left now through normal means, whoever came here would know that someone was living here and knowing Arthur, the man would order a full investigation. And if – if – he caught wind that Merlin was alive – Merlin shuddered to think about the way Arthur would pursue him until the day Merlin could avoid him no longer.
Which left him no alternative but to lay low, and stay put. It would be safer to stay where he was and fortify himself within the walls of Circe's fortress. His blood runes still covered it from top to bottom and a few extra enchantments plus some modifications would allow him to completely conceal himself from the world.
For now, he would have to trust that would be enough to hide him. Anything to save the King from his manservant.
If it failed and Arthur found him. Merlin would have no choice but to take the final permanent way out.
It was only less than a week later, that Merlin was spending yet another day, within the confines of the fortress, studying more of Circe's books, that the time to finally decide was suddenly thrust in his face.
It was quiet as it often was, during that time that day turned slowly to night, with only a few songbirds chirping, perhaps signaling the end of the day. Merlin's stomach was growling, the last of his meat had run out two days ago, but he was too scared to venture outside to bring himself anything else to eat. He attempted to eat some of the root vegetables in the stores, but it seemed that his body no longer accepted such things.
He wondered what he would do, thinking to himself that only when he was absolutely sure that it was safe, would he go outside again.
Then, unbelievably, the very moment he had feared for the last three years happened upon him. The smell of fresh blood flooded his nostrils and a loud voice thundered past the walls of the fortress.
"MERLIN! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE."
Merlin froze. It couldn't be. Surely not.
"IF YOU DON'T COME OUTSIDE IN THE NEXT FIVE SECONDS, I SWEAR TO EVERY LORD IN THIS GODFORSAKEN LAND THAT I WILL TEAR THIS PLACE DOWN AND DRAG YOU OUT MYSELF!" Merlin collapsed on the floor in front of door, feeling with every fiber in his being the very presence of those men outside his prison.
No.
NO.