A/N: This chapter has a paragraph in italics, down near the bottom, which might be disturbing. I'm really, really sorry if anyone is upset by it, as it's not my intention to provoke that reaction. I don't think it is that bad, but I felt I should warn anyway.

The False Queen

Chapter Twelve – Torture of the Dark Times

Birds were singing. Merlin lay on his side in the tent he had been assigned, staring at the canvas as it lightened slowly. Soon, it would be time to get up, and he would have his first induction lesson with the master himself. For the past month, Merlin had been left almost entirely alone by the elite and Braelyn, amusing himself by roaming the camp and surrounding woods at his leisure. He had learned a great deal about magic, and how the camp was run, but nothing at all about what the master had spoken of when they first met; namely, the overthrow of Uther Pendragon. Merlin felt his gut twist slightly at the mention of the name Pendragon, and the memories of his prince it brought to the surface. Merlin missed Arthur, all the time. But he had no way of knowing if the prince had felt the same way, due to Braelyn.

"But why? I could send him a message, or contact him using magic… he needs to know I'm all right!" Merlin yelled angrily, taking a step closer to the girl he had run away with. The need to see Arthur's face, hear his voice and revel in his easy laughter… well, it was becoming more than Merlin could bear.

"Merlin, you left Arthur in Camelot for a reason, remember? You can't just go smashing back into his life! You left so that he could be a great king, the king Camelot needs. He can't do that if he's constantly in contact with you!" Braelyn yelled back, desperate to make Emrys come round to her way of thinking. He couldn't be allowed any contact with Camelot, not if their plan was to work…

And Merlin had to admit that she had a point. The whole reason that Arthur wasn't at his side right at that moment was because Merlin had left him in Camelot to rule. Camelot needed him, and Merlin knew that if Arthur realised where he was, he would never become a great king. So Merlin stopped himself from making contact, however much it hurt. Instead, he filled his mind with memories of Arthur, and not all of them necessarily happy ones. He thought back to their first meeting a lot.

"That was my mistake,"

And the last time he had seen Arthur, living, breathing, close enough to touch.

"You don't have to say anything… I promise. I'll get you out,"

Merlin felt his stomach churn at the thought, and so he turned his attention back to the present.

Outside of the tent, Merlin could hear to sounds of the camp coming to life. He could hear women calling, wood being chopped, fires being started, even the wail of an infant demanding to be fed. It was the same noise he had woken up to for a month, and it was quickly becoming as comforting to Merlin as the sounds of Camelot or Ealdor had ever been. He was beginning to feel at home among the Awyren tribe, with their androgynous dress code and open magic use.

"Emrys?" A female voice called, and Merlin pulled himself out of bed, shrugging into his loose clothes before exiting the tent. As soon as he did so, he ran head-first into Braelyn.

"Sorry," he muttered, flushing at his clumsiness. Braelyn just smiled.

"Come on. The master is waiting." She turned quickly on her heel, weaving between the sorcerers and sorceresses already up and working. Merlin followed after her more slowly, pausing every now and then to apologise to those he knocked into or accidently pushed over. Finally, they made it to a small clearing, where the elite were seated in a circle, as before.

Braelyn gestured Merlin to sit and he did so, trying to ignore how anxious he felt. There was no reason to, but still… Merlin felt uneasy.

"Welcome, Emrys," A woman greeted him, smiling tightly before raking her eyes over his body, as though pricing a pound of meat. Unbidden, Merlin felt his nervousness return, but before he could reply, the master walked into the clearing and took a seat.

"Long ago," He began, and in spite of himself, Merlin leaned forward slightly, "There was a time when Albion was united. Men and women stood as equals, and magic flourished. Those who possessed it were treated well, respected, and they used their immense power to help those who needed it. They treated the ill, and the disabled. They studied the stars of the night and the sun of the day, and created remedies to help everyone, regardless of gender or wealth. They were the good times, and I wish I had been alive to see it."

Here, the master paused, looking around the circle to gauge the reactions he was receiving. Many of the elite were already looking away, bored after hearing the story so many times before. Emrys, however, looked fascinated, as did Braelyn, in spite of the fact the master knew she had heard this history close to a hundred times. She was gazing at him in rapt attention, even as the silence lengthened.

The master cleared his throat, and continued.

"And then came the bad times. Some magic users began to abuse their power, using it to gain more prestige, wealth and control. The druids and the Awyren stood against them, but it was not enough. They were a minority group, a few who were evil… but it was enough. That was when Uther Pendragon came along." The master's face hardened slightly.

"He promised those of us who used their magic for good that he would help us. We joined together with his non-magical armies, and defeated the evil sorcerers. Uther Pendragon took the throne, and we Awyren expected to be left alone, to live our quiet lives in the forest as it has always been, as it should always be. And at first that was the case, we were left in peace. But after a year, the massacre began. Braelyn," He said suddenly, turning to face his apprentice. As always, she blushed with pleasure to see that he had remembered her name.

"Light a fire," He commanded, settling back as she did so.

"Dorri'n rhydd," She whispered, holding her hand over the grass and smiling in satisfaction when flames sprang to life, licking at the edges of her perfect magic circle.

"Emrys, this may be disturbing," She warned, feeling a flash of guilt when the master glared at her. But she had to caution him – she hadn't been, and she'd had nightmares for months.

"Arddangos y arteithio," The master murmured, watching intently as the flames writhed under his guidance, finally turning a brilliant white.

"Look into them, Emrys. Look into them, and see the torture and agony Uther Pendragon has inflicted upon our kind," Curious, Merlin leaned forward slightly, and stared into the flames, unable to look away once he was started.

Blood, blood, blood. It was everywhere, soaking into her skin, her hands, drenching her hair and dripping down her throat sickeningly…pain, writhing in agony, MAKE IT STOP…screams of terror cutting through the night air… "Don't take him, please, he's just a boy, please"… tears, turning to ice before they have even fallen… children crying in horror…NO, NO, NO… "Daddy, where are they taking us?"… Dungeon, chains, whips, pain all over again… please… fires burning bright against the dark sky…lakes filled with dead bodies… "Not my son, not my son, you can't take my son."…a single girl, eyes staring endlessly, unseeing forevermore…

"No!" Merlin yelled, wrenching away his gaze. His body was coated in a thin layer of cold sweat, and he found he was shaking violently. The images kept running through his mind, suffocating him… he couldn't breathe…

"Uther did this?" Merlin asked, voice flat, tone hiding the white-hot fury he felt. Braelyn merely nodded. Merlin stood up suddenly, running away from all of them, the so called elite, who had been powerless to stop all those innocent people dying.

For the first time in his life, Merlin let his magic go completely; let it take over his mind, his body, everything that he was. It surrounded him, tugging and pulling at everything until he fell to his knees in the middle of the forest and openly sobbed, for all the pain and loss.

It was like that, an hour later, that Braelyn found him. Softly, she knelt down next to him and raised his face so that he was staring straight into her emerald eyes. His eyes were rimmed with red, his face shiny with shed tears.

"Will you help us?" Braelyn asked with barely bated breath, waiting for Emrys to answer.

"Yes."