Chapter Twenty: The Depth of Darkness

If the carts had been bad, the dungeons of Camelot were a hundred times worse. Once the sun set, the darkness became so black that one might as well be submerged in a tank of obsidian-colored ink, so deep were the shadows. Sounds were amplified by enfold, echoing on the stone walls, and the air was dank and humid, but cold, so that each breath seemed to take a little more warmth from your body. Rats scampered around on the edges of the cells, unseen and lurking, the sound of their passage only adding to the shivers running through Merlin's body.

The warlock attempted to keep himself awake, if only for Gwaine's sake, since the Knight kept making non-consequential conversation, talking like he always did when he was nervous and trying not to seem like he was. It was his way of coping, and Merlin wasn't going to interfere. But he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and lose consciousness, anything to escape this combination of magic-induced pain and impenetrable blackness.

So when a flaming light illuminated the cell, shot through with angry red and rimmed with strange black fire, he wasn't all that surprised that his first feeling was one of complete relief, despite the unwelcome familiar face that the sudden light fell upon.

Apparently not even Morgana could make him feel as horrible as these chains and imprisonment did.

Gwaine wasn't at all relieved, leaping to his feet almost instantaneously, despite his chained wrists, moving towards the evil witch with violence in his eyes.

"Ræpling eac stán," Morgana spoke in the Ancient Language carelessly, barely glancing in the direction of the approaching Knight as her light blue-green eyes turned to glowing amber. The stone floor of the cell sprung to life, tendrils of rock wrapping around Gwaine's ankles like stone vines.

"What are you doing here?" Gwaine growled, struggling against the restraints.

"That is none of your concern." Morgana dismissed him with a wave of her hand, and the Knight was suddenly gagged by a piece of cloth that appeared out of nowhere, just as the stone tendrils grew higher and trapped his arms to his sides.

"Stop it," Merlin told her, trying to keep the panic from his voice. "You'll kill him!"

Morgana smirked, but her eyes stopped glowing gold, and the stone froze, returning to its normal unmoving state. The Knight's chest was still constricted, but Merlin noted with relief that he could still breathe.

"Nice to see you have some loyalty left," Morgana said, throwing a distasteful look at Gwaine. "Even if it isn't to your own kind." She took a step towards the elderly Merlin, who didn't even have the strength to stand and face her. "I had to come and see it myself, the great Emrys, my doom," her voice dripped with sarcasm, "brought low by the mighty Arthur Pendragon."

She brought a manicured fingernail up to comb through Merlin's long white beard. "I wonder if my precious brother knows that it wasn't you who planted the love spell under his pillow. It was me, and you're the one who saved his precious Guinevere's life." She smirked again. "And it was me who killed Uther. I reversed your healing magic and increased its power by ten-fold. The tyrant didn't stand a chance. But Arthur doesn't know that, does he, and he's going to execute you, for things I did, unwittingly aiding me and ridding himself of one of his greatest allies."

She took a step back, smiling contentedly. Merlin stared at her happy expression, sickened by the fact that in any other situation, that smile would be pleasant. But on her face, in the depths of the dungeon, for these reasons, it was anything but. "Arthur is a good man," he insisted, glaring at her.

"Ah, such loyalty," she simpered. "And Arthur's never going to see it."

She hit a nerve with that statement, and Merlin physically flinched away. Arthur never did see it. He was always too busy seeing the foolish servant to notice the man who had been his friend through thick and thin, despite it all.

The beautiful Seer laughed, the sound trilling in the stone cell. For the first time, Merlin noticed that Gwaine wasn't the only one bound by magic in the cell. The Druids, pale-faced in the glow of the fiery magic light, were watching the scene with wide eyes, encased with stone as Gwaine was, though most were restricted by only their ankles.

"The only thing that would make this better is if you would kill Arthur for me and clear the way to my throne," Morgana smiled beatifically.

Merlin froze, staring at her. He would not kill Arthur. He would not kill Arthur.

"In fact," the female Pendragon sneered. "I believe that's exactly what's going to happen."

"No," Merlin croaked, trying to move away from her. His back hit the stone wall of the cell. He was trapped.

"It's just perfect," Morgana smiled. "You're already far too much trouble than you're worth. You're going to be in Arthur's presence tomorrow, for your execution, and you're a powerful sorcerer. I can possess you, and before you know it, Arthur will be dead, I will be Queen, and you, Emrys, will be completely in my control."

"No," Merlin protested, but his voice was weak. There was nothing he could do. He reached for his magic, but it wasn't there, still trapped behind that inflexible barrier in his mind.

Gwaine struggled uselessly against his stone bonds as Morgana grabbed Merlin's wrist, gripping the point just below the chains and applying pressure on the bruises there, so that the weakened warlock hissed with pain, staring at her with wide fear-filled eyes.

"Álynian se gást béon mín sylfre," Morgana hissed, eyes glowing gold.

It felt like a massive weight crashed into Merlin's chest, pushing through his skin and deep inside him, and a coldness seemed to spread from his inner core to his fingertips, replaced soon after by a kind of scorching fire that left him feeling as if he'd been burnt from the inside out.

Arthur's half-sister let go of his wrist, smiling. "Don't worry, your will is yet your own, Emrys. I want to see the fear and self-loathing in your eyes to the very moment I take you over to kill your King. But after I do that, you won't have a choice except to do everything I say." Her eyes flashed dangerously. "You will never be my doom."

"And don't worry," she fingered the chains on his wrists, "you'll find you can use your magic when the time comes." She smiled at him, entirely without warmth, one last time, and then she vanished, the fiery light disappearing with her.

The sound of crumbling stone echoed around the cell, and Merlin felt small pebbles tumble to the ground next to his hands, before dissolving into sand. He realized he was lying on his side, curled into fetal position. The sand increased in amount as more of the stone tendrils crumbled, nearly burying his hands.

Seconds after the crumbling sound stopped, he felt gentle hands on him.

"Merlin?" Gwaine's voice was nervous. "Merlin, are you alright?"

No, he wasn't alright. He was going to kill Arthur. "Kill me," he said, voice barely louder than a whisper.

"What?" Gwaine was helping him sit up.

"Kill me," Merlin begged. "Please, before I kill Arthur."

"What?!" The Knight's voice was instantly sharp, his tone shocked. "No!"

"Please, Gwaine," the warlock pleaded. "You can't let this happen. You can't let me kill him."

"I won't let you kill him," his friend promised, "but I'm not going to kill you for that end."

Merlin felt tears on his cheeks. "This is all wrong," he stated brokenly. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this."

Gwaine wrapped his arms around him as best as he could with his wrists chained. "Merlin, it's all going to be alright. Just go to sleep."

The Knight's voice was strong, but the warlock could feel the nervous tremors in the man's hands. He was lying, but it didn't matter, because sleeping sounded better than anything else. So he finally allowed himself to lose the battle against unconsciousness.

The last thing that he heard before he succumbed was a familiar, bewildered voice from somewhere behind the stone wall at his back.

"Gwaine?" the voice hissed.

Gwaine startled at the sound of his name, especially spoken by that voice.

"Gwaine? Is that you?"

The Knight pulled himself away from Merlin, noting that his friend was completely dead to the world. For once, that was actually a good thing. He stood, searching for the source of the voice, and his fingers found a barred opening in the wall, at about the height of his chest.

"Percival?" he whispered.

"Gwaine!" His fellow Knight's voice was shocked. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm with Merlin. How did you know it was me?"

"Your voice," Percival answered. "Why wouldn't I know it was you? And why is Merlin here?"

"We're disguised. I'm blonde," Gwaine stated, his voice filled with distaste. "And Merlin's used an ageing spell. He's an old man, that Dragoon fellow. It was him all along. Arthur attacked the Druid camp where we were hiding out."

"Oh no," Percival muttered. "I heard Morgana. Who's Emrys? We need to warn Arthur."

"Merlin's Emrys," Gwaine hissed back. "He's enchanted."

There was silence from the other side of the bars for a moment. "This is bad," Percival finally said.

"I know," Gwaine agreed dejectedly. "I've told him everything will be alright, but I was lying. I have no idea what to do."

"If he kills Arthur, he'll never forgive himself."

"And if Arthur kills Merlin, he won't either," he replied.

"We need to stop this," Percival said, sounding determined.

"But how?"

Disclaimer: If I owned Merlin, the great reveal would have happened already! Since it hasn't, I obviously don't own Merlin.

I wrote this at the beach! Was very relaxing, a break from my otherwise hectic life, and the water was lovely. :) Also, beach + Pirates of the Caribbean Soundtrack = awesome. A gull tried to eat my paper though. *growls* Birds are evil. And – insert drumroll here – ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY REVIEWS! I love you all! Do I get more? Or is the cliffhanger too evil? ;)