A/N: Thanks for being patient with me, guys; I'm trying to draw these pre-written chapters out as much as I can so you'll get regular updates on Mondays and Fridays through NaNoWriMo. No Potter Pals in this scene, besides Voldie, but I'd consider him more of a Potter Poo so it's all good. xD No worries, though - Harry and Co. will be back and ready to kick some serious buttocks in chapter Twenty-One so stay tuned! :) Oh, and this chapter is where things get very dark, so you've been warned—but with the darkness, of course, comes awesomeosity, so please read and review! ;-)
And in response to Binn's review, I'm sorry you didn't get enough action in the last scene to satisfy you. I personally thought it was one of the most action-packed chapters (at least near the end) of the story so far. And as for the rescue mission and chapter length, I've been making sure each chapter is at least 3,000 words, which is a good length (at least for me, I'm nortorius for short chapters lol!) and I'm trying not to rush the story along, so when the rescue mission comes, it'll come. You can't rush these things, am I right? lol! Thanks for the review, though - I sincerely appreciate and will take into mind your input. :D
As always, thanks to Xanthiae, Luiz4200, ruby890, Binn, TheLadyIcarus, Parteh Parteh Babeh, Nimbus Llewelyn, FireChildSlytherin5, and BlueEyes444's spirit (LOL) for your reviews on the last chapter – now let's find out what the heck is going on with Arthur! ;-) Please don't forget to review this one as well! :D
The Most Deadly Alliance
Chapter Twenty
Merlin had no idea what was going on, but one thing he had figured out for certain was that Arthur was not in his right mind. After attacking his servant and tying him up, the prince had addressed the gleaming scarlet eyes of the dark wizard Voldemort, as the rest of him was shrouded in darkness. Voldemort had responded, and for the first time Merlin had heard the voice of the man who wreaked havoc in Harry's time, murdering men, women, and children; ripping families apart; torturing; and casting terror into the hearts of wizard-kind. This was the monster who had killed Harry's parents while trying to kill the one-year-old child and that had been out to extract his revenge ever since, making sure to destroy as many innocents as possible along the way.
The voice had been even more insidious and terrifying than Merlin had imagined, snake-like and twisted, dripping in malice. It was high-pitched and serpentine as it hissed, "Well done, young prince."
The feeling of despair and betrayal that had washed over Merlin then had been like nothing the warlock had ever dreamed. Arthur had betrayed him, consorting with the very evil he was sworn to defeat. He had tricked Merlin, bringing him out into the woods in the middle of the night, using the trust the servant had for his master against him, attacking, binding, and gagging him, delivering him to the enemy.
The pain that had seared through Merlin's heart had been far worse than the sting of the rope around his chafed wrists, the aching of his stretched shoulders and arms, and the throbbing bruise where Arthur's boot had struck him in the back combined.
Merlin had been angry. He had considered the prince his friend and thought that Arthur felt the same (although he'd rather die than admit it, of course). Merlin had risked his life, risked everything, more times than he could count for the prat with no recognition, for that great destiny Kilgharra had spoken of. The return of magic to the land, the time of the Once and Future King, the birth of Albion. Even more than that, though, Merlin protected Arthur because of something far more valuable than fate—friendship.
To have Arthur betray that trust now, like this, was worse than any agony Morgana could have foreseen, more terrible than any torture she might have dreamed of. Even worse was the knowledge that Arthur was not just turning his back on Merlin, his friend, but also on Camelot, his kingdom.
This last thought was what had made Merlin realize that Arthur couldn't know what he was doing. The servant knew the prince almost as well as he knew himself, and despite his flaws, Arthur was a fine prince who cared about Camelot more than his own life. Merlin knew, without a doubt, that if Arthur had any control over himself at all, he would not be allying himself with those who posed a threat to it.
Although the rage he felt stirring deep inside him hadn't faded, it had been redirected to those responsible for turning his friend and prince against what he cared about more than life itself. The fire had flared up in his chest and the warlock had had to literally force his magic back down. He could have broken free from Arthur's restraints in a heartbeat, but he couldn't risk using magic in front of the prince, especially when Arthur was like this. Who knew how he would react when he was himself, but in this mindset?
Besides, Voldemort was here which meant that Nimueh was not too far. The two of them were dangerously powerful on their own, but working together they would be all but unstoppable. If only he knew what the dragon had meant—their greatest strength was also their greatest weakness.
Merlin pondered this now as he absent-mindedly tugged at the manacles that circles his wrists, cutting into the already rope-burned flesh. The cuffs were attached to heavy chains that in turn were held to the cave wall. After Voldemort had commended the prince for a job well done, he had disappeared and Arthur had roughly slung his servant over his shoulder and carried him deep into the cave. Eerie floating lights, similar to the ball of light Merlin had conjured when Arthur was on the quest for the Morteus flower—except red instead of blue—lit up the labyrinth of caverns and passages they went through.
They had traveled into a large, tall ceilinged cavern that looked like it had been turned into a dungeon—several pairs of chains hung from the wall. Wordlessly, Arthur had untied Merlin's hands and ankles before clasping them in the manacles and removing the gag. Then he had stepped back a few paces and stood tall and proud with his hands clasped calmly behind his back, seeming undisturbed by the sight of his manservant chained to the wall before him.
Finally, when he could bear the silence no longer, Merlin spoke up, his voice echoing eerily in the cave. "Okay, Arthur, what's going on?"
Arthur shrugged. "What does it look like?"
Huffing, Merlin responded, "It looks like you just chained me to a wall!" He paused. "Why did you do this Arthur?"
The prince shrugged again. "Because I had to."
"You had to?" Merlin spat. Maybe if he got Arthur angry enough, the prince would snap out of whatever was messing with his head. "Well, I'm sure that'll be a good enough answer for your father when he asks you why you betrayed Camelot and collaborated with sorcerers!" Arthur didn't look affected by the harsh words. "Can you do this, Arthur? Can you turn your back on your own kingdom? On everything you've ever lived for? On the people? Think about your father, Morgana, Gwen…are you really going to allow them all to die because you are working for people who would like nothing more than to see Camelot fall?"
Arthur blinked.
It was some kind of a response, no matter how small, and Merlin ran with it, his voice getting more urgent with each word. "Arthur—this isn't you! You love Camelot more than your own life. You've almost died for it more times than I can count. You love your people, your knights, your subjects! The people love you, too, even if you are a complete prat! Would you really let the kingdom crumble and evil take over, killing everyone and destroying everything you care about! Come on, you prat! Snap out of it!"
He felt wonderful, like he was in a dream. Floating on air. He had no worries, nothing to weigh him down. His heart felt light and he was in such a wonderful, oblivious place that he just didn't know what to do with himself.
Then his orders came.
You will go back to the hunting party and act like nothing happened.
Of course, his mind said. Whatever you wish.
You will tell Merlin to meet you in your chambers directly after taking care of the horses.
I would have done that anyway.
You will tell him a story about sorcerers hiding out in this cave in the woods. You do not want your father to pass judgment unless they are truly guilty of a crime, so you will tell Merlin to sneak out of the castle with you tonight and come to the Darkling Woods to find the sorcerers and see if they are threats.
A quest—how exciting. Of course.
When you get to the cave, you will ambush him. Tie him up and wait until I have come to confirm your arrival. Then follow the directions I am about to tell you and bring him to the cavern. Chain him to the wall. Wait for me there.
A small voice in the back of his mind had protested. 'No,' it said. 'I can't do that—Merlin's my friend.'
You can, the oblivious feeling in his brain countered, pressing its will against his. You can…and you will.
The weak voice tried to resist. 'I cannot hurt Merlin. I can't go against Camelot. They are both important to me. I won't hurt them.'
The stronger part of his conscience did not budge. You will ambush him.
Again, that part of his mind tried to protest. 'I…I…'
You will.
'I will.'
You will restrain him and take him into the cave.
'But I shouldn't—he's my friend—'
You will.
'I…will.'
After that, the little voice had vanished. Until now.
He heard what the boy in front of him was saying but it didn't register. He was just babbling nonsense, trying to get himself out of the situation he was in. The situation that Arthur had put him in. The relaxed, calming effect on his body and mind wavered a bit and he blinked, but then it came back just as strong.
The servant was yelling at him now. His subjects. His knights. His kingdom. He blinked again, trying to force the sluggish, trance-like feeling out of his body. Something wasn't right here. He had to escape from this oppressing tranquility; it was dulling his senses and what use would he be in battle if he was blissfully unaware of his surroundings?
He felt awareness return to him a little more. Someone was yelling at him? Merlin was yelling at him—the impertinent nincompoop! A wave of anger washed over him as he forced himself out of the stupor he was in, fueled by the fact that his bloody servant was yelling at him and by the knowledge that something really wasn't right here…
Come on, you prat! Snap out of it!"
And finally, Arthur did.
"Who are you calling a prat?"
Merlin gasped in relief as Arthur blinked rapidly, the odd look finally vanishing completely from his eyes; they no longer looked distant, glazed over. Still, he had to be wary—it could be a trick. "Arthur?" Merlin asked in a small voice. "Is it really you?"
Arthur smirked. "Of course, you idiot. Who else would I be?" He took a deep breath and took a good look around him for the first time since he'd broken out of the enchantment. His eyes widened as he realized that Merlin was chained to the rocky wall of a cave and that he really couldn't remember much of what had happened over the past day.
"What happened?" he asked shakily. "Merlin, who did this to you?" He knew there was anger in his voice, but this time, he didn't try to disguise it in an attempt to make Merlin think he didn't care. His servant was chained to a wall, for crying out loud. Arthur felt the anger seethe as he saw trickles of blood seeping from beneath the manacles where the cold, cruel metal had cut into the tender skin. Merlin looked bone-tired but wasn't able to sit down—he was forced to stand because of the height of the shackles on the stone. There were a mixture of emotions in his blue eyes—fear, relief, worry, and rage only being a few.
"Er," Merlin said uncomfortably, shifting his position slightly and wincing as his raw wrists were brushed by the clanking metal around them. Arthur fumed—whoever had hurt his servant, chained him up, and made him look so terrified, they were going to pay. "Do we have to talk about this right now? Why don't you get me out of here first…"
Arthur nodded, not liking the way Merlin had skirted around the subject of who had done this, but needing to get the idiot out of danger before anything worse could happen. He shivered as he remembered Morgana's nightmare and prayed they could escape before it became true. He hurried forward, gripping the hard metal in both hands, trying to wrench the clasps apart. Merlin grunted from the pain but didn't complain otherwise.
The cuffs were strong and Arthur's hands were sweaty, and although he was using all of his strength, he couldn't get Merlin free. "It's no use," he hissed. "I'm going to have to try and find a key."
Merlin didn't answer. He was staring, horrified, at the entrance to their prison, trembling. Dreading what he was going to see, Arthur turned around anyway, his heart skipping a beat when he saw what had caused Merlin to react so dramatically.
Two people walked into the room, sending chills down his spine.
The first he had never seen before, but he knew instantly that this had to be the man Morgana had dreamed about, and the sight of him froze the blood in his veins. At first he thought he was looking at a skeleton with red eyes—that was how white the skin stretched over the gaunt skull of the man was. The eyes were terrifying, evil, crimson like two pools of blood in a sea of white. His nostrils were more like slits and the mouth was curved into a cruel, thin smile. He had no hair and was dressed in long black robes. In his long, spider-like fingers he caressed some sort of long stick. Suddenly something flashed in Arthur's memory.
He had been chasing after that cursed deer when a cloaked person, tall and skeletal, had emerged from the bushes, wielding that very same stick. Arthur hadn't been able to see their face, as their head was lowered and immersed deep within the hood of the cloak. The figure had pointed the stick at him and said a strange word. Magic. And then he only remembered little flashes until he had woken up as if out of a dream in this stinking, damp cave with a petrified Merlin chained up in front of him.
Magic! The man was a sorcerer—Arthur had been enchanted!
The other person Arthur recognized. He had seen her before, in a dark cave not unlike this one, as he hung by his fingertips from a small ledge, a deadly drop below him and giant spiders crawling up to kill him. She had been the one responsible for the poison in his goblet, the poison which Merlin had been forced to drink. Seeing the hatred that her eyes held as she smirked in the direction of the helpless servant, Arthur couldn't help but wonder if she had actually intended to poison Merlin. But that was ridiculous. Why would she harbor a grudge against him, of all people?
As a matter of fact, why did these people have Merlin chained up, anyway? He was no threat to them—just a puny servant that could barely hold his own in a swordfight. He felt that rage bubble up inside of him again as he thought about Merlin, chained up, exhausted, and bleeding. "Why did you do this?" he bellowed, gesturing wildly at the servant who was watching the exchange with wide eyes.
The woman smirked, while the man looked on, his eyes flashing dangerously as he stared at Arthur. "We didn't do this, Arthur," the woman said. Her eyes flashed gold and he found himself falling backwards, ropes springing out of thin air and wrapping around him. He gasped, the air knocked out of him as hit the floor hard. "You did." Arthur paled.
"Arthur!" Merlin shouted, struggling even harder.
"Stay out of this, Merlin!" Arthur yelled back, trying to keep his idiot manservant from doing something to get himself killed.
Merlin got the hint and shut up, but his eyes were full of fear and worry as he gazed anxiously at Arthur, who had managed to wriggle himself into a sitting position, arms tied to his sides and legs bound together, glaring at the two sorcerers before him with a look that would have any normal opponents quaking in fear. As it was, they simply stared coolly back at him, unfazed by his reaction.
"What do you mean, I did this?" Arthur asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.
The man spoke for the first time since entering the room, and his voice was so evil that even Arthur had to fight not to show his fear. "You don't remember?" he said mockingly, striding forward until he was right next to Merlin who squirmed away as far as he could, the horror on his face tearing at Arthur's heart. The man with the monstrous face clasped an arachnidan, bone-white hand—so pale, that it made Merlin's usually pasty complexion seem tan—on Merlin's shoulder. The young man shuddered violently at the touch but could not get away from his grasp as the chains prevented him. Smiling a cold, dead smile, he explained, "You were under the influence of the Imperius Curse."
"The what?"
"It is a spell that forces you to do anything the caster orders you to," the man replied in a bored voice. "And I ordered you to attack and bring your servant—" he squeezed Merlin's shoulder, "—to me. Although I must admit, I did not expect you to be strong enough to break out of it, even with your little friend trying to get through to you."
"Wait—the stag, everything, that was a setup?" Arthur glowered. "You lured me away so you could put your…magic…on me?"
The woman nodded and Arthur noticed that her eyes were the exact same brilliant blue that the deer's had been. "I conjured the stag, a mere illusion," she said, "which lured you to where he was waiting to cast his curse on you." She smiled. "And then I suppose you know the rest—you ambushed Merlin here, betrayed him, brought him to us." Her smile was sickening.
Arthur met Merlin's eyes and the servant managed to give the prince a brave smile that said I hold nothing against you. Despite the severity of their situation, Arthur couldn't help but feel relieved that Merlin didn't hate him for what he'd done.
Merlin spoke up then, his voice more confident. "You've got us here," he said, locking eyes with the woman. "What do you want?"
The sorceress took a threatening step forward, her eyes flashing dangerously. At the same time, the man tightened his grip on Merlin's shoulder. Arthur watched helplessly as the two advanced on his friend, who, to his surprise, did not cower like he had expected but instead drew himself up taller, a defiant gleam Arthur had never seen before in those blue eyes.
At the sight of them turning their vile attention onto Merlin, Arthur bellowed, "Just leave him alone!"
"And why would we want to do that?" Her voice was beautiful and melodic but seeping with hatred at the same time.
"I'm the one you want!" he snapped. "Leave my servant alone!" He assumed that since he was the prince and the fact that nearly every other sorcerer he'd ever met had tried to do him in that they were after him and only targeting Merlin to get to him.
The pale man laughed a high-pitched, malicious cackle. "Do you hear the boy, Nimueh?" he asked, sending a patronizing glare Arthur's way.
The woman, Nimueh, smiled humorlessly. "Indeed I do, Lord Voldemort." Arthur had to suppress a shudder at the sound of his name.
"Nimueh has told me what a narcissistic prat you are," Voldemort sneered, Merlin's favorite teasing name for Arthur sounding like poison coming from his thin, cruel lips. Shaking his bald head condescendingly, he added. "I am so sorry to disappoint you, Prince Arthur, but not everything is about you, Sire."
Arthur bit back an angry retort when what Voldemort had said really sunk in. This was about Merlin? Those two powerful, evil wizards were after stupid, clumsy, innocent Merlin? Again, the horrible description of Morgana's dream and his own worry-induced nightmares assaulted his mind.
Nimueh spoke again. "Do not feel left out, Prince Arthur. Although your oaf a a serving boy Is the real prize here, you—and by default, your father—are a delicious bonus." Arthur stared at Merlin, trying to figure out why they were so interested in him. Merlin was just an idiotic, friendly servant who wouldn't hurt a fly. Merlin seemed to be avoiding his gaze, however. Voldemort's hand still gripped his shoulder.
"I have to admit, though, I am surprised," Voldemort hissed, taking his bony hand from Merlin's scrawny shoulder and placing it on his head, entwining his skeletal fingers in the warlock's hair and pulling his head back. Arthur struggled furiously as he watched this. Merlin's eyes were darting frantically back and forth between Arthur and Voldemort now. "You're not nearly as impressive as I thought you would be."
Merlin tried to jerk his head away, resulting in an involuntary whimper as Voldemort refused to let go of his raven hair. Arthur was watching them, his stomach churning with worry for his servant and anger that he was being hurt and there was nothing he could do about it. "Look, I know you're not really after me," Merlin muttered. "But Harry doesn't even know I'm here, so you're not going to be able to lure him in."
Arthur was really confused now. What did Harry have to do with anything? And if Merlin was the real "prize," why were they using him to lure in Harry? Arthur had never felt so out of sync with a situation, and quite frankly, it unnerved him—especially since said situation involved his servant and friend's personal health.
Nimueh stepped forward, going to Merlin's other side and placing her delicate hand on the side of his face in what could almost be considered a caress. Merlin couldn't move away from her as Voldemort's hand was still grasping his hair. He flinched but that did nothing to stop her from letting her hand slide down the side of his face and rest lightly on his shoulder. "You're not just a tool to get Harry, Merlin," she said in a sickeningly sweet voice. "You need to give yourself more credit than that."
Arthur watched as his friend gulped, his eyes darting between the two sorcerers flanking him. The anger threatened to boil over again as he saw the situation Merlin was in, but he held it in—two evil wizards had their hands on him and he wasn't about to do or say anything to make them irritated when they could kill Merlin with a single word.
Merlin fought the urge to close his eyes against the situation. He had never been so terrified in his life. He felt Voldemort's hand immersed in his hair, pulling at his scalp. He detested having that monster near him, let alone touching him. Nimueh's gentler touch was no better. He was chained to a wall, surrounded on both sides and Arthur was staring at him, fear written plainly on his face. Merlin felt a small smile reach his mouth even as Nimueh's hand slid slowly down his neck to his shoulder, where it rested—he had undeniable proof that Arthur did care, he thought ironically. She was saying something, but he wasn't really paying attention. He was too busy trying to keep his magic in check.
He was powerful, and he knew it. He could feel the energy of his magic raging like a windstorm inside of him. He could break free from the chains with just a glint of his eyes, he knew that. Taking on both Voldemort and Nimueh at the same time, on the other hand…that wouldn't be so easy. He glanced at Arthur, bound with magically-conjured rope, his sword lying on the floor across the room, useless. Even with Arthur free and armed their chances of winning would be slim to none. Although Merlin was powerful (the most powerful warlock of all time, according to his Hogwarts friends), he knew that it was utterly foolish to try and destroy two powerful sorcerers. As Kilgharra had said, together they would be that much more dangerous.
He also wanted to keep his magic a secret from Arthur as long as possible. He had resigned himself to the fact that more than likely, Arthur would know before this was over and that if they lived through it, the prince would have to deal with him then. If Voldemort and Nimueh were to try and harm or kill Arthur, Merlin knew there would be no choice but to use his powers to save him—and not because of some destiny or prophecy he was supposed to fulfill, but because his friend, his best friend, was not going to suffer or die when Merlin had the power to save him. Arthur could turn him in or not, but Merlin was not going to let his friend die to protect his secret. If Arthur found out, he found out, but unless the need arose, Merlin was not going to put his secret in jeopardy. He needed to try and see how this played out.
Nimueh was talking again. "Yes, you are much more valuable to me, Merlin, but as Voldemort assisted me in catching you with his…" she paused, smirking, "…surprisingly effective controlling spell—" the dark lord sent an angry glare Nimueh's way and Merlin realized that maybe their relationship was a little rockier than they had originally thought, "—I have agreed to help him obtain and destroy Harry Potter."
Voldemort smiled darkly, still annoyed by Nimueh's jibe, but thankfully, he finally released Merlin's hair as he moved to stand between the chained up warlock and the bound prince sitting a few yards in front of him, looking more confused, annoyed, and helpless than Merlin had ever seen him. If their situation hadn't been so dire, Merlin might have found the sight of the bewildered prince rather amusing.
As it was, Merlin scowled at the man, still keeping a grip on his magic and trying to keep his bravado up. "That still doesn't change the fact that Harry doesn't even know we're gone or where we are—it's in the middle of the night."
Voldemort laughed his cold, high, sinister laugh and said, "I'm quite sure Potter told you about our…connection." Merlin's eyes widened. "It was quite inconvenient at first, but now that I know how to use that connection to my advantage…" Chuckling, he twirled his wand once in his fingers and then pointed it straight at Merlin, who tried to hide his fear. Nimueh grinned and moved aside as Voldemort advanced.
Instead of looking at the sorcerer advancing on him, Merlin looked around him, locking eyes with Arthur. The prince was staring back at him, trying to give him courage, hope, support, he didn't know, but it was the gesture that counted. He didn't break the connection even as Voldemort murmured rather delightedly, "I'm sure when he has a vivid dream of his new friend in terrible danger, he will rush to the rescue, the noble brat." His voice lowered darkly, and he glanced casually at Arthur. "And as Nimueh has informed me that it is not the young Pendragon's destiny to die at her hands, she has informed me that I will get to do the honors of killing him myself." Merlin saw Arthur swallow dryly at the man's words, but his face showed no fear, the brave knight and prince that he was coming to the surface.
"Leave. Him. Alone," Merlin said softly and dangerously.
Voldemort just laughed, and, wand still aiming at Merlin, hissed, "Crucio."
A/N: If you don't know what the Cruciatus curse is, you're probably wondering why this is supposed to be a cliffhanger, although I assume if you're reading this, you probably know a thing or two about Harry Potter. But just in case you don't "Crucio" is another of the Unforgiveable Curses—this one is a torturing spell, causing pain so terrible that if someone is tortured by it too much, the pain will drive them mad (Exhibit A: Frank and Alice Longbottom *sigh* so sad). And as for the Imperius Curse I tried to go as close to the book as I could in that respect. LOL, anyway, thought I'd put that in there just in case someone was thinking "What the heck is that supposed to mean?" Hopefully you're enjoying it and I REALLY hope I'm still in character, especially with Nimueh and Moldy-Shorts. I think I'm doing okay, but your input would be extremely helpful, so PLEASE review and I'll update soon. :)
~Emachinescat ^..^