Strongest of the Warlocks: Chapter Twenty-One: Return of the Lost
AN: Its been awhile since an update, and its probably going to be awhile more before the next one, sorry. The only reason this fic is getting updated is because I'm trying to update everything that's ongoing.
I did forget a major change that I was doing in regards to Morgana's character and where it went until I started writing this chapter, and then it hit me.
Merlin had counted the days. Exactly forty-one since she'd been dragged before Cenred and he'd said those terrible little words: "Let's see some magic."
She prized her magical prowess above most things in life, but if she actually showed that she was a sorcerer…word would get back to Camelot, there'd be another witch hunt and more people would die, more people who didn't need to die.
Merlin might've hated Camelot's king, but she liked its citizens, and they deserved better, especially if some of them were actually sorcerers that just didn't know it or were hiding their abilities.
So, Merlin kept her mouth shut and her magic hidden, like she was in Camelot, and she took every beating he gave her. There was blood in her hair and in her clothes, some of her broken fingers weren't set right but Merlin wouldn't dare to fix them with magic.
When she got free, it would be another story, but for now Merlin would have to contend with the pain in her arm and hands, the ache in her legs, the throbbing of her ribs. Merlin would take it all to spare every sorcerer she knew and the ones she didn't, she would do that for them.
But Merlin wouldn't be sticking around, not for long. She'd bided her time long enough; she was like a caged bird aching to spread her wings.
She had to think smarter. Arthur would just rush at his enemies; he had the brawn but not so much the brain. He'd gotten better, of course, but he still relied heavily on his strength. Merlin couldn't say the same. She wasn't built like him. She was built to climb trees and cliffs, to scale dangerous heights for rare plants, she was built to duck and dodge. Speed was more Merlin's ally than anything else, speed and cleverness.
Merlin opened her eyes in the darkness of her cell, the gold blazing through the darkness as she quietly murmured a spell. It was barely above a whisper, it was all her throat could manage after so much silence.
She could suddenly see everything!
She could see all the people moving about in Cenred's castle, she could see exactly where the guards were all positioned, and she could see that Cenred wasn't within the castle walls. That was a relief. It was hard enough to plan a jailbreak without being under your captor's nose.
After more than a month in captivity, Merlin had mastered the art of walking silently, even more so than she'd already possessed. Arthur was really going to hate that. She moved towards the barred window and looked down.
It was quite a drop.
There were three bars and if she removed two of them, she could create a rope and tie it to the third…Merlin had always been slender, but she'd lost weight in the castle; she was small enough to slip through the space, she was sure of it.
A finger tapped against the first bar. It glowed with heat and after a few moments melted into a puddle. The same became of the second and a third spell later Merlin had a thick bundle of rope where the molten metal had once been.
She tied one end tightly to the remaining bar and toppled it through the open window, drawing herself out after it, her boots scraped just slightly on the stone before she found herself dangling precariously in the free air.
There was a moment where Merlin thought about screaming, though her throat protested terribly at the idea. She'd long since silenced her screams in Cenred's kingdom, in his castle, in his dungeon.
Freedom was so close that she could almost taste it, but she had to keep her head on straight.
She managed to press her feet against the wall and began the slow process of lowering herself down. It was hard work for someone who had had nutrients limited to their body for an extended amount of time. Her brow was slick, and her hands were shaking by the time she settled her boots in the muddy grass.
Merlin turned around and almost screamed.
There, standing before her, was a unicorn, pure white and breathtakingly beautiful. Surely Merlin was dreaming, but she couldn't help but reach out a hand cautiously, and its coat of hair felt real and very soft.
It knelt suddenly as if to say, 'climb aboard' and Merlin, who hadn't thought this escape plan very far ahead, which she really should've done, if she was being perfectly honest, because there were so many things that could go wrong, and the Goddess was clearly on her side tonight…something to remember for next time.
She exalted the Goddess and clamored weakly onto its back, winding her fingers into the mane as it stood once more. Riding Triton was something that Merlin was used to, but this unicorn was an unknown and Merlin had never ridden bareback; she was more afraid she was going to fall right off.
But then the unicorn took off with Merlin clinging to its back, winding hitting her face, whipping through her hair which had long-since lost the leather band keeping it in the long plait. Freedom had never tasted quite so sweet.
Arthur had been having a bad month, a bad forty-one days, if he was being completely accurate. Merlin wasn't helpless, he knew that, probably better than most people, but he still heard her voice, screaming in his head like she had the last time he'd heard her.
It was obviously a trick, because Ealdor didn't have any bandits to bother them after Merlin was grabbed. She had been the primary target after all.
Morgana, Gwen, and Arthur had escorted Merlin's distraught mother back to her village when it became obvious that tracking Merlin would be impossible. Morgana and Gwen were stunned at the great dislike the village appeared to harbor towards Merlin. She might've been an idiot with a tongue that moved faster than her brain, but people had a tendency to like Merlin; she was sweet and understanding, she healed scraped knees, she gave apples to horses, she made funny faces at the kids playing in the streets, and she grinned when she made Arthur trip and fall on his ass.
There was one person in Ealdor who spoke with Arthur during the brief time he'd been there with Morgana and Gwen. His name was Matthew, and he was the father of Merlin's childhood friend William…who had been killed by the bandits.
"Merlin is a notoriously gentle spirit," Matthew had said, eyes soft and sad. "She's always been that way, even as a child…that makes people think she's soft-hearted, but she's not. But I think it's the healer side of her that's gotten her into trouble this time."
"What d'you mean?" Arthur had asked, flummoxed, but he remembered Merlin telling him about the druid she had once tried to save and failed and his son had taken over Camelot and tried to kill her in response. Merlin's enemies certainly didn't do anything by halves.
"I'm sure that you know the wonders of druidic healing?" Matthew had asked, eyes flicking to the side. "Merlin spent a great deal of time with the druids when she was a child, her godfather was a great healer…but it might've led some to believe that she possessed magic."
"Did she?" The thought had made Arthur's mouth go dry. Merlin, a sorceress? That was more unlikely than most things in life. Arthur couldn't even see her as a sorceress, sure, Merlin appeared to be incredibly lucky, sometimes just missing death by an inch, but that was it. He'd never seen her perform any magic, thankfully. "Possess magic?"
His heart calmed when Matthew shook his head carefully. "Not that I could see."
Going back to Camelot empty-handed had felt infinitely worse, especially with Morgana and Gwen fretting loudly. Sometimes it was so easy to forget that they were friends with her too; Arthur was the one she spent the most time with, she was his maidservant. But he knew what his father would say before he even opened his mouth and the idea that his father cared so little for even a servant in his village was painful.
Was that the kind of king he wanted to be?
He remembered the clear disdain Merlin had for his father and it appeared to be mutual, though his father appeared to not approve of Merlin based on her low ranking, while it seemed Merlin hated Uther for something a bit more personal.
One day he'd ask her about it.
"Do you love Merlin?" Morgana asked him that morning and Arthur choked over his own tongue as they walked through the castle.
"What? No, of course not, I'm not -she's—!"
Morgana rolled her eyes, not caring if it was unladylike. "I don't mean like that, Arthur. I mean, do you care for her as a subject, as a confidante, as a friend?"
Arthur thought about it. He certainly told Merlin a great deal, enough for her to be considered a confidante, and she was a subject, working within the confines of Camelot, but Arthur had always been wary about using 'friend' to describe Merlin. But was there really a word that suited her better?
"I suppose," he said finally.
"Then have faith, she'll come back to us…she's stubborn like that."
They shared a grin and then Morgana bid him good hunting, leaving Arthur to take to the steps, descending rapidly and grabbing the crossbow from George, who was staying in the castle, like Merlin typically did when he went off hunting. That was probably for the best. George's overly servile nature tended to rub Arthur the wrong way. He liked Merlin pushing his buttons more, it kept things fresh.
Maybe they'd catch something good this time around.
Morgana twisted the sealed letter between her fingers. It had arrived two weeks ago, courtesy of the little raven that Merlin had called Kenelm. It was a letter addressed to Merlin in a steady scrawl that Morgana knew enough to know that it wasn't Merlin's (why would she address a letter to herself, anyways? Morgana shook her head in annoyance at herself for even considering it).
It had to be a letter from the mysterious gentleman caller that Morgana had never met. Percival, the man she loved.
The raven stuck around, clearly waiting for a letter to deliver. Morgana didn't even know why it had even come to her in the first place. Maybe it got sick of waiting for Merlin? And went for the next best person?
Morgana didn't even pretend to understand how Merlin had trained a raven as a courier in the first place.
But she had to wonder what was in the letter…Morgana had never been in love, and she was certain that Merlin had been for as long as she'd known her. Morgana had never asked her what that must've been like and Merlin didn't talk much about Percival, like she was keeping the memory of him close to her chest.
But surely he had the right to know what happened to his lover? Right?
Merlin didn't sleep, not through the whole night that they rode, she and the unicorn, her heart still in her throat. Freedom was so blissful, but Merlin was still wary that she could be overtaken at a moment's notice.
But the Goddess was on her side today. She had been lucky enough to escape, lucky enough to have a ride that could take her a great distance without leaving her to stumble through Cenred's kingdom in the dark, not completely knowing where she was going.
There was still blood in her hair and in her clothes, but once she'd passed into the Forest of Ascetir, relief coursed through her veins in the stead of blood.
There was only one thing she wanted to do: get back to the castle and sleep for about a week, though it probably wouldn't be enough.
Merlin half-wanted to run off to Mercia, to run off to Percival. They wrote to each other every few weeks, but he had to be confused or concerned as to why she hadn't responded to his most recent letter.
Their relationship Merlin liked to describe as complicated. For a time, they'd been in each other's lives constantly. She could still remember how it felt to have his arms around her, forming her hands around the hilt of the blade he'd forged with very little material and supplies, teaching her to swing and jab. She could still remember his warm hand cupping her cheek as he kissed her lightly.
But he'd asked her something at the end of the last letter that had made her freeze up, be at a loss of words, entirely breathless and incredibly delighted, all at the same time.
Merlin still didn't have an answer for him, she thought she knew what she wanted, but she missed him more than she wanted to give him an answer. There was never going to be someone that she wanted to be with as much as him.
The Forest of Ascetir faded behind her and then they were into the Darkling Woods, the leaves thick, the sun dappling shadows across the undergrowth. Merlin had walked through these woods so many times, collecting herbs that Gaius was running low on, she knew her way around very well.
The unicorn stopped suddenly, and Merlin pitched dangerously, clinging desperately to the mane, only just righting herself when it knelt suddenly.
Merlin took that to mean that the unicorn had taken her as far as it would, and the rest of the way was up to her. She pulled herself off the beautiful creature, patting a hand against its side, grateful for the help it had given her.
It knickered softly, swinging its head towards her. Merlin patted its nose, leaning forward to press her brow to the nose. Her throat betrayed her again and all Merlin could do was mouth 'thank you' instead of actually speaking the words.
Then she heard the sound of branches cracking under a boot and Merlin dived for cover. Something whistled through the air and the unicorn gave a shriek as it fell.
Merlin pressed a hand to her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut before flaring them open.
There was a crossbow bolt lodged into the unicorn and if Merlin didn't want to end up the same way, she was going to have to move quickly.
Merlin inhaled sharply and took off.
Someone shouted, a voice she wasn't familiar with, but Merlin's heart was racing too fast, her blood was pounding in her ears. Pain ripped into her shoulder sending her sprawling, but like hell that was going to stop her.
Arthur was in awe. A unicorn…how proud would his father be to possess the horn of such a beast? He had been expecting to hunt some elk to add a bit of variety for dinner, but this was infinitely better.
He used hand signals to tell his men to surround it as he took up residence next to a tree that overlooked the ravine where the unicorn was visible, just barely. Arthur thought he'd caught a glimpse of something, but it was gone before he could consider it.
Then he was aiming at the unsuspecting unicorn and the bolt flew true.
"Hey, you! Stop in the name of the King!"
Sir Bedivere was a bit overzealous and new to knighthood, if you asked Arthur, but he had a good heart, so when Arthur and the other knights caught up with him, they were ready to assist, because he'd had the upper hand for a moment, then a leg had been brought up and he fell to his knees with an audible groan.
Arthur only had a moment's glance before she took off, dark curls flying behind her like a banner for war. He would've recognized those eyes anywhere, even on a rather gaunt face that looked like it hadn't seen the light of day in a good month. She ran, and he gave chase.
"Good lord, was that Merlin?" He barely registered Leon balking behind him.
"Merlin!" he called after her. "Hey! Wait!"
She was fast -she'd always been fast, and it was a particular sore point for him- even with that crossbow bolt sticking out of her shoulder, tipped red with her blood. Unfortunately for her, his strides were longer and Merlin's stamina didn't seem to be doing her much good.
His hand closed around her wrist, wrenching her around to face him, allowing him to grab her other wrist. "Merlin! Merlin!"
She was struggling violently, her face twisted into something Arthur wasn't sure he'd seen on her face. It wasn't fear, it bypassed that emotion entirely, the expression spread across her face was terror.
"Its Arthur!" he raised his voice and Merlin twisted her head back towards him, realization dawning in her eyes. "Its me."
Her mouth formed his name, though no sound came out. He would ask about that later, but for now he just nodded, and it was like her whole body relaxed, the tension snapping like a knife had been cut through it, and Merlin pitched forward, her forehead resting on his shoulder as she sagged into him and Arthur had to wrap his arms around her to keep her upright.
One of his hands cupped the back of her head, the other tight around her back. She was lighter than he remembered -he'd literally picked her up and dragged her away to spar enough times to notice- and she shook like a leaf.
Arthur had no idea what he was doing. He just squeezed her and murmured "You're safe, you're home."
There was a sound like a choked sob against his shoulder and Arthur wished Morgana was out there with him; he wasn't as good about being…emotional. Maybe that was just him generalizing and it could also explain why she always glared at him and said he didn't understand women at all.
She calmed down enough for Arthur to coax her to sit against a nearby tree, Leon trying to wipe away some of the blood on Merlin's face aside, caked and dried from a split of her skin over her brow. She was a mass of blood and bruises, skin and bones, and she tensed up around the men. And she didn't speak a single word.
"Sire, Sir Bedivere has headed back to the castle to inform the king of this…development," Leon inclined his head slightly towards Arthur, though his eyes flicked back towards Merlin. He was a close friend of hers as well, and he knew he'd missed her constant presence…now that he thought about it, most of the knights had been concerned about her disappearance…Merlin had a sort of personality that drew you in, no matter who you were. "Your father will want to see her when we return."
One of the knights took his cloak from his saddle and wound it somewhat around Merlin's shoulders, being careful of the crossbow bolt sticking out of one shoulder. Arthur was going to need to have words with Bedivere. There were a lot of reasons someone might be out in the forest at the same time Arthur was hunting that shooting them wasn't the best option, and Merlin did have a tendency to go off herb collecting every time Arthur went hunting.
She did it on purpose.
"What sport is it where one side has spears and crossbows and the other nothing?" Was what she always said when it was brought up, so Arthur decided to stop attempting to bring her. His excuse was that she made too much noise, but that wasn't it; Merlin was quiet, exceedingly so, she could move silently if she wished, enough to sneak up on him on more than one occasion. It was immensely annoying.
"Why?" Arthur was flummoxed. "She's just a servant girl that he's never had a particular interest in." Uther had wanted to leave her to die when she had taken the poison for him, he had wanted her to languish, imprisoned, wherever she'd been taken by the bandits. His father might've been a good king -in Arthur's opinion- but he didn't appear to care too much about those below his station.
"Sir Edric managed to coax a word out of her: Cenred."
Arthur's lips thinned into a line. Cenred's kingdom of Essetir always seemed to be on the precipice of war with Camelot. Cenred was ruthless, sadistic, and cunning, but, unfortunately, he was also a cautious man and he knew that attacking Camelot outright would lead to a slaughter…but what information could Merlin have had that would've made her so valuable to him.
"A girl's entitled to her secrets," Merlin had said when they'd been discussing ways to sneak the druid boy out of Camelot, sparing him a wink for good measure. Merlin had known exactly the passage Arthur had wanted to use without too much guesswork, and she'd known there were more, more than Arthur had even been aware of.
He'd badgered her a few times about where they were, but Merlin had always feigned ignorance and said she didn't know what he was talking about -she was annoying that way. Merlin knew plenty of ways to get in and out of the castle unnoticed. He thought it was because she went off to see the druids so much -her godfather was a druid chieftain, Arthur remembered- but maybe there was something else too, something she didn't want to talk about.
"She's not going to like that," Arthur decided, speaking none of that out loud. "She doesn't like Father." It was rather plain to see, and Arthur had given up defending his father to her; some pain ran too deep, though the source of it remained uncertain and unknown.
"There's something else…" Leon shifted awkwardly and they both looked back in time to see Merlin's expression shift into something akin to irritation.
She lifted her hand and grasped the end of the crossbow bolt that was still sticking through the front of her shoulder. Arrows and crossbow bolts couldn't be pulled out the way they'd come, Merlin knew that the most, being apprenticed to the court physician she'd dealt with a lot of those types of injuries. She knew you had to push it completely through to get it out, and she definitely knew that it wasn't pleasant to experience.
Merlin's teeth gritted together, and her knuckles went white before she shoved it harshly further into her body, through her body. Sweat beaded her brow as she reached around and yanked it out, handing it to the knight nearest her before pressing a hand against the bloodied wound.
"She's hardly spoken a word," Leon said while Arthur blinked, impressed at how unfazed she was by literally yanking the bolt out of her body -she was tougher than she looked. "And I'm not sure King Uther interrogating her is going to make that any better."
Arthur doubted it, but there was, unfortunately, only one way to find out.
AN: As always: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!
