A/N - A longer one-shot set between series 4 episodes 2 and 3 (in other words, in between the Dorocha and Lancelot's death and Uther's death) so Morgana is evil, Uther is insane, and Arthur is the Prince Regent. Please tell me if you notice any mistakes so that I can fix them, and let me know what you think!
-JKelly
Of all the times Merlin had woken up confused and disoriented in a cell, this was probably one of the worse times.
For one, Arthur was with him, so he couldn't just magic his way out like he would usually do. For another, unlike the usual peace and quiet he had to work in, the dull thud of Arthur's boot kicking the door in an almost (but annoyingly, not quite) regular rhythm was slowly but surely giving him a headache. Normally by now, if he hadn't already escaped, he would at least have figured out who had him and why he was there, but this time it was all he could do to wait in suspense as heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway in front of their cell, coming to a stop outside the cast iron door.
Arthur, ever the protector, stood in front of Merlin and gestured for him to stand back.
"I know that speaking incessantly comes naturally to you, Merlin, but just this once I think you should let me do the talking."
"Only this one time though, or else I don't know how Camelot would cope." Merlin replied, their regular banter doing little to counter his trepidation as the key turned in the lock and the door swung open. Standing in the doorway was a tall, bald man with tattoos snaking up his neck that Merlin recognised as being in the language of the old religion - a blessing to bring power and strength to the wearer, he thought. A dagger was looped in the braided belt that cinched the middle of a red robe that managed to remind Merlin of something a druid would wear whilst also being covered in more embroidery than the fine dresses that the noble ladies of the court favoured. The most terrifying part though was the expression on his face - he looked at Arthur with a kind smile on his lips that couldn't quite cover up the hungry look in his eyes - and Merlin resisted the urge to shiver.
"Prince Arthur," he said, giving a little mock bow in Arthur's direction, "and..."
He turned to Merlin, but although he saw the tattooed man's lips form his name, the sound was drowned out by the echoing voice in his mind that called him something else.
'Emrys...'
'If you know who I am, then you should know that threatening me or the Once and Future King is a bad idea.' Merlin thought, trying to make himself sound threatening.
'Oh Emrys, I know who you are. I know what you can do and who you serve. I just don't care.'
It was then that Merlin realised that during their mental conversation, he and the man had simply been staring at one another intently, and now Arthur was beginning to get concerned.
"You seem to know who we are, and yet I don't know you. Care to enlighten me?" Arthur asked in an obvious bid to get the man's greedy eyes away from Merlin.
"You may call me...the Fearmongerer." Merlin's attempts not to laugh at the overdramatic name were almost successful, earning him a murderous glare from the Fearmongerer and a slightly disbelieving one from Arthur.
"What I want is simple. You, Prince Arthur, are going to give me some details about Camelot's citadel. You're going to tell me the weak points, the hidden entrances, the guard rotations, everything. And you're going to tell me honestly."
"And in return?"
The Fearmongerer's grin grew into something feral.
"In return, I'll kill you both quickly."
Somehow drawing himself up even taller and looking every inch the prince regent that he was, Arthur responded defiantly.
"I won't tell you a thing. You can do what you like to me, but I will never betray the people of Camelot."
But the Fearmongerer only seemed to grin wider.
"Oh, I've no intention of hurting you...but I think your friend here might be getting a bit...nervous. Lettan þín stêapes best ôht âgân gên brûcan, lettan ôht âgân gên brûcan!"
As soon as the Fearmongerer's eyes flashed gold, Merlin felt a strange creeping sensation in his chest and tensed his muscles in anticipation of pain. When none came, he only panicked more, certain that something - something was wrong. He barely noticed the door close behind the Fearmongerer as he swallowed convulsively and started to back himself into a corner in a primitive attempt at self preservation.
"Merlin?"
That voice - he knew that voice! But it was too close, and too loud, and he only flinched away, whimpering slightly. Squeezing his eyes closed, he lowered himself to the floor and curled up tightly, hiding his head in his arms as though they could block out the world. In his terror, he started to feel a prickling heat across his body, and he could almost hear the crackling flames of the pyre - except his face was cold, and the feeling filled him as it had when he'd encountered the Dorocha, inhibiting and blocking his magic no matter how much he called on it, and Arthur was in front of him, saying something, but he was drowned out by the sizzling fire and screams of the dead and Arthur, Arthur was dead too, his face pale and his lips blue, forming words that would never make it to the land of the living, and his panicked eyes were glassy and unseeing, and there was blood flowing from his chest and he couldn't stop it, Merlin couldn't do anything as his best friend died in front of him, being frozen in place by the Dorocha and without his magic - or was he tied to a stake? He wasn't quite sure, and that only scared him even more.
Arthur would be the first to admit that he didn't know a lot about magic, and he wouldn't want to even if it was permitted under his father's laws. One thing he did know, however, was that a spell directed at his manservant by a sorcerer who had just informed him that dying quickly would be a mercy couldn't possibly be a good thing. He turned to Merlin for a moment, who just looked a little confused, and by the time he turned back the Fearmongerer was already outside locking the door.
"Hey!" He shouted, running up to the door and banging on it for a moment, before his efforts were interrupted by the sound of increasingly rapid breathing behind him.
"Merlin?" He asked tentatively, turning around to see his friend now looking utterly petrified and pressing his back into the corner of their cell. At his voice, Merlin seemed to flinch as though he was expecting to be hit, and Arthur could only look on in horror as Merlin, the man who he secretly thought was braver than any of his knights, collapsed in fear and curled into himself, whimpering and muttering incoherently.
"Merlin!"
Merlin was shaking now, and Arthur was suddenly reminded of his father during his bout of madness just after Morgana returned after her year missing - a bout of madness that he had since come to believe was almost certainly the work of his sister and her magic. He wondered briefly how anyone could consider turning to a force that caused such despair, but was quickly brought back to himself by the sound of his friend's muttering.
"Arthur...Arthur no, please, I'm sorry...Arthur please!"
"Merlin, what is it? Don't be sorry you idiot just tell me...tell me what I need to do." He crouched down next to Merlin, and put a hesitant hand on his shoulder, but Merlin only flinched away.
"No...Arthur...you weren't supposed to die like this...not yet...PLEASE ARTHUR I'M SORRY!"
Arthur could only guess at what Merlin believed was happening, and found that he didn't really want to know. Suddenly, he was filled with rage - some sorcerer had reduced his manservant - fine, his friend, his best friend - to a gibbering wreck. He strode up to the closed hatch in the door and began to yell.
"Hey! Get in here and undo whatever you just did! I am the Prince Regent of Camelot and I demand that you come and help my manservant!" Arthur started banging on the door in earnest, determined to make that scum of the earth 'Fearmongerer' (a ridiculous name that suddenly made more sense to Arthur, although he wished it didn't) come back and face what he'd done. A minute later though, and something struck Arthur as being wrong. He stopped banging and the cell was quiet. Too quiet.
He turned back to his friend, and immediately rushed to his side. Merlin was no longer muttering or hyperventilating, and the tear tracks on his cheeks were dried. He was simply lying there, staring at a wall, his mouth forming a silent plea over and over again. Somehow, this scared Arthur even more than when he'd been in hysterics. At least then he'd been fighting; this was the stare of a broken man. It was the same look he saw when he looked into his father's eyes.
"No." He whispered, the refusal to believe that Merlin, Merlin his friend, Merlin who never stopped talking and showed him absolutely none of the respect his station was supposed to earn him, Merlin who had faced down armies and dragons and all manner of magical threats with him, Merlin who had probably saved his life at least as many times as Arthur had saved his, his Merlin, could ever end up with the same vacant look in his eyes as the king, staring out at a kingdom he could no longer preside over - that denial was all he had left.
"No," he pulled his friend's head up from the ground and placed it face up on his knees, so that he could look directly into his eyes, "Merlin, you can't do this. Merlin, listen, you don't have to be sorry. I don't know what you think is happening, but it's okay. I'm alright, and you're alright, and you don't have to be sorry. I'm the Prince Regent, aren't I? I can pardon you for anything. Just...please come back to me, Merlin. I don't say it often, but...I need you, I-" his voice broke and he desperately swallowed a sob, "Merlin, you're my first and greatest friend, and I can't rule without you. Please, Merlin, please…come back to me...I need you..."
"Merlin…"
A voice broke through the fog of terror that surrounded him. It was a safe voice, familiar, one that made him think of laughter and frustration and brotherhood and having goblets thrown at his head.
"Merlin...it's okay. I'm alright…"
The fire began to recede slightly at those words, and the volume of the shrieking that assaulted his ears went from intolerable to merely deafening.
"Come back to me, Merlin...I need you…"
The voice needed him, and he needed to help the voice. But how could he, when he was frozen in place and surrounded by flames? Besides, Arthur had needed him, and that had only ended in disaster…
"Merlin, you're my first and greatest friend, and I can't rule without you. Please, Merlin, please…come back to me...I need you…"
Rule? Merlin only knew two people who might rule, and he didn't think Uther would be so upset about it if he left - if he even noticed. And wasn't Uther ill right now anyway? Which could only mean…
"Arthur?"
Merlin blinked up at Arthur's face - Arthur's very alive, not dead, tear streaked face.
"Arthur, you're alive!"
"Merlin! I- yes, I'm alive. You thought I was dead? That's why you were so upset?" Despite everything, Arthur looked slightly touched, and as he slowly pulled himself off Arthur's lap (when had that happened?) and into a sitting position, Merlin wondered if Arthur really hadn't expected the death of his best friend to rank among his worst fears.
"Well, you know, if you died I wouldn't have anyone to call a clotpole, or any fancy food to - um, reappropriate, or…" Merlin's half-hearted barb had tailed off as he looked uneasily around the cell, his earlier fear not having entirely deserted him.
"Merlin?"
"Hm?"
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah…" The outright terror from before had cooled to a sense of dread in the back of his mind that he knew would stay there until the Fearmongerer was defeated. But a spell this strong...there was no way Arthur should have been able to talk him out of the state he'd been in. Maybe it had been the bond of destiny that bound them, or maybe it was the far older and greater magic of their friendship - Merlin was immensely grateful either way - but now that he had this reprieve, he had to use it to keep Arthur safe.
"Arthur...we need to get out of here."
Thomme walked down the hallway to the cell where his captives were currently suffering. Just thinking about the fear that Emrys - the oh so 'mighty' Emrys - must be feeling made him grin cruelly and walk faster. And his master, Prince Arthur...he thought he'd hidden the affection he held for his manservant (and how Thomme had laughed to think that the little prince was served by someone so much more powerful than him) but it had been clear from the moment he first took them that Emrys was more of a brother to the prince than a servant. Watching his friend suffer so much while he was unable to do anything about it would be a far worse torture for him than anything he could inflict on the prince physically. By the time he reentered the cell, Prince Arthur would almost certainly be begging him to put Emrys out of his misery.
The closer he got, the more Thomme's excitement grew. He loved this part, the part where they were broken enough to give him whatever he asked for… He put on his best Fearmongerer face, unlocked the door and pushed it open...
Only to be met with a fist to the nose.
He staggered back but soon regained his footing and stomped back into the room...which was when he felt a cool blade at his throat and realised that while he'd been busy being punched by the prince, Emrys (who for some reason, was not in fact in a puddle of horror on the floor, but instead glaring at him meaningfully) had swiped the dagger from his belt and passed it on to his friend.
"Give Merlin the keys or I'll slit your throat." Growled the prince in his ear.
"How...you're supposed to be-"
"Under some sort of fear enchantment? Yeah, well, Arthur'll tell you I'm terrible at doing what I'm told. In your case though...I really think you ought to do as he says." Suddenly, underestimating Emrys seemed to have been a much bigger mistake than he'd have thought it to be, because in that moment he could almost feel the power radiating off him. He decided that now was the moment to go on the offensive. As long as Emrys was concerned about keeping the whole most-powerful-warlock-ever thing a secret from his fool of a master, he wouldn't do anything to him. He pulled his head forwards as far as he could with the dagger at his throat, intending to smash it into Prince Arthur's, when he felt his leg go out from under him and saw the telltale glint of gold in Emrys' eyes. The prince, naturally, was looking at him instead of his manservant, and Thomme vaguely wondered how someone so ridiculously unobservant had been able to rule a kingdom in his father's stead. But he knew when he was beaten. He slid a steady hand into the folds of his robe and pulled out the keys to the keep where he was holding his prisoners, and placed them in the outstretched hand of a rather smug looking Emrys.
Still, it wasn't over. He was able to capture them this time, and he was sure that he could do so agai-
Arthur pulled the dagger away from Thomme's neck and slammed the hilt down on his temple before he could finish his thought, and he crumpled instantly to the ground.
The moment that the Fearmongerer's eyes rolled up in his head, the hand of fear that had kept a loose grip around Merlin's mind melted away, and he took his first deep breath since he'd first been enchanted.
"Come on Merlin, we can hardly stand around here all day." Said Arthur, already halfway down the long corridor beyond their cell. With one final glance at the unconscious sorcerer at his feet, Merlin followed him.
"So...are we just going to leave him there?" Merlin didn't like to think of what might happen if the Fearmongerer woke up before they were back in Camelot and came after them, or if he came after them at all, actually, particularly as he knew that he was Emrys. Merlin had seen enough of his magic to know that he didn't want it anywhere near either him or his destiny, and enough of his malice to know that he wouldn't hesitate to ruin his life out of pure spite..
"Well unless you fancy dragging his unconscious body back to Camelot Merlin, I don't see that we have much of a choice," Arthur looked back, and must have caught sight of Merlin's uncertain look, because he sighed and tried to reassure him, "besides which, I think I got him pretty good anyway, so there should be plenty of time for us to get back to Camelot and send a patrol to pick him up."
Merlin wasn't entirely convinced, but decided that Arthur almost certainly had more experience knocking people out with dagger hilts than he did, so he probably knew what he was going on about.
The pair reached a heavy looking wooden door, and after a few moments of concerted effort, managed to push it open. The sight of the familiar woodland in front of him was the most beautiful thing Merlin had laid eyes on in what felt like a very long time, and by unspoken agreement, he and Arthur walked faster than usual away from the abandoned keep and towards Camelot.
Evening had fallen almost two hours ago, and it was only now that night had begun in earnest that either Arthur or Merlin had felt far enough from the keep to be comfortable making a camp. For once, Arthur was the one adding wood to the fire, whilst Merlin was sitting on a log facing away from it, at almost the very edge of the clearing where Arthur was sure no heat would be reaching him. Thinking back, he realised that Merlin had been fairly withdrawn ever since they left the keep. Usually when they escaped a kidnapping (and it gave Arthur an uneasy feeling to realise that he had a usually to compare things to) Merlin tried to cover up any residual tenseness by being more chatty, more outgoing, and generally more annoying than ever. But for all the hours that they'd been walking, Merlin had barely said a word. And now he was sitting about as far away from where Arthur was by the fire as he could get and was probably going to freeze to death overnight. Having added the final sticks to the fire, Arthur wandered over to the log where Merlin was sitting and sat down next to him.
"You know, Merlin...I might not say it much, but you really are the strongest man I know. I mean, not as in physical strength obviously, I think a nine year old girl could lift a heavier weight than you, but...strength of character. The sort of strength that no amount of training can teach you." Merlin looked up at Arthur, then back down at his feet, and then at Arthur again.
"I couldn't be strong without you, Arthur." He said sincerely.
They looked at each other for a moment, a look that said all that their difference in stations and emotional awkwardness wouldn't let them say out loud.
"You're quite right, Merlin," said Arthur seriously, clapping him on the shoulder, "there's quite a lot of things you couldn't do without me. You couldn't hunt, you couldn't clean armour, you couldn't hold a sword - honestly, you're so incapable it's a wonder you're still alive at all at this point."
And just like that, the moment was over.
"This coming from the man who needs me to dress him every morning."
"Shut up Merlin, at least I know you're not supposed to leave the floor wet when you wash it."
"You don't wash the floor!"
"Exactly, I'm letting you have a learning experience Merlin…"
"Well then, maybe I'll just leave you to your own devices when we get back. You can dress yourself and clean your own stables and get your own food - all in the name of the learning experience, of course..."
Arthur shoved Merlin hard enough to knock him off the log, and Merlin looked up at him and sputtered indignantly with a glare that barely concealed the twinkle in his eye in the faint firelight and a smirk that he couldn't quite hide.
"Yeah, that's what I thought." Said Arthur grinning as Merlin's smile grew despite his best efforts. His friend had been through a lot, but he knew now that he'd be alright. As Arthur helped Merlin up and they walked together back over towards the fire, he realised how glad he was that the strongest man he knew also happened to be his best friend in the world.
I used an online translator for the spell so I'm not at all convinced of the accuracy, but it should mean something like:
'Let your deepest fears grow and consume, let fear grow and consume!'
