So I tried to break it up into chapters, but I couldn't find a good stopping point. So here is a monstrously long chapter!
Warning: Descriptions and details of torture.
Enjoy!
~Ra1n
Previously...
The wind abruptly ceased.
"I guess that answers that question."
And then Arthur knew no more.
When he came to, it was still dark.
He brought a hand to his head before he remembered what had happened.
He snapped up, suddenly fully awake, and glanced about the clearing he was lying in. It was different than when he had blacked out; smaller. Stunted, gnarled trees had pushed themselves out of the dirt around him.
He was alone.
Reaching for his sword, he spun in a slow circle as he tried to find something he recognized, then cursed when his hand met empty air. He was lost and weaponless.
"Iseldir..?" Arthur half-whispered. He did not trust the chieftain, not one bit, but it was either find him or be lost in an unfamiliar forest.
Nothing. There was absolutely no noise. The silence was unnatural.
"Iseldir!" Arthur called, a little louder. What was the point of this? How was this even close to having a conversation about Morgana? It was a trap; it had to be.
"Sire," the voice was softer than a whisper, and Arthur jumped as Iseldir peered out from between two sickly trees. "Come, there is something you must see."
Arthur glared. "Take me back."
"Not until the conversation is over."
Arthur motioned towards the clearing. "This," he said, more loudly than he had meant, "is not a conversation."
In a flash, Iseldir had grabbed Arthur's wrist and pulled him down, into the treeline. "Hush! Do you want to be caught?" He hissed, kneeling beside Arthur.
"What are you talking about?" Arthur was beyond fed up.
"These woods are not natural," Iseldir's eyes flicked around them, searching for a threat. "Morgana's spies are everywhere."
Arthur laughed. "Like you? Like Merlin?! Do you honestly expect me to believe that you are on my side?" He laughed again, even more loudly. "I am not a fool, Druid!"
The Druid's hand was over Arthur's mouth in a moment, cutting him off. Arthur's eyes widened as Iseldir's voice dropped, face inches from his own. His eyes filled with fury. "I am not, and never will be, an ally of Morgana's," he hissed, his fingernails making marks in Arthur's cheeks. "But we are not on the same side, Arthur Pendragon." His voice was trembling. "And don't you ever pretend we are. I am not here to help you, do you understand?"
Arthur nodded.
"Good," Iseldir pulled his hand away. "If you ever want to make it home, you will follow me now. In silence," he said, and turned to leave. Arthur scrambled up, pressing a hand to his now-bruised cheek.
"Good king," the Druid said, glancing over his shoulder as they began to walk.
Just ten minutes later, Iseldir stopped. "We are close."
The woods still looked the same to Arthur. "To what?"
Iseldir glared at him. "I told you to be silent."
Arthur closed his mouth.
"Stay down, and stay close. No noise, do you understand? And do not leave my side. You are not a hero."
Arthur didn't like the way he had said that. Not "don't be a hero," but rather "you are not a hero." Like it had permanence.
He would have continued mulling it over, but just then a noise burst from a tree a few feet away. Arthur jumped. Someone was talking. Or laughing. In the silence, it was deafening.
Iseldir frowned, but moved towards the sound, Arthur right behind him. As they crested a slight incline, Arthur understood. The sound was not coming from the trees.
Before them, the woods dropped off into rocky cliffs and then a clearing, fifty or so feet below them.
Arthur's mouth fell open.
The clearing was alive with motion. Men and some women moved about, between cooking fires and makeshift tents. A few were carrying baskets and weapons and having conversations with one another. Others stood closer to the outskirts, silently watching. There must have been a few hundred people; their camps extended into the woods beyond.
And at the front, almost directly below Arthur and Iseldir, was Morgana.
Arthur clenched his fists, but Iseldir placed a hand on his shoulder. "No rash decisions, Pendragon. She can kill you with a word."
Arthur glared at him, but forced himself to relax. He was speaking the truth.
He turned to watch Morgana again. She was standing before a makeshift podium. By the bustle of people, Arthur could only assume she had just completed a speech of some sort, but now she was focused on someone out of Arthur's sight. He leaned a little and caught a glimpse of blonde hair. The anger came right back. Morgause.
He surged up, forgetting that his sword had been taken. "I'll kill her now," he hissed. He took a few shaky steps down the cliff, then thought better of it, and began to pick his way sloppily along the edge, trying to find a safer way down.
He was so caught up in his rage, he didn't notice when Iseldir's frantic whispers faded and were replaced by the low voices of angry men. He didn't notice the dark shapes behind him until the sharp end of a sword was pressed into his back.
"Don't move." Came a low voice, and the blade was pressed harder. Arthur froze, realizing his idiocy only when it was too late, "Who are you?"
Arthur didn't reply. It was still too dark to see things entirely properly, and he hoped they wouldn't notice who he was until after he'd figured out how to get away. The blade pressed harder. Arthur winced.
"I asked you a question."
"I-" The blade abruptly fell away from his back, followed by two nearly simultaneous thuds. Arthur turned around immediately to see Iseldir standing a few feet from him, the dead bodies of two of Morgana's men lying at his feet. His eyes were just changing back from gold. Iseldir frowned. "Your anger makes you weak."
Arthur was speechless. Had Iseldir just used magic to kill two people? Right in front of Arthur? ...in order to protect him?
He took a step away, his eyes suspicious. Iseldir had enough power to kill two men without breaking a sweat. If that wasn't danger, then nothing was.
The Druid watched him.
"For Gods' sake, if I had wanted to kill you I would have already."
Arthur still kept his distance.
Just then, Morgana began speaking. Iseldir and Arthur exchanged a hurried glance and moved a few feet down the cliff, conflict forgotten.
It seemed they had missed part of the conversation.
"Is there any other news?" Morgana was stepping off of the podium, turning her pale eyes to Morgause.
"We have one hundred from Cenred's kingdom on their way. They will arrive within the week." Morgause replied, smiling, "We could move out within a fortnight."
Morgana shook her head. "We need more time, sister. We do not yet have the force needed to take Camelot," she looked at the camp. "If we move now, we have already lost."
Morgause smiled. "That is what you said when Claudus's men came."
"We need to be prepared."
Morgause shook her head. "We are nearly eight-hundred strong."
"And Camelot is bigger!" Morgana shrieked. Arthur jumped. There was no reason for the outburst, no warning. This was not the levelheaded Morgana he had once known.
Silence settled between the sisters. Morgana bit her lip. "I am sorry, sister. I just- I do not want to lose my throne again."
Morgause placed her hands on Morgana's shoulders. "And we won't. We need less than you believe, child. You forget that Arthur's ignorance came with a lovely reward."
"Yes, but how much less? Camelot's army was one of the strongest in the lands even before Emrys. Stronger than eight-hundred."
Morgause nodded. "But that was under the direction of Uther. This is Arthur's army - Arthur's army without its magic little protector. He has the hatred, but neither the experience nor the ruthlessness of his father."
Morgana shifted. "But- He did kill Emrys."
Morgause laughed. "A rare display of brutality. Like I said, he has the hatred-"
"And the ruthlessness!" Morgana exclaimed, "He killed his own manservant without a second thought! Doesn't that show his hatred and his ruthlessness?"
"A single moment of abject stupidity does not make a man ruthless. It only proves him to be a hateful tyrant."
"But-"
"There is no argument, my sister. He murdered his greatest ally. If my source is correct, then his people serve him in name only; his friends are the same. He is the weakest he has ever been, and we are eight-hundred strong with magic on our side. It is time."
"Yes, but…" Morgana whispered, uncertain. Morgause squeezed her shoulders.
"It is, Morgana. There has never been a better time to take what is rightfully yours. Are you ready?"
Morgana thought for a moment, then lifted her chin. "Yes."
"Good. Then we will leave within a fortnight." She gave Morgana one last squeeze, and then turned, moving out of Arthur's sight once again. A moment later, Morgana followed suit.
Arthur stared at the empty podium for a long moment, trying to understand what he had seen. A hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts, and he turned suddenly towards Iseldir, who was rising to stand, a finger to his lips.
Arthur understood the gesture. As they picked their way down the slope and back towards the clearing Arthur had first woken in, he struggled to understand the conversation.
Morgana and Morgause had an army, and a large one. That was certain. And they were planning on attacking Camelot in the next two weeks, after reinforcements came in. The army wasn't nearly as expansive as Camelot's, and Morgana knew it. But Morgause wasn't worried about that... because Merlin had died? Merlin and Emrys? That didn't make sense. Why would the death of her informant be helpful? Who was Emrys? Some kind of "magical protector," but why would anyone use magic to protect Camelot?
By the time they were back in the clearing, Arthur was more confused than when he started, and it was still dark. He sat down in the dry earth.
"What did I just see?" He muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
He wasn't sure when he had begun to trust Iseldir enough to ask questions, but he assumed it was somewhere between the druid's angry speech and saving his life. It was far too detailed to be an act. Even Morgana wouldn't kill two of her own guards to get into his head.
Iseldir remained standing, but looked at Arthur as he spoke. "You have made a grave mistake."
"Obviously." Arthur snorted. The chieftain shot him a venomous look.
"Do you feel no remorse for what you have done?"
Arthur looked bewildered. "About what- about Emrys? I don't even know who that is."
The man laughed. It was a bitter, clipped sound. "Are you still playing dumb, your highness?"
The king sobered himself. "What are you talking about?"
Iseldir's face went from frustration to confusion in a fraction of a second. "Wait, do you truly not know?"
"Know what?"
"Nobody has told you?"
"Told me what?"
Iseldir looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here, explaining this. "Emrys, Pendragon. You don't know about Emrys."
"Emrys?"
"Your destiny."
Arthur laughed. "I don't have a destiny."
"Oh, but everyone has a destiny ," Iseldir said, smiling sadly, "And Emrys is yours, as it has been since it was written in the stars at the beginning of time."
Arthur shook his head. He didn't have a destiny at all, let alone an important one. Nobody told him what to do. "I don't believe you."
Iseldir continued, however.
"Arthur Pendragon, the once and future king, bringing a new age of peace to Albion, with Emrys, the most powerful man to ever walk the earth, by his side."
"You're wrong. I'd never associate myself with such a man." A dreadful feeling was beating against Arthur's chest. "Your destinies are wrong."
Iseldir shook his head. "You already have."
The blood drained from his face. "What?" The feeling was getting stronger. "When? When have I-?"
"He's saved your life, and you his, more times than I care to count."
"That's ridiculous!"
"Can you think of no time when magic could have been the source of your victories?"
"All of my victories have been my own," Arthur growled.
But the more he thought about it...
"I would never give my life for another's, let alone a sorcerer," he reasoned out loud.
Gods, Arthur was missing something. It was nagging at the back of his mind, just out of his reach.
"You gave your life for your manservant," Iseldir said, obviously sick of the game.
Arthur scowled. "That was different. I didn't know he was a sorcerer at the time."
"But he was, whether you knew it or not, and he still stayed by your side."
"No, he betrayed me! He worked with Morgana!"
Iseldir shook his head. "You are still not understanding. Merlin was never working with Morgana."
"Yes. He was," Arthur said slowly, but his words were softer, "there's no other reason-"
"He wasn't."
"But he must have been!" Arthur exclaimed. That had to be the only truth. "Or else-"
Or else, why would he be in the castle, serving Arthur?
"Morgana herself just rejoiced your manservant's death. Why would she do that?"
Arthur swallowed. No, it couldn't be-
"She is obviously not in her right mind!"
"Arthur-"
Arthur shook his head. "But my manservant's name was Merlin. They were talking about Emrys!"
"Oh, was it Merlin?" Iseldir's face grew angrier. "Or is it? I know what you've done to him, king. There is no hiding your filth from me."
"What?" He squeaked.
"Are you aware that he is a warlock? Not a sorcerer, a warlock."
"No-"
"And do you know that he has sworn himself to protect you?"
"He what?"
"You heard me."
"Why?"
"Because he is your destiny, Arthur," he said, "And you have betrayed him."
"And then he told me about everything Merlin had done," Arthur finished. He hadn't taken his gaze off of the floor. "Which is so much… But I didn't believe him. I didn't want to believe him. I called him a liar. But he kept talking, and I was still lost in that bloody forest, and everything he said, it made sense. It fit. And..."
He trailed off and looked at Merlin.
"And you started to believe him?" Percival asked. He was still by the cot, but he had dragged a stool over to sit on as Arthur had spoken. "You started to believe him, so you came back and brought him to Gaius?"
Arthur shook his head.
"What? Then why is Merlin here?"
Arthur pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. "He couldn't convince me. Not with his words. I didn't want to admit- I refused to believe anything he said." He kept his hands over his eyes. "The problem was that I already knew it was all true, I could feel it. It was like... I'd known all along about our destiny. But I didn't let myself think about it."
"Then what did happen?" Gwaine, who had sat down on a bench next to Gwen, demanded.
Arthur ran a hand through his hair. "We were still in the forest, and I still wasn't listening, and then suddenly we weren't in the forest anymore. And I knew it was magic again."
"Where were you?" Percival asked.
Arthur shivered.
The damp stones underfoot, the low sound of water dripping somewhere beyond his sight. It was too dark to see much, but Arthur was preoccupied by the smell. Rot and waste and blood and dirt.
He gagged as the stunted forest became the cloying stone of Camelot's dungeons.
"The dungeons. We were in the dungeons. But we weren't really there. We were, I don't know, somewhere in-between."
"It's awful, isn't it?" Iseldir's voice rang from somewhere behind Arthur, and he whipped around, only to face more darkness. "The deepest part of the dungeons. You must know all about it, though. It's where the accused sorcerers are held."
Arthur's eyes watered as he adjusted to the low light, and he noticed that the wall he was staring at was a little blurry, as if he was looking at everything through a piece of fabric. "Where are you?!" He shouted, "Why bring me here?"
This time, the voice was closer to his left. "We're not really here, Pendragon. We're just visiting your prisoners." His surroundings shimmered a little, and he caught sight of a short, gnarled tree before the walls solidified again, "Your father was very good at making these cells escape-proof, even for a sorcerer. But we can watch."
"Why were you in the dungeons?" Gwen asked, cutting in, "Was that when you rescued Merlin?"
"No," Arthur's voice was wavering. "He said- he just said we were there to watch."
"Watch what?"
Arthur pressed his hands over his ears. "My sins," he whispered.
"If my words will not sway you, perhaps Merlin's will." Iseldir spit.
Arthur's heart sped up."What are you talking abou-"
A scream ripped its way down the halls.
Arthur's eyes widened.
"Yes, that would be your manservant. Would you like to say hello?"
Arthur stumbled as his surroundings shifted, and he found himself standing in a large, round chamber. Cells lined three of the walls, while the hallway he had presumably just come through filled the fourth.
The smell was almost unbearable.
Before he could react to the change, another scream sounded uncomfortably close by. Arthur jumped and turned towards the cell in the far corner just as the screams died off, replaced with quiet murmuring.
"Go on." Iseldir said, and Arthur squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the room shift around him. He didn't need to see to know what he was now facing.
Merlin's little corner of Hell.
"Open your eyes, Pendragon. Nobody here can see you. And you have nothing to be ashamed of. He is a traitor, after all. He has earned it."
Arthur kept his eyes closed.
"I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes. I just... I couldn't see what I'd done. But it wasn't just in my eyes. It was everywhere."
Nobody in the room spoke.
"It was in my nose and I could smell it. It was in my mouth and the back of my throat. I could taste the stones. And it was in my ears. Gods, they were so loud..."
Standing so close, Arthur could make out the muttering coming from the cell.
What he heard made his blood run cold.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," a guard was whispering, and Arthur could hear the tears filling the man's throat, "God, I'm so sorry-"
He almost didn't recognize Merlin's voice as he responded. It was hoarse and fragile, his speech almost childlike.
"P-Please. C-Can we s-stop? It h-hurts."
"I can't," the guard breathed, and he sounded genuinely sorry, "you know I can't. They'll be back with the reports any second and if I'm not..." He trailed off. "They'll do it worse. They always do."
Arthur heard the clink of chains and knew Merlin was nodding. "I know," he whispered.
The guard choked on a sob. "Ready?"
Merlin whimpered in answer. The chains clinked again, once, quickly.
"Okay," the guard said, taking a deep breath, "on three, okay? One, two-"
There was a sharp snap, and Merlin let out another scream.
"Fuck, I'm so sorry."
"I-It's 'k-kay..." Came Merlin's weak reply.
Arthur couldn't stand the noise- not when he knew the sound. He lowered his hands from his face and his eyes immediately fell on the two people in the cell.
Merlin was tied to a chair in the middle of the cell by his arms and legs, completely naked save for the collar that tethered his neck to the chair's spine. It was difficult to make out the state of his body through the darkness and haze, but he was rigid in the chair, his eyes screwed tightly shut. Tears were forcing themselves down his cheeks and dripping from his chin, but he was biting down on his lip as if he was trying to keep his emotions in check.
Next to him, a guard was kneeling so that they were at almost eye-level, his hands on Merlin's left wrist. The bindings had been removed from the limb, so Merlin and the guard were able to move it freely, but it was obvious Merlin wasn't utilizing the freedom. Instead, the guard was cradling Merlin's limp hand gently in his thick gloves as if it was something precious. The guard appeared to be making a valiant effort to not cry, but unshed tears still glistened in his eyes.
"But then you rescued him," Gwen whispered, although she knew it wasn't the truth, "and you brought him to Gaius, and-"
Arthur's gut twisted. "I wasn't there, Remember? Not physically. I couldn't do anything. Even when-"
Footsteps echoed down the hall behind Arthur, and suddenly the guard straightened up, dropping Merlin's hand onto the armrest. Merlin let out a pained cry and jerked weakly in his chair as it hit, and for the first time, Arthur had a clear view of Merlin's fingers.
His pinkie was bent at an odd angle, obviously the source of the snapping sound earlier. A quick glance revealed that Merlin's right hand was in even worse shape, with each of his fingers minus his thumb already broken. The guard hadn't even bothered to tie it to the chair again.
As the footsteps got louder, Arthur panicked, forgetting he wasn't visible until the men who owned the footsteps rounded the corner and seemed to look straight through him. One of them carried a quill and some parchment while the other followed behind. They both wore identical annoyed expressions.
As they made their way down the hallway, Arthur became aware of the commotion that had started in Merlin's cell. The guard was trying to school his expression into one of indifference as he hurriedly tied Merlin's damaged right hand to the chair. Merlin was doing his best to stay quiet as his broken fingers were jostled, but a few small cries were escaping anyway.
"They're coming - shit. They're coming. I'm sorry-" the guard was whispering, although Arthur wasn't sure Merlin even had the capacity to hear him in that moment. The guard lifted Merlin's left hand again, took a firm grip of the index finger with both hands, and glanced at the pair of men.
"Okay, on three again, alright?" He whispered so quietly, Arthur wasn't sure he heard it at all until Merlin gave an almost imperceptible nod. The guard swallowed, "Okay. One, two-"
With a single, quick motion, the guard broke the index finger just as the men came into full view. Merlin bit down on his lip so hard, it drew blood, but he didn't scream. The guard gagged and nearly dropped Merlin's hand.
"Tell me Morgana's plans!" He yelled instead, his voice only wavering a little as he played his part for the scribe, who had finally come to stand in front of the cell with his bodyguard. Merlin trembled at the sudden change in tone, and it was clear that the pain of the most recent finger had finally become too much for the poor boy to handle. When he opened his mouth, blood from his lips dribbled onto his chest.
"N- Nuh- r-ree-" Merlin cut himself off with a gurgling noise as some of the blood drained down his throat.
The guard turned his head away from the scribe as he forced his face into neutrality again, swallowing his guilt. Merlin was too far gone to know the difference between him pretending to ask questions and really asking questions. From the resigned look on the guard's face, Arthur wondered if this had happened before.
The scribe walked up to the bars and peered in. "Sounds like you're making progress down here," he said, making a few notes on his piece of parchment, "Gotten anything from him yet?"
The guard shook his head. "No, sir."
The scribe clicked his tongue. "How difficult is it to get a serving boy to speak?" He jerked his head towards his bodyguard. "Let Sir Parse try his hand on the boy."
The guard took a half-step in front of Merlin, as if to protect him from the scribe's bodyguard. "That won't be necessary," he said, a bit too quickly, "there are only two fingers left, and I am sure I can manage-"
"Two fingers left?!" The scribe exclaimed, "why, last I checked, you'd already broken three! What have you been doing? You've had more than enough time to finish-"
"Yes, yes, but I was worried that he might pass out-"
"Then dump some water on him and continue!" The scribe snapped. "Sir Parse, please finish the job for sir...?" He looked at him expectantly.
The guard whispered a name, but the scribe waived him off.
"Hurry up with it! If you want this report ready for you to deliver to the king by tonight, I need to get going!"
The smaller guard bowed his head as he unlocked the cell door and allowed Sir Parse into the space. He held his fists stiffly at his sides as the large man approached Merlin's chair and lifted his hand.
"Well, go on," the scribe said, addressing the guilty guard, "ask him a question."
"Me? But I'm not sure he's capable of-"
"Ask him a question!"
The guard jumped, then opened his mouth. "S-Sorcerer," he stammered, "where is Morgana and her army hiding?"
Merlin moaned and slumped forward, drooling blood. He didn't seem to realize anybody was speaking at all.
Sir Parse lifted Merlin's final two fingers as a warning. Still no response. The scribe shrugged, and with another quick motion and an even louder snap, the bodyguard broke Merlin's remaining fingers at the same time.
At once, Merlin's body went rigid. The bodyguard released his ruined hand just as Merlin caught his breath enough to shriek in agony, writhing against the ropes that still held him down. His voice gave out and he immediately burst into hoarse sobs, curling his hand into his lap in an attempt to protect it.
The scribe wrinkled his nose as he watched Merlin's reaction. He wrote a few more notes down. "This creature is utterly useless," he announced, and beckoned to his bodyguard, "truly. A pitiful waste of space."
And with that, he was gone.
Arthur watched, open-mouthed. Did the scribe not see that Merlin was obviously in so much pain, he wasn't even capable of normal human speech, yet alone answering questions? How could he stand there and accuse a defenseless-
Oh.
That was exactly what he wanted... Wasn't it? He wanted his subjects to be like Sir Parse and the scribe, not like the guard and Merlin.
Somehow, that didn't sit well in his stomach.
Arthur looked back at Merlin. The guard was crying openly now as he loosened the ropes on Merlin's right wrist enough to slide his hand out.
"They're gone now," the guard said, "it's okay. It's over. You're-"
But Merlin flinched away from his voice and began to tremble. He didn't understand what was going on, but he recognized the guard's voice and the pain that so often followed, even if the pain was reluctant. Blood started seeping from his lip more quickly as he bit it again.
"Hey, hey-" the guard whispered, kneeling in front of Merlin, "don't do that."
Merlin whimpered and swallowed, bowing his head in shame as he tried to hide the sobs that rocked his body. The guard placed a hand on Merlin's pale shoulder, and Merlin froze.
"Nobody is going to hurt you for crying now," he whispered. "You're allowed to cry."
Merlin remained tensed for another second. The guard moved so that his hand was cradling Merlin's chin - the boy was too exhausted and weak to hold it up any longer - and was surprised when Merlin leaned into it. The guard smiled sadly. Any other time, he would have felt ridiculous, but he had watched as this defiant, strong man had been beaten into nothing more than a scared, hurt child, and he'd be damned if he was going to deny the boy the first loving touch he'd felt in over a month. If anyone needed to know someone cared for them, it was Merlin. He was dead to his family and friends and hated by most of the men who came in to hurt him day in and day out. Hell, even his own king had ordered him tortured for information that the guard was now entirely sure he had never known in the first place. He deserved to have at least one person care for him like a son, or a brother, or a friend, or even just a human being, before he forgot what that was like entirely.
When the guard didn't pull his hand away, Merlin waited for it to move, to hurt him. When it didn't, he opened his mouth and began to cry freely, tears spilling over his cheeks. He cradled his broken hands in his lap and shivered in the dungeon air, and it was as if all of Merlin's strength left with the tears. He slumped forward and the guard held Merlin's head to his own chest, running his fingers through his dirty hair as they both mourned what they had lost in that cell.
And then Arthur was moving again.
"Iseldir pulled me out of the dungeons then," Arthur said, and he was crying now, "but he got what he wanted. I saw what I needed to see. I woke up in the castle courtyard. And..." He motioned towards all of them, "and you know the rest."
Everybody was silent.
"Well?" Arthur said, looking at them. He wanted them to be angry. He wanted them to rage and yell, to tear into him with their words and fists like they'd done before. He deserved it. He deserved all of it and more, after they knew the entire story.
Instead, they remained still.
Arthur shifted uncomfortably on the ground under the weight of their stares.
The silence was suffocating. Then-
"Owain," Gwen said, more to herself than anybody else, and the mood was broken.
"What?" Arthur asked. He sounded far too surprised by a simple name, a fact that didn't go unnoticed.
Gwen looked up. "Sir Owain. Was that the guard in the dungeons, the one that was hurting Merlin?"
Arthur paled, "How... How could you possibly know that?" He asked, then panicked. "You have to understand, he was under orders. He never wanted to hurt-"
"I know," Gwen said, and now everyone was listening. Gwen blushed at the sudden attention, "he came to see Merlin earlier," she explained, "but I turned him away. He seemed very upset when he learned Merlin wasn't alright."
Arthur sighed, "He was always so ashamed of what he was doing."
"And he never wanted to hurt him, either," Leon piped up. "He kept talking about innocence, and I just kept sending him back down..."
Gwen was chewing on her thumbnail. "He looked so guilty."
Arthur shook his head. He had made happy, strong men beg for death, kindhearted knights become torturers, and his friends enemies. He had destroyed everything. What had he hoped to gain?
He stood and took a step towards Merlin.
Everybody in the room immediately moved to put themselves in front of Merlin, creating a physical barrier between him and Arthur. Arthur stopped.
"I just need to see." He said, holding his hands up. They exchanged glances, obviously surprised by their own reactions, but moved away from the cot.
Arthur walked slowly, his feet heavier than he could ever remember them being, until he was directly next to the warlock on the cot. There was a clean sheet covering most of him now, and his wounds were bandaged, but in his mind's eye Arthur could still see the vivid red cloak as it fell away to reveal Merlin's thin chest, stained red and brown with blood and pus...
He shook his head to clear it.
Merlin's eyes were closed as his chest rose and fell, but even in unconsciousness, his face was pinched with pain.
"Is there nothing to help him with the pain, Gaius?" Arthur wasn't sure who that request was going to help more- him or Merlin- he just couldn't bare to see the pain he had caused.
Gaius shook his head. "I gave him a draught while Gwen was gathering the knights, but I cannot give him anymore. Perhaps a sleeping draught..."
He uncorked a vial from his pocket and poured a little bit between Merlin's lips. Merlin's breath hitched. His brow creased.
"It doesn't seem to be working," Arthur said, hoping Gaius would tell him he was wrong, that the draught was working perfectly, that Merlin wasn't still suffering.
It was wishful thinking.
"It is," Gaius growled, "but I cannot soften his pain if it is not physical."
"Isn't all pain physical?"
Gaius glared. "Maybe for you. But Merlin is not like you, sire. You should have known that before you had him tortured."
Arthur hung his head. He might have admitted he was wrong, but that didn't mean anybody was forgiving him. He was still responsible for Merlin's agony.
"I'm sorry, Gaius, but I don't know."
"Really, sire?" Gaius didn't believe him.
"I'm serious, Gaius. I don't understand."
If anything, that made the physician angrier.
"His magic, Arthur. You mutilated his body, and if that was not bad enough you had to go and mutilate his magic, too."
"What? I never even touched his magic! I don't even know how you would start."
"Well, you could cut it out of him," Gaius said, "I'm sure that would be a good place to start. And then poison what's left of it."
Arthur still wasn't following. "I never did those things..."
Gaius crossed his arms. "Really," he asked, and pulled the bandages back from one of Merlin's arms, revealing the long, bloody marks the iron dust had caused. "So Merlin did this to himself?"
Arthur stared. "That just weakened him," he said, but now he was unsure. "It just kept him from acting out too much."
"Because it poisoned his magic through his blood, Arthur."
"What?" Arthur looked at the marks, "but it's just iron! It doesn't- it isn't poisonous! I mean, even his collar-"
Arthur froze.
"His collar..?" Gaius prompted.
"His collar's made of iron, but- but it only numbed the magic, so he couldn't feel it. The jewelsmith said-"
"He cannot feel it because he does not have it. Or at least not most of it. Obviously, the collar left him a little, enough to survive off of, but most of it you have forcibly removed."
"But he tried to cast just a few minutes ago."
"And did you see the reaction? What happens when you try to take the only thing keeping someone alive away from them?"
Arthur closed his mouth.
"Exactly. My draught is working perfectly fine, but the wounds in his magic are hurting him."
"I didn't realize..."
"Of course not. You didn't realize a good deal of things."
"Excuse me," Gwaine said, having watched the conversation unfold, "forgive me, but can't we just take the bloody collar off?"
Arthur and Gaius exchanged glances. They obviously knew something the others didn't.
"No," Gaius said slowly, "at least not with what we have now."
Gwaine leaned down to inspect the collar. "Why not?" He asked, looking for some kind of latch, "It seems simple enough. Where's the key?"
That was when Arthur spoke. "We can't take it off because- well, because there's no latch. And there is no key."
Gwen dropped the bowl of water she was using to re-apply the bandage Gaius had loosened. "That's-That's impossible. It had to have gotten around his neck somehow! It didn't just appear there."
"There was a latch," Arthur explained, "but it was on the inside. Once the collar was locked in place, it became inaccessible. The jewel smith didn't even bother to make a key."
"Why? Why make a collar that cannot be removed?"
Again, Gaius and Arthur shared a look. "Because they were made during the Purge," Gaius said. "And fitted to anyone accused of sorcery. And back then, sorcery was always a death sentence. They never needed to be removed."
All eyes turned to Arthur as they realized the implications of that fact. The moment Arthur had locked the collar around his neck, he had already made up his mind that Merlin was guilty. He'd already decided Merlin was going to die.
But there was no time for that now. They needed to focus on the present.
"Could we cut it off?" Gwaine asked.
"We could break the lock," Leon said, "there must be a weak point there."
"What about applying heat? It could damage the mechanisms," Gwen added.
Gaius shook his head.
"It's solid iron. And it's far too close to Merlin's neck. If something goes wrong..."
"We could at least remove some of the jewels," Arthur said quietly.
Breaking the collar was momentarily put on hold.
"Jewels?"
"Between the collar and his neck," Arthur's face reddened in shame again. He looked at his hands. "Iron numbs the magic, but nickel weakens the muscles, rubies slow the blood, amethyst slows the mind, and emeralds slow the lungs." He repeated what the jewelsmith had told him. As he neared the end, he mumbled, afraid to say it too loudly. "Did nobody notice them?"
Gaius's mouth fell open. "And all of those things are in the collar right now?"
Arthur nodded.
"Oh..." Gaius made a startled noise of realization and instantly grabbed a different vial from the shelf. He didn't bother to measure anything, just poured a generous amount down Merlin's throat and seized his shoulders, turning him onto his side. "The sleeping draught works by slowing the pulse down slightly," he said, "But if the rubies are already doing that-"
Gwen jumped up.
"We need to get him to purge the draught before it takes effect," he finished as Gwen took her place to help hold Merlin on his side.
Gaius grabbed the bucket she had dropped before and placed it in front of Merlin's face.
"What I just gave him should induce vomiting," he said, moments before Merlin's body tensed and he began to gag.
At first, nothing came up. There wasn't enough in him. But then some bile forced its way up his throat, and in seconds Merlin had vomited up everything that he had had in his stomach -some blood, two draughts, and a little water.
He didn't regain consciousness once during the entire procedure.
"That should be fine for now," Gaius was saying, laying Merlin down again, "I think the best we can do is let him rest until we can figure out..."
But Arthur was lost in his own thoughts.
Some blood and water. That was what Merlin had been living off of since his last meal.
Nothing else. No solid food. He hadn't had anything to eat in days. Just a few mouthfuls of water and his own blood.
Suddenly, the walls of Gaius's chambers were too close, the dim light of the candles too bright, Merlin's breathing too loud. Arthur couldn't catch his breath as the sickly scent of Merlin's scant stomach contents filled the room.
"I need to go," he said quickly, and without another word, he sprinted from the room.