Hello, folks!
I know, I know- two updates THIS close together? But I actually have been looking forward to this scene for a long time-even pre-wrote some of it.
On another note, I am currently sitting backstage, dressed in century-old clothing, awaiting my cue to go on-stage and be ridiculous. God, I love theater. And I love all of you!
I hope you enjoy this!
~Ra1n
Previously...
Arthur turned to leave the room, but found words spilling out of his mouth faster than he could think them through:
"There are chains, though, in the first room. And Merlin was… well he was dead, and then he wasn't, and the only reason I left him was to find something to break him out, but there hasn't been anything in any of the rooms. Not a single blasted thing, and I'm still not sure how to help him get out. If I only had my sword, then maybe I could. I should never have left him, I know, but I didn't have much choice, and-"
Merlin cut him off. "I said we'll go get him. We. Us. I meant it. Let's go."
Instead of protesting, Arthur let himself be lead back through the doorway, through the room that had once been bursting with blinding light, shuffled through the muck that bit and stung Arthur's wounds, and finally to threshold of the room that radiated heat.
Arthur took a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare himself for walking across the scalding tile on feet that had tracked blood throughout the whole structure.
"It'll be over in a jiffy," Merlin said, beckoning to him from across the room. Arthur didn't have much of a choice.
He crossed the room as quickly as he could, tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes as his blood hissed and bubbled. Once on the other side, Arthur took hold of the ornate door knob and twisted it, wasting no time in escaping the heat of the floor.
Inside, the sound of rattling metal had not stopped. The smell of burnt hair and sweat hung heavy in the hair.
The Merlin observing the scene blanched.
"This is… I was not expecting this," he said.
Arthur nodded grimly. "Neither was I, the first time around."
They both took a few more steps toward the glowing figure. His face was impassive; a stark contrast to the seizing muscles of his limbs and torso. No new chains had grown, at least that Arthur could see, but the existing ones seemed to have no intention of stopping their blue lightning display.
"Has he been like this the whole time?"
Arthur ran a hand over his face before answering.
"No, he spoke earlier. Then this-" he waved to Merlin, "started happening and- Don't touch him!"
Merlin's hand froze a few inches from one of the chains. He gave Arthur a confused look.
"I made the mistake of doing that earlier," Arthur explained, "and it is a bad idea."
Merlin lowered his hand, opting to lean forward and squint hard at the situation.
"He's afraid," he said after a moment. As if that explained anything at all. Arthur cleared his throat.
"Yes, he said something like that earlier. But how does that help here?"
Merlin straightened again. "I honestly don't know."
"We need to find something to break him out."
Merlin gave him a side-eyed look. "And how has that been working for you so far?"
Arthur stuttered. "Well, do you have any better ideas, Merlin?"
"I suppose not."
The king threw his hands up into the air. "Perfect!" He took a minute to pace around the perimeter of the room, as if something would become obvious if he stared at the walls long enough.
"Sire," Merlin said. Arthur shushed him.
"I need to think, Merlin."
"And we both know how well that goes. Listen, sire."
His pacing stopped. "What, have you suddenly come up with an idea?"
"No-"
"Then what could you possible have to say?"
"-look up!"
Arthur did.
"...You've got to be kidding me."
Above them, the ceiling was broken by the faint outline of a trap door about two feet square, nearly invisible if it weren't for the glowing of the chains in the room.
"How did I not notice that before?" Not that Arthur had been paying much attention to the ceiling at all before. He'd been too shocked by the broken form of Merlin bound in chains.
"Maybe it wasn't there before," Merlin offered. It was true that the landscape here changed without warning. The door could have simply materialized within the last few minutes.
"Am I supposed to jump up there?" Arthur mused.
"I could give you a lift?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin. You couldn't lift a child."
The warlock crossed his arms. "Fine. Then you could give me a lift."
They stared at each other for a moment, the strangeness of banter after weeks of cold avoidance catching up to them. Did Merlin trust Arthur enough to lift him into a strange hole in the ceiling?
He supposed Merlin didn't have much of a choice. It was either trust Arthur or spend eternity trapped in a room with his own tortured clone.
"Right," Merlin said, breaking the silence. "Let's go."
Arthur intertwined his fingers, offering Merlin his cupped palms as a step-up. Merlin only hesitated a moment before placing a boot down, and Arthur pushed him up towards the ceiling. It was relatively low, and Merlin easily pushed the panel up before scrambling into the space above. It was dark as night. Merlin's face peered down at him.
"There's nothing up here," he said. "Just darkness."
Arthur squinted into the space. Cold air was spilling from the hole above, and his heart skipped a beat.
"I know where you are," he said.
"And where is that?" Merlin had crawled away from the hole, and his voice was small and distant.
"Outside. I don't know what to call it… it's wherever I was before I found you."
"Oh..." he said, and his voice was nearly inaudible. "Huh!"
"What is it?" Arthur called, trying to change his angle to see into the hole. "Merlin?"
He could hear Merlin shuffling on his hands and knees, but there was no response. "Do you see anything?" he tried. Again, there was no response. Arthur felt his already-pounding heart start to race. What if they were wrong, and Arthur was supposed to go through the hole? What if Merlin got hurt? Would they both be trapped here forever?
He nearly had a heart attack when the door behind him slammed open. Turning around, he felt his heart sink. Merlin stood in the doorway, looking wide-eyed at Arthur.
"How-?" The warlock whirled around. The rooms had disappeared, replaced with the darkness that had been there before. A few yards beyond Merlin, a square of light was set into the floor- the trapdoor he'd crawled through.
"It's a circle," Arthur breathed. "God dammit…"
Merlin ran back to the hole in the floor and looked down. Above Arthur, his face appeared in the ceiling.
"That doesn't even make sense," Merlin muttered.
"None of this makes sense," Arthur replied.
"Where did the other rooms go?"
"Probably wherever they were before they appeared in the first place." Arthur pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "I don't know."
Merlin entered the room through the doorway. He studied Arthur for a moment, then the figure behind him. "And he hasn't changed."
Arthur looked back at the chained Merlin. "No."
"Then you go outside, and I'll watch over him."
"I don't see how that's going to change anything."
"It's worth a try, isn't it?" Merlin snapped. "Besides, you've been out there before."
So Arthur took a deep breath and pushed his way around Merlin. Once again, he found himself standing in a nothing-scape, with a single doorway illuminated in front of him. The only difference was the presence of two Merlins, and a trapdoor a few yards in front of him.
"There's nothing here," he murmured. At least the smooth floor soothed his aching feet. He'd started to forget the pain, which he wished was a good thing.
He turned to look at Merlin, who was once again inspecting his clone.
"Any brilliant ideas?" he called back into the room.
"Nothing I can think of," Merlin called back. He turned to face Arthur. "Maybe if-"
The door swung closed.
"Merlin?" Arthur bolted across the small space to the door. The handle was stuck fast- locked.
"Arthur?" The Merlin inside sounded confused. "Arthur! Open the door!"
"I can't!" Arthur shouted back. Merlin was banging on the wood, shaking the hinges.
Arthur wound up and threw himself at the door, hoping the force would knock the hinges clear off, but only succeeded in bruising his shoulder.
The pounding inside stopped.
"Merlin?"
If Merlin made any response from inside, Arthur couldn't hear it. Arthur hit the door again and swore as he pulled his bloodied palms away from the wood. Wiping them on his trousers, he rested his ear against the wood, trying to listen for signs of life.
"Merlin, can you hear me?"
Nothing. It was like Merlin had vanished.
"C'mon, Merlin! You can't disappear on me again! Come back!"
Nothing. Not even the rattle of chains. Arthur let all of the breath out of his lungs. Merlin was gone again.
Merlin was gone again.
All of this was Arthur's fault. He slumped to the ground, his feet aching, shivering without his boots and shirt.
An idea struck him.
The trap door!
Arthur stood and raced to the square in the ground, which was still glowing dimly with blue light. He knelt and peered in…
...and found himself staring at his own face.
A mirror...? Arthur waved his hand over the hole, watching his reflection do the same. He tried to reach through it, but was met with cool glass. He balled his hand into a fist.
The impact of his hand against the glass shattered it, but it did not reveal Merlin. Instead, it broke to reveal more smooth floor beneath. The light went out. Arthur swore.
He was right back where he'd started. No Merlin, no idea how to proceed. Except now he was missing half of his clothes and had burned his feet. He groaned and sat back on his heels.
"Merlin, you need to come back!" he shouted, as if something would hear him and respond. As if maybe Merlin would appear before him, grinning and intact and unharmed.
Maybe Arthur was dreaming. Maybe he just needed to wake up, and he'd be lying in a forest somewhere, his knights asleep around him, the fire dying in the early light of the morning because Merlin had fallen asleep before stoking it. Gwen would be at home when he arrived, and she'd kiss his cheek and lead him to the throne room, where Arthur would sit and make simple amendments, and maybe he'd legalize magic, too, just to avoid all of this business happening to anybody else. And maybe Morgana would be good, and she'd be his advisor, and Merlin would write his decrees for him and smile when Arthur gave him a promotion and a new pair of boots, and-
"You are not welcome here," a voice, the emotionless one that had insisted that Arthur wasn't Arthur, that had lead Arthur through a doorway only to plummet into this hellscape, growled. Arthur felt something in his chest tighten.
"Yeah?" He snapped, "Well I don't even know where 'here' is. Why don't you enlighten me?"
The voice ignored him. "You have magic," it said.
"How observant," Arthur muttered into the wood.
"You are not Arthur."
"I take my statement back." If the voice could tell he had magic but couldn't see he was the king of Camelot, it had it coming.
Instead of reacting, it continued:
"Get out."
"No," Arthur said. He stood and turned around, facing the darkness. "Give me Merlin."
There was a booming cackle that shook the ground.
"Give you Merlin?" It asked, mockery in its tone. Arthur squatted to keep his balance. So it thought this was funny.
"Yes," He said with as much dignity as he could muster. "Give me Merlin, and I will go."
"Oh, how mislead you are," the voice said, and this time it was close to Arthur's ear. "I cannot just give you Merlin."
"And why not?" Something didn't feel right in Arthur's gut. He was missing something. He knew he was.
"Because, Arthur…" Something brushed his shoulder, and Arthur whipped around to face the owner of the voice. "...I don't want to go."
Arthur realized his mistake the moment he laid eyes on the person in front of him.
It was Merlin. The voice belonged to Merlin. Standing with a smirk on his face and his arms crossed against his chest, he was unmistakable.
The smirk grew wider at Arthur's incredulous look.
"Hello, Arthur," Merlin said, and the voice was off. It was Merlin's face (albeit with golden eyes), but without the face Arthur hadn't been able to recognize the voice at all.
He was dressed in a pair of black trousers and his normal brown boots. His shirt was deep purple and ripped down the front, revealing his chest. The skin of his torso was blackened with what looked like soot and beneath it he could see Merlin's swollen veins, throbbing gold. Along his arms were angry, oozing welts that glistened unnaturally brightly.
"Who are you?" Arthur managed after a moment of shock. This wasn't fear, nor was it anger or hope or sadness or any of the facets of Merlin Arthur had ever had to deal with, not in this enchantment nor in real life. This wasn't human-it was a creature, angry and dark, and Arthur could feel cold coming off of it in waves.
"I am Merlin," it said, still grinning.
"No," Arthur shook his head and pressed himself against the door behind him, "not all of him."
Not-Merlin shrugged. "I'm the part that matters, though," he purred. "At least to the real Arthur."
Arthur grit his teeth. Not-Merlin unfolded his arms, and Arthur caught a glimpse of something shiny and green in one of the welts.
"I am Arthur," Arthur said.
He scoffed. "Not any Arthur I know."
"And what Arthur do you know?" He really didn't think he had time for games. There was no telling where the rest of Merlin had been sent, what was being done to him as they spoke.
Merlin's lip curled in disgust at the question. "The Arthur I know," he spat, "would never find himself here. Would never stoop so low in his mind as to wield magic."
"And if he did?"
"He wouldn't."
"Humour me," Arthur was standing up straight, moving away from the door, curiosity outweighing fear. "If the Arthur you knew did wield magic, why would that be a source of disgust?"
Not-Merlin's brow furrowed and his lip curled even further. His fists clenched and released, the tendons in his ashen arms bulging, but he did not answer.
Arthur took another step toward him, fighting the urge to rock back and away from the cold. "If I am Arthur, and I am wielding magic… What then?"
Not-Merlin began to take a step forward, but stopped. He pulled himself back and fluttered his fingers nervously. It was a minute motion, but one Arthur didn't miss. This creature was unsure. Angry, but unsure. It opened its mouth and said forcefully, "It's not possible."
Arthur tilted his head, a small smile beginning to form on his lips. This man was clever, but not nearly as clever as Merlin was with words-and Arthur had a lot of practice deflecting Merlin's banter. "And why not?"
"Because," Not-Merlin said, and hesitated again. His right hand went up to scratch at one of the swollen welts on his arm, and beneath the skin something glinted purple. Arthur quelled his revulsion and tried to shift his weight to get a better look, but the creature noticed and snapped its arm backwards out of view, snarling and baring its teeth like a wild animal. "Because the Arthur I knew was an ignorant, selfish bastard," it finished quickly.
"As are many sorcerers."
"I wasn't finished!" It snapped, "the Arthur I knew was a tyrant. He was a monster. He was attention-hungry and calculating. He was emotionally stunted and narcissistic. And above all else, he feared magic. So tell me: Who are you? How did you come to be here?"
"I don't even know where the hell I am!" Arthur exclaimed in frustration. "Who are you? Where did you take Merlin?"
The creature chuckled. "If you really were Arthur, you'd already know."
Its head twitched to the side, exposing a welt in its neck. The creature grimaced.
"If you are the king- which I highly doubt, but we'll continue on- if you are, then you took Merlin all on your own. Broke him up into little pieces and scattered them."
It rolled its shoulders, wincing as if it was in pain. Arthur could only imagine it was, with the amount of infection that seemed to be bubbling under its skin. "We all have our inner demons, Arthur. Some stronger than others."
Arthur got the feeling that Merlin wasn't only talking about his own inner demons.
"The collar," Arthur murmured. "You're his magic?"
The creature tilted its head back and laughed, the sound came from every direction. "What's left of it, anyway!" Its voice was an unearthly echo.
It hunched its shoulders forward, its spine and ribs prominent even under its tattered shirt, and took a slow step towards Arthur, then stood straight again. Its fingers came up to scratch at one of the welts on its chest, tearing another long gash into the fabric of its shirt. It seemed to be irritated by something as it shook its head back and forth, muttering more to itself than to Arthur:
"You would look at me and see evil, and that is the irony of it! Look at me! Can't you see what you've done?" The scratching was getting more forceful, the blackened skin over the welt puckering beneath its nails. "Can't you see what you've caused?" The skin broke, and a river of gold-red spurted forth from the wound, seeping into its shirt and drying into an ashy black dust. "Can't you see that you. Made. Me. Like. This?"
With the final word, the creature tilted its head back and howled in pain, fingers digging into the wound, blood pulsing between them as something small and hard was pulled out and flung in Arthur's direction.
Arthur recoiled as the thing skittered to a halt on the floor inches from his feet, illuminated by its own faint internal light:
A shard of ruby.