I must remind you that this fic is a SLOW BURN and will have many chapters. Also, do heed the warnings I mentioned in the first chapter before continuing further. I will be mentioning warnings for the chapter from now on.

Thank you for the reviews!

Warnings: Some violence, so we're still on safe grounds.

Words: 3416

9. From the pan, into the fire

"The Cup of Life in exchange for the servant boy and the spell coating your Caves," Morgause added.

"You ask of two, dear Lady, in exchange for one?" the Keeper spoke, a bit angry at her audacious demands.

"You lot know the best what this cup entails than I. I simply know that you have been after this Cup for centuries and that this is the only bridge you have to save yourselves. Am I wrong, Drihten?" she asked with a victorious smirk and could see the Drihten tighten his jawline in acquiescence.

"I must agree that you have come here knowledgeable, dear Lady, of our needs," the Keeper gritted out.

Morgause was about to reply but stopped herself when the Drihten caught the Keeper of the Caves by his arm and dragged him away to the entrance of the Caves. It looked like they were engaged in a deep conversation and Morgause patiently waited. She needed the servant boy, Merlin and she would give away anything in her strengths to get her hands on him.

For Arthur to fall and not rise, she needed Merlin.

It was a stroke of immense luck, really, that she remembered about the Cup of Life and its need in the hearts of these perishing sorcerers. Yes, their magic was stronger than any force in and beyond this world yet it had an expiration day. And, it was dawning. They would soon be gone and their only means for protection was the Cup of Life. That was the reason they had to come out of their seclusion. Morgause was sure that they didn't want Uther's wrath upon them a second time.

The Drihten left and for a second, Morgause feared her bargain was a failure but when she saw the Keeper, Bewerigend, rush towards her rather urgently, she kept her hopes up.

"Are you wishing to forsake your lives after all, though you have the chance to safety?" she didn't miss the quiver of uncertainty in her bold tone.

"We graciously accept your offer, dear Lady. Do come in and claim your prize," the Keeper's utterly broken lips curved into a warm smile without any malice.

Apprehension filled her as she allowed herself to be led by the old Keeper towards the entrance. Was it a trap? Would they kill her to get their hands on the Cup of Life? It seemed likely. Why didn't they kill her yet?

"Because we believe you to be our ally, dear Lady," the Keeper answered and Morgause realized that she had spoken her thoughts out loud.

She cleared her throat in embarrassment.

"Ally?" she queried.

"Yes, dear. We need you and your accomplice, the black-haired woman whose alliances are not in the hearts of the place she resides but in you, to end the reign of the mighty Pendragons. Is it not what you want the boy for?" the Keeper looked down at her and his smirk was reminiscent of hers'.

"We share the same bond," she smiled genuinely at him.

"That we certainly do," he said as they entered the Caves.

As soon as she stepped foot into the Caves, she could feel the warmth of the Sun envelop her and she sighed in relaxation. It miraculously felt like home to her, one she never had, except for abandoned towers and murky Caves. There was just enough light for her to see a few feet from where she stood but any further, was darkness to her eyes.

"Our eyes do not dwell well in light," Bewerigend said.

Their eyes had no black eyeballs, she recollected. They were an expanse of white and probably, they could see through this darkness; they didn't need light to survive.

"Where is he?" she asked eagerly and a bit tiredly. The walk was not helping her sleep-addled mind and wounded body.

Her hunt for Curare proved cumbersome and she scraped by with a few injuries, some, she could heal while some, she could not.

"Patience is a virtue, dear Lady. We have kept him in the depths of these Caves lest he escaped, given, he is the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk this land, we had to be cautious," he replied.

Morgause laughed. The most powerful sorcerer? She laughed harder.

"My apologies, Bewerigend. I do not think Merlin is the most powerful sorcerer. It is but a hilarious joke," she spoke as she tried to control her guffaws.

"Emrys is the most powerful sorcerer, dear Lady. His powers remain dormant to this day and I believe the cause for it is the young Pendragon, Arthur. Staying in Camelot, by Arthur's side, has weakened what the old prophecies told about Emrys's magic. The fear of practicing sorcery openly has curbed his abilities. If I must say, he is but a sleeping dragon and we are making sure he stays that way," he informed seriously.

Morgause gulped involuntarily as a sweat bead rolled down the side of her face. Was Merlin's magic really powerful? Why was Merlin being called Emrys all the time? Were they the same person at all?

"Emrys is his Druid name," the Keeper answered.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, can you read my thoughts?" she frowned in suspicion.

His smile gave the answer. Yes, he could. They reached the end of the tunnel and there was a sharp rocky depression just across them which led downwards.

"After you," the Keeper said.

Morgause didn't want to go in there. It was dark, damp and probably pest-infected. Besides, there were no steps! They had to climb down or crawl their way down slowly. By the Keeper's stance, she suspected that he would climb. Sighing that she had to go through all this trouble for a mere servant and vowing to herself that she would make Merlin pay for her affliction, she bunched her robes and sat down, feeling the cold seeping through her clothes. Slowly but carefully, she groped for rocks using her feet and hands and climbed down. After what felt like days and numerous scrapes later, she felt her feet hit the muddy ground.

"Well done, dear Lady. We are soon to arrive and now, we wait for the others," he led her to a flat stone that was to their left and she presumed that they sit on it.

"Where is the boy? I don't see him here," she said as she sat down on the stone.

"He is right in front of your eyes," he answered as if it was obvious and Morgause was a fool for not being able to see the boy dangling right across her.

"I don't see him," she mumbled as she searched for any sign of Merlin in the darkness that spread before her.

All she could see was the Keeper and from this seated angle, she couldn't even see the path that led her down to this place. When the Keeper didn't answer her, she waited.

o#*#o

Maybe it was a dream, then again, maybe, it wasn't. He was sure that it was noisy and now, it got noisier. Was it because his teeth chattered louder than usual due to the freezing cold? On the other hand, it could be him groaning louder in pain, or, it could be his stomach, growling like a tiger in hunger. Whatever it was, he couldn't place a finger on it. Yet the thought that someone might have come for him never crossed his foggy mind.

Merlin began seeing unusual things these days. Pleasant things. Arthur and his Knights coming for him, rescuing him and Arthur kissing him in their presence shamelessly… For some time, he discarded these thoughts away, knowing them to be false. Now, he reveled in the very same thoughts to ease into oblivion. As long as he was awake, he would only think about Arthur to save himself from his pain, his hunger, and his humiliation. The place stank of his excretions and his captors didn't even bother cleaning. Besides, why would they? He was a captive, not their guest!

He coughed in harsh rasps and fire ignited in his throat.

"Water," he spoke but all that came out of his mouth was air, no voice.

Recently, a new burn took residence in his privates due to lack of water intake. It hurt so much more than the fire in his throat. He shut his eyes tight as the burn made itself known again.

"Somebody please save me," tears ran out of his eyes in thin streams as there was no more water left in his body. At times he wondered how he could still cry or urinate without drinking water.

Poking his tongue out, he lapped up the tears he cried and wet his dry muscle and the insides of his mouth as much as he could. The saltiness of his tears only added fuel to the fire in his throat, still, he drank them for Lord knows when he'd be able to cry tears again or drink them to quench his thirst.

"Ah!" he choked on air as his best friend, the whip, let him know of its presence by cracking the already cracked skin on his back.

He now knew how to deal with the pain the whip delivered so lovingly. It was blissful to lose himself in its ministrations and to let the pain from it sweep over him like a cool wave. He appreciated the blood that ran down his back like a gift to the whip's efforts. He wanted more. And, the whip gave him more of what he wanted.

"Harder," he whispered, not quite satisfied with the whip's lashes as of late.

And, he got harder.

"Yes, more," he begged the whip.

It was his only ticket to the present, to the Darkness that surrounded him, away from his hallucinations of Arthur saving him and kissing him. It served him in reminding him of his plight, captured and alone, magicless, and useless. The whip, the pain it inducted in him, brought him back to life, screaming at him that he was still Merlin, a sorcerer, who saved Arthur countless times, the one who he betrayed by hiding his magic and the one who betrayed him by abandoning him here.

He tried drawing his magic out through the pain that was inflicted on him. Yet, he always failed. His magic chose to leave him too, just like Arthur. The whip reminds him that he should be angry – at Arthur, at Gwen, at the Knights of Camelot, at his magic, and at himself for caring too much. They needed him and they used him but gave nothing in return! In the end, they left him here to die in his vomit and piss, to die a crude death. He would never forgive them for his doom.

"No, no, no, don't stop, please," he begged when the whip quieted down.

He expected the whip to rain down on him once again but it never did and unfalteringly, his mind ran back to Arthur, to where it supposedly belonged, like the moon in the dark, and his eyes swooped shut gracefully.

o#*#o

"Lihtaan ond onhlidan! (Light up and reveal him!)" the Drihten chanted.

All the seven sorcerers were present with Morgause as a faint light filled this deeper part of the Caves, where, according to the sorcerers, Merlin was held captive. As the light grew stronger to a level where she could see her surroundings faintly, she saw something dangling midair not far from them.

"Is that?" she squinted her eyes to adjust them to the faint light.

"Your prize, Emrys," the Keeper announced.

Her feet unknowingly brought her to a stop a couple yards in front of the unconscious servant boy, carefully avoiding the wet pools of blood mixed with urine. The light allowed her to scrutinize Merlin's battered state to her heart's content. He looked more emaciated than ever with bloodied and torn clothes, skin paler than the twilight, hair matted to his forehead almost covering his closed eyes, drool dropping down disgracefully from the corners of his slightly open and trembling mouth; his body emanated waves of putrid smell and he quivered like a newborn leaf on a windy day.

"We've been starving him and he's still fighting. His will is stronger than anyone we've ever known," the Keeper told Morgause, coming to stand beside her as she inspected their captive in awe.

"Why didn't you kill him when you had the chance?" she asked, genuinely surprised.

If the sorcerers wanted to kill Merlin, they could've done so the very day they captured him, but they didn't. Had they any hidden agenda behind keeping him alive and breathing, she wondered.

"Dear Lady, I have but something to inform you. I'm not merely the Keeper of Caves. I'm also the oldest Seer still alive and I've known since the beginning that you or your companion, the black haired beauty living in Camelot's citadel, I suppose, would be coming for this boy, offering a deal we could not refuse," the Keeper smiled at Morgause's shocked expression.

Today, she learned so much more than she could ever take in. Coming to the Caves had been her destiny, forever and she successfully accomplished it. Now, she could claim her prize and if she walked on the path meant for her, she could reach the pinnacle of success; else, she was sure that this boy would only aid her to her unavoidable doom.

"How could I have not known? You lot are the oldest sorcerers alive. You would know everything, wouldn't you?" she chuckled at her stupidity.

"No, dear Lady, we do not know everything. Only that if we gift this boy to you, prophecies and destinies of everyone will change, including the boy's," the Keeper said.

Oddly, the others remained silent while the Keeper spoke. Not even the head of their pack, the Drihten, spoke for them but let the Keeper in his stead. This trust, Morgause supposed, was deep instilled because this old man peering down at her was more knowledgeable than the others, about prophecies and destinies.

"His destiny, I believe I am correct in saying this, is to protect Arthur," it was more a question than a statement.

"You are not wrong. He was supposed to protect Arthur till the young Prince breathed his last. His destiny is now realigning itself to the events that occurred in his life. The young Pendragon forsook his trust in this boy and left him to die, which caused a deep irreparable tear in Emrys's destiny and the prophecies that told of his power are contradicting themselves as we speak of his fate. Our duty ends when we part with Emrys by bequeathing him unto you," he explained.

"I have the power to change his destiny?" she asked.

"You do," he emphasized.

And for the first time, someone other than the Keeper spoke to her, an old woman.

"And it is said that when the betrayed bond with a promise of love non-existential and intentions maleficent, rewritten are the Destinies, nigh is The End," the old woman had her white hood pulled up so Morgause couldn't see her face.

"What is The End you speak of?" Morgause asked the old lady.

"That, dear Lady, not even we know. This is your destiny and you must embrace it," the Keeper said, albeit a bit sadly.

"How can I embrace it without knowing what it means?" she asked agitatedly.

"In time, woman, for you are the key to Camelot's lock of destruction," the old lady addressed her rather perfunctorily.

"You and your companion, I might add," the Keeper said and Morgause knew that he was talking about Morgana.

"She's my sister, Morgana," she let them know and turned her attention back to Merlin, who was mumbling incoherent words and was trying to open his eyes. "He's waking up," Morgause walked closer, studying him.

"Here's the spell for the Caves. I must warn you that the place you choose must be strong enough to withhold the magic this spell infuses in its foundations," the Keeper stretched out a parchment to her and she took it without glancing away from Merlin.

"You need to say the spell thrice, dear Lady, and coat the insides of the place with a few drops of your blood at different places after every incantation. I trust you understood my explanation?" the Keeper elucidated further.

"Yes," she looked at him gratefully, "thank you."

His body ached constantly but he knew it wasn't the ache he was used to. It wasn't the afterburn left by his favorite whip but something else, something unpleasant. His closed eyes were colored red now as if he was under the Sun and not in the Darkness he came to love. This new sensation running inside him, he didn't like it, not one bit. So, he fought against all his impulses and tried to open his eyes, regain consciousness, so that he could see the change in his surroundings but his body wouldn't cooperate. It wouldn't listen to his orders.

He grunted in displeasure and heard someone talking to him. Dazed as he was, he couldn't even make out the voice's gender though his mind supposed it was Arthur who spoke to him. Lately, he had been dreaming and seeing Arthur too much.

"Arthur?" he croaked out and he heard a laugh in reply. No acknowledgment.

Merlin didn't like the response and he shut his mind and traveled to its deepest recesses where he could find the Arthur who answered him instead of laughing at him. The world went blank.

o#*#o

Merlin jerked his eyes open when a stream of ice-cold water showered down on him. Arthur never stopped turning over buckets on his head in lieu of proving to Merlin that Arthur knew how to use a bucket!

"Ugh," he spluttered and coughed water out and wiped a few drops away from his eyes and face.

The realization was quick and sudden, just like the bucket of cold water that poured over him – he could move his hands! They were not tied to the ceiling anymore and his eyes saw black no more. Alert, his burning eyes roamed about his surroundings, taking in what he could see. He reckoned he was in some kind of cave and that's all. There were no indications to tell him where the said Cave was or where he was stranded. He only remembered the sorcerers of the Caves of Peril and the insufferable pain his body dealt while being their captive.

Trying to control his now rapid breathing, he leaned back and immediately winced away from the cold touch of the rocks on his bleeding back. Due to his newfound senses, he almost forgot about the whip's work on his backside and as soon as he acknowledged his wounds, the underside of his legs burned. Looking at his unbound wrists and legs, he stood up on his bare feet with difficulty, holding onto the rocks for support. The act itself consumed too much of his energy and he panted hard, closing his eyes tight to will away the pain in his body.

"Need another bucket of cold water to wake you up, Merlin?" a female voice asked him and he realized that he wasn't alone, wherever he was.

"Who -," his body racked with a gruesome cough fit for a few seconds. "Who are you?" he managed to ask between coughs, now bent over in half as he clutched his stomach with one hand, while the other still rested on the wall for supporting himself.

"I don't believe it is hard for you to recognize me, Merlin," the bearer of the voice walked a bit closer to him.

Merlin lifted his head to see the woman and a plethora of emotions filled him, the dominant one being – terror.

"Morgause," he whispered.

"Arthur, please!"

"Don't leave me here."

"I only ever used my magic for you, Arthur!"

"Save me, Arthur, please!"

"Merlin!" Arthur sat up in his bed, sweating, his head in his hands, as the night sky thundered savagely.

A few reviews would be appreciated!

I hope you're on board so far and do stay tuned for more!

Next chapter: Morgause and Merlin interaction. Arthur's feeling remorseful and Gwen tries to help him. He decides something and tries to go through with it. Morgana tries to deal with Uther. Will Uther live?

Until next time, bye!

~ Wheezy.