(Hey guys! Thanks so much for your review and follows. Stick with it; I'll try not to disappoint.)
Merlin smirked, pushing the unconscious guard further into the cupboard. Stepping out cautiously, he closed the door softly behind him. He looked down at the keys in his hand, then quickly hid them away under his jacket.
He made his way back to where he had been scrubbing the floor as fast as he could. He grabbed the brush and knelt down just as the doorway to the dungeon swung open. As much as he wanted to look up, he kept his eyes down, kept working. Foot steps moved toward him down the hall.
Keep walking, Merlin thought fiercely, I'm just a servant. I'm invisible. Keep walking.
Despite his wishes, the footsteps slowed and stopped in front of him. Merlin didn't let his eyes dart up, he just kept scrubbing, praying that the stolen keys wouldn't jingle and give him away. The pair of boots in front of him did not seem keen on moving, and Merlin was starting to wonder if he should stand up and bow or something. What would a proper servant do? Merlin had no idea.
Fortunately, his silent subservience seemed for please the man before him, who chuckled darkly and then walked away. Merlin risked a glance at the man's back. Sarrum. Of course.
As Merlin turned back to continue scrubbing the floor, he saw something that made him freeze. Drops that the Sarrum had dripped onto clean floor.
Drops of blood.
The time for waiting was over. Merlin had to move, now.
Arthur slumped in his cell, eyes unfocused. He didn't know whether the servant girl was dead or alive, and he wasn't sure which was worse. Through the course of her… punishment, he had learned that the girl's crime had been dropping and breaking a crystal platter. His stomach churned as he thought of his own servant's clumsiness. He hoped the idiot didn't do anything to get himself chucked down here. This was the last place he needed to be.
At that moment, the door at the top of the staircase eased open. Arthur stiffened. He hadn't counted on Sarrum coming back so soon. He saw the men around him stand and exchange glances, wondering if Sarrum had come to try his devices on them.
But Sarrum was usually escorted by two guards, and this figure was alone. He was also moving cautiously and quietly, whereas the Sarrum would have burst in confidently, as he did before. In fact, there was something familiar about the man's skulking. Especially when he tripped on the last few stairs.
"Merlin!" Arthur hissed.
The figure's head jerked around. Merlin snuck quietly over to Arthur's cage, gripping the bars and glancing around nervously.
"Is everyone alright?" he whispered.
"You mean aside from being stuck next to the Princess for so long?" Gwaine said.
Merlin's face split into a wide grin.
"Gwaine!" he cried, running forward and clasping the man's hand warmly through the bars.
"Yes, alright, alright," said Arthur, glancing back at the dungeon door, "You two girls can catch up on you gossip once we're out of here."
"Can't you just say you're happy to see me?" Merlin asked, quirking a smile.
"I might, if you were as good at getting out of prisons as you are at getting into them!" Arthur snapped.
Merlin pulled out a giant ring of keys, smirking haughtily.
"Well done, Merlin!" Gwaine beamed. Merlin turned to Arthur, raising his brows expectantly.
"Oh, stop looking so pleased with yourself and get us out," the king bristled, trying his best to keep the grin out of his voice. Really, Merlin was a wonder.
Merlin started on Arthur's lock, trying each key. But as he worked, he kept glancing behind him.
"Merlin, hurry up!" Arthur snapped.
"Look, I'm trying, there's a lot to go through here!"
"Well, maybe if you stopped looking over your shoulder like a frightened rabbit—"
"Arthur!" Merlin said seriously, still working furiously. "Doesn't it seem odd to you that there are no guards down here?"
"I'm sure Sarrum thought that the ones outside the door to the stairs were enough," Arthur replied.
Merlin met Arthur's eyes for a long moment.
"There were no guards outside."
Arthur's stomach twisted.
"So, this is a—"
"Yes," Merlin said, turning back to the lock.
"Merlin, it's a—"
"—trap, yeah, I knew when I came down here."
"Merlin," Gwaine said gravely, "You need to get out of here. Now."
"Nope," Merlin said, not looking up
"He's right," Arthur said, firmly. "Go, Merlin. Now!"
"Not happening," Merlin replied.
"It wasn't a request!" Arthur growled in frustration. "As your king, I command you to leave."
"And as your friend I refuse!"
"Merlin!"
"Arthur!" the servant yelled, finally looking up. "Even if it is a trap, it's our best chance! And Sarrum won't expect me to have keys, so we're a step ahead. But I'm running out of time, the light is fading, and this is hard enough to do with out you making commands that you know very well I will ignore. Please. Shut. Up."
Merlin turned back to the lock. Arthur floundered for words for a moment before sighing and rubbing his hand over his face.
"Fine," he said. "But at least focus on what you're doing. Gwaine and I will keep watch."
Outside the fortress, shadows were moving through the twilight, emerging from the forest quietly as the mists that swirled in the cool evening air. Dark figures approached the castle walls and guarded gates. Sarrum's men fell silently as the hooded figures swept past, stealing lives with quick daggers or whispered spells. Like wisps of smoke that curl through the cracks of a door and crawl along walls to fill a room with choking haze, the silent army slowly filled Sarrum's stronghold. What was once a great fortress became a tomb. The lifeless bodies of both soldiers and servants littered the halls—not a soul under Sarrum's command was spared. All that was left was the Sarrum and his small group of personal guards, headed toward the dungeon to spring their own trap, not knowing that a much larger and deadlier trap head already closed over their heads.
Merlin had managed to free almost all of Arthur's men. It was slow going. There were at least three different locks fitted with different keys, and there seemed to be no pattern to which locks were placed where. In other circumstances, he would have used magic to speed things up, but he couldn't risk it. Each knight waited impatiently as Merlin worked on the locks, watching him intently. He simply had to focus on the task at hand and do it the hard way.
Behind his back, he could hear Arthur rallying the men that were already free, supplying them with makeshift weapons from small blades, chains, table legs, and anything else they could find. They wouldn't help much against swords and armor, but if the knights could push their way to the armory, they just might make it.
Finally, the last lock clicked open, and the knight inside gripped his shoulder gratefully before running to the others, Merlin close on his heels.
As Merlin ran to Arthur, the king grimly handed him a small but wicked-looking knife. The warlock's brow furrowed as he looked at the knights around him carrying makeshift weapons.
"Arthur, no," he said, handing the blade back. "The knight's, they need it…"
"They are trained to use whatever they must to fight," Arthur said, raising his eyebrows. "You gave yourself a black eye last time I tried to train you."
"Arthur," Merlin started. "I can't—"
"You can." Arthur replied sternly, wrapping Merlin's hand around the blade. "And you will. We're going to be fighting for our lives here. No one will be able to look out for you. You have to be able to defend yourself. Keep out of the way. Only use this in self defense, if someone comes after you."
Merlin shook his head. He didn't need protecting. He wished he could tell Arthur that.
"Please," Arthur said earnestly.
Merlin was so shocked that he couldn't reply as the king left the knife in his hands and strode toward the stairs, the knights following closely.
At that moment, the door to the dungeon burst open, revealing the Sarrum, smirking smugly. His smile faltered as his eye landed on Arthur and his men, all free, all armed. Merlin felt a grin growing on his own face as Sarrum nodded to the guard beside him, who ran off, likely to gather reinforcements. The other ruler had not expected a mere servant to be so experienced in rescues.
"King Arthur," the Sarrum said coolly. "You must realize that this breakout is a further offense against me, my crown, and my country. Your life is forfeit."
"No, Sarrum," Arthur spat. "You are the one whose life is forfeit. You sealed your fate the moment you threatened my knights."
With one final glare, the Sarrum raised his hand, ordering his guards forward.
Merlin took a steadying breath as he watched Arthur clash with the first guard. Sarrum still watched smugly from above. Merlin backed into the shadows.
Time to work.
Arthur was proud of his men. They fought bravely, despite their lack of swords and armor. Despite their disadvantage, they outnumbered their opponents almost two to one. Also, their enemies were bottle-necked on the stairs, making it easier to control their position. Sarrum's soldiers also seemed strangely clumsy. Swords swung wide, feet slipped, and the men became tangled in each other's armor. For now they were winning, but he knew that more soldiers had to be on the way. They had to end this quickly. They needed to get hold of Sarrum, who still stood behind his men at the top of the stairs. Arthur's knights were pulling their foes off of the stairs, but the other ruler was still far out of reach.
Suddenly, a loud crack resounded from the stairs above. Arthur looked up to see the guard closest to Sarrum topple forward as the wooden step beneath his foot split in two. Arthur gaped as the man toppled forward, knocking all the guards before him off the steps and leaving a clear path to the Sarrum. Shaking his head in disbelief, Arthur started up the stairs. He had learned to stop questioning his good luck long ago.
Sarrum stood, sword ready. Arthur hefted a large table leg in one hand as a heavy length of chain swung from the other. He feinted with his makeshift club, then swung the chain, aiming for the Sarrum's head. The older man ducked, then brought his sword up, intending to plunge it into Arthur's stomach. Arthur batted the sword aside with his club and took a quick step away. Sarrum was a dangerous opponent, and he had two advantages: his sword and high ground. Arthur knew he had to be cautious.
He let the chain swing in slow circles at his side as he and his opponent sized each other up. The Sarrum stared down at him, predatory grin stretching across his face. Then, he lunged.
Arthur cleared everything out of his mind as he fought. He moved purely on instinct, reacting before his brain could register what he was doing. He stepped back and forward, dodging and blocking with his club as he struck out with the chain.
Finally, the inevitable happened. Wood gave way to steel. Only a well-timed stumble on the Sarrum's part kept his blade from shearing Arthur's arm off as his club split in two.
Arthur quickly threw the now useless length of wood into the Sarrum's face. Then, taking advantage of his opponent's surprise, he swung the chain forward. It wrapped around the Sarrum's sword, and Arthur pulled desperately, yanking it away and throwing both of their weapons far into the dungeon.
Arthur looked at the fuming Sarrum and raised his fists. Sarrum reached inside his cloak and pulled out a dagger.
"Arthur!" he heard a voice shout. He looked down to see Merlin throw something at him. The knife! Instinctively he caught it by the hilt and brought it up to block the blade that was aimed at his throat. He faced the Sarrum once more, trying to block out the worry he felt at seeing his servant alone and defenseless amid the fighting.
Sarrum fought viciously, using his position to rain blow after blow down at Arthur. He kept the king of Camelot on the defensive, sustaining a rage-filled barrage that nearly caused Arthur to fall backward down the stairs.
Suddenly, Sarrum struck out with his boot, hitting Arthur squarely in the stomach. He fell backwards, bouncing painfully down the steps and landing in a heap at the bottom.
He recovered as quickly as he could, sure that any moment he would feel a sword in his back. But as he looked around, he realized the battle was over. Sarrum's men were either dead or kneeling in submission. Arthur whipped his head back to Sarrum just in time to see the other man adjust his grip on his dagger preparing to throw it. In a flash, Arthur did the same with his knife, knowing that he wouldn't have time to move out of the way.
The blades left each of the ruler's hands at the same time, passing each other in the air.
Arthur blinked, and suddenly a familiar form materialized between him and the dagger, knocking him down.
No. Please, no.
They both fell to the ground, and Arthur's stomach fell even further. In the background, he heard knights gasping and Sarrum grunting with pain as the knife hit him, but all Arthur could see was the scrawny, dark haired figure in front of him.
He grabbed his servant's shoulder and furiously turned him over, trying not to panic as he search for the wound…
And found Merlin, cheekily grinning up at him, holding the dagger in his hands.
Arthur patted his friend's chest in disbelief but didn't find as much as a scratch.
"You…" he panted, sitting back in relief. "You… caught it?"
Merlin shrugged, still smiling. Arthur laughed, clapping his friend on the shoulder.
A moan from the staircase above caused them both to look up, scrambling to their feet.
Sarrum was standing on the staircase above, holding the hilt of the knife embedded deep in his stomach. The wound was fatal. It would all but impossible to fully clean and mend the damage done inside, but the Sarrum might live for days in agony before succumbing. Arthur couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for the man, after all the pain he had caused. It was fitting that one of the Sarrum's own torture devices had brought him down.
But as much as Arthur wanted to, he couldn't take pleasure in the man's misery. He always tried to kill cleanly in battle. This was no different. He took the dagger from Merlin, and started up the stairs to grant the man a quick death.
Suddenly, the Sarrum stiffened, eyes going wide. His back arched as his mouth opened in a voiceless cry of pain. The knights below watched in horror as his skin grew pale and his limbs convulsed. He seemed to age before their eyes, until finally his features cracked and crumbled, as though the very life was being sucked out of him. At last, his withered shell collapsed on the ground in a cloud of dust, revealing the dark figure behind him.
The man stepped into the dungeon, flanked by two figures carrying torches. He stepped forward, pulling back his hood. The light fell on his face, and Arthur heard Merlin gasp behind him. He glanced back to see the color drain from his friend's face.
"Mordred."
(I always thought Merlin should take more advantage of his time control powers. I will be playing with them in this story. Also, I should be able to finish this episode in one more chapter. However, their are going to be thirteen episodes in the series. Settle in folks, this will be a looooong fic :) Thanks for reading!)