Chapter 2: A Curse
Merlin groaned. His whole body ached. Ow. What–?
A rattle of chains made him flinch, and his whole body flared with pain in answer. Gah! He gasped, curling into himself as he gritted his teeth. What in the name of magic hit him?
"Merlin?"
He moaned. If it hurt this much to breathe, he didn't want to answer.
"Merlin." A feather light hand touched his shoulder, but it still felt more like being stomped on by Kilgharrah.
A cry escaped his lips, and the hand immediately jerked away. He clenched his teeth, drawing in a harsh breath. It took everything he had to hold still. His limbs ached, chest throbbing, practically on fire.
"Merlin?" the voice spoke again. "Merlin can you hear me?"
He drew another shuddering breath, going limp against the ground. Despite how the rest of him felt, his head was clear enough, which meant he wasn't wrong when he thought that voice belonged to… "Arthur?" He winced as his own voice echoed back loudly in his ears. "Wha…?"
"Hold on a moment." There was another rattle of chains, and Merlin instinctively tensed. What was going on? He felt careful hands grip something around his head, and with a gentle tug, whatever it was, came free and a rush of fresh smelling air touched his face.
"How are you feeling?" Arthur asked quietly.
For the first time Merlin chanced opening his eyes. Arthur was leaning over him, a bucket like helmet in his hands. Oh, was all Merlin could think. No wonder his voice had been all echoey.
He blinked slowly, eyes wondering past Arthur. They were in an iron cage, surrounded by the inner walls of a ruined castle, and beyond, high above, he could see the afternoon sky. Huh, how had they managed to end up here? He almost asked, but then his memories click back into place.
He groaned, almost wishing they hadn't. He pressed a hand to his face. This was, by far, his worst plan ever! What was he thinking disguising himself as a knight? Now he was stuck along with Arthur, in Morgana's trap.
This was beyond idiotic.
"Merlin?"
He tried to wave the prince off. "I'm fine. Just… not how I expected things to go…" He trailed off, grimacing at his own understatement.
He'd underestimated them. Morgana and Morgause had thought very carefully about their trap. The other knights were likely dead, and Arthur was probably lucky not to be as well. The warlock shivered. He'd never seen anything like that before. The second Arthur had stepped into the witches' trap, an incredibly powerful spell had been unleashed.
The very air had been alive with magic, wrapping and coiling around him. It had taken everything Merlin had to get close. Exhausted and clinging to Arthur, it had been his sheer force of will that saw his magic pry the spell off the prince. After that, with no power left, Merlin had collapsed beside Arthur and passed out.
A shiver ran through Merlin's frame, and he wrapped his arms protectively across his chest. He didn't want to admit it, but he felt awful. Was this the price for using so much magic last night?
Merlin snorted. He'd gladly do it again to keep Arthur safe, even if… He bit his lip, but the ugly thought had already formed. What if next time he wasn't powerful enough to save Arthur? What then?
He glanced at the prince, only to realize Arthur was talking to him. "…out of here." Merlin tried to look like he'd been listening. "Hopefully some of the knights managed to escape. The situation isn't hopeless." The prince offered him a tight smile, and it was then that the warlock realized Arthur was trying to comfort him.
He opened his mouth, hesitating ever so slightly. "You've got a plan then?"
"Of course I do, Merlin," Arthur answered airily.
"Good. I'm about ready to get out of here."
He tried to ignore the way Arthur grimaced. "One thing at a time. Can you sit up?"
Merlin bit back his own uncertainty. Could he? Slowly he pulled his arms away from his chest, and carefully pressed them against the rough wooden floor of their cage. Drawing a breath, Merlin levered himself up, wincing as his whole body sparked and ached with pain. His arms shook under the strain, until finally they buckled and he fell gracelessly against the bars of their prison. He sat there for a long moment, trying to catch his breath.
Beside him, Arthur silently knelt. Worry creased the prince's brow as his right hand rose, hovering hesitantly in the air as though he wasn't quite sure how to help.
"I'm alright," Merlin said, and abruptly Arthur's hand snapped away. Merlin smiled tightly. Arthur could act the uncaring prince all he liked, but Merlin knew how much of a big old fluffy mother-hen the prat could be. "Really, I'm fine."
Arthur looked skeptical. "Are you injured?"
Merlin gave a weak laugh. His hand had snaked back to his chest again. "You know me," he said, not bothering to move his arm. "The one time I do wear armour I feel like I've been trampled by your horse." Arthur's brow creased more. Merlin gave him a small reassuring smile. "I'm alright, just… achy."
The worry only grew in the prince's eyes, and suddenly Merlin became aware of the way Arthur was favouring his own body. The smile vanished entirely from the warlock's face. "You're hurt."
The prince scoffed. "Certainly not. You think something little like– like that could take me down?" Arthur tried to straighten himself further, only to wince as he taxed muscles protested.
"I can see that," Merlin answered sarcastically. Boy, were they a pair.
A silence fell between them. Sunlight poured down from the beautiful blue sky, and in the forest beyond the walls, Merlin could hear a few songbirds. It was… Merlin frowned, staring up at the crumbling walls around them. He hadn't realized how very still and quiet it was in the ruins until that moment. Where were their captors?
"Merlin?" Arthur suddenly spoke up, his voice subdued. "What was that… that… thing? From last night."
The secret warlock opened his mouth, only to hesitate. His fingers curled into the borrowed chainmail shirt he was wearing. How should he answer? With the truth?
"Well, Arthur, that's an excellent question, but a bit complicated to answer. You see, Morgana, who's your half-sister, by the way, is trying to kill you. Why you ask? Cause she wants to take the throne of Camelot for her own, of course. Oh, and me, I've been foiling her for the last couple months, which is why it was a really– really bad idea not to take me along on this quest. Good thing I didn't listen, right? Right. Otherwise that spell you accidently tripped off would have gotten you, and who knows where we would be then. Oh yeah, surprise! I'm a warlock. Now, if you would ever so kindly not behead me, we can try and figure out what exactly Morgana's planning. You see, she's made a hobby of trying to kill you, and that spell I pried off you, using my super powerful magic, I'm starting to suspect wasn't trying to do that. Kill you, that is. Which I, for one, find very worrying. So, why don't I just break us out of here and we head back to Camelot and get this sorted out? Confused yet? Good. Me too."
Merlin grimaced. There was no way he could say that, but with the way Arthur was looking at him, Merlin knew he had to say something. "What do you remember from last night?"
Arthur frowned thoughtfully. "That was… magic, wasn't it?"
Cautiously Merlin nodded his head, which only made Arthur look even more lost then before. So after carefully mulling over his words, Merlin slowly spoke. "I think… you set off some sort of trap."
Arthur's brow furrowed. "Is that what it was? It… made you glow."
Merlin's heart stopped. "Oh." His hands began to shake. Oh gods, Arthur had seen his magic. He tried to swallow. "You know, it was just– There was a lot of magic in the air. There. Last night. Right?" His grin felt forced.
Arthur gave him a strange look.
"Making stuff glow?" If his mouth stretched any wider his face was going to stick.
Arthur's expression became down right mutinous. "Are you implying, Merlin, that I glowed?"
Merlin opened his mouth, only for another memory to surface from the night. "Yes," he said abruptly. Arthur stared. "A nice Camelot red actually." Merlin wondered if he should just shut up now. With the way this was going he might as well kiss his lovely head goodbye.
Arthur was silent for a very long moment, before he abruptly raised his hand, pointing at Merlin threateningly. "Never mention this to anyone. Ever."
Merlin nodded quickly, maybe one too many times, because Arthur was still staring, and maybe that was why the next words flew out of his mouth. "Afraid red isn't your colour, Sire?"
"Merlin."
"Shutting up." He fell silent.
Arthur huffed, finally turning away, and began examining the cage. A hush fell over their prison. Merlin stared out at the crumbling walls around them, trying to ignore his unease. Everything was too quiet. Why weren't their captors here gloating in their faces?
The entrance he and Arthur had first come through was on the far end of the room, and now that he looked, he noticed the giant collection of chains had been moved into piles right beside it. The secret warlock adverted his gaze, a bad taste in his mouth and dread forming in his stomach. They still didn't know anything about the magical creature that was here.
"Merlin, where exactly was the trap set up?"
The warlock hummed softly. "Right over there." He pointed to the spot. "It was in front of the way we came in."
"I see." Arthur leaned forward to get a better look, which by itself wasn't odd, except that a chain clinked and rattled in time with his movements.
Merlin's head whipped around, gaze landing on a large manacle locked tightly around Arthur's left wrist and arm. How in the bloody name of magic had he missed that? Arthur's chainmail was gone, and the sleeve of his shirt had been yanked up, allowing the manacle to rub the prince's skin a raw looking red. Rage flared up inside Merlin. How dare those–
"Dammit!" The prince kicked at the bars. "They knew we were coming!"
And just like that Merlin came back to himself, temper fizzling out. The warlock drew a sharp breath. What was that? His hand tightened once more over his chest. His limbs suddenly felt shaky. It wasn't like him to feel a wild spike of rage like that. Gods, he could have done something incredibly stupid like level the cage.
"Merlin?" He jumped, realizing Arthur was looking at him.
Merlin opened his mouth, only to find his voice had apparently decided to abandon him. He stared at the prince, looking like a deer caught in a snare. Arthur reached out toward him, chains rattling, and Merlin flinched. Gods. It was stupid. It was so stupid. He wasn't scared of a bloody chain. But his secret had come so close to being discovered, and if Arthur had found out, those chains– they'd be around his limbs, tying him down, restraining him while everyone screamed and condemned him for simply being what he was, and– Right now, it was too much.
Merlin pressed his hands against his eyes. He needed to calm down. If he didn't, who knew what his magic might do. Even in a depleted state it was still dangerous, which was why he needed to stay calm, and not worry, and take comfort in the fact Arthur wasn't going to find out, and that he wasn't going to use the metal chain to strangle his lying treacherous– Good gods, he was going to blow something up.
Beside him, Arthur had gone perfectly still. "Merlin?" He paused, hesitating. "I didn't mean to– I'm sorry."
Merlin shook his head a little too wildly. What did Arthur have to apologize for? The prat hadn't even done anything. But the cage was feeling smaller and smaller and Merlin needed out. "Can," he forced the words out, eyes squeezed shut. "Can we escape now?"
The prince rose, stepping away from Merlin. "I'll look into it." He grabbed one the bars of their cage, yanking on it as hard as he could. "It's not going to be easy though."
The warlock remained where he sat, tension building in every muscle. "Why not?" His eyes flickered nervously to their cell door, maybe he could pretend to pick the lock. "What about that? Have you tried that yet?"
Arthur looked at him with worry, but answered his question anyway. "I can't reach it."
Unwillingly Merlin's eyes darted to the heavy chain connecting Arthur to their prison. Suddenly his throat felt tight with an ugly emotion he did not want to name. He needed a distraction now. "Right. I'll work on that. You– you something." He went to rise, but Arthur caught his shoulder, forcing him to stay down.
"Merlin." The warlock hesitated, slowly looking up to meet the prince's gaze. "Listen, I know our–"Arthur stopped mid word, head snapping around.
Merlin tensed as Arthur flashed several hand signs at him, none of which he knew the meaning to, but Arthur's focus wasn't on him or their prison anymore. He turned toward the passageway at the far end of the room, ready and tense.
Merlin followed his gaze, listening, hands flexing, crackling almost with nervous power. Then he saw them. Two men appeared at the entrance to the room, and as Arthur waited for them to get closer, Merlin struggled up, leaning against the cage for support. His legs shook, but he was determined to guard the prince's back. His whole body buzzed, ready for a fight, and almost reluctantly Merlin shut his eyes, drawing a deep breath. He couldn't be stupid about this, even if he wanted to see their captors shredded into tiny little pieces.
He swallowed hard, trying to push that unnerving thought away.
Arthur let out a hiss and Merlin's eyes flew open. "Mercenaries."
The two scrappy men skirted the spot the spell trap had been, and moved toward the cage. Merlin's blood thrummed in his veins, as he silently watched them come to a stop right before their prison. They didn't spare him a look, eyes focused solely on Arthur. The prince stared right back at them, not breaking the heavy silence.
Finally the beefier of the two mercenaries leaned toward his companion. "I don't think it took."
Merlin tensed.
"She said it might take time," replied the other. Merlin's eyes snapped to the wiry framed man who had spoken, heart pounding. There was only one she that Merlin could think of that they'd refer to. "It can't be much longer now. His little friend will let us know when it happens." The man's eyes skirted briefly toward Merlin, and something in his look made the warlock go cold. They weren't planning to keep him alive.
Arthur must have seen the look too, because he abruptly took a half step toward the bars. "Sorry to disappoint, but your little magic trap failed."
The confidence in the wiry mercenary's expression vanished. Merlin, for his part, tried to keep his own expression blank. His arms hung loosely at his sides, hands half curled, poised and ready.
"See," hissed the beefy one to his companion. "Told you it didn't work."
The wiry mercenary ignored the comment. "That's too bad," he said to Arthur. "You're not worth much then, Your Highness."
The prince frowned, hiding his confusion. He eyed the two men on the other side of the bars. "You know very well who I am. Who my father is. If that's not worth something, then you really are fools."
The wiry man grimaced. "Aye, and we know what your father does to men like us."
Merlin's expression hardened. "Then let us go," he ordered, a real warning and threat in his voice.
But the mercenaries only laughed, and even Arthur scowled at him. "Shut up, Sir Merlin."
What? He stared at Arthur like he'd gone mad. Sir Merlin? The prince gave a very pointed look at his chest, and while he ignored Arthur's silently screamed message of Keep your mouth shut, it did give Merlin the hint he was looking for. How had he forgotten? He was still wearing Arthur's spare chainmail shirt. The idiots that had captured them, for whatever reason, had decided to steal Arthur's but left his. Their loss. Even if he did feel a little ridiculous now, posing as a knight.
Slowly the burly mercenary nodded to the other. Merlin's eyes narrowed. What were they up to now? He certainty didn't like the way they were looking at Arthur.
Arthur crossed his arms. "You're going to be in a lot of trouble for capturing us, and for what?" He shook his head mockingly. "A shoddy spell that your incompetent sorcerer couldn't even get right?"
The mercenaries glanced nervously at each other. The witch sisters had left an impression then. But Arthur didn't know who he'd just insulted.
After a moment, the wiry man regarded Arthur intently. "You've got guts princey. I can see why they want you dead so badly."
Arthur glared darkly at the two men. "They?"
The mercenary smirked. "But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" He beckoned Arthur closer with a hand, the promise of revealing the witch sisters' secret on his face. The prince regarded the mercenary, weighing his options, before slowly he stepped up to the bars, closing the last distance between himself and the mercenaries.
"Arthur," hissed Merlin. What was the prat thinking!?
Arthur looked back at him, a snarky reprimand on his lips, but really, he should have kept his eyes on their captors. Quick as a flash, the wiry mercenary's hand was through the bars, reaching for the prince. Merlin shouted a warning, but it was too late. With a fist full of Arthur's shirt, the mercenary rammed the prince's head into the metal bars. Once. Twice.
"STOP!" roared Merlin, lunging forward. His hand snapped out, fingers more like claws, crushing the mercenary's wrist. The man cried out, releasing Arthur, who crumpled silently to the floor.
Snarling, Merlin stepped protectively in front of him, baring his teeth. How dare they! How dare they hurt Arthur! He raised his no longer human hand and roared.
The mercenaries stared in horror as Merlin's form began to shift, growing in size. His bones cracked, and his body changed. The chainmail shirt he wore burst, as enormous black wings arched from his back. Rough dark scales covered his skin as his mouth stretched, making room for razor sharp teeth. But it was his eyes that scared the mercenaries most. Between one blink and the next they turned to a burning gold, the pupils thinning to dangerous slits. As the change finished, those eyes remained focused solely on the two men.
"Oh gods," breathed the beefy mercenary, but that was all he had the time to say. For the next moment the cage exploded outward in flames and twisted metal as they faced down the full wrath of what they had helped create: a furious fire breathing dragon.
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When Merlin came back to himself, it was to the burning ruin of the mercenaries' camp. He stared at it without comprehension, blue eyes absently surveying the wreckage. Smoke billowed up into the air, caught in a gentle wind that made the grass tickle his face. He curled his fingers in the soft green blades, staring at his pale hand. For some reason, the sight transfixed him, but he couldn't remember why. He drew a deep breath, grimacing at the stench of burning wreckage.
All was dead silent around him. There was no one here. No one.
He closed his eyes, trying to process what that meant.
Alone… was he supposed to be alone? If he was alone, then… then…
Where was Arthur?
Merlin's breath caught, and abruptly he sat up. His head swam. He curled his hands into the grass as fear beat in his heart like a drum. He needed to find Arthur. Struggling to his feet, he stumbled almost drunkenly as he called out the prince's name. Where was he? Merlin tripped, going down on his knees, not caring that his clothes hung around him like rags.
"Arthur!" he called again, voice horse. His skin prickled and his eyes burned in the smoke of the burning camp around him. What on earth had happened here? "Arthur!"
He pushed himself up once more, fighting against his shaking limbs. None of this made sense. His head was a murky pool of confused thoughts. How had he even ended up here?
He jumped as a burnt timber popped loudly in the silence. His whole body tensed, making him hiss as something rolled beneath his skin. Spasms ran through his hands, fingers arcing as though they wished to be something else. He shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut and, a moment later, the feeling fled, leaving him just standing there.
Merlin let out a shaky breath, blinking in bewilderment. He stared down at his trembling hands, frowning. He felt like he was missing something. He drew another breath, curling his hands into fists.
He needed to find Arthur.
Slowly he started forward, awkward as a newborn colt. He picked his way out of the camp, following a twisting passage into the ruins. Uncertainty gnawed at his insides as he stumbled along. Had he picked the right direction to go? But the next turn brought a familiar sight to Merlin, the crumbled wall that he and Arthur had first entered the ruin through.
He stared down the passageway, drawing a breath. He was close. He knew it. The warlock took off at a run. He charged into the crumbling room beyond, and promptly tripped as his foot caught on the ground. He crashed to the earth, groaning at his own clumsiness. It was only as he pushed himself up that he realized his left foot was stuck. He turned back, trying to see what had him, only to freeze.
The trap… the one Arthur had set off.
Merlin shook himself, rubbing a dirt stained hand against his forehead. How had he forgotten about that? Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to recall what had happened. His head didn't feel right. There'd been a trap, and Arthur…
Arthur had… oh gods.
Merlin's eyes flew open. Dragon! He'd turned into a bloody dragon! He stared at his trembling hands. "Oh gods." The spell he'd pried off Arthur, it'd been a curse. He hadn't destroyed it. He'd pulled it off Arthur, and when he passed out– The spell had latched onto him instead, turning him into– into–
Merlin clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes squeezed shut as something very close to a sob escaped him. Was this what Morgana had been planning? The curse? Her tale of a magical creature? All a plot to turn Arthur into a raging beast, and– and have him raze Camelot to the ground?
A dangerous growl escaped Merlin's throat, making him jump. He shook his head frantically. He needed to stay calm and think about this rationally. A shaky laugh escaped him. Easier said then done.
His first priority needed to be getting Arthur to safety, but… with the curse coursing through him, going back to Camelot was even more dangerous. Merlin swallowed hard, and for a moment, his thoughts strayed to Freya. Would his life end just like hers? He flexed his fingers, but right now they felt normal, ordinary even. He couldn't feel the curse crawling under his skin, just lying in wait to be unleashed and make him raze everything to ashes. Merlin shuddered.
He needed Gaius's help.
Merlin pushed himself up, pulling his foot free of the trap, and paused. He could see the edge of… something. Carefully he reached out, digging up the rest of the trap and was surprised at what he found.
There was a collection of small polished black stones, each etched with ruins, intricately arranged in a circle. His boot had scattered some of the stones and rubbed out part of a line of white dust that he couldn't even begin to figure out the reason for.
He placed his hand over the stones, but his senses didn't feel locked on them, not like they had with the phoenix eye. However this trap had worked, it was clearly dead now. He ran a finger over the stone's etchings. Gaius would hopefully recognize what they were, because Merlin certainly didn't. He scooped several of the stones up and stuffed them into his one remaining pocket. He just hoped it would be of some help figuring this out.
Finished, he rose to his feet, surveying the area around him. The grass was blackened and scorched, smoke hanging like a heavy fog in the air. Merlin shivered, slowly picking his way across the room. It was difficult to make out anything, and he stumbled, caught by surprise when he finally saw the wheeled cage. The metal bars had been torn open, twisted beyond recognition, while the cage itself was destroyed, listing horribly to the right, and there lying in the centre of it all was Arthur.
Merlin's stomach dropped unpleasantly as he hurried forward to the prince's side. "Arthur," he called, but the prince didn't stir. Slowly Merlin reached out, patting the blond's cheek. "Come on you, up and at 'em." But other than a slight twitch of his brows, Arthur didn't otherwise react.
Merlin bit his lip, pulling away and hugging his arms against his thin tattered shirt. "Did you have to pick now of all times to take a nap?" He scowled only to swallow hard and look away. "Sorry." He scrubbed the shredded end of his sleeve across his eyes, drawing a shaky breath. He was their only chance of getting out of here. So he blocked out the smell of death from his nose, the taste of ashes and smoke on his tongue, and harshly buried all his worries and fears.
There was only one goal now, and that was getting them safely home.
He tore the long dangling strip that had once been his sleeve, and carefully used it as a bandage, wrapping it around the bleeding gash on the prince's forehead. Satisfied with his work, Merlin stepped back. They needed to get moving. "Come on, Arthur." He reached out, tugging the prince by the arms–
There was a thud as a heavy chain hit the side of the wooden cage, making Merlin jump. His head snapped around, only to find the heavy maniacal still present around the prince's wrist. Except now the chain was severed, the last few links dangling free from the cuff.
Merlin's mouth went dry. He'd sheared the chain right off.
Above him the twisted bars seem to loom, like teeth, like hands, trying to drag him back down, and Merlin had to turn away. This wasn't the time, and that maniacal had to go. Drawing a breath, he turned back, setting his hand against the metal lock, opening his mouth to incant a spell, only to stop before the first syllable had even left his mouth.
That feeling of wrongness beat like a drum against his heart.
Every fiber of his being screamed, telling him to leave his magic alone. Slowly he pulled his hand away, curling his fingers into a fist. He drew a deep breath, shutting his eyes, trying to search out the reason.
It wasn't difficult to find.
Merlin flinched. His magic roared within him, practically screaming as it rolled like the high seas in a storm. There was no way he could control that. Abruptly he pulled away, eyes snapping open as he drew a shaky breath. This… this was not good. This was not good stacked on top of very not good. He wouldn't be able to defend them like this. Merlin swallowed hard, staring up into the blue sky.
He still had to try though.
"Come on, Arthur," he said, turning once more to the prince. "The day's not getting any younger." Carefully he gathered the blond up, and stood, finally turning away from everything that had happened, and beginning the long trek that would lead them back home.
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And there you have it! Chapter 2 of The Serpent's Curse. This was an interesting chapter to write. I'm surprised how much mileage I got out of Merlin and Arthur being stuck in a cage together. Merlin is quite an entertaining character to write, though on the inverse side, that also required me to go over his fast paced dialogue or thoughts multiple, multiple times with a fine tooth comb to make sure they read smoothly. I think my favourite has to be Merlin's mental speech (the one where he thinks about telling Arthur the complete truth about his magic and that Arthur's half sister is trying to kill him), and I still find it entertaining despite repeat editing, so totally worth it.
I will admit the part where Arthur's head gets bashed against iron bars of the cage is dancing on the very edge of what I'm comfortable for writing for violence, and honestly was only kept because I couldn't think of anything else that would drive Merlin into a berserk dragon rage.
Next Time: Merlin and Arthur make it back to Camelot, and Merlin has to deal with juggling both his curse, and Morgana. Oh dear. Look forward to Chapter 3: A Monster on Feb 5th.
A big thank you to everyone who reviewed. And another big thank you to everyone who read the chapter. I hope you enjoyed!