Wow, such an amazing following response in just the first 24 hours! I'm flattered! You know what would make me absolutely glow? Also reviewing! I've heard from a couple of you-thanks so much :) Reviews let me know what's working and what doesn't, so I can post better stories. I enjoy hearing what you think. But enough of that-time to see how the boys are coping...
Arthur peeked in the infirmary door. To his luck, Gaius was out on rounds. No awkward questions, then. Just as well; it had taken days to gain the chance to slip his duties without his father's notice. He snuck across the cluttered main chamber to Merlin's room.
Gaius had explained Merlin's history with magic, how it was part of the young man's existence whether anyone liked it or not. At first, Arthur thought the revelation and resulting feeling of betrayal would crush him—all these years, the man he thought he knew was actually living a lie. As the physician revealed time after time when the seemingly good-for-nothing manservant had saved anywhere from individuals to the whole of Camelot using magic, Arthur felt a growing chasm in his stomach. Never asked for credit, power, or manipulated circumstances for his own gain (which Arthur could attest to, at least). There was no one more loyal to Arthur than Merlin.
The servant was curled up under his blanket, asleep, but he was shaking. Arthur's heart broke all over again for his friend. Gaius said Merlin often wouldn't sleep unless given a tonic for it. He was skittish if unfamiliar voices were close enough, let alone if someone was in the same room. He didn't talk unless spoken to. He stuck almost entirely to his room, once Gaius had him cleaned up and his wounds treated. All in all, he looked just about normal—on the outside, anyway.
Arthur couldn't fathom how Merlin must feel. They had all lost three years, in a way, but only Merlin's experience had also meant losing his freedom. The look in his eyes when Arthur first realized it was him in that cell. The pain that must have stemmed from those manacles alone.
But that didn't stop the prince from feeling hurt by the lack of trust. He knew in his heart that Merlin had every right to keep his secret, in fear for his life. Uther could be a harsh judge. Arthur probably would have made the same decision in Merlin's shoes. If only there was some way his servant (former servant, as he was in no state to work right now) could have confided the truth to someone and felt safe. Anyone, besides Gaius. Someone closer to his own age. Arthur found himself wondering who was really the traitor. Given the opportunity, would he have used magical restraints on his own friend purely out of fear of sorcery? Hadn't his father?
As for the cursed manacles, they had indeed been for channeling and controlling a sorcerer's magic to whatever purpose the wielder set it to. Merlin's body rejected the control, though he could never throw it off completely, resulting in many of his injuries. Gaius described it like being awake, but unable to command one's own soul, let alone body. That's how deep Merlin's magic went. Arthur shuddered at the thought. It wasn't right, for anyone. Not even a sorcerer. Removing the seamless metal from Merlin's wrists at last had been a tense, painstaking, and painful process for everyone involved. Arthur hoped he never had to witness such a struggle again.
Still in bed, Merlin suddenly grew quite agitated. He mumbled unintelligibly, which grew increasingly desperate as the blankets got tangled, until he was practically tied up. Then his voice rose to nearly a shout. Whatever was going on in his head, it terrified him. Arthur couldn't stand for it.
"Hey—hey! Wake up, Merlin! You're safe in Camelot. You're not trapped anymore!" he insisted, trying to pull the blankets loose. "Listen to me—I am your friend, there's no one else, you are okay!"
The inkwell from the nearby desk missed Arthur's head by inches before it crashed into the opposite wall. An invisible force threatened to throw him just as easily, but he held tight to his thrashing friend's shoulders. "Merlin! Don't make me knock you out. There is nothing here to hurt you!"
Merlin's wide-eyed gaze fixed at last on Arthur's face. This time he showed recognition of where he was and who was with him. Not that the sight calmed him—there was no mistaking what had just happened. Magic. No more pretending it was just a scary story. Arthur felt frozen. Before him, Merlin held his clenched fists tight to his own chest, gaze quickly downcast once more. Tears hovered in the corners of the troubled blue eyes. The bunched sleeves of his shirt revealed his burned wrists, the only wounds that didn't seem to be fading back to normal. Magical effect as well, Arthur supposed.
Merlin took a shuddering breath. His eyes radiated fearful anticipation, flicking between the door and the man gripping him. Arthur realized the limbs beneath his fingers were still trembling.
"It's only me, see? No guards or anything. I was just checking on you. Gaius is out right now."
Disbelief—perhaps a bare hint of the old wry humor—joined the fear.
"It's not against the law, you know." Arthur surveyed Merlin's more-starved-than-ever build. "Come on, let's get you something to eat."
"Not hungry."
"Like hell you're not. Up you get."
Arthur didn't like how Merlin just gave in to being pulled along, but at least the young man was moving. And he sat obediently at the table while Arthur poked through the cupboards looking for Gaius' pantry. Huh, you would think someone under the employ of the king would be able to afford more… In the end he settled for some bread, two slices of salted beef, and an apple. He wasn't going to try to cook. A pitcher of water and two cups already waited at the table. He watched sternly until his friend started to eat.
"Why are you doing this?" Merlin asked hoarsely.
"Do I need a reason?"
"I just figured…after what you saw…" He gestured with one mottled arm.
Oh… Arthur studied the wounds. What did he think, especially after having magic thrown directly at him? Well, whether that was intentional was up for debate, given the poor man's state of mind. He wanted to give the benefit of the doubt there. But could he believe that Merlin would remain good in the face of a power that had corrupted so many? Would he be able to keep this dangerous secret from Uther? Did he even care to? Arthur had puzzled over these questions since their return, and he still hadn't arrived at an answer.
Here went nothing.
"Gaius…explained everything to me," he began slowly. His heart clenched as Merlin's anxiety tangibly skyrocketed again. "Don't—please don't think of it like that. Sure, it was a bit of a shock to find out, but I'm giving the whole situation due thought before I take any action. No one knows. You're safe here."
"Magic's not…not anywhere…"
He couldn't exactly refute that statement. They sat in awkward silence for another few minutes. Finally Arthur bit his lip, and took a deep breath. "Can I ask…what you did? Well, what they made you do. I don't you responsible for those actions. But believe me, they will never have that power again, over anyone."
Merlin used the nibbling of small pieces of bread as an excuse not to make eye contact. His mind was clearly back in that hellhole of the past three years. Arthur reaffirmed that magic or no magic, he hated the empty, stolen appearance of his friend. Merlin may be rescued, but he wasn't really here. That bothered Arthur above anything else in this mess—the feeling that perhaps he had failed after all. That Merlin was never coming back. No, I refuse to believe that! There had to be a way to reach him. He just had to figure it out.
"I mean, you don't have to share anything before you're ready. I wouldn't want to. Gaius just thought maybe…it would help. Or I heard him mention it, anyway."
The waifish servant curled further in on himself, if that was possible. It shouldn't have been, given Merlin's height. Arthur felt compelled to put a hand to one bony shoulder, though he retreated when Merlin flinched. Was there nothing left for him to find comfort in, surrounded by safe, familiar rooms? This wasn't fair. Any of it. Damn the bastards who did this!
"It was bad…horrible…" Merlin croaked just as Arthur was about to give up on the man's power of speech. "I couldn't escape it…"
"Whatever they told you, you didn't deserve anything they did," Arthur heard himself saying.
"Not them…so many innocent…and I…I…"
Merlin was rocking back and forth on the bench by now. His eyes stared in the direction of the rough wood in front of him, but didn't see it. His hands rubbed obsessively at the opposite wrists. Arthur saw the discolored skin quickly becoming inflamed again. When he tried to pull Merlin's hands apart, however, the servant jerked away violently. Tears splashed onto his faded sleeves with the movement.
"They created a monster! It hurt…they were hurting…couldn't stop…screams, everywhere…" The clawing hands leapt to his black hair. Arthur's heart flew into his throat when he noticed clear nail marks on top of the burns, some bleeding. Merlin's panic was spiraling out of control. His breathing sounded painfully ragged as he repeated, 'monster, monster!' like a verbal lash. Once or twice, his elbows collided with the table top, he rocked so far forward. Arthur finally tackled him trying to get him to stop.
"What on earth is going on?" thundered Gaius as he suddenly entered. Hands full of his satchel and assorted loose supplies, he could only stare at the two figures wrestling on the floor.
Arthur felt Merlin's terror-fueled strength start to wane. He finally succeeded in pinning the squirming former servant, and with some difficulty, hauled Merlin to his feet. His friend's breaths came in harsh sobs; thin shoulders sagged against Arthur's chest. By this time, Gaius had dropped his things on the work table and swiped a vial of what Arthur hoped was a sleeping draft. The liquid went down Merlin's throat before he had a chance to protest.
"Get him back to bed," the weary court physician instructed. Merlin had pretty much stopped struggling, and was an all but dead weight as Arthur supported him across the chamber. Gaius trailed behind with materials to treat Merlin's further-tortured wrists. "What exactly were you doing, Sire?"
Arthur heaved a sigh. "I just wanted to check on him at first. He was having some kind of nightmare, so I woke him up, and then figured he could probably do with something to eat. Maybe I shouldn't have asked about his time with the traders…it got out of hand so quickly…"
Gaius dabbed gently at the nail marks on one wrist. Sprawled on the bed, Merlin drifted off unaware of them. "We need to let Merlin choose when to broach that subject. He could have really hurt himself in such a fit. I know I said talking might help, but recalling painful memories is a double-edged sword."
"He thought…I would want nothing to do with him…after finding out…"
"A not unreasonable fear, I must admit, given Camelot's recent history. He could only hope to see you mend your father's harsher actions someday." Gaius finished bandaging the first wrist, moving deftly on to the second. Merlin didn't even flinch now. "Make no mistake, though, his loyalty went far beyond his own desires. He saw the good in you, the man you would become. The king we will one day all be proud to serve."
Arthur swallowed hard as he watched Merlin sleep through the ministrations. "He was the first to really show it, too. Granted, it was usually in the most obnoxious, disrespectful, unbecoming-of-a-servant way possible." The memories coaxed a quiet laugh out of him. "That's why I want to help him, Gaius. I can't watch him live like this."
"I'm glad to hear that, Sire. He'll need the support of friends to remind him what he still has. In the meantime, let him rest. He has much to recover from."