The Lost King—Chapter 3
Four days earlier
The man with the little board and pen was really starting to get on Arthur's nerves. How dare they treat him like this! He was the King!
The little man adjusted his spectacles and cleared his throat. "Now, Arthur, do -"
"- King Arthur. Or Sire. You choose." Arthur reminded him curtly. He may be strapped to a chair and held hostage in a strange white castle, but they would treat him with respect.
The man coughed again. "Yes. Tell me, King Arthur, do you know where you are?"
"How should I know that?" Arthur stated. "I've never been to this place before."
"You are in the Cardiff National Institute for Mental Health. I'm Doctor Ioen Bretir. I'm the, um, one in charge, you might say."
Well at least he wasn't worried about his chances for escape anymore. They were looking up. The man calling himself a 'doctor' was probably only as high as his chest. And the only weapon he wielded was the small metal pen and a board with papers on it. As soon as his bonds were loosened, he'd easily make it out. Arthur relaxed slightly. All he had to do was play along until they untied him.
"So, Arthur," the man continued. Arthur winced at the lack of respect, but said nothing. "How did you come to be on the island?"
How many more people were going to ask him that? And why did it matter? He gritted his teeth and answered. "I'm not sure, but..."
"Yes?"
"Well, I do have a feeling that my servant, Merlin, may have had something to do with it."
The man flipped up the papers and scratched something down quickly. "Merlin? You said he was your servant?"
"Ye-s?"
"You don't think of Merlin as your advisor, or your tutor, or your wizard friend?"
Arthur was shocked. This man knew about Merlin? How? Had Merlin gone around blabbing about having magic just because Arthur didn't immediately decide to chop his head off? He'd wring his scrawny little neck! And what was all that other rubbish about him being his advisor? Pathetic Merlin? Never.
"Arthur. Are you alright. Only, you've gone a bit... red."
"Yes," he seethed. "And no. Merlin is my servant. Just my servant. None of that other stuff." Arthur hadn't known about Merlin, not until he told him, right before...right...before...Argh! Why couldn't he remember? There was like a great, fuzzy, black hole where his memory should have been. And why did his side keep hurting? Arthur looked down. It was his left side, just under the ribs.
The man was busy scribbling things down. At last, he looked up over his spectacles and said, "Very well. Let's move on. What were you doing before the island? What's the last thing you can remember?"
The rush of memories came back so quickly, Arthur reeled in his seat. "There...was a... battle," he said slowly. He frowned, recalling the looks of his men as he stood before them. How brave they had been, going to what could have been certain death. How many had fallen at Camlan? If it hadn't been for that sorcerer... His frown deepened. The sorcerer. Merlin! Now he remembered. Merlin, ridiculous, pathetic Merlin. He had saved them. Truthfully, he wasn't sure that if Merlin stood in front of him right now, he wouldn't strangle him.
"Mmm. And did you fight many battles?"
"Are you jesting with me? I'm the King! Of course I fight my own battles. How dare you imply otherwise!" Arthur pulled at the restraints again, rattling the heavy metal chair.
The man looked sincerely shocked. He put out his hand in a 'stop' gesture. "Calm down, Arthur. I didn't mean to imply anything, I just wanted to know if there was anything else you could remember."
Again, the flashes of the past came back like waves crashing upon him. Gwen, his Queen. Her soft, sweet eyes and warm smile. And his trusted knights: Leon, Gwain, Percival. His father. His father's death. He frowned again, much deeper. Remembering his father brought up a completely different set of memories. Like Morgana; the laughing, flirtatious child who had been twisted into a foul and wretched witch. Or Mordred, his most beloved knight, turning against him. His side ached again, deeper this time. He saw Mordred's face before him, the look of anguish turned relief when Arthur had driven his sword into him. The pain grew sharper in his ribs and he cried out.
The doctor sat up worriedly and asked, "Are you alright?"
Arthur looked down at himself. "Tell me, am I bleeding? Here. Just under my ribs." He wiggled around in the chair trying to check for any blood.
The doctor approached cautiously. Arthur was secured well, but as he had proven when he had first been brought in, he was quite strong. He lifted Arthur's shirt. "No. You're not bleeding." He looked up at him, his spectacles glinting in the light. "But there does seem to be an old scar there. Do you remember how you got that?" He returned to his chair and picked up the notes once more.
Dryly, he said, "Mordred. He did that to me." A thought had just sprouted in his head. With calm assuredly, it blossomed into a fully developed conclusion. "Ah." He said.
"What?"
"I think I'm beginning to understand what has happened to me."
Shocked, the doctor asked, "You are?"
"Mmm, yes. I think I must have been gravely wounded in the battle. I recall traveling with Merlin somewhere. It must have been to the island. Perhaps he was taking me there because he believed he could find something to help me. But then the little...idiot left me there! Alone. With no clothes, or food, or anything. How typical. Must have ran off for some reason... oh." It had just occurred to him why Merlin had run off. He had told Arthur the truth about everything. How he had magic, and had been lying to him for years. He was probably worried I would have chopped off his head, the...dollophead!
Arthur sighed. Merlin was gone, scared off, no doubt, by fear of Arthur's wrath. He was on his own here, where ever this was. So he would just have to find a way out on his own. Then it dawned on him that this was a very odd sort of prison. There were none of the usual brutish guards. No one carried weapons. Sure, they had kept him lock up all the time, but no one had actually mistreated him. They had fed him well, given him clothes, and now this King of the -what did he call it? - Olive? Carnage? No. More like Car Dive something-or-other mentals - he had just held him here and talked to him. No beatings, no threatening to throw him in a pit of snakes, no forcing him to fight to the death or anything. What did it all mean? What did they want?
"Arthur," the doctor said calmly, interrupting the mental jousting match he was having. "I can see that you are disturbed by something. Is it the restraints? I assure you, they are only for your protection. No one here wishes you harm. We are here to help you get better. To help you work through you problems. But, you're going to have to start trusting us." He put down his papers and approached Arthur. He locked eyes with him, and Arthur could see that he was telling the truth. In smooth, mellow tones he said, "Now, if I release you, do I have your word you will make no attempt to escape?" He pulled a set of keys from his coat pocket.
Arthur was puzzled. Why would this man say all this to him? Why would he just let him go?
"I don't think that you really want to hurt anyone, do you?"
"N-no." Arthur agreed. Could this be some sort of test? A TEST! That was it! An odd sort of relief washed over him. This man wasn't a King! He was a sorcerer! That would explain everything. From the time he had arrived off the island and the guards had bound him, he had been very curious about some of the things he had seen and heard. He had been put into a windowless, padded coach after his arrest, and so he hadn't seen where they had taken him to. Now everything was starting to make sense! He was in some sort of magic realm or something. There were strange flameless lights, they wore odd clothing, doors opened and closed by themselves, sounds came from the hallway that were not made by any beast. And he just knew it was all Merlin's fault.
"Good." The 'doctor' replied quickly. "Then let's get you out of those bonds, shall we?" He unlocked the shackles and stood back.
Arthur slowly lifted his arms and rubbed his wrists. But he made no move to flee. A test, he was still pondering. With wizards. What would they want from him? It had to be to see if he would allow magic again.
"Good. See, we're all civilized here. Right?"
Arthur nodded reluctantly. Yes, he had definitely figured it out. He would play along, do what they asked. For now. He might not have a problem with Merlin having magic, but he wasn't yet convinced about anyone else.
The doctor seemed satisfied. He picked up his board and jotted down a few quick notes. "Now, in order to help you work out your problems, I'm going to assign you to a daily group session that I think you might really enjoy. It's for people, like you, who have difficulty coming to terms with, em, the real world. Can I count on your support?"
A daily group session? What on earth was that? Play along, Arthur, just play along. Don't let on that you know who they are or what they want. Then, you can go back to Camelot and sort this mess out. "Yes, doctor." He smiled, showing a brilliant set of teeth and eyes bluer than the sky on a sunny day. "I agree to your terms of parley. Let the 'group session' commence."
Author's not-
I hope you all are enjoying this story as much as I am writing it. I can just see Arthur's face in this scene looking so completely miffed by Merlin. :) As always I welcome any comments you might have. Next one up soon!