Author's notes: Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews! Your support means the world to me. So, here's the long awaited interrogation chapter. More angst than whump, still I'm giving you a warning, if you can't stand the heat, vacate the cooking area! Once again a thanks goes to my beta and all those who help me keep this story on track.

Enjoy.

Chapter 10

Used to eating quickly, Merlin had expected to feel more invigorated. Instead, the food weighed him down, his limbs feeling heavy from lack of sleep. Perhaps he should have waited to eat until after his so called talk with Tagan. They entered the dungeons and headed for what he'd labelled the torture chamber beneath the citadel. Keeping his silence, he followed Arthur inside.

He felt it the moment he crossed the threshold. It felt wrong, like the place was cursed. He stopped short as if he was punched in the gut and had to keep himself from staggering back. Trapped in corners, shadows lashed out and retreated from the flickering torches set in brackets along the wall. The shadows seemed to take shape, sighing like tired old men, his breathing falling in step until Merlin thought he heard voices, frightened, and begging for help.

Tagan stood before a table in the middle of the room. He turned.

"Isn't that overdoing it a little, Tagan?"

Merlin latched on to Arthur's down-to-earth-remark, grounding himself. It worked. The shadows returned to normal as the sighs dissipated in the wake of the prince's voice.

"My father will not agree to this."

Curious, Merlin moved forward to notice the source of his discomfort, a large translucent crystal hanging around the scribe's neck. Its reflecting surface stood out against his robe, against the black-ironed clamps, chains, and other nasty torture devices dangling from hooks on the wall. The more he focussed on the stone, the more it pulled at his magic. He tugged back, causing him to feel even more sick as his power rose and fell like the air in his lungs.

Tagan bowed. "My Lord, the King agreed to the amulets. This crystal is meant to do the same. Meant to ward off magic, so that we can have this conversation undetected."

Eying the stone warily, Arthur stepped aside to let Merlin pass.

"You are late, Merlin."

Startled, he turned to find Mathylda standing behind him just inside the doorway.

"I have matters of state to attend to." Arthur cut her off, then went to stand opposite the door. "I need Merlin with me, so I suggest you get on with it."

Mathylda huffed, but didn't say anything else.

"Sire?" The scribe sounded confused.

"My father ordered me to see to these proceedings." Arthur nodded at Mathylda. "She, on the other hand, has no need to be here."

Tagan's face wrinkled in a false smile. "If she goes, than I have to insist you go. There can't be one rule for us, and another one for you. Unless you disagree, which of course is your prerogative, My Lord."

Out of everything Tagan could have said, Merlin knew Arthur wouldn't deny that statement. It was a decree by which he lived. Even more so than his father. Merlin bit his lip, not liking how the scribe had managed to manoeuvre his friend into a corner. Arthur was impassive for a while, then moved for the door, staring down Mathylda on his way out.

"Tagan?" Mathylda's face went rigid. "You can't seriously expect me to leave?"

The scribe glowered at her.

Her face went red. She turned on stiff heals and left. Which is exactly why Merlin knew Arthur had agreed to move out. At least he'd gotten Mathylda to come with him.

The scribe turned his attention on him. "Sit down, Merlin." He motioned to the table littered with scrolls, a chest twice as small as the one that had harboured the amulets, and, to Merlin's dismay, the two halves of the broken spindle. He stepped over the short wooden bench and sat down, unease rising as Tagan remained standing.

"So, tell me, Merlin," Tagan moved behind him. "Why did you decide to accompany the prince to face the dragon?

The question caught him off guard. The conversation he and Arthur had before they'd gone to face the dragon was a private one. He wasn't about to repeat it here. The whole of Camelot had seen them ride out. But none of them, apart from Gaius and Arthur, knew it had been his decision to make, not Arthur's. Tagan couldn't know. He was bluffing, was merely fitting the pieces together from stories he heard. Or so Merlin hoped. "I am his servant. He just thought I could help."

"But you're not a fighter." The scribe circled the table until he stood behind his chair opposite Merlin. "Judging by how Arthur treats his staff, you could have refused."

Merlin swallowed. "He's my friend." He immediately cursed himself for admitting his loyalty. Still, his sincerity could also persuade Tagan that he was not the sorcerer they were looking for. "I had to come. It was…"

"Instinct?"

"No. No, I care for his well being, that's all."

"Hm." Tagan sat down. You accompany him on most of his trips. Even the strictly confidential ones. That, Merlin, gives you a lot of power."

"I would never do anything to harm him," he offered meekly.

"So it wasn't you who caused part of the castle wall to collapse, nearly killing your prince?"

He frowned. Neither he nor Arthur were anywhere near the western walls when it went down after Kilghara's attack. "No, that was the dragon."

Tagan smiled as if he gained a victory. "I'm not talking about last week. I'm talking about when you let that girl… What was her name? Freya, escape."

He blinked. "What?"

"That was you, wasn't it?"

"No."

"And you didn't bring part of the wall down on top of those trying to fight off the beast she'd turned into? You were seen on the main square, Merlin. Was she worth it? Worth killing your 'friend' for?"

He felt his heart shatter at that. Yes she was… worth it, but not to kill Arthur. Never. He had thought about how close he'd come to give everything up, because Freya was… she was special. He knew that in the rush of the moment, in his fear of losing her, he'd brought down part of the battlement, and hadn't even stopped to see if Arthur was all right. She was the only one who'd understood him, the only one who knew what it felt like to be a monster. Caught between destiny and love, he'd done what he'd thought was best and had moved on."

"It was Arthur who delivered the killing blow in the end. Did you lose control? Sought revenge right then and there?"

He liked to think he'd magically shoved the prince out of the path of the falling stone but couldn't be sure. Doubt set in, causing him to grow quiet. He couldn't hide it from Tagan. "That wasn't me," he lied, but sounded unconvincing, even to himself.

Tagan studied him, let his gaze drift down toward his shaking hands. Quickly, Merlin tucked them under the table. "Good," the scribe smiled. "Now, we're getting somewhere.

Arthur had to force himself to go, and not start pacing the guard room beneath him. He needed to spent time on the training field, so that was where he was heading. He was already halfway up the steps of the stone spiral staircase leading from the dungeons up toward the castle when Mathylda called after him.

"As soon as Tagan has finished, I will return the boy to you, Sire." She stood at the bottom of the stairs.

He stopped, trying to calm himself but his efforts were in vain. "Make sure that you do," he breathed through his teeth, then turned and took the few steps down to face her. "You will also make sure to treat our servants well."

"Sire, I can assure you-"

"You will assure them of their basic needs." He loathed the way she handled her profession, the methods she used to achieve her goal. Anger froze everything but the words spilling from his tongue. "You'll give them time to eat, and to rest. If I find you causing anymore ill treatment, you can go home and pick up your duties for my uncle again."

She pressed her lips together, grey eyes shooting fire. Arthur moved away from her, then stopped. "Oh, don't bother trying to persuade my father otherwise. We have always treated our servants well, he will agree with me."

"Unless they're under suspicion of magic, Sire."

Arthur tensed, knew she had a point. If he turned around now, he wouldn't be responsible for the consequences. Not acknowledging her retort, or the false deference he heard in her voice, he continued his trip up the stairs. Sir Leon could use some time on the practice field.

"I've talked to many people, Merlin." Tagan's timbre compelled him to listen. "They say you looked quite upset."

Merlin stared at the scribe sitting opposite him at the table. "When?"

"Getting rid of the dragon lord would go a long way toward bringing Camelot on the brink of defeat, wouldn't you agree? In which case your little sorrowful display in the throne room after you and Arthur returned was all just an act. Did you kill him?"

"No," he bit. Grief surfaced, for part of him felt so guilty. If they hadn't gone looking for him, his father would still be alive. But then Camelot would have fallen. His voice grew soft. "No." His magic rose, but he quenched it with sorrow.

Tagan picked up the broken spindle and threw it in front of him. "Can you fix this, Merlin?"

He shook his head. "I'm not a carpenter."

"But you fixed the scrolls." Tagan rolled out one of the parchments on the table, which Merlin thought the scribe had put there to write his findings on. Instead, these were the plans to Camelot's western fortifications. The ones he'd dropped in the mud two days ago.

How had Tagan gotten his hands on those?

"I heard you dried them overnight. How?"

"I…" his throat went dry. "I used salt."

"Strange, because according to Mathylda they were too damaged to ever be of use again. No matter what method you used to clean them up. She was there, remember?" He studied the parchments. "Yet, there's not a mark on them. You used magic."

"No."

Tagan leaned in and pointed at the spindle. "Fix it."

"I can't."

The scribe shoved himself back with force, his chair clattering to the ground as he pushed the table away from him. Merlin caught the edge before it slammed into him. Scrolls and spindle alike rolled madly until he steadied the top. The man's sudden burst of anger caused his powers to rise, but too accustomed to Arthur's mood swings -whether in training or in a fit of banter- he doused them and carefully sat back, waiting for the scribe to make his next move. This seemed to rile the man even more.

"I wanted to avoid this, Merlin." He walked up to the table to drag the small chest toward him. "But you leave me no choice."

Warily Merlin followed the scribe's every move.

As soon as Tagan lifted the lid, ice stole over Merlin's skin, made its way into his lungs, and caused his heart to thump loudly in his ears. Whatever was in there amplified the sighing shadows to the point where they tugged hard at his powers. He nearly retched but managed to stay grounded.

"Don't tell me you didn't feel that?"

"Felt what?" He spoke, his voice tight.

Tagan smiled, taking something small out of the box. A crossbow the size of his palm. In one fluent move he aimed and fired. Merlin flung his hand up, realized what he was doing and within a hairs breath stopped himself from freezing time. Only to have a sharp object hit him full force in the left shoulder. Pain radiated down his arm. He doubled over and pulled out a needle-like dart. It left a small but bleeding wound behind. He expected the dart to be poisoned but instead of falling unconscious he felt his magic drain out of him as fast as his blood flowed from the wound. He opened his mouth but no sound came out.

Gently, as if afraid to hurt him, Tagan took the dart from his hand.

Merlin gasped, coughed, and like a tidal wave, felt the shadows -a twisted sort of dark magic- reach inside, and withdraw again. His stomach rolled, until he threw up what little breakfast he had this morning.

"You didn't like that, did you?"

Feeling his strength return, albeit marginally, Merlin looked up at him with watery eyes. "What…"

"Don't worry, the wound's not deep. The magic my amulets reflect has to go somewhere." He lifted the translucent crystal around his neck to his face. "They are anchored to this blood crystal. In the end it would have turned red. But unfortunately for you, I grew tired of waiting for you to use your powers. You obviously keep them well doused." Tagan moved to tower over him. "The dart's laced with dark magic, its sole purpose to establish a connection between you and this beauty. You must have felt its presence haunting you." He stroked the stone as if it was a loved one.

Merlin looked away, his voice hoarse. "I can't give you, what I don't have."

"Not only does this blood crystal act as an anchor," Tagan continued as if he hadn't heard him. "But now that it has a trail of dark magic to follow, it will proceed to tare your powers away from you." He leaned in closer until Merlin felt his warm, stale breath wafting in his face. "Drop by drop."

As if on cue the sighing shadow seemed to penetrate him again with its icy tentacles, tearing his magic out as it withdrew. He doubled over again, while willing his powers down, but to his dismay, he found that he had no control whatsoever. It was as if the dart had pierced a small hole in his soul, and nothing he could do would stop his magic from draining away toward the blood crystal. Sounds of distress left his throat as pain shot through every fibre of his being. He was a creature of magic. His powers weren't part of his body, they were part of his soul. Ripping it away felt like he was dying.

Exhaustion covered him like a blanket.

He closed his eyes, heaving, desperately hanging on against the pull of the crystal. He couldn't stop the tidal waves, couldn't keep his magic down. Something deep inside stirred. An anger he hardly ever tapped into. Fighting to survive he let it flood him, but the added strength didn't help. Too far gone to act on anything other than instinct, he drew himself up. He screamed as his powers left him in a rush, only to return with such strength that he couldn't handle the impact. His body stilled and he lost focus. Everything grew quiet. He barely registered he was falling. The room whitened out of existence before he hit the ground.

Tagan stared in shock at the boy lying still on the floor. None of the others had ever showed a reaction like this. Sure, they had fought him, but once their magic was gone the sorcerers had quickly resigned to their lack of power. They didn't suffer from physical consequences. They certainly hadn't lost consciousness. This was more like he'd broken through the wall of a well, its water spilling out with force. A shiver of exhilaration ran down his spine, at the amount of power Merlin must possess. He studied the blood crystal between his fingers.

The stone was white. Not red. It was empty. The boy's magic wasn't there.

He took a step back, felt his face grow pale. That was impossible. Could he have been mistaken? Maybe this servant wasn't the sorcerer they were looking for? No. He'd done his job thoroughly. All leads pointed in one direction. Merlin. Besides, the dart's dark magic was working. He'd seen signs of the power draining out of the boy, seen him let go in the end.

But if Merlin had released his magic, the blood crystal would have soaked it up. As the stone was empty, the obvious conclusion was that the boy had no power. Or that it went somewhere else. Confused he ran a hand across his face and squatted, then reached for the amulet around Merlin's neck. It didn't glow. How? How was that possible? For the first time in centuries, he felt at a loss for an explanation. He didn't like this. Didn't like it at all.

Tbc

A/N: I really like Freya, which is why I debated not using her as a means to get to Merlin, but in the end, Tagan would use her, so that's why I kept it in.

So, Tagan shows his true colors, thereby also raising more questions than answers. Cookies for those who figured out what happened! Not that I'll tell you if you're right. That would spoil the story, but I'm interested in your thoughts!