Hey Friends! The next chapter of the story isnt quite done yet but i really cant type with an Ipad so Im just going to update this really cold here, i havent even been swimming yet! I hope the weather is better where everyone else is!Anyways, this was probably my favourite chapter to write, because of the sheer lack of dialogue, i really love monolgue! Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

Wisegirl6

Chapter 5 ~Life With The Slaves

Two Years Later

Merlin was cold. He huddled in the corner of the cell that had been his room for the past 26 months, worn blanket drawn up to his chin. It was freezing in the dungeon-like slaves quarters, and to think it hadn't even reached the colder months yet.

The slavers never lit fires for their workers, nor did they give them much food.

Merlin flashed back to a point some months ago, something that one of the laundry girls Helena had said that had stuck in his mind, "They want us cold, but not dying. Hungry, but not starving. Lonely, but not insane. Free-willed, but trapped."

In Merlin's opinion a truer thing had yet to be said.

The slavers provided them each with a thin, coarse blanket during the colder months, but refused to light fires anywhere near the cells in case they tried to escape or something. Everyday someone would come with food, but it would be just scraps, barely enough to live on. Cavell permitted them contact with the workers in their station (providing they still got work done), but gave them as little opportunities to talk to others as possible. But it was the last one that really pulled at Merlin's heartstrings: 'Free-willed, but trapped."

Isobel's 'Blood Oath', if Merlin had learned correctly, made sure that none of the slaves could escape without destroying their mental sanity.

A Blood Oath could be started by simply collecting some of a person's blood, putting a complicated enchantment on it, and then getting them to swear something to the wielder. The enchanter could then make the victim of the Blood Oath do as they wish, if they resisted a terrible pain occurred until they once again followed their master's wishes. Before, when Merlin was still new to slavery, he would try to go against Isobel. The fighting spirit inside of Merlin had not lasted long under the intense, blinding pain that the enchantment brought on. The only thing Merlin could do now, as much as it pained him, was follow the rules.

The young slave shivered and buried himself even further in the blanket's depths. It was no use, it was still cold enough to freeze him solid. Merlin knew he was in danger of hypothermia, but what would they do to help him? Nothing.

The sound of the rusty metal door clanking open knocked Merlin out of his reprieve. "Eat and then to work," the guard's voice was gruff, holding no sympathy for the thin, cold, dirty boy lying in the corner of the dingy cell. He placed a few scraps on the floor and backed out and locked the door once again.

Merlin scrambled forwards, he was beyond starving. Sadly, being hungry was something that you got used to when you worked for Cavell. Hunger was always there, sitting in the back of your mind constantly reminding you of its presence, almost like a conscience, but more irksome than helpful.

Today's meal seemed even smaller than usual, and that was saying something. It consisted of half a piece of mouldy bread, a quarter cup of water, and a small piece of gristle from some sort of tough, chewy meat. Merlin barely had time to breathe as he scarfed back his daily portion of food.

After a few minutes the guard was back, it was time for work.

Merlin worked almost everywhere in the small castle. His main job was with the launders down with the washing room, but occasionally Cavell or Isobel would assign him a special job like serving and waiting on guests.

Today, however, he was with his friends in a small room off to the side of the cells, dirty clothing piled high around them.

Merlin's 'friends' consisted of a small group of individuals ranging from twelve to sixteen years old. The youngest was a brown haired and eyed girl named Sophie, she was very sweet, but barely said anything. Then there was Sage, a feisty turned quiet girl of fourteen with fiery red hair and a short temper. Peter was the same age as Sage but, though he was a slave, still retained his strong willed nature, reminding him a lot of Arthur. The oldest of them (other than Merlin) was Jordan, a tough, stoic sixteen year old with dark blue eyes and blonde hair cut short. Helena used to work with them too until she died from an epidemic that had swept through the slaves and off killed many of them.

Merlin took his usual spot next to Jordan and plunged his hands into the frigid water, cringing as it seemed to make his entire body drop a few degrees. The warlock grabbed the nearest article of clothing, a pair of blue breeches, and began washing them.

Time passed in silence, nobody daring to speak. The only sounds were of dripping water and squelching clothes. After a while Merlin became aware of Sage, who stood directly across from him, constantly stopping to scratch one of the many red spots across her body.

"Sage, are you okay?" he questioned the younger girl, obviously concerned.

The slave girl looked up, red locks falling from behind her ears. "Its just something that I picked up last week," Sage said, deciding to scratch at a dot on her collarbone.

Merlin looked at her curiously, hands still working.

"Did they let you see Stephen?" asked Jordan gruffly from beside me.

Stephen was Cavell's resident 'physician' and dealt with the slaves when they were injured or had contracted a sickness. He was a young man, but he was grumpy enough to fill the boots of someone twice as old. Whenever you appeared to be sick one of the guards would send you to see Stephen and let him look you over. If the disease was contagious Cavell had you locked up in a quarantine cell. He didn't care if you were dying or not, he just wanted to make sure that his remaining wares didn't get contaminated and die on him, wasting precious money.

"Yea," Sage croaked in that strange country lilt of hers. All of the slaves were taken from surrounding countries but Sage was from a place by the sea that was miles and miles away from here. "I'm still allowed to work though."

Merlin frowned. Nobody deserved to work in a condition like this. The poor girl's arms were scratched raw and she was barely able to do anything without pausing to scratch at something. Some of them were even bleeding or had scabbed over.

The group drifted back into an uncomfortable silence for a while. They continued washing until the freezing water was all the way up their arms and the top layer of skin on their hands was rubbed off. The washers could take as long as they wanted, but they couldn't take breaks or anything.

It was well into the night before the guards came back to collect and lock them in their small cells.

The slaves muttered their goodbyes to each other before each of them were swept away by a guard.

"Goodbye Merl'n," whispered Sage as one of the guards flanking her nudged her with the flat of his sword. No matter how many times Merlin tried to drill into Sage that his name was Merlin not Merl'n she refused to call him anything else.

Merlin had started working at some time in the afternoon and was feeling sore and stiff from standing at the wash tub for hours on end. Even Arthur never worked me this hard. He thought as he was ushered into his room. Arthur. He remembered the smiling prince and now King of Camelot, the friend who always insulted Merlin and bossed him around but was a friend just the same.

Merlin had built up what he like to call a mental dam in his brain. It kept all of the memories out and helped him to follow his Blood Oath. But sometimes a thought would get through and crack the dam. He felt himself breaking under the torrent of memories that overwhelmed him.

Arthur the King, Gaius who was like a father to him, Gwaine the hilarious knight who was almost always drunk, Gwen the kind-hearted Queen, Elyan, Percival, Leon, his mother. And suddenly the thoughts that he had fought to escape for the passed two years seemed to push him to the ground: Had they looked for me? Why did they give up? Did they even care what had happened to me? Do they think I'm dead?

Merlin felt himself being crushed by his own thoughts as he tried to regain his mental bearings. It was no use, he felt a wave of sadness pass over him and he collapsed to the floor in a bout of sobbing. Because Merlin knew that it was hopeless and that nobody would ever come to rescue him. He was completely alone here.

I just want to thank everyone again for reviewing and want to apologize for the confusion with the poll last week. I forgot to put it on my account so if you we're wondering where the heck it was it is now up and ready for voting! If you have no clue how to vote in a poll just go to my account and the first thing you should see are the two polls that I have going, then scroll down to where all of my summaries are listed and pick the two you like. If you still dont know how to vote in a poll or dont have an account just leave your votes in the comments! Thanks!

Please review!

Wisegirl6