A/N:
Thank you guys for all your support! I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint!
DISCLAIMER:
Not mine...Never was, and never will be. But my Birthday is coming up, if the BBC where so inclined to get me a present?
Warnings
Contains gratuitous violence in the form of whump…
Warnings especially for graphic torture.
Dréor Hagorún – The Blood Spell
CHAPTER FOUR
Merlin was fading, and fast...
Arthur clung to his friend with a fierce possessiveness that both frightened and impressed his Knights. For more than twenty minutes, he refused to let the young man go, holding his frail body to his chest and rocking backwards and forwards, hot tears spilling from his cerulean eyes.
'Aww...isn't this a pretty picture,' came a scathing female voice from beyond the trees. Arthur's head jerked up suddenly, his eyes red from crying. He recognised that voice anywhere.
'Morgana,' he growled, his voice holding much malice. 'Show yourself,'
The sorceress stepped out from her shadowy hiding spot, her eyes hard. She pouted.
'Is that anyway to greet your sister?' she asked, approaching the men slowly, ignoring their hastily drawn swords.
'He's dying – fix him,' Arthur commanded, still afraid to release the boy.
Morgana laughed coldly, her emerald eyes flashing with rage. 'So you chose to accept this serving boy for having magic and yet, you condemn your own blood! I should leave now and let him perish – a punishment for your crimes,' she hissed.
'Merlin has never tried to kill me or my father – nor has he ever sought to usurp the throne and destroy Camelot. I wish it was he that had been born as my blood, not you,' the King snapped, his fingers subconsciously stroking Merlin's hair.
Morgana flinched at the words, but covered the moment of hurt with a sneer. 'You should have killed him when he asked you to, brother dear...his suffering is far from over,'
Arthur paled, his eyes widening. 'You said you would heal him of this poison!' he cried, gripping Merlin tighter as he trembled.
'Yes, I did, didn't I? And I shall – but only as it is necessary for the Ritual.' She replied, knocking the King away with a flick of her wrist.
Merlin crumpled as the royal flew into the dirt, but struggled weakly as Morgana grasped him by his throat.
'How does it feel to be poisoned by one you thought was a friend?' She whispered, as his sluggish gaze met hers.
'I-I'm sorry...I had no choice,' he murmured in reply.
The witch ignored his apology and pulled a lump of charcoal from the folds of her cloak.
Watching from his spot in the dirt – Arthur tried to move. He wanted to scamper over and run the witch through with his sword, but he was frozen to the spot, helpless to do anything.
'Swallow it,' she growled, pushing the lump of black into Merlins mouth. The boy nearly choked, but Morgana rubbed his exposed throat with a gentle touch and he swallowed reflexively, grimacing as it tore his oesophagus.
'What did you just give him, bitch?' Gwaine cried, trying to step forward, but failing as Arthur had.
'Calm yourself, Sir Knight...the charcoal will absorb the poison...He will not die before it is needed.'
Arthur's head jerked up, panic bubbling to the surface. He had remembered her mentioning some kind of Ritual before, but had been so caught up in protecting Merlin, he hardly listened.
'What are you talking about?' The King demanded.
'I speak of Dréor Hagorún. It is a transfer of power that can only be completed with the spilling of the victim's blood. Emrys will give us his power – when the time comes he will be begging us to take it!'
Arthur struggled, his anger rising over the panic. 'I will kill you,' he cried, spittle flying from clenched teeth.
'Oh shut up, you silly boy,' she chuckled, and with a golden flash, Arthur knew no more.
*~*M*~*
As Merlin floated to the surface of consciousness, his only wish was to sink back into the oblivion that had claimed him many days ago. His whole body was aflame with boiling agony – his muscles were tight, his head pounded like a war drum and his throat was so mercilessly dry, it felt like he had swallowed glass.
His lids fluttered gently and slowly his eyes opened, taking in the scene around him with much confusion. Last he remembered, he was in the forest, clutched tightly to Arthur's broad chest – using his steady heartbeat as a guide to calm his own. Now he was surrounded by cold, grey stone – rounded walls that did not break.
Trapped.
Merlin gasped, his heart thudding weakly as he reached out to touch the walls of his prison, hoping it was merely an illusion.
'Merlin?' Arthur's gentle voice floated to him within the gloom, unadulterated fear lacing his words as he shuffled closer. 'You're awake...'
The Kings wide, cerulean eyes entered Merlin's half lidded vision, and a warm, calloused hand gripped his shoulder.
The pair just stared at each other for several moments, both revealing emotions that were usually so guarded and secret – pain, fear, panic, concern.
Surprisingly, Arthur was the first to come undone. He gripped the young Warlock and pulled him close, his arms wrapped around Merlin's too-thin frame as he sobbed openly onto the boys shoulder. He was tired, sore, hungry and his nerves were frayed after Merlin's near death...he had come too close that time.
Merlin leant into the brotherly embrace, rubbing small circles upon the King's back as he hiccoughed into his neck, which was damp and hot from his friend's tears.
'I almost lost you...' he breathed shakily, moving away, dragging his sleeve underneath his nose in a very un-royal fashion.
The warlock didn't have the energy to speak, or even smile – his eyes were becoming heavy again.
His stomach roiled fiercely as he tried to stand, his legs weak from disuse – and with a stumble, he grabbed Arthur's arm for support, while his other hand clutched at his stomach.
With a painful retch, he was vomiting again – black and red. Blood and charcoal. And it didn't stop. Not for five minutes. Not for ten.
He vaguely remembered falling to his knees as his gut continued to revolt. Merlin didn't even notice the waves of sick magic that pulsed from his being, preventing Arthur from coming to his aid.
Twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes of non-stop spewing. Days of pain, seizures, incontinence – more pain than any one man should ever experience in a lifetime, packed into three days.
Merlin was beyond pissed. He was beyond furious. Soft spoken, kind, innocent, adorable Merlin was shaking with unbridled rage. Ignoring the fierce pain, he stood tall – his eyes swirling gold as they flickered up to the bars that sealed them within their prison.
Arthur took a step back, feeling the magic crackle like lightning across his skin. It didn't hurt; he knew Merlin wouldn't hurt him, ever. But he wasn't so sure about his sister...
'MORGANA!' Merlin roared, his voice laced with a deep power so ancient and commanding that Arthur wanted to bow at his feet and revere him as a God until the world was old and the sun died out.
Hot blue streaks of light raced up the curved walls of the well and danced upon the steel that enclosed them, causing them to shudder. 'COWARD!'
A swirl of grey light filled the enclosed space and in seconds Merlin found himself pinned to the wall, a delicate hand at his throat.
Furious green eyes met raging cobalt and for several moments they merely stared at each other. Arthur found himself frozen once more as he watched the scene unfold.
'Emrys...you have commanded my fears for far too long. I will not allow you to summon me in such a manner,' Morgana hissed with vehemence.
Merlin did not flinch at the venomous tone; he merely stared into moss green, anger still running hot through his veins.
'You are a traitor, Morgana...and a murderer,' he said softly allowing fury to lace his words.
Her eyes narrowed. 'Said the spider to the fly,' she replied coldly, tightening her grip. 'You started it,'
The dark haired youth refused to fear the woman who could kill him with one word – instead, he continued to gaze into the once compassionate green eyes of Morgana, matching their intensity and coldness.
'You sound like a petulant child, Morgana. You always did, if you never got your way. Don't forget, my lady that you walked out on us and into the arms of the enemy before I even touched that poison. You walked out on your Father; on your brother...you walked away, and that is when you died in my eyes,'
At these words, Morgana did flinch – a brief look of hurt entering her gaze before it was gone and replaced once more with a sneer. Moving her hand from his throat, she smiled coldly and placed it over his heart while her eyes flashed gold.
'Gesweorc, hinebeclyppe!' she hissed, watching the sweat bead at his brow.
Merlin could feel a cold grip upon his heart, threatening to consume his entire soul with agony – but he refused to waver. He kept his face neutral, despite the pain, and continued to glare pointedly at the woman who was trying to kill him. Through his concentration, he could hear Arthur screaming his name – begging Morgana to stop, but Merlin knew she would not listen.
The blood was pounding in his ears now, but he held his chin high, determined not to flinch as the pain reached new levels of intensity.
' Lig-fyr onbærne swithe!' She cried, with growing frustration at the lack of reaction.
A barely audible groan slipped through Merlin's parted lips but he kept the defiant gaze, silently praying for her to get bored and leave him alone.
'Are you not going to retaliate, Merlin?' she hissed, pulling a short dagger from her bodice and placing the cold steel against his lip.
'You are not worth the drain of my power...not yet, anyway.' He returned with a humourless smile, trying not to pant from the exertion of pushing his pain away.
'Very well, just remember, Merlin...your magic will be much harder to control when you're bleeding to death.'
Morgana ground out the last three words with hate as she drove the dagger into Merlin's gut.
Eyes wide, Merlin looked at her imploringly as her evil smile widened. 'Rest while you can Merlin, for when I come back, you will be wishing I had killed you now.'
And with a flurry of grey and black smoke – she was gone.
Free from the sorceress's spell, Arthur rushed forward, catching Merlin as he began to crumple. Ignoring the cry of pain his touch elicited from the young man, the King pressed down on the wound to slow the blood.
'Idiot,' he murmured, brushing the raven locks from Merlin's brow as he rested against his chest. 'You are going to bloody kill me one of these days, you know that Merlin?' Arthur said with a sigh, peering into pained cobalt.
'Never kill...only save...' he mumbled, his lids fluttering.
'I know that, you buffoon...I know you would save me. But it would kill me if you gave your life doing so, and you know it!' Arthur cried in exasperation.
A small smile flickered across Merlin's lips. 'I know, I just wanted to hear it from you,' he teased.
The young king pressed his lips upon Merlin's brow – a gesture of his care and willingness to comfort him.
'Rest now, brother...I love you,' Arthur murmured, tears spilling over once more.
Merlin smiled. 'And I, you,' he replied, before succumbing once more to darkness...
It took ages – but there! Oh and I stick by my previous 'Only Bromance' statement. That 'declaration of love' was merely plutonic, but if you feel slashy – than by all means, read it as such. But it was definitely the 6th century equivalent to 'I love ya, bro!' The boys seem OOC, I know, but I honestly think that it would come to that...remember Arthur's last words? 'I want you...to always be you...'
Anyway – It's my birthday next week, and I would like some review presents!