Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin
Leon's breath came out in pants as he stood shoulder to shoulder with Percival and batted away oncoming soldiers. They knew Morgana's army was strong but, amidst the battle, it felt as if she held command over an infinite number of men. The knights slashed through men, their shoulders ached more and more as they beat down more foes, trying to keep pace at the rate in which they attacked. Above them circled Kilgharrah, his wings moved slower in fatigue as the dragon took every opportunity to coast on air currents before he once again swooped down on the chimeras, talons extended and teeth bared, and tore at them.
"Damn, there are too many," Leon panted as he caught another blade on his own and stopped it from landing at Percival's unguarded side as the giant exchanged blows with another soldier. A few paces away, a sorcerer noticed the distracted knights and directed a spell towards them. As it travelled through the air, a gold barrier flashed around the knights and enclosed them, along with their current attackers. The spell smashed into the transparent walls causing the spell to ripple into the barrier before shattering apart. As the shield disintegrated apart, he knights gave it not a moment of thought, for they had already experienced such protection earlier, and quickly dispatched their foes.
Emma moved closer to the two knights; the gold that faded from her eyes gave evidence that she casted the shield. Much like the dragons and warriors, the druids also felt the effects of a drawn out battle. They remained determined to continue the battle yet no determination could prevent the exhaustion from highlighting their eyes as often as the gold did. Emma kept up a continuous flow of incantations around her, guarding not only the knights but also others who could not defend nor attack against magical means; since the start of the battle, the sorceress was able to take down two enemy sorcerers. Though the magic wielders on the opposing side, they were caught off guard du to the inability to predict the druids' involvement and skills in sorcery.
"Sir Leon," Emma called out, her brow furrowed. She threw out her hand and once more erected another barrier around her and Leon so they may speak while Percival stepped away to continue the fight. "I was just contacted by other druids."
"What did they say?" Leon asked as he stuck his sword into the ground, still maintaining his grip on the hilt.
"The battle goes badly for them, worse than us. The chimeras are too much for the men and our magic to combat and they cannot call for the dragons, who are too busy with most of the monsters here. Morgana's sorcerers are not helping the situation either. We are being pushed back even closer to the forest. There was also reports that a few saw Morgana leave the battlefield, we fear that she had caught on to our plans."
"Then what of Arthur? Did you inform them?"
"I…" the druid hesitated.
"What happened? Did they get caught or…?"
Emma shook her head, "No, they made it to the dungeon that much I know. I only stay in contact long enough to inform them of Morgana and check their progress."
Leon stared at her, eyebrow lifted as he noticed the uneasiness that shadowed the girl's face.
Under the knight's scrutiny, the druid relented, "I fear for what they discovered. Iseldir is not one to be shaken so easily when given a task and I felt him… falter. I hope for the best for Emrys, our salvation rests on his shoulders."
Leon wrenched the blade from the ground, his gaze held determination. "Merlin is the strongest and bravest man I know. If there was anyone I would, it would be Merlin." Though it was words to comfort the druid, the knight could not help but thing that he directed some of those words towards his own concerns for his friend. "He will destroy the anchor."
Emma met the knight's eyes before she nodded and waved her hand and removed the barrier
"Damn," Leon swore as he stepped beside Percival.
His fellow knight nodded in agreement, having overheard the discussion, as he glanced up at their winged allies, "At least the dragons are on our side."
Since the start of the battle, Kilgharrah had managed to kill about a sixth of the chimeras present. They were durable creatures, able to take a beating most mortals would lack the proper defense to survive. Even the gutted and mutilated ones dragged themselves back onto their paws and continued as though they were unable to feel the pain of their wounds. That was what made chimeras frightening, their powerful jaws, venom, and claws promised death while the creatures themselves took far too much effort to stop, let alone kill. Kilgharrah knew his best chance was to stay out of reach and rely on speed to swoop in and out from amongst them.
After his and Aithusa's initial attack left the creatures in disarray, the chimeras were in a confused mess, snapping furiously at empty air where they last saw the dragons. With a few more attacks, however, the chimeras regrouped and began to adapt and coordinate their attacks; they pushed down against the ground with their powerful rear legs every time the Great Dragon flew close and latched onto his armored skin. Though Kilgharrah bested them in strength, the chimeras had him beat in numbers for every group of chimeras that leapt up, one or two of them managed to dig beneath the scales. Such injuries would not otherwise affect the dragon but as the small wounds accumulated the Kilgharrah felt his already tired body ache.
Aithusa managed to stay relatively safe from them, mostly since she was the smaller of the two dragons and therefore was dealt the least amount of damage. Few chimeras focused on her for her small body allowed her not only the speed but also the agility to avoid their attack. She grabbed ahold of one and tore into the sky, the chimera screaming in protest as it tried to squirm from the dragon's claws. Aithusa allowed the creature to squirm away, and watched as its twisted body fell to the ground and slammed into anther chimera knocking them both out.
The dragon gave a toothy grin before she turned her attention to another chimera. Kilgharrah, seeing it from the sky, rolled his eyes at his younger kin and drew his wings in once more. His eyes narrowed at the group of six chimeras that looked up to the dragon with a snarl. Kilgharrah extended his talons towards the chimera as he drew clos, ready to tear them to shreds the same as the others. His claws were but a hairsbreadth away when suddenly a sharp pain bloomed from one of his wings.
Kilgharrah gave a roar and twisted his body to shake off whatever clung to his wing. Then pain lanced from his other wings and the added weight that accompanied the pain off balanced the dragon and caused him to crash heavily into the ground. The chimeras weren't as dumb of beasts as many were led to believe for they had prepared an attack plan of their own against their bigger foe. Rather than swipe at the dragon's armored skin as he attacked them, a few broke off into groups and waited for an ideal opportunity to target the delicate skin that encased his wings. When the dragon had swooped towards them, two chimeras lunged onto the wings and pierced through the thin membrane with their fangs.
Grounded, the Great Dragon snarled out against the chimeras that began to congregate around him, hissing and snapping their jaw. In an attempt to drive them away, Kilgharrah released fire from his maw at any that dared go close; but the dragon could not keep his inferno for long. His fire was cut off as he gave another roar in pain when the other two chimeras that had latched onto his wings began to lift themselves from where they landed and tore into his hide as they trampled his defenseless wings. Others, not in range of the fire, also dug their claws mercilessly under the scales, ripping at every exposed skin of the dragon. He tried desperately to swipe the chimeras off him and squirm away from the creatures; his body was being torn apart and the dragon's mind was in a daze by the pain that increased tenfold while more and more chimeras rushed at him. From all around, they shredded more of his flesh and the snakes that wriggled from their tails struck the exposed flesh the creatures claws reamed open.
Leon watched in horror from where he stood. The knight had never thought anything could compare to that of the dragon's might yet that had not stop Morgana's creatures. He pushed another soldier off and turned to Percival. However, before the knight could ask his brother in arms for an idea on what they could do to help the dragon, Aithusa noticed her kin's descent and pinned position on the ground.
"Kilgharrah!" Aithusa shouted, fear for her elder colored her shout. The white dragon turned away from her own prey and glided next to Kilgharrah. She wasted no time in ripping into the creatures that swarmed the Great Dragon, her own dagger-like teeth tore more viciously at the chimeras. Fueled by adrenaline, she managed to kill those few chimeras that were unfortunate to be the closest to her. When more chimeras fell before the ferocity of the white dragon's attack, it freed the elder dragon enough to allow him to fight back and begin to shake the rest of the monsters off him.
With the massive dragon nearly freed, one of the creatures turned on the smaller dragon, going straight for the throat. Aithusa reared back, away from the creature, and fell to the ground. She tried to claw the chimera off but the creature held on tight, teeth dug into her throat and placed pressure on her airway. The other chimeras saw an opportunity to be rid of the dragon also turned against the younger prey. Aithusa scrabbled away as this time she was the one being slashed, her roar stuck in her throat as the chimera tightened its grip on her airway. Though she was not able to express her pain, Kher proximity to Kilgharrah allowed him to know the dangers she faced. With great effort, Kilgharrah ripped the few chimeras off and turned his great head towards his kin.
"Aithusa," Kilgharrah warned before he released his fire from his belly. The flames engulfed the white dragon, catching the chimeras' fur aflame while it licked harmlessly against the dragon's scales. Dragons were creatures of flight and flames; unlike most creatures, the fire element would prove harmless to them. The chimeras shrieked as the fire burned hotter than before, for they were much closer to the source. They tried to distinguish the flames from their fur, releasing their hold of the dragon in favor of rolling on the ground to snuff out the flames. Aithusa stood, shaken, from the ground as the blood dripped from her wounds that matched that of the ones that riddled Kilgharrah's body.
"Young one, are you okay?" Kilgharrah called out, concern.
"I-I'm okay, you?" Aithusa answered.
Kilgharrah nodded his head, "Thanks to you. Come, young one, we must continue for the battle has not yet been won."
Kilgharrah spread his wings and pushed his legs off the ground. With effort, his wings pumped and lifted him into the air, eager to continue his attack against the chimeras though cautious of the intelligence these monsters seemed to possess.
Aithusa felt exhausted. The pain from the wounds she just acquired that flared through her body were a new and unwanted experience. Her naivety with battle and the wounds it promised left her unprepared to handle such an attack and fear failure began to consume her mind. Aithusa shook the thoughts from her mind for she had already promised to do what she could to help her Dragonlord to redeem herself from her betrayal, for saving the witch.
Aithusa sprang to the sky and began to angle herself for the next attack even as her wings ached and pain dulled her senses. She must learn from Kilgharrah's example and swallow her pain; she was of no use otherwise. She felt unsteadied in the air, no longer held the agility she had at the beginning due to the agony that radiated from her body, burned through her veins, and halted the full range of motion her wings had been capable to keep from jostling her wounds too much. Distantly the dragon wondered when the anchor would be destroyed for time was running out and soon neither dragon would be able to hold back the creatures.
"Elyan will you just stay down," Gwen ordered, exasperated as the knight had once again attempted to leave the tent, gasping in pain from the stab wound.
"I need to go back," Elyan sighed as his sister pushed him back down. She turned back to her previous patient laid stretched out next to the knight. He was one of the many unfortunate to have been caught unawares by a chimera.
"You will be of no use to them like that," Gwen retorted.
"I will be of more use than right now, laying here."
"And what? Bleed over all your enemies?"
"I can't just sit here and do nothing."
"Yes you can."
"You're impossible," groaned Elyan, bringing out a small smile from Gwen as it reminded her back when they were children.
The man Gwen was working gave incoherent mutters after the Queen had forced a sleeping draught on him. His wounds were painful and many, it was best he was treated unconscious lest he struggled as she cleaned and sewed the wounds. An hour ago, Gaius had been called to the northern tent where several men had to be treated for poison from snakebites. There were few men wounded by chimeras in the central tent, especially when the dragons were mostly defending the eastern front. Aside from Helena who had the southern tents covered, Gaius was the only other physician with the knowledge to treat the venomous bites.
Hunith was still with Gwen, grinding herbs and mixing ingredients together to keep up with the demands for more salves and potions. She eventually had to tie cloths around her own hand to ease the soreness and pressure caused by the constant use of the pestle and mortar. Burns marred her skin as well, for when she rushed around the pots in the campfire outside, cooking the mixtures into a viable potion. The woman worked steadily, relying on her limited knowledge she had attained over the years in Ealdor and the quick lessons from Gaius. Eventually, most of the remedies became second nature as she produced more for the helpers.
"Says the one who wants to fight when he could barely stand," Gwen jibed causing Elyan to give another groan.
It was as Gwen was finishing the last of the stitches when screams, far closer than the battlefield was, echoed through the forest causing Gwen to still her hand. She met her brother eyes and found her concern reflected back at her.
"Milady!" a druid gasped as he entered the tent. His young face was red with exertion and drenched in sweat. The druid, Samuel, had been assigned to stay close to the Queen and ensure she was safe as a request from Arthur, hesitant to leave his Queen behind so close to battle. Samuel had travelled between the camps and helped whenever he could while keeping an eye for trouble.
"What's going on, Samuel?" Gwen asked.
"Chimeras," he replied, "managed to sneak into the camp. There are three of them making their way here. My Queen, you must evacuate with anyone able to walk further into the forest while we take care of them."
"How close are they," Hunith asked as she approached the two. Around her, the other in the tent continued working though they kept an ear on the druid's next words.
"They already worked their way through the southern camp; it seems they're making a straight line here. We suspect they might be after you, your Highness," worried Samuel as he looked towards Gwen.
"Then we must get you out of here," Hunith added.
"I can't just leave, there are people who still need to be treated," exclaimed Gwen.
"You will be of no use to them dead, Gwen," Elyan repeated Gwen's earlier words back at her.
Gwen glared at her brother. The screams that echoed through the woods started again, closer than before. Elyan began to get up again, returning a glare towards Gwen when she made to stop him. The ex-servant sighed and began to help her brother to his feet, and though he was unsteady, Elyan wrapped his arm across his side and wit his other picked up the blade that Percival had left beneath his cot.
"Let's go before they get any closer," Elyan said.
"What about the others here," Gwen asked as she glanced around the tent. The few people who worked beside her watched her with worried looks while they continued caring for their patients. They overheard the conversion and feared the danger that lurked outside.
"If we're right that the chimeras are after you," Samuel said gently, "then when you leave, they will have no reason to enter this tent and attack these people."
Gwen bit her lip but gave a nod. She turned to Elyan, "You need to stay here."
"No."
"Elyan, you're in no shape to fight let alone chimeras," argued Gwen.
"I said no. I'm not allowing my sister to go out there without me."
"And you think I want to see you killed?" Gwen asked incredulously.
"I am-"
"Stop it you two," scolded Hunith, "there is no time."
"Hunith is correct," said the druid, "we must get you out milady."
"I will stay here and watch the injured," Hunith said, "please get to safety, Gwen."
Gwen clenched her hands but nodded before she followed the druid towards the exit. She gave one last worried look to Hunith, a glare to her brother, before following Samuel out of the tent; behind her followed Elyan, stumbling slightly as he grunted through the pain but remained standing, sword held at ready. It was when they first stepped out, however, that they heard the screams at their closest.
Standing just feet away from them, stood three blood-drenched chimeras as they ripped apart their next victim, a young woman who had accompanied her brother to the battle. The tent in which she chose to wait for her brother return lay collapsed behind them after chimeras dragged the girl out. It mattered not that the girl was innocent for she, in her tent, were in the way of the creatures' goals. With blood still dripping from their lips, the felines looked up from the corpse, their eyes zeroing on the Queen.
They stepped towards Gwen, ignoring the body on the ground beneath them, their muscles tensed and coiled while a low growl emanated from their throat. Samuel pushed Gwen behind him, hands raised as he matched the chimeras glare. Elyan also stepped forward and stood beside the druid; he dropped into a defensive stance even as his breath came out in pants. Gwen clenched Elyan's arm, worried that her brother would attempt to go against the creatures of magic.
"Gwen, go," Elyan muttered to his sister.
"No," Gwen murmured back, defiant.
"My Queen, you are in danger, it is best you leave," Samuel agreed with the knight.
The Queen glanced around her a spotted a sword that lay outside the tent, a weapon that was most likely left behind by a soldier brought back from the battlefield. With stubbornness that none but a Pendragon could possess, even if in name only, Gwen grabbed ahold of the blade and joined Elyan's side. With familiarity born from her time spent in drills back in Nemeth, she mimicked her brother's stance, prepared for the onslaught.
"Gwen," Elyan said, annoyed.
"Elyan," Gwen matched his tone.
"Scildan!" shouted Samuel when the chimeras launched themselves at the group. They crashed into the barrier the druid had formed, forcing a grunt from the druid, and then circled around the group. They eyed the shield that now encased their target and snarled in anger when they could spot no obvious weakness.
"I can't hold this barrier for long," Samuel panted, his voice strained, "I don't suppose I could convince you to leave?"
"Not at all," Gwen replied as she brandished her weapon.
Elyan sighed, "Always so stubborn." He too raised his weapon and nodded to the druid.
"Get ready," warned the druid as he eyed the chimeras. They were not the biggest he seen under Morgana's command, thank the gods for that, but neither were they smallest. It was difficult as it was to kill just one but now they must face three. He would be surprised if they had made it out of this encounter alive. If need be, he would force the Queen from here but first he wanted to try defeating the chimeras; even if there was a spell that could do that it would cost too much energy to perform and the druid wanted to save as much energy as possible to be able to force the Queen if necessary.
Once the siblings gave a nod, the druid dropped his shield, leaving the group exposed to the chimeras. The creatures did not hesitate for they pounced on the opportunity, synchronized in one fluid motion, towards their prey, each of the three singled out a single human for themselves, the bigger of the two chimeras targeting the druid and knight. They wanted to keep the two distracted while the third chimera went for the kill to end it quickly. Seconds before they reached them, close enough for Gwen to flinch slightly at the proximity, the druid shouted an incantation.
"Áglæcan, adúnfielaþ! Béoþ slæpan in emnete!"
Suddenly, mid-lunge, the chimeras fell with a loud bang to the ground, leaving them dazed while they lay sprawled across the ground before the three humans. Without hesitation, the three initiated their own attack while the chimeras were defenseless against the ground. Gwen and Elyan lunged forward, slashing down on the exposed flesh of their soft bellies for though their fur was thick, accentuated with magical properties, and therefore difficult to pierce through normal means, the skin of their underbellies were soft to the blade's bite.
Gwen had managed to slash a gash across the belly of the chimera before her while Elyan stumbled slightly, due in part from the strain he had put on his wound, but managed to land the point of his sword deep under one of the creature's hind legs, slashing a gash from the paw to inside its haunch. While the siblings attacked, Samuel created a fireball in his palm, which he sent straight at the chimera in front of him. The fire burst across the chimera's body causing it to scream and writhe across the ground. He fed more magic into the fire, burning the creature further.
Once they withdrew away from the creatures, the druid released his spell and casted the barrier around them again. Together they watched as two of the chimeras lifted themselves from the ground, bleeding from sword-inflicted wounds while the other laid still, panting, as smoke rose from its body bringing the smell of burnt fur to the air. One snarled and snapped at the burnt one, urging it back to its feet; once they were all on their feet, the chimeras began to circle around in a semicircle, eying the new threat rather than the hapless prey they at first perceived. Burnt and blackened, the chimera huffed to the other two. Strange hisses and grunts was the response from the limp one as it observed the blood the spilled from the belly of the third.
As Samuel watched, uneasiness bloomed from his stomach, an uneasiness that he knew also consumed his two companions as they too eyed the chimeras. These creatures seemed to be showing intelligence the druid had previously put beyond them; it appeared that they too underestimated the chimeras. If their resilience was what made it difficult to defeat these creatures of magic, he could not help but worry what a clever mind could do with such strengths. The first attack was the easiest to fend off; it was the next that worried the druid. Another nod from the siblings and the druid once more released his barrier, not surprised when the chimeras chose not to immediately attack. The two groups stood at a standstill, neither sure at how to proceed.
What was seconds felt like hours as they waited, unsure of their next move when, unexpectedly, the burnt chimera, who had circled close to the tent behind them, lunged towards the infirmary. Its claws tore through the walls; the fabric came apart with ease. From inside, the Queen and her companions hear screams of surprise, successfully distracting Samuel as he turned his attention towards the burnt chimera.
"Hleap on bæc!" he shouted, tossing the chimera away from the tent, at the same moment another one lunged towards the druid's unprotected back and the limp chimera went for Elyan. The chimera knocked the knight onto the ground, its paws slammed into the stab wound and caused the knight to gasp out in pain. Once it ensured the knight would not be getting up immediately, the chimera then pounced onto the Queen, who attempted to help the druid, pinning her against the ground.
Gwen looked up and found herself face to face with the creature's snout, its rancid breath blew across her face and made her gag while its teeth gleamed in excitement for her blood. The fur of its snout was darkened in dried blood while its yellowed eyes narrowed on her throat. She could see the eagerness in those jaws, in those eyes, as it descended closer to her. It did not take long for it to dominate hey eyesight, blinding her from the others.
Distantly, Gwen heard Samuel cry of pain and her brother's fear-filled shouts and struggles to stop the chimera from tearing her apart. The Queen never felt as calm as she had at that moment, staring into the jaws of death for she knew there was nothing she could do to stop the chimera as it lowered its fangs closer around her throat. Her only regret was of the pain her death would bring about to her friends and loved ones.
Queen Guinevere's last thoughts were on her husband; Arthur and his golden hair and bright, blue eyes that offered nothing but kindness and love. With a sigh, Gwen closed her eyes and felt as the chimera's teeth sliced into her skin.
Arthur heard Gwaine next to him as the knight took a sharp intake of breath as they looked in the contents of the cell. The King knew that the servant would not be in the best condition, not when Morgana was involved, but he was unprepared for this. Really, how could anyone prepare for this? With reluctant, unsure steps, as if Arthur could not quite believe what he was seeing, he entered the room. He drew closer to the center as if in a trance while, behind him, Gwaine wanted to rush past the King; however, the knight was stopped from moving any further as Iseldir raised his hand and followed the King with his eyes.
Arthur paid the two no mind, his field of vision narrowed to a single focal point. Merlin, whose legs were sprawled on the ground with arms hung over his head, placed the warlock in an odd sitting position. His tunic, or what remained of it, hung off his thin frame in tatters as he slumped slightly towards the grounds. There was a long slice on the thin fabric that ran from the collar to the bottom hem on the center of the tunic; it exposed the emaciated chest beneath.
The bone that poked through the man's skin would have horrified the King if his attention was not drawn the flesh itself. The man's discolored torso was marred in a multitude of bruises, each at various stages of healing. At the center was the cruel parody of the Pendragon crests. The golden dragon, worn with pride among the Knights of Camelot, was etched into Merlin's skin with a sickening care for details. Its long exposure to the grime and dirt of the cell had caused the wound to fester with sickly yellow pus that wept from various sections of the dragon. It was an atrocious reminder of the servant's ties to Camelot, one that mocked Merlin's pride and loyalty towards the crown and its King. It made Arthur sick. Disgusted that, for his loyalty, Merlin had been branded like a common animal. It made him think of how far the witch had fallen that allowed her to inflict such pain without remorse.
Behind him, Iseldir wandered to the table that stood against the wall. The druids traced his fingers against the blood-caked tools found there, shuddering as his hand touched one particularly bloodied dagger. The dark magic oozed from its wicked edges and tainted his magic. Meanwhile Gwaine stood still, glaring at the table as he remembered the last time he had been in the cell, back when he was nothing but a slave for Morgana's amusement, helpless to stop the torment happening before his eyes. The screech that accompanied a sword drawn from its sheath shifted Gwaine's attention back to the King.
Arthur felt anger mold his face into a snarl when he noticed Merlin's mangled shoulders, one that gave evidence that the position he was bound in served more than restrain the servant. With a quick swipe, Arthur cut the ropes that held the servant aloft causing Merlin's body to slump all the way to the ground. With far more gentleness than he believed to have possessed, Arthur picked Merlin's body up and straighten him out so that he laid flat against the stone floor. Anxiety seemed to be at its highest as Arthur noted the wide, dulled eyes held nothing of the life the warlock had expressed. He often heard of how the eyes were a window to the soul yet Merlin's seemed to lack any. Frantic, his fingers scrabbled at the servant's neck, hoping to find a pulse that disproved all that the imprisoned men had told him of the servant's death.
There. It was there.
Relief flooded his body and he released the breath he held since cutting his friend from the ropes. Merlin's heartbeat was erratic, but still there. He was still alive. The King's eyes drifted down and noted the rise and fall of the warlock's chest; still alive, but in bad condition.
"Merlin?" Arthur softly called, waiting for a response from the warlock. Merlin blinked but otherwise did not move.
"Merlin?" Still nothing.
"She was relentless before…" Arthur heard Gwaine say in a quiet voice. The hopelessness of his knight's voice matched the feeling Arthur had as he examined Merlin before him. The earlier excitement that the servant's survival squashed by the returning despair.
Upon closer examination, Arthur looked on with dismay as his hand brushed the sweat-drenched, greasy hair from the servant's forehead. Brief contact with the clammy skin of his flushed face revealed to Arthur that fever had set into the man's body, most likely due to infection and weakened condition.
Foolishness seemed to run in the family was all Arthur thought as he absorbed the image of his best friend's mutilated body. Nearly a decade of servitude should be more than enough for Arthur to never doubt Merlin. The servant had shown him nothing but kindness and loyalty, though he had kept his secrets, and all he got in return was four months of torture while Arthur sat cozy in Nemeth debating on morality and trust. Those months Arthur thought only with spite, blinded by hurt, for the man before him. It was easy to judge a man when said man was not close to defend himself and easier still to forget the agony inflicted on others when it was out of sight.
"Sire," Iseldir strangled voice echoed from beside Arthur when the druid knelt down next him, his eye locked onto the servant's arm. There, fastened around the man's bicep, was an armlet of the deepest black Arthur had ever seen; the horror in which the druid stared infected him with more unease. Even without knowledge of magical artifacts, Arthur could tell that there was more to this armlet than just jewelry. Curious and with a need to remove it, Arthur extended his hand to the armlet, ready to tug it off when Iseldir's hand shot out and stopped him from removing it.
"Don't touch it," warned Iseldir. The druid extended his own hand and placed it on the armlet as he muttered, "Béagwriða þín bealu grápe álynaþ."
His eyes glowed as he lifted the offending object off the warlock with a soft click then tossed it to the corner of the cell, as far as away as he could get it from the others. Merlin breathing deepened and evened out and the warlock blinked. Still, those eyes remained dead to the world around them.
Under Arthur's questioning look, Iseldir whispered, "If you had touched it, milord, you would have suffered some of its effects."
"And that is?" Gwaine asked with dread in his voice.
"All your insecurities, fears, and mistakes would be drawn out and used against the wearer. It was a form of psychological torture that even the High Priestess banned from use in light of its cruelty."
Arthur felt as if he could not swallow past the lump in his throat as he glanced at the catatonic state if his servant. Merlin's once expressive, blue eyes were dulled, empty of the twinkle they had once held as they stared up sightlessly at the ceiling. His stomach roiled as he realized the cause of such a state and wondered what it was the witch had forced the servant to see with that armlet. Gently, Arthur clasped the man's chin, turned his head towards him, and tried to catch his eyes.
"Merlin," Arthur called again, hoping for a small reaction now that the armlet was gone.
There was none, nothing in those eyes.
What Arthur was staring at was nothing more than the shell of the man he once knew. The damage done to him was great, too much for the servant to handle. Whether it was the armlet or the physical torture that caused the servant's current condition, it changed nothing on the guilt that crashed down on the King. There was no way to hide his guilty, his shame, away, not with its source laid bare for all to see.
Never mind that they needed Merlin's power to destroy the chimera. Never mind that it was the only salvation against Morgana's rampage. Never mind for even safety of the kingdom, for Camelot was nothing without this man to support her King. The only thing that rushed through Arthur was that his best friend was gone. What made Merlin Merlin had been destroyed by the torment he had suffered; torment he suffered for Arthur.
He always told Merlin he was an idiot, perhaps it was just him projecting his own idiocy on the servant.
Gwaine knelt by Merlin. His eyes glistened with tears yet his face was twisted in hatred. With gesture to Arthur, they lifted the servant into a sitting position, careful to not jostle the various wounds and damaged shoulders. The two kept Merlin upright as Iseldir examined the damage and the chains that wrapped tightly against the servant's forearm.
"He needs to be treated as soon as possible," Iseldir muttered as he finished his examination. "He has a fever most likely due to the infection of this wound. His shoulders are destroyed; I doubt he would be able to properly use his arms again, even if we reset the joint and gave it time to heal."
"What about magic," Arthur asked, surprised that he did not hesitate to request the use of magic. Still the idea of his clumsy servant handicapped horrified Arthur.
"It would be a difficult, long process, but yes, magic can heal the damage done and restore his shoulders back to health," Iseldir replied, eyeing the King's reaction. Arthur nodded and gestured Iseldir to continue with his findings. He did not care about magic right now, all that matter was Merlin.
"These chains here may be an issue as well," Iseldir gestured towards the glint of silver that wound itself around the warlock's arm where it seemed to have branded itself into his skin. "We need to remove them else I cannot draw his magic from him without causing damage to both of us."
"I can assume that is what contains his magic?"
"Yes, Sire."
"Can you take it off?" Gwaine asked.
Iseldir's fingers brushed against the silver, "Maybe, but there seems to be runes etched here. If I know exactly how these bind him, I'll be able to tell you for sure. We can-"
Iseldir stopped and he tilted his head, as if trying to hear something far away. Arthur felt his face harden into suspicion as Iseldir's face blanched.
"What is it?"
"Morgana. One of the druids saw her leave the battlefield. I suspect she is on her way here"
"Damn," Gwaine cursed, "we need to go."
"Agreed, but where would be safe?" Iseldir asked.
"Nowhere," replied Arthur, frustrated. He glanced down at Merlin again then pushed him from his mind, putting full concentration on the task ahead. "Iseldir, what do we need to do for this draught to work?"
"We need to remove the chains for one thing," Iseldir said, "also, the enchantment won't work without Merlin's consent. He needs to be conscious."
Arthur felt his heart clench even more. Merlin did not appear to have awareness for his surroundings, not with those wide, sightless eyes. Not only do they need to use his magic but somehow rouse him from his stupor; it was an impossible task and Arthur doubt they would be able to do. For all Arthur knew, Merlin could forever remain in this comatose state. It seemed like a hopeless situation to the King.
It did not mean he would give up.
No, he would never give up. Merlin never gave up on Arthur during the times when the King found it hard to continue. Even at his darkest, when he was at his lowest point, Merlin managed to find a way to bring the King's spirits up and remind him of his responsibilities to Camelot. If that meant Arthur had to pull Merlin from the depth of his mind, Arthur would do it without complaint. Besides, it was such a small undertaking compared to all Merlin had done for him.
"We can take him to the Court Physician's chambers. There we can treat whatever wounds we can while you focus on the chains," Arthur decided as he motioned for Gwaine to help him pull Merlin from the ground. Careful to cause no more movement than necessary, Gwaine and Arthur each slung an arm over their shoulders while their arms clasped firmly around the servant's torso. They held him up as much as possible with their arms to prevent too much pressure on his shoulders. Once settled between them, with Merlin's head lolling to the side, Arthur nodded to Iseldir to take the lead.
Arthur thoughts were of the past. He remembered the sorcerers, angry, with promises of revenge, who constantly threatened his life and the lives of his loved one throughout every turn of his life. Then there was Morgana, beautiful, kind, yet easily twisted. She embraced her magic, her darkness, into her very being. When it came to sorcery, this was what Arthur had imagined. It was evil and twisted. It was the nightmare of every man, woman, and child. It tantalized its victims with powers, powers that corrupted the individual and destroyed any kindness they possessed.
That was the truth Arthur spent a lifetime believing. That was the truth Arthur rejected.
The monster that painted a sorcerer did not fit any of the people he met the past four months. He could not imagine Kayla blasting a town into piece or her daughter shredding the people apart, possessed by bloodlust that would eventually lead her against the Pendragons. There was no amount imagination that could give him the image of Iseldir looking to torture for sport. He could not even picture any of the other druids he encountered during his time in Nemeth looking at him with murderous eyes. And Merlin…
Merlin had a lifetime to succumb to the corruption of power. Hell, he was born with the so-called evil mingled with his blood, his very core. He held power many yearned for at the palm of his hand when he was just minutes old. He could tear down kingdoms if he wanted to; he could accomplish what many believe to be impossible. Still... never had Arthur seen the man be anything but good, anything but loyal. He fought for what he believed in, for what was right, until his last breath. He suffered for his beliefs, his morals; he never strayed from justice and right. Morgana had turned against everything within a few years while Merlin had decades to turn to evil.
Arthur just could not imagine Merlin turning down the path Morgana traveled.
He felt it then, even more so than ever before. The guilt that weighed heavily in his heart; it savagely pushed the betrayal from his mind and consumed him. While he swore to protect his kingdom and his subjects, he stood aside and did nothing to help his friend. What had Merlin suffered here under Arthur's name? What had he suffered in the past for his loyalty?
Just how big was his debt to the warlock?
The group shuffled along as quickly as they could with the injured servant and Arthur was mindless as he followed the druid, relying on Gwaine to give verbal directions to the chambers. He knew what he must do. He knew what was necessary for everyone involved; he knew what his people must strive for and what he must set right to all those affected by his father's laws.
Arthur loved his father. He respected Uther for all the late King wanted to achieve for the kingdom. Uther had not always made poor choices. Even Arthur was still uneasy about magic after suffering years of threats by sorcerers. How could he not be scared of something he was thought since birth to distrust and fear? But Arthur knew what he must do. For the sake of all those who suffered. Even if his father disapproved this choice, he knew he must set the mistakes of the past right.
The laws of magic must be repealed.
The persecution of all who were talented in the arts of magic was wrong on multiple levels. It was not the magic that caused suffering but the consequences of the past. The Purge caused ripple through the kingdom that destroyed lives and influenced the populace as a whole. It would be difficult to convince the people of Camelot to let go of their prejudice but as King, Arthur knew he must fix the mistakes he and his father had done.
As they ascended through the dungeons, Arthur spoke again. His voice was soft but no less determined. A voice that commanded those around him and Arthur would possess for his entire life. It was the voice of the Once and Future King that gave unbroken promises.
"We will defeat Morgana."
Gwaine looked towards Arthur with fire that swirled in his eyes, part hatred and part determination. Morgana would pay for what she had done. The knight would hunt her to the ends of the world if he must to make sure she suffered for her crimes. He was just glad that Arthur removed that stick out of his arse and realized the sacrifice Merlin made for them.
"We will recapture Camelot."
Ahead of them, Iseldir straightened with newfound confidence. His previous insecurities dissipated as he allowed Arthur's resolve to wash through him. The coming battle would be difficult, but Iseldir knew that there was a chance for there was no stronger duo than that of the Once and Future King and Emrys. Even Emrys, as broken as he was, would claw his way back to the King's side.
It was where he belonged after all, to stand tall as equals with his king.
"And when Camelot is free, when Morgana has fallen, I promise you this, my friend. I promise that we will talk, of everything that has happened since your arrival to Camelot, so that I may repay all debts and fix all the wrongs against you. Even if it takes a life time, I promise you this."
Arthur knew that no matter how far they had fallen or how dark the times were, there was always hope. Hope, which its existence was proven when a quiet whisper, hoarse and strained, emanated from the man beside him; the man, battered and bruised, draped between two of his closest friends.
"I'll hold you to that promise, prat"
AN: There it is, the scene that started this all. Funny how completely different it is compared to the original. When I first started out, I tried to stick as close to the original as possible, so that it would meld nicely into The King's Broken Servant. My original plan would have gotten us here a lot sooner xD (I want to say it would have been the 6th chapter?) but then I got carried away and just kept adding more and more, completely forgetting the original one-shot. When I went back to it when writing this chapter and looked to what I needed to fix to make it fit, I found I couldn't even look at it. It wouldn't even makes sense for Loyal, only thing in common was the situation really. The journey to it had been changed so much o,O So I hope this chapter was worth the wait, for it was a challenge. Definitely a nice size for a chapter ^^
Again I must say next update would not be until another two weeks, maybe three. My finals are next week and I'm going on a 4 day road trip soon after. I will try to update by May 7th but if there is none, feel free to look to my profile for a new day. I will keep using it to keep you guys informed on updates.
All my thanks to the reviewers! You guys are awesome and definitely gave me a good laugh when I needed it (oh the stress -,-) on the last chapter xD The response was a huge surprise and has bumped this fic to 200 reviews o,O Seriously guys, this is super special awesome! I really don't know how I can express how thankful I am, cept wish I had more time to update :(
Also big thanks to Smiley Face Ace for the new cover art. She took my silly attempt at photoshop and made it 10x better ^^
Thank you for reading! I hope it wasn't too confusing (too many things going on at once o,O)
As always reviews and constructive criticism are always welcomed ^^