A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed!
Alternative chapter title: The Return of Angry!Snarky!Merlin...
Chapter Two: Capture and Camaraderie
At least a few hours passed before the cart stopped, waking Arthur from his light doze next to Merlin, who had still not moved.
Arthur could hear voices and footsteps, indicating someone—several someones—nearing the door, and he was up in a second. He got into position by the door and crouched, ready to tackle whomever entered.
The voices died as they reached the front of the door, except for one. "Trent?"
And another voice, of the mercenary leader who had poisoned Merlin, came: "Openes bord, gehaeftan aldfrith withinnan."
Arthur barely had time to spare a scowl at the sound of magic before the door began to open, and Arthur prepared to charge—
But suddenly couldn't move. An invisible—magical—force shoved him to the side, against the wall of the cart, and pinned him there. He struggled, but it was like pushing against solid stone.
Merlin seemed unaffected by whatever spell was keeping Arthur still, although he did seem to be stirring at the sound of the door opening. Arthur thrashed against the invisible force; he needed to move, he needed to protect Merlin…
Trent peered through the doorway, flanked by guards, but he quickly stepped aside. "Here you are, my lord."
Another man, this one wearing a cloak, stepped forward. He held himself with the confidence of a leader, although Arthur could tell from his stance he was not a fighter. Likely a lord who ordered stronger men like Trent to do his fighting for him. The man's hood lowered to reveal a bald head with dark eyes. He surveyed Arthur, who glared back venomously, for a moment before diverting his attention to Merlin, who had still not quite fully woken.
"Good work, Trent," he said, eyes not moving from the servant.
"Who are you?" Arthur demanded. "Declare yourself!"
The man gestured to the guards behind him. "Hurry with those. The potion will wear off soon and he's waking up."
"Is that the manner of men you are?" Arthur asked furiously as two guards stepped up into the cart. "The kind that poison men who already can't fight back?"
Merlin groaned, eyes fluttering open. "Arthur?" When one of the guards snatched his arm, Merlin gave a cry of surprise and twisted in an attempt to get away, but not fast enough. A guard pinned him facedown to the floor with a foot and wrenched his wrists behind his back, while the other guard quickly closed them in shackles.
The moment the shackles clicked on Merlin's wrists, he sagged as if he'd been punched in the stomach, and Arthur yelled curses, insults, and threats, all of which went completely ignored.
Apparently, they still weren't done with Merlin. The bald man nodded at the guards impatiently and tossed in another long, thick strand of chains. Arthur watched with no small degree of fury as what little color Merlin had regained faded once again at the sight of them. He tried to wriggle away, but one of the guards yanked him to his feet and held him in place while the other wrapped the chains around until the servant's arms were pinned tightly to his sides. Throughout the whole ordeal, Merlin's struggling became weaker and weaker until he finally just stood there, looking dazed.
"—you bunch of cowards!" Arthur seethed at them, having long given up trying to leave his position on the wall.
"Will you shut up?" snapped the bald man, finally turning his gaze towards Arthur.
"I order you to let him go, or you'll have all of Camelot to answer to."
The man raised a patronizing eyebrow. "Seeing as I've already gotten away with taking their king hostage, there's really not much I think your knights can do."
"Then you don't know my knights. I'll say it again: declare yourself."
"Name's Gwil. And you're King Arthur." His nose scrunched up slightly as he sized Arthur up. "Not quite as impressive up close, but I suppose you're still young. You could grow into it. Or, rather, would have."
"Leave…him…alone…" Merlin croaked. His initial daze seemed to have faded; his eyes had taken on a fierce sharpness, even if the rest of him looked ready to faint.
Gwil glanced back at Merlin and smiled warmly. "Ah, hello. How are you feeling? Not well, I know. Sorry about that. But if all goes well, this," he gestured towards the chains, which the guards were now locking, "won't be necessary for long."
Having secured Merlin, the guards let go and moved over to Arthur. Merlin swayed without a guard to support him and toppled forward onto his knees—not surprising considering how very top-heavy he was now, encased in rows of chains.
Trent waved his hand and muttered something. Arthur felt the pressure keeping him at the wall falter and lunged towards Gwil, but the guards had apparently anticipated this; the one closest immediately kicked him in the stomach so hard Arthur wondered if the man was related to Percival. Before the king could recover, they'd wrenched his arms behind his back and were tying his wrists with rope.
Rope? Arthur had fully expected the same treatment Merlin had gotten. They'd chained his manservant so heavily he could barely stand and they were tying him, Camelot's king and finest knight, with rope?
"Look…just let him go," Merlin said from the floor, voice slowly strengthening.
"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur ordered. The idiot needed to draw as little attention to himself as possible. If Arthur could just keep their captors' focus on himself, then maybe they would at least leave Merlin unharmed.
Unfortunately, Gwil seemed already quite focused on Merlin. "Set him up in the workroom. Make sure he doesn't pass out; I need him conscious. I'll be along shortly."
Arthur drew himself up as high as the guard holding him would allow. "If you don't release me and my manservant this instant, my knights will find you and they will kill you. Let us go now, and I may offer you mercy."
Once again, neither the guards nor Gwil reacted at all to his pronouncement. Instead, one of the guards hooked a hand through a loop of Merlin's chains and dragged him out of the cart. Merlin scrambled to get to his feet, but ended up tripping over himself and crashing back onto his knees. He twisted his head to look back, and Arthur's eyes met Merlin's for a brief moment. The king's own eyes were full of suppressed panic, but Merlin's had a steely determination that Arthur had never seen in him before.
And then Merlin was gone. The remaining guard pulled Arthur to the door of the cart and shoved him out. Arthur caught a brief glimpse of a clearing surrounded by woods before he tumbled forward, only his well-trained sense of balance keeping him from sprawling flat out on his face. The moment he hit the ground, Arthur whirled, intending to run, but a swift kick to the center of his back knocked him over. Someone, probably another guard, quickly yanked him almost, but not quite, to his feet, and Arthur had to struggle to regain his footing as he was half-dragged, half-marched away from the cart.
He saw a brief glimpse of Merlin up ahead, just as the servant was dragged inside a small stone house that was falling apart. The guard holding Arthur seemed to be taking him that way as well. His heart beat faster; such a tiny, dilapidated structure would make a poor prison; it should be easy to escape.
But once inside, his hopes were dashed: the house was empty save for a small set of stairs leading down into a dimly lit tunnel. No, Arthur realized as they proceeded down the stairs, a series of tunnels. These men, whoever they were, had somehow found this string of underground passages and built the hovel on top to hide the entrance.
At one of the forks in the tunnels, Gwil, who was at the head of their small procession, turned left with a wave and the words, "Trent, accompany the king to the cell. Make sure he can't escape."
"I'll see to it personally, my lord," Trent said, eyes gleaming at Arthur.
"No revenge, Trent. Not yet. That's an order."
Trent's eyes narrowed. "You said…"
"Not yet."
Trent nodded sourly. He grabbed a hold of Arthur, who was just regaining his footing, and kicked the king's feet out from under him. Both Trent and the guard took the opposite fork from Gwil, dragging Arthur as he struggled anew. Arthur tried to keep his eyes on Gwil—Merlin was that way—but the men holding him turned the corner, then another, then another, and Arthur realized with a sinking heart that even if he got free, he would have a hard time navigating his way to wherever Merlin was.
They finally stopped in front of a door. Trent pressed his hand against it and chanted, "Openes bord, gehaeftan aldfrith withinnan."
Arthur had just gotten his feet under him and made to lunge away when the door opened and the guard hurled him inside so hard he slammed into the wall opposite. The remains of his cape were tossed in after him. And then the door shut with a clank of finality.
Ignoring the pain radiating through where the back of his head had hit the wall, Arthur charged the door. Unable to bang on it with his fists tied behind him, he slammed into it with his shoulder and kicked it instead. "Come back here! What have you done with Merlin? I SAID COME BACK HERE AND FACE ME!"
He kicked for a long time before finally collapsing to the floor. Then he twisted his legs at an awkward angle, managed to slide his boot off, and maneuvered himself so he could dig through it with his bound hands.
He felt a surge of grim satisfaction as his fingers closed around the knife concealed there. If this Gwil thought he could imprison the king of Camelot and take his manservant without consequences, Arthur would only be too happy to prove him wrong.
Merlin was groggy, nauseous, worried, and above all, annoyed. Annoyed at being captured, annoyed that he had been subdued so easily, but mostly, irrationally annoyed with Arthur.
He'd wanted to walk tall, proud, and defiant as he was marched away, but no, he had to trip and leave Arthur with the parting impression of a clumsy idiot. As usual. Merlin's last image of Arthur, on the other hand, was of a king full of righteous fury. Tied up, perhaps, but at least he'd managed to hang onto his kingly dignity. How did he manage to pull that off? How was that fair?
Ah well. Some people were born to be kings, others…Well, Merlin had his own special talents. Although right now, he wished one of them wasn't tripping over his own feet while being manhandled to wherever Gwil had ordered the guards to take him. And it certainly didn't help that in the aftermath of that awful potion his thoughts slugged through his fuzzy brain at the speed of Arthur getting out of bed in the morning. He really needed to focus on how he was going to get Arthur out of here. Or what they were doing here in the first place.
Who was this Gwil, anyway? Merlin ran through lists of potential enemies. Lord from a neighboring kingdom? Rogue druid? His appearance sort of reminded him of Alator—a Catha? Someone related to the Catha? At the very least, he was someone who knew Merlin had magic, that much was certain.
The guards stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall and pulled him inside.
Merlin wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Some sort of cell, maybe. Filled with fire or torture devices or even a snake-like creature—Morgana seemed overly fond of those.
But the room was not a cell. It looked ordinary, almost homey: cozy, but not small. There was a fire, but it was warm and peaceful as it gently crackled in the hearth, its light reflecting off the dozens of glass medicine bottles lining various shelves throughout the room. A small table with two chairs was in front of the fire, as if a hearty meal might be served any moment. The whole room smelled of some pleasant herb that made Merlin feel vaguely relaxed.
It reminded him painfully of Gaius's chambers.
The guards sat him in the chair nearest the fireplace. One of them grabbed a waterskin on the table and thrust it in Merlin's face while the other one was busy wrapping rope around him, chains and all, to tie him to the chair. Because clearly, he wasn't tied up enough.
"No thanks," said Merlin to the guard with the waterskin. He was deeply suspicious of captors bearing food or drink, especially as the last thing he'd drunk had interfered rather painfully with his magic. "I really don't want—"
Except then the guard took hold of Merlin's hair, yanked his head back and poured the water in, which made him gag and sputter all over himself. Someday, he'd be able to pull off some sort of dignity, but today was not that day. At least it was water, he supposed, and not more of that awful magic-crushing potion.
"Are you trying to drown me?" Merlin demanded. "Was that the plan? Let's kidnap the sorcerer and drown him?" The guard did not respond, so Merlin tried a different line of questioning. "Where's Arthur?"
Nothing. The other guard finished tying the ropes, and both guards left without a word, leaving Merlin alone.
He wiggled, but the chains weren't giving. Not that he expected them to, but he wanted them off. The weight of them was staggering, not to mention the fact that they were physically keeping him from moving. But worst of all, they were stifling his magic.
Gwil hadn't only known Merlin had magic—he'd known he was powerful enough to warrant two different sets of chains, on his wrists and wrapped around his torso, rather than just the one. One set would usually be plenty to stop any normal sorcerer, which meant Gwil had known he was powerful enough to need more magical suppression than an average sorcerer. A lot more.
Even so, he must have still underestimated his power. Merlin could still feel his magic, although it was flailing against the chains like his body might have struggled for air. He wondered if this was what drowning felt like.
But his magic was still there, Merlin had to remind himself. It wasn't gone. He didn't just have magic, he was magic, so he could never lose it, not really. The fact that he'd been able to push past the potion to heal Arthur's neck was proof enough of that, even if the effort had severely drained him. These chains felt even stronger than that potion had been. Pushing enough power through to unchain himself would definitely at least force him unconscious, might even kill him.
Merlin couldn't risk that now, not while they had Arthur. And if he was knocked unconscious after forcing his magic through the chains, Gwil would surely realize what he'd done and do something about it, give him more of that potion or put yet another set of magic-binding chains on him, and Merlin wasn't sure he'd even be able to survive his magic being crushed any further.
So he tried to force his panicked breathing under control, and steeled himself for the interrogation he was sure was coming.
He didn't have too long to wait before Gwil swept into the room. "Emrys." He sat across from Merlin at the table with a sort of casual, friendly demeanor that seemed at odds with the fact he had kidnapped an all-powerful warlock.
Merlin fought to keep his racing heart under control. Well, that answered that question. Gwil knew exactly who he was.
"What am I doing here?" Merlin asked, trying to keep his voice level.
"Ah, straight to the point. Officially, you're here so that I can torture Emrys' identity out of you by order of the Lady Morgana."
Merlin's stomach clenched. "Morgana knows…?"
"Oh, no, no! Sorry, she doesn't know who you are. And I assure you, I have no intention of telling her," Gwil said, smiling reassuringly. Merlin did not feel reassured in the slightest. "She hired me to find Emrys, and since torturing your friend Gaius didn't work, she suggested I try you instead. Then, once I'd extracted Emrys' identity from you, I was supposed to capture him. Those chains are courtesy of her. I understand they were quite difficult to procure."
The chains seemed to tighten at the mention of Morgana's name, and Merlin swallowed. "Then why haven't you handed me over already?"
"Because I don't want you dead, and you certainly will be if she gets a hold of you. I've been searching for you for months, after a…friend of mine, you could say, Alator of Catha, mentioned he'd met you in passing. Wouldn't say where you were hiding, unfortunately. So I've been searching. Accepting Lady Morgana's offer gave me a way to contain you once I'd finally found you. I haven't got any magic of my own, you see. And being a High Priestess, she has the resources."
Gwil leaned back, surveying Merlin the same way Gaius looked at an interesting herb before he crushed it to powder. "You're a hard man to find, you know. The servant act was very clever, threw me off your trail for longer than I'd care to admit. I knew you had to be in Camelot somewhere, but I wouldn't have ever considered you until Morgana pointed me in your direction. Even then, it took quite a while of watching you and waiting for an opportunity before I made the connection. And then to top it off, you don't even use your true name. Would you prefer I use 'Merlin'? Your friend keeps shouting it, so I assume that's what you prefer to be called."
"I'd prefer to be let go, actually."
"Sorry, but I really can't do that. Perhaps when we've grown a bit closer."
"Then just let Arthur go. You've got me; you don't need him."
"Not quite yet, sorry. Not until you've heard me out."
Merlin tried very hard not to yell. "Then what do you want?"
"It's quite simple. I want your loyalty, and I want your allegiance."
Merlin stared at him. After all this—the ambush, capturing Arthur, the potion, the chains—Gwil thought he'd just, what, abandon Arthur and skip off with him into the sunset?
"I'll need it, you see," Gwil went on, "If I want to rule Albion. The prophecies are very clear: The Once and Future King must have Emrys by his side in order to be successful."
Merlin's mouth ran dry. "Wait, you…you want…"
"Power. To rule over all of Albion. To become the Once and Future King. Precisely." Gwil nodded, looking pleased that Merlin had grasped the idea so quickly. "And I'll need you, Emrys, to do it. With you serving me, I will be powerful enough to conquer all the five kingdoms. No one would stand a chance against me—not with you there to destroy any who try."
"What exactly makes you think I'd ever serve you?"
"Well, for starters, in return for your services—"
"And by 'services,' you mean destroying the other kingdoms."
"You make it sound so harsh. I only mean you overthrow those who opposed my rule."
"Not interested."
"Let me finish," Gwil said irritably, "Once I've conquered all the lands, I will make you my Court Sorcerer. I'll ensure you receive the highest of honors at court in my new regime. You can practice your magic freely. You will want for nothing."
"You think you can buy my loyalty with a cushy job being your personal weapon?" Furiously his magic flared within him, ready to blast Gwil through the opposite wall. But before it could, the chains seared blazing hot, and Merlin let out a sharp cry at the sudden pain.
Gwil sighed. "Hurts, doesn't it? They'll turn your magic against you if you try to use it or escape. I assumed you'd be at least intelligent enough to figure that out before actually trying."
Merlin gasped hard as he forced his magic back down. The pain stopped.
"As I was saying," Gwil continued, clearly annoyed at the interruption, "Of course I've got more to offer than a job. I'm offering you a chance at a better life. Appreciation for all you've done. The recognition you deserve. The prestige your power calls for. Because I've been watching you for quite a while, and you are being wasted, Merlin. A man of your talents cleaning armor and running errands? It's like keeping a pureblood horse locked up in a stable and never riding it. Ally yourself with me and I'll see you rewarded."
Merlin did not appreciate the horse analogy, nor was he thrilled with the phrase conquered all the lands. "Not interested," he repeated flatly.
"There's also your life. I'll grant you that as well. I can't say I will if you don't swear allegiance to me."
Merlin gritted his teeth. "And what exactly happens to Arthur?"
"It'd be much simpler to kill him of course, but if you insist, I'll let him live as part of our bargain. I can't banish him, of course; he'd only return and try to usurp me. Not that he'd be successful with the great Emrys by my side. So perhaps the dungeons—you could visit him whenever you like. Or, I know! I could make him your personal manservant. I'd have to break his mind somehow to keep him from causing trouble, obviously, but it could be done with the right ingredients. Would you like that?"
Bile rose in Merlin's throat. "Go to hell."
Gwil tutted. "Now, now, Merlin, that's no way to talk to your future king."
"You're not my king," Merlin snarled. "Arthur is. I serve Arthur, and only Arthur."
"Because you believe Arthur to be the Once and Future King?"
"Arthur is—"
Gwil shook his head and smiled a little, as if Merlin had said something particularly silly. "Do you even know what the prophecy says? What if I told you the prophecy never mentions Arthur at all?"
Merlin's words died in his throat.
Gwil, sensing his confusion, leaned forward. "Your destiny is to serve the Once and Future King. You, Emrys, are specifically mentioned by name, but the King is not. It doesn't have to be Arthur. It can be anyone who Emrys decides to serve. Anyone you choose."
For one moment, Merlin's mind whirled. Had the dragon been somehow mistaken? Was Arthur not the one after all? Could he have chosen all these years ago to support someone else, to serve someone who wasn't opposed to magic?
Would magic already be restored to the land if he had?
He stopped. No. Gwil was lying; he had to be. Merlin knew Arthur. He knew Arthur's bravery, his courage, his leadership, his mercy, his goodness, his friendship. For all Arthur's faults, Merlin knew who he was, what he was still becoming. A great friend. A great man. A great king. The king.
It didn't matter if what Gwil said was true, Merlin realized, didn't matter if the dragon had told him the wrong person. The dragon might have set him on this path, but he was walking it of his own accord. If destiny let him choose who he would serve, if he could go back and start over with someone who wasn't prejudiced against magic, who wasn't such a prat…
"Then I choose Arthur," said Merlin out loud. "I will always choose Arthur. He's my friend. He is the Once and Future King. He will be the greatest king to ever rule the land—already is a great king."
"Oh, come now, Merlin. Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King? You can't seriously believe he's cut out for it. He hardly appreciates your talents—doesn't even know about them. If he did, he'd kill you, just as his father would have done. You're the most powerful warlock that ever has or ever will walk the earth, and you're wasting your gifts on him?"
"Arthur's different from his father. He wants peace, not conquest. And he will restore magic to the land."
"You think so?"
Every doubt Merlin had ever had bombarded his mind at once, making him hesitate a split second. "Yes."
Gwil raised an eyebrow. Clearly, he'd noticed the pause. "Sure about that, are you?"
"Yes," Merlin repeated firmly, holding his head high.
"Oh," said Gwil, disappointment evident. "Well, if that's really the way you feel…" He sighed sadly and ran his finger slowly over the bottles on the table. "We'll just have to make you feel differently. Make you feel a bit more…open-minded about who you want to serve."
Merlin did not like the sound of that. His heartbeat thrashed in his ears and the chains suddenly seemed to be far too tight.
"I'm quite renowned in my field, you know," Gwil said lightly, "It's why Lady Morgana hired me. I can be quite convincing when I want to be."
Merlin lifted his chin and fought to keep his voice from faltering. "Go ahead and torture me. I'm loyal to Arthur, and no amount of convincing is going to change that."
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not going to torture you. I need you in one piece when this is all over. Besides, I don't possess the magic Alator has, so I have to be a bit more…sophisticated about getting what I want."
"Sophisticated?"
Gwil stroked the nearest bottle lovingly. "Alchemy. The greatest and most neglected of arts. Not magic enough for the magical to study, too dark for the average physician to employ. I, however, find it incredibly useful. I am a master at my craft, particularly of potions and poisons. Give me a couple days with a man and the right ingredients, and I can do anything." He paused. "You know, you should be grateful. I could still turn you into Morgana."
"And I could still turn you into the cockroach you are. At least Morgana's harder to squash."
Gwil's lips pressed together in a tight line. "I see you need some time to think about my offer. Guards!"
Two guards entered, their faces utterly impassive.
"Show our friend Merlin to his chambers."
"Oh, I've got chambers, have I? That supposed to be a taste of life as Court Sorcerer?"
"And gag him," Gwil added.
The blow to his jaw was quick, painful, and distracting. By the time Merlin had snapped out of the daze of pain, he had been successfully gagged. The gag tasted sickly sweet and was soaked with something that made Merlin feel even more dizzy.
"I'll show you the light, Merlin," Gwil called as the guards dragged him out the door. "It's just a matter of time."
A/N:
Openes bord, gehaeftan aldfrith withinnan. = Open door, restrain the king within.
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