Chapter Three: The Contract

Arthur had already inspected every inch of the cell looking for weaknesses by the time he heard the footsteps approaching. He tensed, wishing he had a sword to face whatever was on the other side of the door.

The second the door opened, an invisible force slammed him straight back into the wall. His head smacked painfully, and he had to wait until the stars faded before he saw who the guards had brought in.

"Merlin!" Arthur's heart leapt in relief; the terror in the back of his mind that he would never see his friend again quelled. Merlin was alive and even looked unharmed, although he was still staggering under the weight of the chains wrapped around his wrists and pinning his arms to his sides, and he was gagged. At the sound of his name, Merlin's eyes darted to Arthur. A similar look of relief to Arthur's own passed over his face.

The guards threw him hard. Merlin twisted as best he could to land on his shoulder rather than his face and winced as his shoulder slammed into the ground.

The door closed, the force on Arthur released, and the king rushed towards Merlin. He yanked him up to a sitting position and pulled the gag down.

"Thanks," Merlin managed. He sounded out of breath.

Arthur frowned as he inspected Merlin closer. The servant wasn't completely unharmed—a thin line of red trickled from the corner of his mouth. Arthur wiped it away with the gag now hanging around Merlin's neck. "Got into another tavern brawl, did you?"

"Oh yeah, took on a good dozen of them. That Gwil's a nasty piece of work, though."

"Did he hurt you anywhere else?"

Merlin shrugged. "Not really. Not yet."

"Yet? You think he's going to?"

"I'm fine."

"The truth, Merlin. Is he going to hurt you more?"

Merlin hesitated, lips pressed tightly together a moment before finally speaking. "Yeah. I think so."

Arthur's fist clenched involuntarily on Merlin's shoulder, and he had to force himself to relax when he saw Merlin grimace.

"This is low," Arthur fumed, "Positively low."

"What is?"

"Hurting my servant to get to me. Chaining you up like this to mock me." He ran his thumb over one of the links and scowled.

"Oh, right, to mock you. Of course. Well, he's done a right poor job of it—clearly, he's never seen one of your stupid hats. Think I'd rather show up at a banquet with these than one of those—Ouch, what are you doing?!"

Arthur had hooked his fingers through some of the chains and was yanking up as hard as he could, trying to slide them up and over Merlin's head like a shirt.

"What's it look like? I'm trying to get these things off you! Unless you like walking around like that!"

Merlin closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and made no further sound as Arthur pulled. Much to the king's frustration, the chains almost seemed to shrink the harder he tried to remove them, even pinching his fingers.

"Arthur, stop! Stop!" Merlin finally burst out as Arthur gave another frustrated tug. "I don't think they're going to budge. We're better off not moving them."

Arthur realized in alarm that Merlin was gasping for air, and a bit of sweat was starting to gleam on his forehead. "What's wrong?"

"Look, if you can't get them off, just don't touch them, alright?" Merlin snapped.

"I'm the king, Merlin, I give the orders." Arthur crawled around to Merlin's back. If he couldn't get rid of the chains, maybe he could get rid of the shackles on Merlin's wrists.

He reached Merlin's back and froze. The flesh on Merlin's wrists around the shackles was pink and raw.

Merlin was trying to scoot around on his knees to face Arthur. "Right, because I always listen to you—"

"Would you sit still, you're burnt!"

"Funnily enough, I knew that, you clotpole!"

A horrible thought occurred to Arthur. "It was burning you just now, wasn't it? When I was pulling at them."

Merlin went strangely silent. Arthur took that as a yes.

"These chains are magical." Somehow, this made Arthur even angrier. It wasn't enough for Gwil to chain a helpless servant as if he were an animal. Oh no, he had to use giant magical chains that burned with contact on bare skin. On Merlin, of all people. Innocent, loyal, stupid Merlin, who hadn't said a word while he was being burnt because he didn't want to make Arthur feel bad. The idiot.

"Sire?"

Arthur mentally cursed; Merlin had stiffened in that way he always did whenever magic was mentioned. Arthur should have known better. He could never quite tell how Merlin would react to magic. Sometimes Merlin would follow him into battle against some terrifying magical threat with the confidence of a man who believed it was impossible to lose. But then other times Arthur would just mention the word and Merlin would get ridiculously defensive and twitchy, like just the thought of magic was enough to set him fighting or fleeing—which was why Arthur had long since learned to avoid the topic around Merlin whenever possible.

Well, it looked like Merlin's fear wasn't unfounded this time; they were dealing with a magical threat, after all. Arthur started to tear off another piece of his cape. "Honestly, Merlin, you're such an idiot. Normal chains don't burn the person they're chaining. Obviously, they're magical." He started to tuck a piece of the red cloth between the metal and Merlin's wrists, being careful to put as little pressure on the burnt skin as possible.

Merlin's tense shoulders relaxed and he twisted his head, trying to look behind him. "Right. Obviously. Wait, are you…is that your cape?"

"Well, it's hardly yours. Don't worry, you'll be fixing it later."

"Oh thanks, can't wait to get out of here and get right on that. Because your clothes are obviously the most important thing in my life."

"Good." Arthur clapped his hand on Merlin's shoulder, then tilted him sideways.

"What are you doing?" Merlin demanded again once he was laid on the ground. He lurched in an unsuccessful attempt to sit back up, and Arthur shoved him back down.

"Get some sleep. I'll take first watch."

He draped the rest of his now rather tattered cape over Merlin, who wiggled indignantly. "You want me to sleep at a time like this? And what do you mean, keep watch? It's not like anyone's going to sneak up on us. We've already been captured. Isn't keeping watch a bit pointless now?"

"Merlin?"

"Yes, sire?"

"Shut up."

And Merlin did, for a moment. Then… "Aren't you going to sleep too? You're exhausted. You should probably—"

"Keeping watch!" Arthur yanked the cape up so it covered Merlin's face.

"Fine," came Merlin's muffled voice. "Prat."

Arthur waited until Merlin's breathing deepened into sleep before letting himself sink to his knees and drop his head into his hands. This was all wrong. It should have been him in those chains. He was king, he was a knight, he was trained for this kind of thing. They should have been hurting him, not his friend. Merlin shouldn't even be here. But he always was, wasn't he? Right there, by his side, because Arthur had long forgotten what it was like to not have a chattering, clumsy oaf following him.

Had this sorcerer that captured them, this Gwil, had he known that? Known how much Arthur depended on his servant? Known that Merlin was the one constant in his life? Known that he was his confidante, his advisor, his guide, his best friend, and if Arthur lost him…

Arthur took a deep breath and rubbed his face. Right. Merlin should be pretty deeply asleep by now.

He lifted the cape slowly, listening for any change in Merlin's breathing. Hearing none, he looked closer at the chains.

They looked fairly ordinary: dozens of thick iron links, wrapped around several times and locked together. Although…Arthur scowled. The lock had something etched into it. Some funny symbols. What did Gaius call them…runes.

He wondered briefly what they said. Probably something like "Burn the stupid, helpless manservant." That'd be just Arthur's luck, wouldn't it?

Merlin was still deeply asleep, so Arthur carefully drew his knife and wedged the point into the lock. Keeping a section of the cape between his own fingers and the metal to keep himself from being burned, he dug at the keyhole with his blade.

Merlin's breathing hitched; although still asleep, his whole body curled defensively. Arthur flinched back, then frowned. Yes, he'd had a bit of cape between his skin and the metal, but he hadn't felt even the slightest heat at all. Why had Merlin reacted like that? Carefully, he adjusted the cloth he'd put on Merlin's wrists to check on the burns.

The burns were redder than they had been a moment before.

Arthur cursed. Messing with the chains in any way would harm Merlin, then. They must be enchanted to burn only the chained person or something—that's why Arthur hadn't felt the heat.

He stuck the knife back in his boot and slumped against the wall, defeated. He'd only managed to hurt Merlin worse.

What on earth was he supposed to do now?

He leaned his head back against the wall. Conserve energy. This Gwil person would probably be coming for him next, likely intent on torturing Camelot's secrets out of him. He'd need his strength to withstand…whatever was going to happen.

It was a long, long time before Arthur finally managed to fall asleep.

Merlin awoke to a cricked neck and the sound of loud, pounding footsteps. He blinked and sat up in alarm when Arthur was flung to the wall with a shout as the door opened.

That was definitely magic, Merlin decided, as he quickly looked Arthur up and down for injuries. It had to be.

Arthur was unharmed, but looked murderous—not surprising since it also looked like he'd just woken up. Merlin nearly snorted. Keeping watch, his foot. Although…Merlin vaguely recalled something similar happening in the prison cart earlier, and felt a fresh prickle of worry. Had they enchanted Arthur, done something to him while Merlin was unconscious?

Trent filled the doorway. "Gwil wants to see you."

"Right, well, I'm a bit busy at the moment," Merlin snapped. "Tell him I'll see him somewhere in between counting the stones on the ceiling and eating breakfast. Oh wait, you haven't fed us."

"Merlin," Arthur hissed from the wall.

Merlin didn't care. He was tired, hungry, thirsty, burned, and worried about Arthur, not to mention his magic was boiling in his blood, screaming to get out. So no, he didn't feel like paying any respect to the man who'd poisoned him. He half-hoped the mercenary would rise to the bait, hit him hard enough to knock him out, and force Gwil to wait until later for questioning.

But Trent only stepped inside the cell and grabbed a handful of Merlin's chains. "It's not optional, toerag."

Merlin scrambled to his feet just as the mercenary started to pull. This time, he managed to not trip and to walk out rather than be dragged out. He looked back at Arthur, wondering if the king would have some retort ready for his accomplishment later, but Arthur was still pinned to the wall, looking absolutely livid and beyond terrified. What on earth did he have to be worried about; Merlin wasn't going to let anything happen to him—oh. Arthur was terrified for him.

Merlin felt oddly touched. He tried to send Arthur some sort of reassurance, but Trent shut the cell door before he could, and then he was being dragged away. They did not return to the room that reminded Merlin of Gaius's chambers, but instead ended up in a much smaller room, just large enough to house a table and a few chairs.

This room had a definite chill. Merlin tried to repress a shiver, missing the fireplace from the other room already. Having loads of metal covering his body really wasn't helping him to stay warm. He wondered if this was how Arthur always felt, covered in chainmail. No wonder the man owned a dozen sweaters.

Of course, if Merlin used any magic, the chains would make being cold no longer a problem.

Gwil was already there, seated at the table, which held a variety of darkly colored bottles, a slightly steaming pot, two goblets, and some candles. Trent shoved Merlin into the chair across from him before reaching for the rope piled on the floor next to it.

"Thank you, Trent," said Gwil as Trent secured the knots, "And do be careful. We want Merlin to be comfortable."

Merlin bit back a retort. He needed to be convincing.

"Trent, you may go. Stay outside in case I need you."

Trent cast a scathing look at Merlin and left, closing the door behind him.

"Tell me, Merlin, have you reconsidered my offer?"

Merlin schooled his features into the very image of subservience. For Arthur, for Arthur, for Arthur… "I have, my lord. My king. I thought over what you said, and you're right. Arthur's been a waste of my talents. I apologize for my…outbursts. I wasn't thinking straight. I would be honored to serve you."

"You'll swear fealty to me?"

Merlin bowed his head. "Of course, my lord. Would you like me to kneel?"

"Oh, no, that won't be necessary," Gwil said, extracting a piece of parchment from his robes. He laid it on the table and pushed it towards him. "I'd like you to read this out loud to me."

The parchment was old and yellowed, with a jagged edge as if it had been torn from a book. Merlin started to skim it, confusion quickly giving way to anger. "This is magic."

"Yes."

"A magical oath of enslavement."

"Oh, I don't think that's quite accurate, Merlin," said Gwil, smiling winningly. "More like…an agreement of loyalty. You bind your magic to my will so that it follows my orders and can't do me harm or do anything contrary to my wishes. It's not like it would change anything for you, Merlin—not unless you were planning to betray me."

Merlin sucked in a deep breath, maintaining an image of calm. "Alright. Of course. Just release me so I can perform the magic needed for the spell—"

"The magic's in the words themselves. It won't require any magic from you. All you have to do is read it out loud 'without threat of life or bodily harm,' and the contract will be in effect. And as soon as I know it's working, I'll release you."

Merlin glared and rattled his chains as much as he could. "You don't call this a threat? Bit overkill, don't you think?"

"Well, you are very dangerous. The great Emrys and all that. As for a threat, tell me, have I actually attempted to kill you?"

"Arthur—"

"Arthur's still alive, isn't he? Against Morgana's orders, I might add. And Trent's not happy at all."

"Then let him go! You don't need him!"

Gwil sighed. "Actually, I do. You see, you don't want to swear fealty to me. Not yet. I can see it in your eyes. Which is why I'm going to have to erode your…not your will, per se, more…your conviction. Make you more pliable. More willing to serve me. But that will take time. I can't directly hurt you, because the spell interprets that as a threat. I could make you choose between Arthur's life and swearing loyalty to me as well, but unfortunately he's so important to you that it's possible the spell might construe that as a threat as well, and I'm not desperate enough to risk it. But for less severe damages …Well, then the rules governing the spell get a bit murkier. Particularly, I think, if the less severe damages are delivered to someone other than you. I take it from the look you're giving me right now that you're not interested in my contract?"

Merlin gritted his teeth in a combination of rage and pain as the chains scorched him.

Gwil's smile didn't falter as he lit the candles on the table, then pushed them closer to Merlin. The warlock tried to breathe shallowly through his mouth as the smoke wafted towards him, but the foul smell was unavoidable.

"Tell me, Merlin, would you like something to drink?"

"What, so you can poison me? No thanks."

"I sincerely hope you don't think of me that poorly, Merlin. Are you sure you don't want any? It's a personal recipe. Very good for the humors. I used to be a physician, you know. Like your friend Gaius."

"If you go anywhere near him—"

"Goodness, you're tense. There's no need to bring Gaius into this, is there? After all, I already have Arthur. I'd just like to ask you a few friendly questions."

"I'm not telling you anything about Camelot."

"That's perfectly alright, because I'm not interested in Camelot. At least, not its defenses. You'll be flattening them when I take the city anyway. No, I'd like to start with you. I'd like you to tell me about yourself."

Merlin's head was beginning to feel unpleasantly fuzzy as the foul-smelling smoke reached him. "What?"

"It's early in our friendship, Merlin, but I know so little about you. I'd like to get to know you better."

"This may surprise you, but friendships don't usually begin with one party tied to a chair."

Gwil waved a hand dismissively. "Who says friendships can't exist with constraints? Take your supposed friendship with Arthur. You're tied to him, aren't you? They're class restraints rather than physical ones, but you're tied to him all the same. The only difference between your friendship with him and your friendship with me is the constraints I've placed on you are physical. Either way, you're forced to be there."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Oh, right. Well, being kidnapped and being employed, if they're really the same, I think I'll quit and go home now, thanks. And I'm taking Arthur with me." He paused, then wriggled a bit. Naturally, both chain and rope prevented him from leaving, and he glared at Gwil pointedly. "Nope, still here. Because friends don't keep friends locked up in dungeons."

Gwil finished another sip of tea. "Really? Then you agree with me. Arthur isn't your friend. Because if he knew about your magic, Merlin, that's exactly where you would be: locked up in a dungeon. If not worse."

Merlin's breath caught as the many, many scenarios he'd imagined over the years flashed through his mind. "Of—of course he wouldn't."

Gwil raised an eyebrow at him. "Care to test that theory? I could tell him right now, give him a sword. See if he's as determined to protect you then—or if he just runs you through."

Merlin's insides turned to ice, despite the heat simmering on his wrists. He'd spent years at Arthur's side, and he knew Arthur better than he knew himself. Arthur wouldn't kill him. He'd never go through with it. They'd been friends for too long, and no matter how much the king denied it, Merlin knew perfectly well that Arthur cared about him too much to kill him. But at the same time, he knew Arthur would feel betrayed, and a betrayed Arthur was an angry Arthur, and an angry Arthur was hard to predict. No, Arthur wouldn't kill him. But there was so much else he might do.

"…Or I won't. I'll keep your secret, Merlin. Because that's what friends do. They keep each other's secrets, and they don't lie to each other. Which is why we are going to become very, very good friends." Gwil relaxed back in his chair, slurped the last of his tea, and put the goblet back down again.

Merlin tried not to think of the thirst and the smoke burning his throat or the horrible fog that had taken root in his brain, but it was difficult to focus on anything else.

"Now, Merlin, I could just leave you here to breathe for a bit, but I'm sure you would rather have some company. So like I said before, I'm going to ask you some questions. You will answer them all, and you will answer them truthfully. Be aware that I'll know if you're lying."

"And what exactly are you going to do if I do?" Merlin demanded, shifting slightly in his chair. He had a horrible feeling about this; his magic was absolutely screaming at him, and the chains pulsed in a light, steady burn.

"Let's just say any lies you tell will have consequences, as will not answering a question." Gwil poured himself another cup of tea, and Merlin tried not to stare at it as he sipped. "We'll start with an easy one. Where were you born?"

"Camelot," Merlin answered immediately. He was not letting this man anywhere near his mother. "Down in the lower town. My parents are dead, though, so if you're planning on hurting them—"

"Oh, I wasn't. I assumed Arthur would be motivation enough. Although apparently, not this time. Trent!"

Trent entered immediately and bent his head in a sort of sarcastic bow.

Gwil nodded to acknowledge him before saying, "I'm afraid our new friend Merlin here has lied. Go hurt Arthur."

Every muscle in Merlin's body went rigid, and his voice cracked. "What?"

Trent looked positively gleeful. "Thank you, my lord."

Merlin twisted uselessly in his chair. "You said—"

"I said I wouldn't make you choose between the contract and his life. I said nothing about the rest of him. Just a warning, Trent, ought to do it for now."

Trent scowled, but nodded. The door closed behind him with a sound like the cracking of a bone.

"You can't! Hurt me instead!" Merlin begged, looking frantically from the door to Gwil. His magic flared inside him instinctively, roaring in Arthur's defense, but then he cried out and shuddered as spots danced before his eyes and the chains binding him radiated scorching heat. His shirt and jacket mostly protected him from being burned by the larger chains, but the still-healing burns on his wrists seared anew.

Gwil put a hand on Merlin's shoulder as if to comfort him, ignoring how the warlock flinched away. "There, there, Merlin. It's only a warning blow. Arthur will recover. He's much more use to me alive at the moment. I should warn you, though, that every additional lie you tell will result in a more severe punishment. If I were you, I really wouldn't lie again." He sat back down across from Merlin and smiled at him, as if he had just made a comment about the weather.

Merlin swallowed and tried to take deep breaths, forcing his magic to calm, and ended up choking on the smoke. The fog in his brain thickened, but the heat through his jacket and on his wrists eased.

Gwil waited a moment while Merlin struggled to get his breathing under control. "I'm sorry you have to go through this, Merlin, but it will be for the better in the end. You'll see. I'll ask again: where were you born?"

"Why do you want to know?" Merlin shot back, trying to ignore the raw pain in his wrists and the horrible, disjointed images flashing through his mind of what a "warning" to Arthur was.

"I want you to confide in me. To trust me. And I want to keep you busy while I wait for my potions to erode you away. If you want to defeat a man, you've got to wear him down first." He pressed his hands on the table and leaned forward. "Now, remember, Arthur will pay for your lies and your silence. So I ask you again: where were you born?"

"Ealdor," said Merlin threw gritted teeth. He could feel his magic churning within him, and he wanted so badly to lash out, to let the magic explode from him and rip through his chains, shatter the bottles and rain broken glass on Gwil's head, crush the light from Gwil's eyes as he brought the entire ceiling down upon them…

His wrists prickled painfully at the thought, and he winced. Gwil smiled and nodded, as if Merlin were a dog that had performed a trick. "Good. You're learning, Merlin. It feels good to tell the truth, doesn't it?"

"Yeah. Absolutely liberating."

Gwil tutted. "Really, Merlin? Is that the truth? And here I thought you were trying to protect Arthur."

"Isn't that what you want to hear?" Merlin said, hating himself for sounding so desperate.

"Guard!"

"No, don't, you can't, please—"

A different guard entered and bowed.

"Tell Trent to hurt Arthur again. With a bit more feeling this time."

"No, leave him alone!"

The guard nodded and left, and Gwil sighed at Merlin, who was struggling not to scream while the chains seared him again.

"You don't need to worry just yet, Merlin. Arthur's still alive. And probably not permanently damaged. Although if you keep up this nasty lying habit, I can't promise he'll stay that way for long. Now, doesn't it feel nice to finally have someone you can never lie to?"

"No," spat Merlin. "And if you think I will ever trust you…"

"You'll have to eventually, if you want to keep Arthur safe," Gwil's grin spread horribly wide. "And eventually, I think your answer might change."