Chapter Six: Fealty and Food

Arthur heard the approaching footsteps and quickly shoved his blunted dagger down into his boot. He backed away from the door towards his spot on the wall, just in time for the door to swing open. The force came as it always did, rendering him immovable. He watched anxiously for Merlin to come back through the door, tired but alright like before.

Instead he saw Merlin held limp between two guards, the servant's feet dragging on the floor. He was shockingly pale again, shaking and sweating. A long, bleeding cut ran down the left side of his face, pointing to dark bruises on his jaw and neck that trailed under his neckerchief.

"What did you do to him?!" Arthur demanded.

As usual, he was completely ignored. The guards dropped Merlin in the middle of the cell and turned back without a glance at the king. When the door was shut and he was released from the wall, Arthur threw himself at the door, pounding on it furiously. "I said, what did you do to him?! You cowards! Come back here!"

Merlin's whimpering forced his attention away from the door. "Arthur…Arthur!"

Arthur hurried over to Merlin's side and helped him sit up. Merlin's eyes were bloodshot and frantic; his breath was coming in great, heaving gasps.

"Arthur…have to save…tell him…not going to…Arthur. Go get Arthur!"

"I'm right here, Merlin," Arthur said, trying to keep his frustration out of his voice. He wanted so badly to punch something, to hack something with his sword, but he didn't have a sword and there was no one here but Merlin, who was looking at him with absolute desperation and struggling and coughing and gasping like all the air in the world would never be enough.

"Gaius…Need Arthur. Tell him I…Arthur. Where's Arthur?"

"I'm right here, you clumsy…" Arthur took a deep breath. Merlin was panicking and delirious and needed him to be calm. He could be calm. Of course he could. He was king, and kings calmly handled things.

He covered Merlin's eyes with his hand. Merlin thrashed like a trapped animal, trying to regain his vision.

After a moment, Arthur removed his hand, and Merlin stilled. Recognition and relief flashed in his eyes. "Arthur."

Arthur swallowed. "I'm here, Merlin. What did he do to you? Why?"

Merlin tried to sit up, and Arthur helped him maneuver onto his knees. He wondered if he shouldn't force Merlin to lie down, because the servant was still shaking. "Want me to…but I won't…I'm loyal to you. Only to you."

"I know, Merlin. I know. You need to lie down."

"I'll prove it, I'll…swear fealty."

"You want to what?" Arthur asked, alarmed as Merlin clumsily lurched into a bow, bending over on his knees as much as he could without toppling over. Quickly, Arthur tried to pull him back up. "Merlin, you don't need to. I hardly doubt your loyalty. And besides, that's for nobles. And you're clearly unwell—"

"No!" Merlin shouted, twisting out of Arthur's grip and bending back down in front of him. "I have to…I need to…I swear…I swear to serve you the rest of my days. I swear my loyalty and my life and my powers, everything, to you and Camelot and no one else."

As prince and then as king, Arthur had had many people kneeling and bowing before him, but this, having Merlin at his feet like this, swaying dangerously with his nose almost touching the floor…this was all so wrong. Arthur cleared his throat, which felt much thicker than usual. "Merlin, stop this. You're delirious."

"I swear to protect you till the day I die," Merlin continued, looking as if he would pass out any second. "You and yours. And I swear, Arthur Pendragon, that I will get you out of here alive or I will die trying."

"Merlin, that's enough!"

"I swear."

"Merlin!" This time, Arthur yanked him up and shook him. "Stop it. Just…stop."

Merlin sagged as if he'd lost the will to sit up. His eyes glazed over, then started to drift shut. Arthur realized what was going to happen a split second before it did and lunged to catch Merlin just before he dropped to the floor.

Arthur shook him a couple times and called his name, but Merlin didn't move. Fuming, Arthur pulled Merlin over by the wall, draped the dirty cape over him, and stormed back to the door, which he kicked with all his strength.

"WHAT—DID—YOU—DO TO HIM?!" he screamed. He screamed and pounded and kicked the door until his voice was raw and his skin cracked and bled. Then he sank down to the floor, head in his hands, and did not cry because kings did not cry, they kept their servants (friends) from getting hurt and they fought their way free of dungeons and they did not sit there useless while the people they loved were tortured.

He would do anything, absolutely anything, to get Merlin out of this hellhole.

Arthur sat a little straighter with the realization. Maybe that was what Gwil wanted. Maybe he was after the king, after all. Maybe somehow Gwil had found out that Arthur cared about Merlin far too much, and hurting him was the only way Arthur would even consider spilling any of Camelot's secrets.

Forget secrets—if Gwil walked in right now and demanded half the kingdom in exchange for Merlin's release and the end to his suffering, Arthur would grant it.

The thought stopped him short. No. He couldn't. He couldn't even consider that. He could not let Camelot, his people, suffer under the rule of a tyrant to save one man, even if that man was Merlin. Merlin himself wouldn't want him to. Merlin would tell him Camelot was more important, and he would be right.

Merlin was dying, tortured by something Arthur didn't understand.

He reached back inside his boot for the dagger, stabbed it into the groove he'd made at the hinge, and kept sawing. He refused to turn around and look at Merlin, refused to acknowledge the rawness in his fingers. All that mattered was chiseling through so he could get Merlin out of here—

The dagger, dulled by constant use, snapped in half.

Arthur stared, uncomprehending, at the ruined remains of the weapon in his hand, then at the chunk of blade in the door. He ripped the piece out of the door, nicking himself, and tried to piece the dagger back together.

It fell apart in his fingers.

Arthur's face twisted with rage. He flung the broken pieces across the room and threw himself at the door once, twice, and again, before finally sagging against the door and burying his head in his hands. Useless. He was useless.

He would never be able to get through the door now. They were both going to die in here.

He'd failed.

Hours passed and Arthur didn't move, even when something near the door cranked. He tensed slightly, waiting to be pressed against the wall.

But the door didn't open. Instead, unbelievably, the food slot opened, admitting a tray with…was that bread?

Arthur dashed towards the door to inspect the tray. One small loaf of bread barely enough for a few mouthfuls, and two bowls of dark brown soup. Not much, but that was probably for the best—Arthur didn't know exactly how long they had been in here without food, but it had to have been at least two days. At this point, their stomachs probably couldn't handle a great amount of food. He'd seen what happened when starved men ate too much, and he was not eager to make the room smell of sick.

"Oi!" He yelled weakly at the food slot, "What is this?"

But the food slot had apparently revealed all it was going to, as no voice came through it.

His hunger roaring in his belly, Arthur reached for the bread…and stopped. What if it was poisoned?

But surely if Gwil wanted to kill them, he'd have done so already? And not like this.

He glanced at Merlin, who was twitching slightly in his sleep, and remembered the poison the servant had been given when they were first captured. Not all poisons were fatal. Better not.

But his stomach growled in protest, and Merlin looked horribly thin and frail. Neither of them had eaten in at least two days. Arthur was starving, but he'd always been well-fed with rich foods, and his body would probably still last a while yet. Merlin, on the other hand…

Arthur made up his mind. They needed to eat, Merlin especially. At the very least, they should both have some soup so they didn't die of thirst. Arthur would taste the food and wait. If enough time passed to tell he wasn't poisoned, then he would feed some to Merlin when he woke.

Warily, Arthur ripped off a small chunk of the bread and nibbled it. It wasn't even a full mouthful, and it was dry and flavorless. But he wasn't in pain—or at least, not in any further pain—and his stomach was clamoring for more.

He looked at the bowls. Those were more likely to be poisoned, he supposed. It would be easy to just slip in a few drops. But there were two bowls. Were they both poisoned? Only one of them? Should he taste both?

Arthur thought of a memory from long ago, of a unicorn, of two cups on a table at a beach, all with the fate of Camelot on the line. His faint smile turned into a grimace as he poured the soup from one bowl into the other. There. If one of them were poisoned, he'd be sure to drink it now.

Merlin had always given good advice.

He pinched his nose and tried to think of anything but the unidentifiable dark liquid he was sipping. It was lukewarm and tasted vaguely like rabbit, if that rabbit had been dunked in horse dung and then lit on fire.

Even the little he'd drunk sloshed unpleasantly in his stomach, but it felt so good against his dry throat that Arthur still had to force himself not to drink more. He poured a little more than half the soup back into the other bowl—that one would be Merlin's, assuming Arthur survived—and waited.

He sat silently as the minutes stretched, watching Merlin for signs of consciousness. Beyond breathing and the occasional twitch of his fingers, the manservant was utterly still.

"You know, I bet this is rat," Arthur said out loud. "Wouldn't surprise me. Even you couldn't cook this bad, Merlin."

Merlin said nothing, motionless except for his slow, shallow breathing.

"Or maybe it is poison. Made from some stupid, poisonous plant that you'd probably natter on about and I'll have to fetch." He elongated his leg and nudged Merlin's shoulder with his foot enough to make the man's head loll over to face Arthur. "If I do die from this, Merlin, I think I'll issue a royal decree that you're not allowed to eat anything but rat-based foods for the rest of your life. And I know you're going to tell me that's petty, but really, I call it justice. And I'm the king. I can do whatever I want." He paused, then nudged Merlin with his foot again. "Come on. Say something. I give you permission to prattle."

Nothing.

"Oh, alright. You only have to eat rat for a week. Guinevere would have my head if it went on any longer than that."

Merlin still didn't move. Another long minute passed. Arthur sighed, running his fingers over his blond hair. "Merlin. I'm your king and I order you to wake up right now."

Merlin's face scrunched ever so slightly. Arthur held his breath, waiting for Merlin's eyes to open. But in the time that passed before Arthur was forced to breathe again, Merlin remained still.

"Alright, fine …Please. As your…friend, I'm asking you, please wake up. I…I need you. I don't know what to do. And you always know what to do. Or at least what to say."

Merlin's foot twitched as he murmured something, and Arthur shut up immediately. He crawled over in time for Merlin to groan and finally open his eyes.

"…Sorry. 'M sorry…Please…"

"Merlin?"

Merlin blinked up at him. "Ar…?"

Arthur grinned in relief. "Slacking off as usual, I see. You and your lie-ins. If you were any lazier, you'd be dead."

"I…I think I am…"

"Good, that means I can eat your breakfast."

"Break…what?" Merlin lifted his head, then winced.

Arthur slid an arm under his back and propped him up. "Food, Merlin. Surely even an utter simpleton like you knows what food is?"

Merlin stared up at him blankly. His pupils were startlingly large. If Arthur couldn't feel Merlin's shallow breathing, he would have wondered if Merlin had died right there, he was so motionless.

Arthur's grin faded, but he pressed on. "Well, you're even more of an idiot than I thought, then. I suppose I'll have to educate you. This," he reached for the bowl behind him and waved it under Merlin's nose. "is soup. Soup is gooood. Now have some soup." He touched the bowl to the servant's lips, and Merlin finally moved, whimpering and turning his head to the side at the last moment.

"No. 'M not gonna eat that."

"Yes, you will," Arthur replied firmly, shoving the bowl at him again. "I'm not having you die on me."

"No. 'S poison. Gonna hurt me."

"No, it won't. I tested it, and I'm fine."

Merlin's brow furrowed. "You…tested…wait, you WHAT?!" He jerked away from Arthur furiously, chains clanking as he tried to balance. His eyes were still a bit unfocused, but they were more lucid than they'd been since he had returned to the cell. "How could you?!"

"How could I? How could I not? Look at you, Merlin, you're half dead, and you need food, and I had to make sure—"

"Oh, so you tried it yourself?! What if you had died? Camelot needs you—"

"Oh, fat lot of good I'm doing Camelot right now! Camelot can get a new king, Merlin!"

"No it can't!" Merlin's eyes started to slide further out of focus, and his voice lowered. "Needs you. Once and Future King. And if you die now, everything I've done, it'll all have been for nothing, you got that? All those years wasted."

Arthur blinked. Years? What? He peered harder at Merlin. The servant was swaying again. Merlin was going to pass out again very soon if he didn't do something.

"Alright, Merlin," he said tersely, inching closer. "I'll do my best not to die if you just lie down and eat a bit."

"No, 'm fine…It's you that…" Merlin's eyes shut as he pitched forward.

Arthur caught him and leaned him back, cradling him with one arm while he shook his good shoulder with the other. "Merlin? Don't you dare fall asleep on me again."

Merlin's eyes flickered open. "You don't know what it would have done to me to wake up to find you dead. I can't lose you. I can't."

"I'm touched," said Arthur, burying the sentiment with contempt. He snagged the bowl of soup again and thrust it in Merlin's face. "Now eat."

Merlin shook his head weakly, trying to jerk away. A splash of soup splattered on the floor.

"Merlin!"

"Don't wannit, 's poison."

"No, it's not. I already had some, or have you forgotten already?"

"Well, 's not gonna hurt you, issit? You're different."

"Poison can't tell the difference between royalty and peasant, Merlin. A bit like you. Now eat it." He jammed the bowl to Merlin's lips and poured it down. Merlin fought back a moment before finally going limp and swallowing. Arthur eased up, letting him sip slowly instead, and tried to ignore the guilt worming its way through him.

When Merlin finished the bowl, he glared up at Arthur. "I hate you, you absolute…cabbage head."

"Not to your satisfaction, then, Merlin?"

"Tastes nasty."

"Well spotted."

"But it's not poison."

"Told you so. Don't you trust me at all?"

Merlin paused a long moment, his eyes glazing over. Arthur set the bowl down, afraid he'd lost him again, but then Merlin spoke.

"I do trust you. But sometimes…you don't see everything. You don't see things, and if you saw them, saw the things I do, then things would be different. You'd be different. But you're not there yet, not ready, so I've got to see things for you. And you don't always listen…"

Arthur wondered if the soup had been drugged somehow after all. "Merlin, what are you talking about? See what?"

"…Exactly," said Merlin sagely before his eyes drooped shut. They opened again when Arthur shook him.

"No sleeping. How about some bread?"

"'M tired."

"Do you ever stop complaining?"

"No. 'S one of my many talents, which you fail to appreciate."

"Sit up, then." Arthur dragged Merlin a short way to lean him against the wall, then brought over the bread. He ripped a chunk out of the tiny loaf and held it out to Merlin.

Merlin shrunk away. "You're sure 's not…"

"Honestly, Merlin!" Arthur stuck the chunk in his own mouth and chewed as obnoxiously as possible. "It's fine. If you're not going to eat it, I certainly will." He ripped off another chunk and looked at Merlin as if preparing to chuck something at his head. "Open wide."

"You're enjoying this, aren't y—mmfph!"

"Immensely."

They took turns eating chunks until the loaf was finally gone. Arthur watched with satisfaction as Merlin regained the slightest bit of color and stopped slurring, although his pupils were still enlarged and his breathing was still shallow. He regarded Arthur as if on the verge of sleep.

"Is that it?" he said petulantly.

"Of course not. There was loads more, but as I'm king and you were too lazy to wake up, I decided to eat it all."

"Oh…that's good, that's good. Keep your strength up."

Arthur's grin fell. "For what?"

"For when I break you out."

"Really."

"Yeah. Gotta protect you."

"Merlin, between us, who's the king?"

"You."

"And who's the knight?"

"You."

"And who knows how to actually fight with a sword?"

"You."

"Good. Then who's responsible for getting us out?"

"Me."

Arthur threw up his hands. "You know, every time I think I have finally discovered the limits of your idiocy, you always manage to surprise me. How exactly do you think you're going to be able to get us out of here?"

"Dunno. Haven't figured that out yet."

Arthur gave a little snort.

Merlin kept going, his eyes still faraway. "But I will…just not both of us, maybe. I think I could get just you out. I was wrong to wait. I should have done it earlier…"

"Done what earlier?"

"So I should…I should do it now, while I still can. Because it's carving me out from the inside, it...I don't think I can hold on much longer…"

"Shut up," said Arthur sharply. "You're going to hold on for as long as I say so. You said you'd be my servant till the day you die, and I'm not going to let you skive off early."

"Look, just…know that I'm your friend, Arthur. I always was, no matter what it looks like. And I was proud to serve you. And I'm sorry I'm not going to be there to see the kingdom you'll build. Tell Gaius he's going to have to fulfill my destiny for me, alright? He'll understand."

"Destiny? What?" Arthur stared at him incredulously. "You're not going to die, you twit, you're absolutely fine! You've eaten, you're talking—in complete sentences, no less!—and you're sitting up on your own. You're hardly at death's door."

"Just—when it's over, just run. Leave me here, alright? I'll only slow you down, so just leave me...Well, you might want to just leave me anyway after I…Anyway, if I'm still alive, I'll get rid of as many guards as I can with whatever I have left."

"You haven't got anything in the first place!" said Arthur in exasperation. "Just rest, and if we're lucky you'll regain at least some of your limited wits."

Merlin closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. "Alright. Please, please don't hate me…Ic—"

"Quiet!" Arthur snapped. Both men stared at the door for a moment, hearing the faint sound of footsteps on the other side.

"I'm too late. They're coming back," Merlin said in a hoarse croak.

"No." Arthur snarled, grabbing a handful of Merlin's chains, "They're not taking you again."

"Arthur, what're you—" He cut himself off with a hiss as Arthur pulled him up and hauled him to the opposite wall. Arthur winced at the sound of his friend's pain, but this had to be done.

"Sorry." He pushed Merlin up against the wall, then turned to face the door, positioning himself in front of Merlin with his arms spread protectively.

"An apology? You're in rare form today, sire. Exactly what do you think you're doing?"

"Protecting you, idiot."

"I don't think hiding behind you's going to work…Your waist's not that big."

Arthur turned his head back slightly. "Look, whatever sorcery's going on, it pins me to the wall in this spot. So, I'm going to pin you to it with me. They'll have to release me if they want to get to you."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea…"

"Just trust me."

The door opened, and Arthur felt the familiar force immediately propel him backwards. He heard Merlin grunt behind him as Arthur squashed him against the wall. Arthur tried to move, but as usual, he couldn't. Merlin's chains dug into his back.

Gwil himself entered this time, flanked by Trent and three guards. The alchemist did a double-take before finally spotting Merlin, sandwiched between Arthur and the wall.

"Oh, look who's decided to be clever. Feeling a bit tricky, do we?"

Arthur glared. "I don't know what you've done to him, but it stops now. Whatever you want, you're going to get from me, and you're going to leave him alone. Is that clear?"

"Arthur…" Merlin said quietly.

"Shut up, Merlin, I'm handling this," Arthur growled back.

Gwil cocked his head to the side, but Arthur did not back down or lower his gaze.

"I wonder what you'd be willing to trade for him," Gwil said lightly.

Arthur didn't hesitate. "I am willing to negotiate some sort of deal if you leave him alone and release him."

"Arthur!" Merlin hissed behind him, clearly horrified.

Gwil looked mildly surprised. "Really. Interesting. Ah, well, too bad for you, Pendragon. I'm playing for all or nothing." He gestured to the guards and Trent. "Take them both."

"No," Merlin whispered as Trent muttered something and Arthur felt the force release him. "No, no, nononono…"

Arthur threw the first guard to the ground and kicked a second in the stomach before hearing Merlin cry out. He whirled in time to see that Trent had circled around him in order to grab Merlin. Arthur's distraction gave the other three guards enough time to hit him hard, making lights flash in his vision, and take hold of his arms.

"Let go! Merlin? MERLIN!"

Trent was yanking Merlin along by his chains, which were for some inexplicable reason actually emitting a golden light. Merlin's jaw was clenched tight enough to make a tendon pop out of his neck; his eyes were scrunched shut and tears were forming at the corners.

They dragged both Arthur and Merlin into a smaller room filled with a thin haze of foul-smelling smoke. Arthur held his chin high, trying to show no fear whatsoever as the guards forced him into a chair and painfully tied his arms behind it. Across from him, Merlin too was tied to a chair. The servant gasped and opened his eyes, and the chains dulled.

The guards backed out silently as Gwil swept into the room, but Trent did not. The mercenary's eyes were gleaming in anticipation.

"Get out," Gwil said smoothly.

Trent's face twisted in fury. "You said—"

"I said I'd punish you. This is it. You'll get your revenge, but you don't get to do it yourself. Now get out."

Trent's spine jerked unnaturally straight as he obeyed. He glared murderously at Arthur as he left.

Arthur, however, was too busy processing Gwil's next words to care.

"Are you ready now, Merlin? Because I'm sure you can figure out what I'm going to do next."

The pain must have made Merlin more lucid, because he was shaking his head, although none of what he said made sense to Arthur. "You're bluffing. You can't kill him. You told me yourself, the contract won't work if you threaten me with his life."

"I said might. I'm running out of time for mights. Especially since I've realized something—there can't be a threat if he's already dead. Threatening implies I offer you a chance to save him. No, you're just going to watch him die. I have a feeling that will be enough to break you. Men with no motivation are a lot easier to work with."

Arthur's chest tightened. So he was going to die. "Killing me would be considered an act of war. Do you really want to go up against Camelot? Because I guarantee you, you will lose."

Gwil turned to face him with slight surprise, as if he'd forgotten Arthur could speak. His head tilted to the side for a moment, then he grinned savagely back at Merlin. "I think I'll send his queen his head. What do you think, Merlin?"

Merlin glared at Gwil with a venom that shocked Arthur. He'd never seen his manservant so…angry. "You can't hurt him. I won't let you."

Arthur gaped at his manservant. He'd never heard Merlin sound so deadly serious and knew that Merlin meant every word, although how Merlin of all people expected to do anything, Arthur had no idea.

But whatever chills Arthur felt at Merlin's pronouncement, Gwil seemed unimpressed. "Now who's bluffing? I think we both know you can't do a thing right now."

"I'll find a way." Merlin's eyes burned at Gwil; his breathing came in quick, heavy heaves. His whole body was trembling with rage; the chains around him kept flickering with glowing heat.

It was obvious to Arthur that something was behind the glares Gwil and Merlin were shooting at each other, but he hadn't the faintest clue what was going on. He was missing something—one last puzzle piece that would make everything fall into place. He tried to catch Merlin's eye, but it was almost like the servant didn't even register Arthur was there. All of his attention seemed completely focused on Gwil.

Gwil's lip curled into a sneer as he turned to Arthur. "Enough of this." He drew out a sword. His other hand grabbed a fistful of Arthur's hair and yanked his head back.

Arthur gritted his teeth as Gwil held the sword inches from his neck. "Anything you'd like to say, Merlin? Last chance."

"No, it's yours. Leave. Him. Alone."

"Merlin…" Arthur croaked. He wanted to look his friend in the eye before he died, say some sort of farewell. But Merlin still refused to return his gaze, was still watching Gwil, and Arthur felt so…abandoned.

He had never expected Merlin to let him die alone.

"You can't very well serve a dead king now, can you?" said Gwil.

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur watched as Gwil reached the sword back, and braced himself for death.

Then Merlin's eyes finally met Arthur's, and Arthur saw not helplessness, not fear, but determination and…shame?

Gwil swung.

"Scildan!" Merlin screamed, and Arthur gaped as his friend's eyes turned gold—

The sword stopped an inch from the king's neck as if meeting a solid wall.

Gwil's face screwed up in fury. "No!" He swung again and again, and Arthur flinched as the sword stopped an inch away from his neck, his head, his chest.

And then he realized…"Merlin!"

After the first strike, Merlin's golden eyes rolled into the back of his head; with every further stroke of the sword, the servant's whole body jerked as if it had been physically struck. Blood started to trickle from his nose. The chains around his arms and wrists glowed sizzling hot, branding his skin as Gwil swung fruitlessly at Arthur's head again and again and again…

"TRENT!" Gwil yelled as he continued to hack, "GET BACK IN HERE AND KILL HIM!"

Trent burst through the door, needing no further instruction. He shoved Gwil aside and pointed his palm at Arthur's chest. "Akwele!"

A bright red flash exploded with a crack, and Trent was slammed back into the wall, where he crumpled and didn't move.

Gwil bellowed, face contorted with fury as he prepared to swing the sword at Arthur's head again.

"Stop it!" Arthur begged. "Stop it, you're killing him! MERLIN!"

Gwil whirled to see Merlin slumped in his chair, painfully still and smoking slightly. Gwil cursed and flung the sword away, rushing over to Merlin's side. He pressed two fingers to Merlin's neck and cursed again.

A guard poked his head in and Gwil gestured wildly to Arthur.

"Just—just get him out of here!"

Arthur couldn't tear his eyes away from Merlin as the guards cut the ropes and yanked him to his feet and out the door. Merlin was pale and unmoving and bleeding and lifeless…

And magic.

A/N: You think I'm evil now? Wait until next chapter...*Morgana-like insane laughter*

I've heard reviews prevent nightmares. Perhaps if Morgana had left more reviews, the series might have turned out differently...