Title: More Than It Seems
Author: Minch
Summary: Merlin, Arthur, and the knights are captured. However, their abductor is not interested in the King of Camelot or even Emrys. He only wants the stranger imprisoned with them. What is that stranger's secret, and what does their abductor so desperately want from him?
Rating: T, because I am not going to be nice to these guys in this fic.
Spoilers: Occurs in between Series Four and Series Five.
Disclaimer: I hold absolutely no claim to ownership of Merlin. It belongs to BBC and Shine, Ltd. I'm just someone with a boundless imagination who happens to love the show.
Author's note: I'm borrowing jargon from Tamora Pierce's books. (Don't judge; they're good books.) I'll put a list of the spells I used at the beginning of the last chapter.
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Chapter Two: Introductions
The first thing that Merlin was aware of was that it stank. An awful stench of mold and mildew suffused the air to the point that he could hardly breathe.
He opened his eyes. He lay on a floor covered with rushes. Not freshly mowed hay, but hay that had been lying on the floor for who-knew-how-long and tromped on by wet, muddy boots. He looked around at the dungeon, for dungeon it was. A chain ran from the shackles on his legs to a ring set in the wall. His vision cleared slowly and he could see more of the small room.
Thick stone walls surrounded him on all sides. The only breaks in it were a small window near the ceiling and a heavy wooden door with its own small window. Daylight streamed in from the window, though the metal bars set in the frame considerably diminished the light.
A slight rustle made him look in the corner opposite him. In the corner lay what looked like a bundle of dirty rags. It must have been a person. A chain ran from the wall to the rags, a chain like the one attached to Merlin.
His attention was diverted from this person by a low moan. It seemed to come from the wall next to him. He examined the wall and found a small gap, little more than a crack, in the wall. "Hullo?" he whispered through it. "Who's that?"
"Merlin?" He sighed in relief: it was Arthur. "Where are we? What happened?"
"Can't answer either of those questions right now."
"That sorcerer in the forest. Did he do this?"
"Could have," Merlin replied. "Where are the others?"
"Gwaine and Leon are here with me," Arthur paused a moment. "Leon can hear Elyan and Percival in the next cell."
That was when two things occurred to Merlin. One, he wore only a roughly spun shirt and poorly-made trousers. His own shirt, jacket, trousers, boots, and neckerchief were missing. And two, his cellmate could not be any of the knights. "There's someone else in my cell," he whispered to Arthur. "Let me see if he's awake." As he shifted over the other side of the dungeon, he could make out the face of the stranger.
He was young, more a boy than a man. His hair, dark brown in colour, was cut just above his ears. His nose had been broken and healed crookedly. His clothes were like Merlin's, a coarse shirt and breeches only. With a sharp intake of breath, the boy's eyes opened and focused on the manservant. His eyes were the brightest shade of green Merlin had ever seen in a person.
"Who are y–" the boy started to shout before a black band that had been lying next to him flew up and tied itself around his mouth. The boy scrabbled at it, but could not dislodge it. An identical band flew around Merlin's head and gagged him. It covered his mouth and nose, leaving him unable to breath. Muffled shouts from the next cell told him that the others were in the same predicament.
"Now, now, now," a silky voice chided. "There's no need to shout."
Both Merlin and the boy looked toward the door, forgetting about the gags. The voice that came from outside the door was refined and composed, captivating their attention. All the same, the calmness sent a shiver down Merlin's spine.
"Now that I have your attention, I suppose we should start introductions. I am Renault, lord of these lands. You are trespassers and by law, all you possess is now my property. I have already taken your horses, swords, clothes, and other belongings." There was a smile in his words, and it was not a pleasant smile at all. "They will be put to far better use than whatever you required of them before, I can assure you. Any questions?"
No one was able to answer, but Renault was silent for a few moments anyway.
"Furthermore, you all have a few more things that belongs to me. I will be seeing you, one at a time, to investigate." The gag fell away from Merlin's mouth. He inhaled, grateful for the air that had been denied to him. The boy next to him gasped as well.
"King Lot will come looking for us," he heard Arthur rasp through the crack in the wall.
He heard the door to Arthur's, Leon's, and Gwaine's cell open sullenly. "Oh, will he? Marcus, come here," Renault called to someone outside the door. "Recognise him?" No one answered, so Renault continued. "I sent him, not that idiot Lot! Lot doesn't even know that you were travelling Huntaburgh. And no one in Camelot knows you didn't make it, either. They will send messengers asking for you, Lot will honestly say that he doesn't know where you are, tensions will run high, la-di-dah-di-dah. By that time, it won't matter if Camelot and Essetir go to war with one another. They will have much bigger problems to deal with.
"Marcus, you may go now," Renault ordered. "On second thought, your services are no longer required."
Merlin heard a sound like a rope unwinding, followed by the sounds of someone being strangled. The choking was cut off by a sickening crack.
"My assistant, Rowena, will come to collect you shortly," Renault said indifferently. The door creaked shut, and Merlin heard his footsteps padding away. He was dragging something heavy.
No one in Arthur's cell spoke. Fearing the worst, Merlin softly called, "Arthur? What happened?" Part of him did not really want to know.
"It was the messenger who came to Camelot," Arthur said tightly. "That–that monster summoned a rope out of thin air and strangled him. His neck broke."
The boy next to Merlin had been quiet after he caught his breath. Now, as he put a hand on the wall to pull himself up, he hissed in pain and dropped back down to the floor, cradling his right arm.
"Here, let me." Merlin gently placed a hand on the boy's arm. He bit his lip, and jerked away when Merlin found the break. "I know it hurts, but I need to set it for it to heal properly."
"Merlin?" Arthur called.
"There's a boy in here with me. His arm is broken."
"And I'll thank yeh to leave me be!" He pulled away from Merlin's touch and staggered to his feet. He was lanky like the manservant, but shorter. Merlin guessed him to be 18 or so.
"What's going on?" If the circumstances were different, Merlin would have heard the worry in Arthur's voice. For now, his main concern was that he recognised the boy's voice.
"It's the sorcerer from the forest," he told Arthur.
"The one who attacked us?!"
"I asked yeh to put my bag back, and I put out the fire," the boy shot back. "I'd hardly call that an attack."
"You used magic," Arthur contended. "In Camelot–"
"Which is nowhere near here, and yeh're in no position to execute me, seein' as yeh're in one dungeon and I'm in the other. Whether yeh be the King o' Camelot or not," the boy said, recalling their earlier confrontation, "we're in the same boat. I'm a prisoner, yeh're a prisoner, and this Renault isn't going to let us out any time soon. If anything, I'm more likely to die here than in Camelot. Not that I want to die," he added, almost as an afterthought.
That shut Arthur up for the moment. Merlin got to his feet. "Look, I'm not going to hurt you," he told the boy. "I'm a physician. I can help with your arm."
"Yeh're with him. The King o' Camelot."
"Yes," Merlin acknowledged.
"And yeh know I did the magic out there." The boy spoke to him as if to a young child.
"Yes."
"And yeh still want t' help."
"As best as I can," Merlin said patiently.
"Alright." The boy sat back down carefully and extended his arm. "But try anythin' funny and I'll singe yer eyebrows."
Tentatively Merlin knelt and began to treat him. "This will hurt," he warned him, not wanting to startle the boy into making good on his threat.
"I'm tough." And he was. He squirmed a little and winced, but did not yell as Merlin set the broken bone so that it would heal straight. Merlin, having no other choice, tore two strips of cloth from the hem of his shirt. He bound the boy's arm to his chest so that it would not move and disturb the broken bone.
"Now, would you tell me what your name is?" Merlin asked as he tied a final knot.
"Alder," the boy answered shortly. "And yours?"
"Merlin."
"Well, good t' meet you, Merlin." Alder tried to shake hands with his right hand, thought better of it, and shook with his left.
Introductions did not progress past that. The door of the next-door cell creaked open. A woman's voice commanded, "Unclyse." A chain rattled and fell to the floor. "Standan in fot," she incanted. The chain dragged across the floor.
"What are you doing?!" Gwaine shouted.
"Following Lord Renault's orders," she answered as the door closed. Her footsteps and the rattle of the dragging chain faded down the corridor.
Merlin crawled over to the wall and called, "What happened?"
"She took Arthur."
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I really should update when I say I'm going to. Anyway, check back the day after tomorrow at 15:00 UTC for Chapter Three.