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.
Replies to anonymous reviews:
Guest- You bring up a very good point. I value this discussion, but could we please continue it via PM?
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Chapter Five: Investigation
Merlin landed in the training yard of Camelot with his foot on a shield. "Hey, come on, that's enough," he said cheerily. Why on earth was he feeling so untroubled? He was being tortured by a brutal, sadistic creep, not enjoying a morning stroll! Contradictions aside, he was outside, and he did feel light-hearted.
Before him, surrounded by young noblemen in leather practice clothes and light armour, stood a youth a few years older than himself. His dark blond hair and blue eyes stood out in contrast with the quilted scarlet tunic, gorget, and pauldron on his right shoulder. His face displayed an arrogant and slightly incredulous look. "What?"
"You've had your fun, my friend." The shield, the object of the youth's 'fun,' had several throwing knives sticking out of it. The manservant who had carried the shield was backing slowly away from the two of them.
"Do I know you?" the blond boy asked the raven-haired boy.
"I'm Merlin," Merlin said, holding a hand out.
The other boy ignored the offered hand. "So I don't know you."
Merlin got the feeling that he was in very big trouble. "No," he admitted.
"Yet you called me 'friend'."
"That was my mistake."
"Yes, I think so," the arrogant boy affirmed smugly.
Merlin would not be so easily cowed. "Yeah, I'd never have a friend who could be such an ass." He heard, with mixed satisfaction and worry, the astounded laughter startled from the crowd of onlookers.
My, my, weren't you the mouthy peasant, a silvery voice remarked, though not aloud. He whirled around to face Renault, but instead he found himself in a spinning vortex of colours and sounds. Underlying it all was an alien presence–a sick, wicked delight that he knew was not his own.
"Why would someone use magic like that?" That voice was his own, younger and more innocent than he had felt in a long time.
"Magic corrupts," Gaius's voice answered. "People use it for their own ends."
"But not all magic is bad. I know it isn't."
"It's neither good nor bad," Gaius amended his previous statement. "It's how you use it."
Merlin grappled for control of the situation, tried to drive Renault out of his mind. But he felt himself being forced to his knees. Chains wrapped themselves around him, thin and incredibly strong. A slim figure in chain mail stood over him. Her hair was a light gold colour, and her sharp eyes dark. Those eyes still haunted his nightmares.
"You intrigue me, Merlin," Morgause began. "Why does a lowly servant continue to risk everything for Arthur and for Camelot?" He glanced around, not willing to meet her eyes. "You know the answer, but you're not telling me. Why?" She began to pace as he trembled. Yes, he was afraid of her, and with good reason. He knew what she was capable of. "Oh, come on. Time and again, you put your life on the line." She crouched down next to him. "There must be a reason."
"I believe in a fair and just land," Merlin managed to say without a tremor in his voice.
"And you think Arthur will give you that."
He did not meet her eyes, lest he betray that there was more. "I know it."
Morgause seemed to accept that, for now. "And then what? You think you'll be recognised, Merlin? Is that it?" She was scornful now. "All this so, one day, you can be a serving boy to the king?" He said nothing, not knowing a logical comeback for that.
It was no good; his silence gave him away. "No," she realised. "There's something more. Something you're not telling me, isn't there?"
He finally met her eyes. "I told you," he insisted. Was it his imagination, or were her eyes growing even darker, her hair shorter and greyer?
"Well, you can take your secret to your grave." Merlin refused to look away, looking up at the high priestess in defiance. "Weorc untoworpenlic," she said, her eyes briefly glowing. The chains around him, already tight, constricted painfully.
Such loyalty, Renault's voice sounded in his head. Morgause finished her transformation into the monster who was invading his mind. No wonder Arthur values you so.
Merlin felt revulsion rise up in him like vomit. Not at Arthur, but at Renault. The loathing seemed to melt the chains away. They dissolved like ice in high summer as he stood to face Renault, but it was not Renault anymore. It was Agravaine.
"Where's Arthur?" the king's uncle demanded. There was no false kindness in his voice or face now; he meant business, and that business was killing his own nephew. A band of Southron mercenaries stood at his back.
"Be careful," Merlin warned. Whether they were careful or not, he had already made up his mind on what needed to happen.
"What are you talking about?" Agravaine glanced around like he expected a horde of fighters to pop out of the walls. "Where's Arthur?" he repeated. Merlin stayed silent. "Tell me. Now. Or I'll have to kill you," the would-be regicide cautioned.
Part of Merlin wished that there was another way to solve this, but the rest of him knew he was in too deep to back out now. "I don't think so," he said simply. No bravado or boasting, only the quiet certitude that what was about to happen had to happen if he was to protect Arthur.
Agravaine stared in shock for a second before stepping forward to carry out his threat. For a moment, his visage flickered. Eyes that were not his blazed with anticipation of what Merlin would do.
Merlin put this observation out of his mind. One silent bolt of magic, and the entire group standing before him was flung backward. As they flew, part of him cried in horror at what he had done. The part of him that remembered days when his only worries were cleaning Arthur's armour, acting as a practise dummy on the training field, and secretly slaying the occasional monster. In those days, he never had to massacre with such ruthlessness, never had to kill others simply because they followed the wrong man.
They were dead before they landed, or so he thought. As he stepped forward to find Arthur and the others, Agravaine awoke and fought to catch his breath. He looked over at the manservant in astonishment as he stumbled to his feet. Merlin waited.
"You have magic!" Agravaine managed to gasp.
"I was born with it," Merlin stated.
Agravaine's smile dropped as he realised the gravity of that declaration. According to Morgana, only one person had ever been born with that much raw power. The one who was her destiny and her doom. "So it's you. You're Emrys."
"That is what the druids call me."
"And you've been at court, all this time," the older man said. He kept walking closer to Merlin. The smile on his face was one of ease and familiarity. "At Arthur's side. How you've managed to deceive him…I am impressed." For a second time, Agravaine's face slipped into something akin to Renault's face. Perhaps we're more alike than you think.
Merlin winced. Those last words had not been spoken by Agravaine, but hissed in his very mind in Renault's true voice.
Renault knew what was coming next. He had learned it by plundering Merlin's memory. Merlin knew his thoughts as well. Ordinarily, he relished in watching memories flow as they had occurred in the past, not skipping anything. But, this once, the monster could not resist moving past the next few seconds to the finale.
Agravaine drew a hidden blade and came at Merlin. Instinctively, he put both hands out and pushed back. Agravaine flew several feet. He landed with a horrible crunch, his wide eyes never closing.
For a few moments, there was no sound, no movement, no thought on either Merlin's or Renault's part. Then, horror of horrors, Agravaine stood up. His face twisted into a vicious, exhilarated leer. "Oh, yes," he rumbled. "You have much to give."
They were back in Renault's study. Renault still gripped Merlin's right wrist. The cut in his palm continued bleeding into the bowl. He was surprised to discover that his face was wet with tear tracks.
Renault let go of his wrist, only to take his other one. Merlin was too dazed to do anything. Savouring every moment, Renault slowly drew the bloodied blade across his left palm. Merlin felt his mind explode in a mass of emotions, not memories as it had before.
The horror of seeing a man's head roll free from his shoulders. The fear of knowing that his own head might be next if he was caught practising magic.
The self-hatred as he held his one-time friend while she was dying of the poison he had given her. Knowing that she had to die if Arthur and Camelot were to live did nothing to stay the regret.
The constant fear that all would miscarry, that some unknown would come and destroy everything that he and Arthur had built. Everything that Merlin had sworn to protect with all of his heart, soul, mind, and strength.
And, deep down, something else grew. Something he either could not name or did not want to name. But Renault sought it out, dragging it up to the light. Merlin fought him as best as he could. Renault already knew everything else. Could he not allow one corner to go untouched, one scrap of privacy to remain?
No. The monster enjoyed the challenge of stealing this one more secret.
One single image: a darkened mirror. Merlin shrank back from the reflection. It was not a human, but merely the shell of one. Merciless, it never wavered in its single-minded pursuit of an impossible dream. It would strike down anyone who stood in the way. And, even if that dream was somehow made real, this thing he saw would have no humanity left to enjoy it.
He did not know when it ended. He was dimly aware of cloths being wrapped around his palms. When he sat back down, the chains cocooned him in their solid, wonderfully real grasp.
Merlin came out of his stupor when he heard other chains rattling. Alder was flailing, desperately trying to escape. He put up such a fight that Renault had to pin him down to the desk to get at his hand. He drew another knife and sliced the boy's palm.
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Check back on 18 September for Chapter Six.