A/N: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.
…Hi. Before you get out the torches and pitchforks (which are totally justified), let me explain.
I'm sorry. For a while I've had a mixture of personal problems and a serious case of writer's block. I went on a trip and uploaded what I had written of chapters 11 onto my iPad so I could write it in the car. But every time I even thought about writing I just felt no energy or enthusiasm for it. And then I got angry with myself because I said that I wouldn't be one of those authors who just abandons their stories. And you guys are awesome. Seriously. You kept reminding me this was here, whether it was through reviews or just by continuing to follow this story and add it to your favourites. I owe it to all of you, all over the world, to keep going with this.
I'm not sure when the next update will be, but I'm going to make a real effort to write, because I know if I push myself I can do it.
"Shut it!" Drin squeaked, his voice a few octaves higher than a man in his position would've liked it to be.
"You do realise you're not going to be king, right?" Merlin cocked his head and smirked a sad half-smile at Drin. He knew what Cenred was like, and that the man had no intention of sharing power. Drin was simply a means to an end, he'd be discarded once he'd proved his usefulness, and Merlin couldn't understand how the warlord was so blind to the fact.
"You know nothing of my affairs, boy." Drin scoffed confidently, though his voice hitched slightly through his bravado. "Do you know what? I'm sick of all this. You will submit to me, and I see no other way to make you stupid sorcerer see reason. Guard!" He screeched, motioning to the heavy that had been shadowing him. "Bring King Arthur over here." He couldn't have looked more smug, his face beaming with schadenfreude, as the large, gruff man strode over to the king and grasped the struggling figure with one meaty hand.
"Get your hands off me!" Arthur commanded to deaf ears, battling the manhandling.
"Back off!" Merlin growled. He had to reach his magic before Drin could do anything, he just needed a few more minutes. The ever familiar tingle in his fingers was ever so slowly coming back to him, and it felt good. Too long he'd been without his magic, he needed it like he needed air, the world felt close and empty minus the energy that inhabited him.
"One last chance Merlin, you join me or I kill the king." His words flew loudly from his repulsive grin and echoed throughout the room. The sound of resistance reverberated against his words, those sworn to protecting Arthur and the one who'd pledged his servitude until his demise were desperate to make good on their promises.
"You bastard, you're going to kill the king even if I join you!" Anger. Anger was good, anger and protectiveness were even better. A powerful combination to fuel the ardent fervour Merlin needed right now.
Nearly. Come on!
"True." Drin gave him a unabashed nod accompanied with an unapologetic sneer.
He saw no reason to lie to his prisoners, there was clearly no room for the Pendragon dynasty once he would become King. The boy was a servant, he knew nothing of treaties and politics, and Cenred had all but guaranteed his regency. However much he wanted to deny it though, the young warlock had managed to plant a seed of doubt in his mind. The next time he met with the young king he would be able to set his mind at ease. Though when he'd said 'guaranteed' he really meant 'inferred', but Drin was sure the king would not break his… inference.
"I am warning you, Arthur is not dying today!" Merlin meant that with every fibre of his being. He would not allow his king to die at the hands of this monster.
Closer, just a bit closer.
It was overtaking him, and he knew pushing his magic this hard would not be good in the long run, but rational thought was out of his head at the moment.
"You're going to save him? By what, rattling your chains at me? You're nothing without your magic Merlin. Nothing." Drin spat, a cruel chuckle emerging from his lips.
The sting of the insult only spurred Merlin on more, who was desperately clawing for his magic. Déjà vu swept over him at the sight of the guard raising his sword, readying to part Arthur's head from his body.
Arthur closed his eyes. This was it. This was really it. He was going to die. His reign would end tragically short. Camelot would be left defenceless, his people unguided. He still hadn't made his peace with Merlin or his magic. They'd shared a moment earlier, in an unusual bubble of calm, and it was like Arthur had seen Merlin for the first time in days. He'd seen the challenging boy with the big ears. He'd seen the outspoken insolent manservant. He'd seen his friend.
He waited for the blow. He thought of his kingdom. Of Gwen. Of his knights. Of Merlin. None came.
"Oi, loony! I'm a warlock, not a sorcerer." Merlin was laughing. Why in god's name was he laughing?
"And I'm supposed to care because…?" Drin shot him an unimpressed look.
Arthur peaked an eye open, only to see there was something off about Merlin. He looked relieved. Arthur's stomach dropped, had all his words been lies? Did he really relish in seeing the king about to perish?
But then it occurred to him, Merlin was the distraction. Just like every other time they'd got themselves into trouble, his daft servant was trying to take the brunt of it, and Arthur couldn't help but feel both gratitude and guilt.
The boy's chuckles were quiet at first, but they bubbled up into deeper, genuine laughter, verging on hysterical.
"You really didn't count on one thing." Merlin grinned through his laughter, sending Drin's eye into a frantic seizure.
"Oh my god, he's genuinely gone mad." Gwaine groaned in consternation for his friend, as images of him fighting to keep Merlin out of the madhouse once they returned to Camelot flashed across his vision.
"Actually there were many things you didn't count on, but let's stick to one. Just to keep it easier for that simple brain in there. Friendship. You thought that I'd be so afraid of who I am being revealed to everyone that I'd roll over and swear my allegiance to you. You thought that you could drive a wedge between me and the men I consider my brothers. And you underestimated me Drin. I am no sorcerer. I am a warlock. My name is Merlin and I was born with magic. I'm not mad Gwaine, I am magic."
With one last effort he felt himself mentally grab hold of the golden power inside him, and snap his manacles clean off.
Jeez, cliffhanger or what?
N.b: I finished this at 2:40 in the morning on an iPad, it is proofread, but if there's a glaringly obvious mistake let me know and I'll fix it.