Fanfic - This Dark Road Will Lead Us Where We Want to Be (2/11)
Title: This Dark Road Will Lead Us Where We Want to Be
Author: Mel (accordingtomel)
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers/Warnings: Everything up to and including 2x13
Word Count: 90,521
Disclaimer: Sadly, they are not mine and I do not own them, much as I might like to.
Art Link: Right here. But please note: THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR THE FIC IN THE ART!
Author's Note: See part one.
Part One
The trip back to his chambers was one of the longest Arthur had ever walked in his lifetime. Unconsciously, he found himself quickening his pace in an attempt to reach his rooms faster, but he forced his muscles to slow, in spite of the tense chokehold that wracked his entire body, and did his best to affect a casual stroll. Arthur knew without fully knowing that he would be watched with extreme scrutiny; Uther currently believed Arthur to be in agreement with the laws of Camelot, but he was also more than aware of how attached Arthur had grown to Merlin over the years, much to Arthur's chagrin. Any suspicious activity from Arthur would lead to immediate questioning; this he knew and desperately needed to avoid. So, with laborious determination, Arthur strode through the castle, avoiding eye contact and silently begging the gods to spare him from being accosted along the way.
By some unbelievable miracle, Arthur was able to successfully circumvent any unwanted conversations. But it wasn't until Arthur was safely behind his chamber doors -- heard the latch of the lock click shut -- that he was able to breathe a sigh of relief. Any comfort he may have felt at making it back to his chambers unseen did not last, however.
Time was of the essence, and if Arthur was going to come up with a solution as to how to see Merlin through this mess without ending up on the executioner's block, he needed to work quickly and efficiently.
He took a seat at the far end of the table in his chambers, placing the large book on top of the wooden surface. The magical tome was physical evidence of the secret that Merlin had held onto for so long, and now that Arthur possessed both, he felt an odd sense of protectiveness well up within him. Merlin had, inexplicably, managed to keep this book safe for the past two years, shut away from the eyes of a society that would not only ostracise, but outright kill him for even having it in his possession. The details were still hazy -- Arthur didn't know when Merlin first realised he could do magic, if he'd used magic since arriving in Camelot, why he'd never told Arthur his secret -- but the one fact with which he seemed to hold a great deal of confidence in was that Merlin most certainly was not his enemy. Protecting the magic book from his father, and even more importantly, using the same magic to help ensure Merlin's survival felt right to Arthur.
He fingered the worn leather cover before opening the tome to the first page. Words -- many of which he could not read or understand -- and pictures littered the various pages as he thumbed through them, the only recognisable English words seemingly the names of the spells.
Arthur had no idea what he was searching for as he scrutinised each page, eyes quickly scanning the text and pictures for something that appeared as though it might be helpful. Merlin had no doubt used magic numerous times in the past to protect Arthur; surely there was some spell in this book that would be able to protect him in return.
Several minutes passed as Arthur flipped through the book, words jumbling together, before he decided that he couldn't afford to do this on his own.
Standing, Arthur closed the tome and made his way towards the bed, book tucked safely under his arm. Bending down, Arthur lifted up the end of his mattress with one hand and shoved the book into place with the other. Even though the book itself was sizeable, its presence under the mattress was surprisingly undetectable. It wasn't the most brilliant of hiding places, but for the moment it would suffice.
Arthur ran a hand through his hair, a mildly exasperated sigh slipping past his lips unbidden, before he turned on his heel and made his way to the door in a few long strides.
Unbolting the lock, Arthur pulled open the door and poked a cautious head out into the corridor. It would be too much of a risk to head back to Gaius, he knew, but there was no reason why the physician couldn't come to him instead.
"Hey, you," Arthur hailed the first passing servant, "I need you to go and fetch Gaius. I have a terrible headache and require something for it immediately."
The servant's eyes flickered up to Arthur's face before he dipped his head reverently. "Right away, sire," he muttered, and trotted obediently off down the hallway.
Time seemed to drag as Arthur waited for Gaius. He paced the length of his room for several minutes, restless energy threatening to burst through, every few seconds casting his gaze in the direction of the door. Thoughts kept springing forth into his mind, demanding attention, but he knew he couldn’t afford to dwell on them at the moment, continuing to pace instead. When he grew tired of the pacing, Arthur decided to tidy his chambers, which were, surprisingly, not as unkempt as he would usually expect. He picked up a brown jacket, hung it in the closet, folded a blanket lying half on the bed and half on the floor, moved a few pieces of armour into the corner of the room. Arthur ran a finger across the top of the fireplace, decidedly impressed when the finger emerged dust-free. Merlin really was a mystery sometimes, with how he could be so generally incompetent most of the time, but then actually do something right here and there. No one else would put up with him, that was for sure, but Arthur couldn’t imagine things being any different to how they were right now. Shaking his head, Arthur tried to clear his mind of thoughts of Merlin; thoughts that had been conjured up by dust, of all the pointless things in the world. It said something about Arthur, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that was just yet.
He was in the process of shining his sword -- despite the fact that it had been sharpened and shined earlier that day -- when a soft knock sounded at the door, and he nearly dropped the weapon at the noise.
"Enter," he said, tensing involuntarily as the door creaked open.
Arthur released an audible sigh upon sighting Gaius, tossing the sword on top of his bed as he quickly ushered him into the room, closing and locking the door behind them.
"I assume you didn't want to see me because of a headache, sire," Gaius began, setting a vial down at the end of the table and shooting Arthur a pointed look, "but I brought something for you just in case I was stopped along the way."
Arthur nodded gratefully, eyeing the lock just past Gaius' left shoulder to ensure it was, indeed, still secured. "I need your help," he said, retrieving the book from its temporary hiding spot.
"What, exactly, do you think you can do with Merlin's magic book?" Gaius asked, stepping to stand beside Arthur as he placed the tome on top of the table and opened it to the first page. Arthur took a seat in front of the book; Gaius remained hovering over his shoulder.
"Surely there must be something in here that can help him," Arthur replied. They began to flip carefully through the pages.
"So you’ve said. Do you mean some spell that could get him out of Camelot?"
"Yes. No. Well, maybe." Arthur shook his head, frowning slightly as fingers glided over the worn pages. He tilted his head to the side, casting a longsuffering glance in Gaius' direction. "I don't know, exactly. I just know that my father won't let Merlin live, no matter how much I protest. And I'm quite certain that he will have someone keeping a close eye on me at all times, in order to ensure that Merlin doesn't suddenly disappear without explanation."
A flash of a memory flittered through his mind of a time not so long ago, when Arthur had disobeyed his father and sent Merlin safely out of the city before he could be arrested. How he wished that he'd been able to do something more than merely watch earlier today, as Merlin was hauled away to the dungeons. No matter what it took, Arthur would not see Merlin die; could not.
Gaius nodded solemnly before flipping another page. "What are you planning to do, once you find something?"
Arthur bit his lip. He hadn't quite worked out the details yet, but he had a vague idea. "Bring the spell down to Merlin myself. No one will search me. I'll give it to him, and he can do his magic." A beat. "Literally."
"Merlin won't leave Camelot," Gaius said after a pause, tone confident and assured, as if there was no room for refuting what he believed to be an undeniable fact.
"I can convince him," Arthur declared with a confidence that belied the uncertainty he felt in his gut. "Merlin's not going to die. Not this young, and not like this."
Gaius placed a gentle hand on Arthur's shoulder, squeezing lightly, as if trying to infuse some comfort or reassurance into him. Arthur shoved the emotions that were threatening to push forth back down, and forced his mind to concentrate solely on the task at hand.
They came across several potential spells -- one that made a person invisible for a short period of time (but it wouldn't last long enough to get Merlin out of Camelot); one that caused everyone within radius to forget the last twelve hours (but Gaius declared it too risky an endeavour); and one teleportation spell that apparently would require a great deal of practice to master effectively (but Merlin didn't have that kind of time) -- but nothing that would actually be effective in protecting him from his fate. They still had almost half of the book to search through, but Arthur was starting to get discouraged. Surely there had to be something useful among the hundreds of spells in the tome.
Numerous minutes and many pages later, they were still no closer to finding a solution. Arthur felt his frustration building, felt like he wanted to punch something. The fates were cruel and heartless, and whatever gods were out there, uncaring and determined to make Arthur’s life a living hell. There were no other real possibilities, as far as he was concerned. He was about to turn another page when something jumped out to him suddenly, though he couldn't identify what, exactly, triggered the reaction.
"What's this?" Arthur asked, pointing to the bottom half of the right page. The picture accompanying the spell showed the profiles of two generic people, standing across from one another, connected to each other via lines running between their chests, hands and eyes.
Gaius pulled the book so he could read the page clearly, resting both hands on the table and bending down to study the words more closely. "It's a soul binding spell," he answered after a moment, an unreadable expression on his face.
"A soul binding spell?" Arthur parroted, quirking both brows in question.
The physician nodded slowly. "Yes. Essentially it is the process of binding two souls together."
Arthur scratched absently at his chin, mind already churning as he watched Gaius carefully. "What does that mean, exactly?"
Gaius hesitated, a gaping silence filling the void for several moments, and Arthur felt a shift in the tension in the room, though he didn't understand why. "Basically, it means that when two people bind their souls together, they are connected in life and in death." He paused, deliberately, turned away from Arthur. "There are various types of bonds, but the general principles are all the same. The most significant one being that if one of the bonded dies, the other will die as well."
A spark ignited somewhere at the back of Arthur's mind. "So if person A gets injured, will person B also experience the same injury?"
Gaius considered this for a moment, eyes distant and focused on the far wall of Arthur's chambers before addressing him. "No, I don't think so. Not unless the wound is fatal. In which case, person B will feel the pain of person A without the actual physical manifestation of said injury. There is also frequently an emotional attachment of sorts, where the bonded feel elements of each other's emotions and moods, sometimes thoughts, though the details are somewhat hazy. Oftentimes there is also an element of detachment involved, in which the bond will react if the bonded are separated by too great of a physical distance."
Arthur considered this. "What happens if the bonded are separated?" he pressed.
Gaius eyed him disapprovingly, looking more than suspicious. “Sire, what’s this all about?”
But Arthur shook his head, unwilling to be deterred, even though it was quickly becoming obvious where he could be going with this. “Answer the question, Gaius.”
Gaius’ frown deepened. “Yes, sire. Though I would like it to be noted that I know very little about soul bonding spells.”
“That’s fine. Carry on anyway.”
An unimpressed glance was tossed in his direction before Gaius finally continued with his explanation. "Usually if the distance is small, both parties will feel intensely drawn to one another. This will dissipate upon reunion. If the distance is greater, any number of things can happen, ranging from decreased focus and concentration to physical weakness and physical or emotional pain. In very rare cases, death can even occur, if the bonded are separated for too great a distance for too long of a time, though that's usually only in the case of extremely strong bonds."
Arthur nodded, allowing the information to sink in, as the idea that'd been massaging his mind throughout the course of the conversation finally took shape. It was completely and utterly mad, but there wasn't a lot of time, and Arthur knew he had to do something. He was desperate, and thus far it was the best lead they had. Arthur was quite certain that when all was said and done, there would be a great number of ramifications that he'd have to contend with. But for now, those possibilities were inconsequential.
"Okay," he stated, pushing the chair back from the table and standing. "That's good enough for me."
Gaius folded his arms across his chest and stared at Arthur wearily. He looked decidedly unimpressed, but not the least bit surprised. “Sire, I’m sure you think this sounds like a good idea, but rest assured that it’s most certainly not.”
“Well, there aren’t exactly any other options jumping out at us here,” Arthur pointed out. “What would you have me do, then?”
Frown lines further creased Gaius’ face as his scowl deepened, shaking his head and appearing exhausted, both mentally and physically. “I don’t know,” he admitted with a certain air of reluctance, “but the soul bonding spell is both dangerous and foolish. Surely you can appreciate that, sire.”
And fine... Arthur was willing to concede that Gaius was correct in that it wasn’t exactly the most brilliant plan he’d ever devised. But the simple reality was that Merlin was going to die unless Arthur did something, and he’d rather take that risk than spend the rest of the night pondering other options until they ran out of time. In some ways it was complete madness, and in others, it was almost genius in its simplicity.
“I do, Gaius,” Arthur said, in his best attempt at a reassuring tone. “However, I also know that I can’t allow anything to happen to Merlin, and if this is our best option, then I’m not going to toss it away simply because it comes with personal risk.”
Gaius sighed, deep and with great frustration. "You could easily end up dead," he pointed out, just in case Arthur somehow missed that minor piece of information.
Arthur shrugged. "That's sort of the point, wouldn't you agree?" He felt like he'd completely lost his mind; and maybe he had. But he didn't see any other way, save for actually issuing a challenge to the throne and removing Uther from power, which he simply couldn’t imagine himself doing. "My father won't risk killing his son, the only heir to the throne. This is the only thing that makes sense."
"Don't be so sure about that, sire," Gaius jumped in again, reaching out as fingers curled tightly around Arthur's arm. "What do you think your father will do to you when he finds out you've used magic too? It's too dangerous to even think about attempting."
Arthur bit back a growl as a surge of anger coursed through his veins, fierce and unexpected, face flushing as a consequence. "And what am I supposed to do, Gaius? Just let Merlin die? You know as well as I do that if the situation were reversed, Merlin would be doing everything in his power to save me. The least I can do is the same in return. Yes, my father will be angry with me, but he'll understand, eventually."
"Merlin won't risk your life that way, Arthur. You know it as well as I do," Gaius added, voice taking on a softer tone.
"That's why I'm not going to tell him what he's doing."
Gaius' hand fell back to his side, and he tucked his chin against his chest, breathing out a sigh heavy-laden with uncertainty. "I respect your dedication to Merlin, my lord, but I fear you haven't thought this through clearly." He spoke with deliberation, as though picking his words with the utmost delicacy. "Even if you are able to successfully bind yourself to Merlin, and you both make it out alive, what then? Have you thought about what will happen to Merlin then? Or how this will impact you both in the future?"
But Arthur was done with the conversation; his mind was made up, no matter what Gaius threw at him. He was fully aware of the fact that this plan came with potentially volatile consequences; he would just have to deal with those when they arrived.
"I'm aware of the risks, Gaius. Just tell me what we need to do," he said, feeling the first surge of hope flood through his veins since this whole mess started.
After reviewing with Gaius at least four times what was required in order to properly execute the spell -- and enduring several more valiant, albeit failed attempts at derailing the plan -- Arthur felt confident that he would be able to pull this whole thing off. It was a rather mundane process, really, given the seriousness of the spell. The two individuals to be bonded needed to be in physical contact with one another when the spell was incanted, but beyond that, there wasn't much else they needed to do. While Arthur was unable to read the words, Gaius informed him that they were fairly straightforward. Seeing as how there was no safe way for Arthur to transport the magic book down to the dungeons without being caught -- and given Merlin's radical resistance to following orders of any kind, especially when it meant doing something to protect himself, or something that could possibly endanger another individual -- other measures needed to be taken. Arthur meticulously copied the words from the tome to a scroll while Gaius provided feedback. He wrote the entire thing out several times before he was satisfied with both penmanship and accuracy. Then he added a couple of extra sentences, nothing magic related, in order to increase the appearance of legitimacy for the story he'd already formulated in his mind.
Arthur deliberately opted to stick around his chambers after seeing Gaius off, much as his whole being itched to race down to the dungeons immediately. But Arthur knew that he needed to wait; if he rushed things, the whole plan could fall apart at his fingertips.
Once he felt sure that a reasonable amount of time had passed from the moment Gaius left, Arthur grabbed the folded scrap of paper and tucked it securely at the bottom of his right boot. With a heavy heart, Arthur pulled open his chamber doors and began the familiar trek towards the dungeon. An element of tension hung in the air, its aura so palpable that it seemed as though it could literally be sliced with a dagger. Arthur particularly felt it swell when passing fellow knights and servants in the halls. It was no secret that Merlin was, all around, a deplorable servant as far as practical skills went. He was clumsy and slow and had a particular penchant for egregious errors. It was also no secret that even those who spent a great deal of time within the castle walls wondered why it was that Arthur kept him around for so long. But those who knew him well saw his loyalty, his compassion, his helpful nature... and it wasn’t so hard to understand that maybe Arthur needed something more than merely a decent manservant.
Candlelight flickered softly from the sconces hanging on the wall, casting ominous shadows down every hall. The evening bustle within the castle walls was coming to a close as servants finished their tasks and headed home for the night, making the trip less eventful, in spite of the evening's earlier excitement. Arthur could hear hushed conversations as he neared the entrance and steeled himself for what he was about to do, rounding the final corner and coming face to face with the slew of knights that were apparently needed to guard the sorcerer.
"I'm here to see Merlin," Arthur announced, though recognised it was fully unnecessary, as every single guard in the room knew precisely why it was that he stood before them.
A couple of the guards cast nervous glances at one another, another coughed awkwardly, but no one moved to give him pass.
"Let me through," Arthur said, this time with more force and less patience.
Most of the guards -- several of them his knights, no less -- continued shooting each other hesitant looks as Arthur's patience began to grow thin. He was about to shove past them when finally Leon stepped forward, eyes meeting his before dropping respectfully, fiddling anxiously with the cuff of his sleeve.
"Sire, I'm afraid you don't have clearance to see the prisoner," Leon informed him, shrinking back into himself as though he feared some sort of retaliation from Arthur.
At that, he nearly exploded on the spot. What did they mean, he didn't have clearance? He was the bloody prince of Camelot; he could see whoever the hell he wanted to see, whenever he damn well pleased. But in the regal manner in which he was raised, Arthur forced his anger in check, blowing a breath out through his nose, before responding. "What do you mean I don't have clearance? On whose orders?" Arthur demanded, even though he already had an idea, voice level but with a distinct coldness.
Leon swallowed visibly, reaching up to run a hand awkwardly through his hair. "On the order of the king, sire." Leon shot him a pained look, something like sympathy glimmering briefly in his eyes. "I'm sorry, but we can't let you pass."
Arthur fisted his left hand tight against his thigh, feeling the bite of fingernails as they dug into his flesh, and he blinked the red-hot fury from his eyes. Arthur knew it was futile to try and argue with them, much as he didn't want to have to face his father about this issue. He briefly wondered what would happen if he tried to force his way through, mentally calculating his chances of success, but knew that it wouldn't buy him enough time with Merlin to get the spell completed.
"I understand," he said finally, then turned on his heel and marched back in the direction he'd come, a new side mission at the forefront of his thoughts.
*****
"Absolutely not." Uther's strong voice resounded and reverberated against the walls in the empty throne room.
"But Father," Arthur began, quelling the anger that was already bubbling to the surface of his consciousness. He'd barely had time to walk into the room and insist on being permitted to see Merlin before Uther was asserting his will on the situation.
"My decision is final, Arthur," Uther said, shooting his son a grim warning that marred his already dark features.
But Arthur was not willing to accept that as an answer. "No, it's not," he declared with all the conviction and assurance he could muster. "I have a right to confront my own servant. Especially after I find out he's been lying to me for the past two years." The hurt that radiated from his voice was entirely genuine, and he swallowed heavily.
Uther merely shook his head. "It's too dangerous."
Arthur actively bit back the scoff dancing on the tip of his tongue. "Merlin won't hurt me," he said, knowing without actual confirmation (except for the fact that he was willing to risk his life on the belief that he did know) that this was undeniably and inherently true.
"Don't be ridiculous Arthur," Uther nearly growled, shaking his head dismissively. "He's a sorcerer. A liar, a cheater and a murderer. They're all the same. You should know this by now."
"He exposed himself to save my life," Arthur protested, unable to prevent the incredulous tone that wormed its way into his voice. "If he wanted me dead, he could have let me die. Hell, he could have killed me thousands of times over again in the past two years and made it look like an accident, but he didn't. Merlin may be a liar, but he wouldn't hurt me, of that I'm sure."
Uther did not look convinced. "He has clearly bewitched you, then."
"No." Arthur took a deliberate step towards his father, pointing a finger accusingly in Uther's direction. "I am looking at the facts only. I see no logical reason why Merlin would save my life merely to kill me immediately after. There is no logic in that."
Uther scowled, lips twisting irritably. "Magic users have no logic to their thinking. They are dangerous and a threat. Why can't you see that?"
"What about Gaius? He used magic in the past, did he not?" Arthur pressed, shooting him a hard stare, and the king's expression faltered slightly.
"That is an entirely different situation," Uther said, stepping backwards and sinking purposefully onto his throne. "That was in the past. He no longer practises; has not done magic for many years now. Your servant openly displayed powerful magic mere hours earlier."
Arthur reached up with both hands, knotting his fingers together and pressing the palms to the nape of his neck, elbows pointing out towards the walls. "Merlin may be more powerful than Gaius," Arthur acquiesced. "But it doesn't change the fact that Gaius is an exception to your rule. And if there is one exception, then surely there can be others." His arms fell down to his side once more, nails scraping the back of his neck as they went. "Besides," Arthur continued, "if he's as determined to end my life as you seem to think, what's to say he'd even need to physically see me in order to finish the job? My visiting of him in prison will not change anything, and we both know it."
Uther made no move to respond, simply sat, arms crossed, expression dismal. This was a good sign, Arthur knew. He hadn't spent the last twenty-two years of his life figuring out all the intricacies and subtleties of his father's behaviour and body language for nothing. He took it as a sign to carry on.
"After tomorrow morning, Merlin will be... gone." He couldn't quite bring himself to utter the word 'dead', pushing down the automatic jolt of fear and disgust the thought evoked in his gut, carefully schooling his features. "At least allow me the courtesy of speaking with him one last time. I gave him my trust, something that I don't hand out lightly, and he used that against me. I need to know why he did what he did."
Uther seemed to be considering his words, but he still frowned, looking decidedly unpleased. "I know you cared for him, Arthur. Don't try and convince me that you didn't, or that this is merely about reprimanding a servant, because we both know that would be a lie."
"I never claimed such a thing, Father, and I never would," Arthur said, and squared his shoulders, hands fisting loosely at his side. "But that's all the more reason for me to be permitted to see him. If he were some nameless servant, it would be one thing. But as I say -- he was someone I trusted, perhaps even a friend, under different circumstances -- and so the deception hurts me all the more. Yes, I want to confront him about being a sorcerer, but also about how he betrayed both Camelot and my trust."
Uther pressed his lips together in a firm line, the tension in his shoulder dissipating ever so slightly.
"Surely ten minutes with him can do no harm," Arthur pleaded, could already see the stern consternation melting away, but still desiring to push his point home. "Besides, I saw how many guards you had posted down in the dungeons. I can assure you I have no intention of trying to help Merlin escape" -- and that, at least, was the truth woven amongst an entanglement of lies -- "but I would merely like an opportunity to have my final say."
"I know even you would not be so foolish as to try and help him escape," Uther said in a tone that very much implied Arthur had just been insulted. But he would gladly bear the offense if it meant putting an end to this conversation once and for all.
"Give me ten minutes," Arthur tried once more, bowing his head in deference. "That's all I ask."
The reluctant sigh that snaked past Uther's lips was enough of an assent for Arthur, and without a second thought, he turned on his heel and strutted confidently out of the room.
*****
In the end, Sir Hector ended up accompanying Arthur back down to the dungeons at Uther's behest, signalling to the other guards that Arthur had permission to see the prisoner.
Merlin was being quarantined, separated from the rest of the prisoners due to his extremely 'dangerous and volatile' status, though Arthur could not quite reconcile either word with the compassionate, clumsy, good and loyal man he knew. As they neared his cell, Arthur felt his chest clench tightly. They'd been here before -- more than once with Merlin getting himself thrown in jail for insubordination or his own stupidity -- but it'd never been quite like this. Things were decidedly different this time around, whether he liked it or not, and the knowledge hurt in a way that he wasn't quite sure how to interpret.
"He's in here," the guard announced, sticking his key in the lock and opening the cell door.
Arthur stepped inside, breath hitching in his throat, and he waited until the door clicked shut behind his back, the sound of boots padding on the stone floor disappearing.
It took a moment for Arthur's eyes to adjust to the dim light and he used this opportunity to scan the room for Merlin. The cell was dark and musty, chilly at this time of night, room filled with the faint scent of rotting leaves and stagnant water. The only genuine source of light crept through the bars of the window during the daytime, set high on the wall so that it was virtually impossible for a person to actually see outside, but at night it offered little in the way of visibility. A single candle, ensconced in its casing on the wall near the door lit the room with a soft glow, casting dark shadows along the walls. A weathered cot, so old and decrepit that Arthur wouldn't allow his worst enemy to come near it, rested against the far wall, a single sheet thrown casually on top of the bed as though it would offer some sort of respite from the chill of the night.
At first Arthur didn't see him, thought he'd been taken to the wrong cell, but then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a flicker of movement coming from the far left corner of the room. His eyes darted eagerly towards the source of the movement, and was slightly taken aback by the sight that greeted him. Merlin sat huddled in the corner of the room, wedged between the wall and the head of the cot, legs pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped securely around his shins. His chin rested in the small space between the tops of his kneecaps, right side of his head tilted just enough so his ear brushed against the stone wall, dark hair tousled and sticking out at various angles. Shackles were attached to his ankles. The thing that immediately jumped out at Arthur, however, was the fact that Merlin looked so small somehow; not only physically but in presence as well. He was a sorcerer -- and quite possibly a very powerful one, if today's display was any indication -- but he held the aura of a frightened mouse, and it threw Arthur completely.
"Merlin?" Arthur asked, voice husky and loud as it broke the quiet of the cell.
Merlin's head shot up for the first time since Arthur entered the room, almost as if he'd been in a daze and only recently broken free from it, turning wide eyes in his general direction. The fear written across his features was as prominent as if he'd walked over to Arthur and smacked him in the face with it. Arthur felt something churn in his gut as it dawned on him that he was not staring at the Merlin he'd thought he always known, in more ways than one. He knew that a various number of emotions should be flooding his mind -- anger, betrayal, hurt, fear, doubt, hesitation; but oddly, in this moment, he felt none of those things. Arthur had questions, so very many questions, and knew nothing had fully sunk in just yet; however, when he looked over at Merlin, cowering on the floor in spite of the fact that he probably very well could take Arthur apart with less than one blow, the only feeling that spread its wings, soaring across his mind, was one of a fierce and reckless desire to protect the man. Which assumedly was a good thing, considering the reason he now found himself standing in this very position, wild intentions and dangerous plans notwithstanding. Arthur sucked in a steadying breath and took a couple of tentative steps towards Merlin, who, for his part, appeared unaffected by his advancement.
Arthur strode forward, stopping a few feet away from his dark-haired servant, still hunched over on the floor, so that he was close enough to get a good look at him without crowding his personal space. "Stand up," he commanded.
Merlin, to his credit, actually did exactly as instructed, struggling clumsily to his feet, especially given the long chain attached to his ankle, and for the first time, Arthur noted with discomfort just how pale and thin he truly was. Surely the weight loss hadn't occurred in the past several hours, and it left Arthur with a cold sensation in his chest to know that he had missed something this huge in Merlin's life. He wondered what other secrets or stresses Merlin kept locked in the inner recesses of his mind, and how long Arthur had turned a blind eye to them all. Merlin scratched his left elbow, then curled fingers around the joint and pulled his arm into his chest, eyes downcast, silent and waiting.
At least several dozen questions tumbled through his mind as he opened his mouth to speak -- how long have you been able to do magic, why did you keep it from me for so long, do you not trust me, what were you thinking -- but what came out instead was, "Have you ever tried to harm me, or Camelot, with your magic?"
"No. Never." The answer arrived swiftly, and with more than the usual confidence that Merlin typically embodied, shaking his head vigorously. "I've never done anything to deliberately harm you or Camelot. Everything I've ever done has been to protect you -- keep you safe. I know you don't have any reason to trust me, but Arthur-- you have to believe that, if you don't believe anything else that comes out of my mouth."
His voice was desperate, pleading, but also calm and assured at the same time, if that were possible, as though the truth would be plain to see now that the evidence had been presented. Arthur met Merlin's gaze, searching his eyes for any sign of falsehood, but he saw nothing there except sincerity and truth, unbridled in the same manner with which his usual enthusiasm for life shone through. It was the first spark Arthur had witnessed since arriving in his manservant's cell, but it was enough to ignite confidence in him. He was exceedingly aware of the fact that Merlin had lied to him numerous times over the course of the past two years; but on this, he knew without any shadow of a doubt in his mind that Merlin was speaking the truth.
He bit back a sigh, shaking his head clear of the hundreds of questions that were now starting to fill his mind. There was so much Arthur didn't know, so much he didn't understand, but now was not the time to get into any of it. There were more important things that needed to be dealt with at the moment.
"All right. I believe you," Arthur said.
Merlin’s eyes enlarged in disbelief. “That’s it?” he asked.
Merlin was terrified and overwhelmed, that much was plain to see. Arthur knew he carried a burden and fear on his shoulders that he never should have had to bear in the first place. But Arthur needed him to focus, required all of his concentration if this was to work. There was no space for distractions, no room for error; Merlin needed to be grounded, pulled back into the present moment and the present time.
"Look, Merlin, we don't have a lot of time and I need your help with something," Arthur told him, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Merlin's shoulder, squeezing gently as Merlin caught his gaze, confusion written plainly across his face. But the contact seemed to do its job, stilling the restless energy in Merlin, and he visibly appeared to calm, shoulders relaxing and breath slowing just a fraction. It wasn't a miraculous turnabout, but it would suffice.
"Anything," he finally said, trusting, sincere, loyal as always. Even as he believed his death was imminent, Merlin still served Arthur with his entire being. If there'd been any lingering doubt as to Merlin's motives or plans, they would have been vanquished with that single word.
Arthur took a step back, pressing one knee to the ground as his fingers worked at his boot, Merlin watching his every movement with rapt attention, eyes narrowing in confusion when Arthur pulled the scrap of paper from its hiding place under the arch of his foot. He fixed his foot within the boot, and righted himself so he was standing face to face with Merlin once more. Arthur extended his outstretched arm in invitation, the scrap of paper resting between his index and middle fingers. Merlin stared at it for a moment, brows furrowing in concentration, before he plucked it from Arthur's hand and shot him an inquisitive glance.
"I need you to read what's written on that piece of paper for me."
"Why?"
"What do you mean 'why'? Because I told you to," Arthur instructed, voice filled with a sternness he didn't necessarily feel. He wanted Merlin to read the spell out loud without questioning him, though he preferred not to resort to bullying tactics to accomplish that goal. Just this once he prayed for some blind obedience, already knowing full well that Merlin wouldn't be Merlin if he didn't question every other order handed to him.
Merlin eyed him warily. "Arthur."
Arthur held his breath purposely, eyeing Merlin with the same level of trepidation, releasing a calculated sigh a few moments later. "It was written on a document I found in my father's possession. There was more, but I didn't have time to copy it all out." He'd sorted out the story in his head beforehand, but hearing it now, he questioned whether it was quite as brilliant as he'd originally surmised, and, more importantly, whether or not it was clever enough to fool Merlin.
Merlin stared blankly at Arthur for a moment, blinking several times in succession as if he were trying to process the words. "I don't understand," he finally said.
"The document appeared to be about you. I thought that perhaps this might tell us something that could help you, but of course my father didn't know I'd even seen it, let alone had time to jot down what was written there. I can't read it myself, but I thought that perhaps you might be able to." The lies flowed surprisingly easily from Arthur's lips, and he wondered if this was what it felt like for Merlin, when he'd lied to protect Arthur all those times in the past. It was incredible, really, the things that someone was willing to do for somebody they cared for. Of course, binding his soul was standard fare; Arthur would do the same for anyone else, he was quite sure, ignoring the tiny voice squawking in protest at the back of his mind. At the very least, he had developed a new appreciation for Merlin's predicament and he resolved to remember this later, when he had time to properly reflect on this whole situation -- when Merlin was alert and able to talk freely and still very much alive.
Merlin looked sceptical. "This was all you were able to copy?"
Arthur opened his mouth, poised to respond, but Merlin cut him off. "How did you even manage to find a quill and piece of paper in time? And why would you copy out something you couldn't even read--"
Arthur stopped him mid-sentence. "Would you stop over-thinking and over-analysing this? Just... read it. Please. We don't have time to waste arguing about this," Arthur said, coming about as close to begging as his princely pride would allow, fingers wrapping loosely around Merlin's wrist. And maybe some of the genuine desperation he felt translated into something more concrete, because as Merlin studied his features, he seemed to see something there that pushed him into action.
"All right," he said, acquiescing to Arthur's request. "If that's what you want."
"It is." His hand remained firmly attached to Merlin's wrist.
Merlin squinted in the darkness, holding up the paper with his other hand so the thin line of moonlight from outside illuminated the words scrawled across the page. It wasn't the best of circumstances, but it would suffice.
Merlin's eyes scanned the words several times before he turned his head to glance at Arthur. "Um, this doesn't make a lot of sense. It sounds like it might even be a spell, or something. And I'm not sure what this has to do with me..." he trailed off, and at the same moment, they both heard the sound of approaching boots scuffing on the floor in the distance. They turned in unison to stare at the cell door.
"Why would my father have a random spell written on a document in his possession? That idea is preposterous, Merlin. Don't be such an idiot," he insisted, voice soft, tearing his gaze away from the door and placing it back on Merlin.
Merlin shrugged, distractedly. Arthur gave Merlin's arm a squeeze after a moment, tugging at the wrist until his attention was back on the task at hand. "Just hurry."
Merlin nodded, concentrating on the piece of paper. He took a breath, then began to read the foreign sounding words on the paper, eyes alighting with a golden flame, visible even in the dimness of the small cell, and Arthur stared with a mixture of wonder and awe at the sight of Merlin -- Merlin, of all people -- casting magic right in front of his face.
The instant the words left his lips, a jolt of energy passed between them. It seemed to fly from Merlin's wrist, travelling up Arthur's arm and passing through his entire body like blood coursing through his veins, before shooting back into Merlin via the wrist Arthur still grasped. It was not a painful feeling, but definitely unmistakable, not something he could explain away, and Arthur was filled with the nearly staggering sense of relief at having successfully bonded his soul to Merlin's. Merlin practically jumped out of his skin at the energy transfer, literally fell back against the cell wall, as his eyes widened in realisation, a single finger pointing accusingly in Arthur's general direction.
"That was a spell," he hissed out, darting his head all around suspiciously, fear written across his features. "You felt that, I know you did. What did you just have me do, Arthur?"
"I didn't do anything," he lied, but the words lacked conviction this time.
"Arthur, what did you just do?" Merlin asked for a second time, worry replacing some of the fear in the tone of his voice, the downturn of his lips, the dullness of his eyes.
Unexpectedly, both for Arthur and Merlin, Arthur suddenly pushed Merlin's chest, so that he staggered back, shoulders landing against the wall at his backside. Without much thought, Arthur came to hover right into Merlin's personal space, only a fraction of a wall of air separating their bodies from being pressed together entirely.
"Do you trust me?" Arthur whispered against his ear, nudging his shoulder to press into Merlin's chest.
"What?" Merlin paused, sounding confused, worried, even wounded, somehow. Arthur pulled back just enough to stare into Merlin's eyes, left hand clamping down suddenly on his manservant's shoulder.
"Do you trust me?" he repeated, this time with a greater sense of urgency. Arthur ignored the little voice at the back of his mind reminding him of the secret Merlin kept from him all these years. They could deal with that later, when death was not knocking at their proverbial doors.
"Yes, you know I do--"
Arthur cut him off, bringing his mouth close to Merlin's ear once more, and digging his fingers into the muscles of Merlin's shoulder. "Then just trust me on this. Everything's going to be fine. I promise." He lingered there, perhaps a fraction of a second longer than was strictly necessary before he reluctantly pulled back. With his free hand, Arthur plucked the paper from Merlin's grasp, shoving the sheet down his trousers for safe keeping, much to Merlin's surprise; he was not about to leave evidence like that in Merlin's possession, lest his father somehow try and pin this whole thing on Merlin tomorrow.
A moment later two of the guards appeared at the cell door, just as Arthur released Merlin from his hold. "Trust me," he asserted, one last time, at the exact moment that one of the guards called out, "Sire?"
"Yes, my business here is finished," Arthur muttered, almost placed a hand on Merln's forearm, but decided against the action in case they were watching.
He dared not chance a look in Merlin's direction as he left, quietly reminding himself that he'd see the man again, alive.
That night Arthur dreamt of fear and blood and the rancid stench of death. In his dreams he watched Merlin, face haunted and devastated, as he was executed in front of his family and friends, over and over again in an endless, torturous cycle. Each and every time, Arthur tried to save him, fought against guards and fire and even his own physical chains, but the result was always the same. Arthur was prevented from assisting him at the last moment, Merlin always died, and Uther cheered for the continued freedom of Camelot from the threat of sorcery. The true horror of the decrees his father passed off as a necessity for justice and peace had never truly sunk in for Arthur before, until someone he cared for replaced the invisible threat Uther saw at every corner, and the realisation of the true wickedness of the past twenty years of iniquitous punishment for anyone who even dared to think of using magic stabbed Arthur like a physical blow.
He awoke just before dawn, vaulting up and out of bed, skin bathed in a sheen of sweat, heart thundering in his chest. Perching on the edge of his bed, Arthur lowered his face into his hands, breathing deeply as he struggled to shove the last wisps of the nightmares from his mind. As he sat there, a light breeze from the window he'd accidentally left open last night sent a chill rippling across his back, and Arthur suddenly felt the urge to go down to the dungeons, to just make sure that Merlin was all right.
*****
At first, the thought tickled the back of his mind, present and persistent, but not overly demanding. However, every subsequent minute that passed seemed to dredge up a greater sense of urgency in Arthur, the feeling building slowly in his gut, coiling around him as though a hand were squeezing him tight from the inside, and what'd originally started as an idea to quell his own anxiety suddenly started to feel like an absolute necessity. Arthur took off from his chambers at a quick, but steady, gait, wending his way through the corridors, only now starting to show signs of life at this still early hour. By the time he arrived at the dungeons, Arthur was traveling at a pace just short of sprinting, the fear that'd taken a hold of his mind virtually overwhelming. He was in such a frenzied rush, that he nearly bowled over Hector, one of the guards on shift, as he clambered through the main entrance.
"I need to see Merlin," he told Hector, fighting to keep his expression and voice as neutral as possible, as he came to an abrupt halt in front of him.
"He's not here, sire," Hector responded with a shake of his head.
A spike of terror flared through Arthur's gut, nearly choking off his breath, and he knew, just knew that something was very, very wrong with this whole picture. "What do you mean he's not here? Where is he? What happened?" Arthur entreated, involuntarily crowding into Hector's personal space.
Hector inched back just enough to put a bit of distance between them, as another guard appeared at his side.
"Leon and Gawain came down here not too long ago. Said they had orders to remove the prisoner," Bedivere jumped in, sidling up to Hector as he met the prince's stern expression.
Arthur's heart skipped another beat. "When was that? Where did they take him?" he demanded, voice rising as his gaze shifted rapidly between the two men, all earlier concerns about schooling his distress completely forgotten.
Hector shrugged nonchalantly, either too dense to notice Arthur's urgency or simply not interested enough to care, but Bedivere, at least, seemed to know something of use. "It wasn't that long ago. Five, maybe ten minutes. You just missed them, actually," Bedivere shared, eyes crinkling in concern. "Why do you ask?"
But Arthur's mind was already churning, sorting through the most logical explanations. There were only two feasible options he could come up with, and neither were even remotely good. Arthur cursed, loud and brash, feeling the sudden desire to punch a wall well up within him. Without another thought, Arthur whipped around on his heels, and tore off down the halls, away from the confused calls of the guards, not caring in the least that a few of the passing servants shot him baffled looks as he sprinted past them. By the time he reached Gauis' chambers, Arthur already knew that he'd find it free of his manservant, but he barrelled in nonetheless.
Gaius immediately bolted up in bed at the loud and obvious intrusion, face contorting in confusion and worry at Arthur's unexpected entrance.
"I think Merlin's been taken for an early execution," Arthur spilled before the physician could even open his mouth to form words, wasting no time in cutting to the chase as he hurried over to the bed.
Gaius's upper body stiffened, eyes widening in fear. "How do you know?"
Arthur shook his head, pacing. Frantic energy pulsed through his veins, and he fought against the rising panic, feeling on the verge of losing the last remnants of a fragile control he still possessed. "I don't know how I know. I just do. I woke up this morning and had this feeling that I needed to go and check on Merlin, but when I got there he was already gone. Bedivere said Leon and Gawain had received orders to remove Merlin. That was maybe ten minutes ago. All I know is that there's no reason to move him this early in the morning, and I can't get the idea out of my head that something awful is about to happen." Arthur scrubbed a hand over his face, the prickles of stubble scratching roughly against his palm.
Before he knew it, Gaius was out of bed, grabbing at his boots. "You have to find your father, Arthur. You must hurry," Gaius instructed, shoving his foot into one of the worn leather boots.
Arthur nodded without question, knowing that Gaius would be following in his footsteps as soon as he was able, immediately heading for the door once more. There were only two places his father would likely be, if he'd moved up the execution without informing anyone, and Arthur silently prayed to whatever gods were listening that he'd be able to find his father before it was too late.
---------------------------------------
Continue on to part three.
Author: Mel (accordingtomel)
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers/Warnings: Everything up to and including 2x13
Word Count: 90,521
Disclaimer: Sadly, they are not mine and I do not own them, much as I might like to.
Art Link: Right here. But please note: THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR THE FIC IN THE ART!
Author's Note: See part one.
Part One
The trip back to his chambers was one of the longest Arthur had ever walked in his lifetime. Unconsciously, he found himself quickening his pace in an attempt to reach his rooms faster, but he forced his muscles to slow, in spite of the tense chokehold that wracked his entire body, and did his best to affect a casual stroll. Arthur knew without fully knowing that he would be watched with extreme scrutiny; Uther currently believed Arthur to be in agreement with the laws of Camelot, but he was also more than aware of how attached Arthur had grown to Merlin over the years, much to Arthur's chagrin. Any suspicious activity from Arthur would lead to immediate questioning; this he knew and desperately needed to avoid. So, with laborious determination, Arthur strode through the castle, avoiding eye contact and silently begging the gods to spare him from being accosted along the way.
By some unbelievable miracle, Arthur was able to successfully circumvent any unwanted conversations. But it wasn't until Arthur was safely behind his chamber doors -- heard the latch of the lock click shut -- that he was able to breathe a sigh of relief. Any comfort he may have felt at making it back to his chambers unseen did not last, however.
Time was of the essence, and if Arthur was going to come up with a solution as to how to see Merlin through this mess without ending up on the executioner's block, he needed to work quickly and efficiently.
He took a seat at the far end of the table in his chambers, placing the large book on top of the wooden surface. The magical tome was physical evidence of the secret that Merlin had held onto for so long, and now that Arthur possessed both, he felt an odd sense of protectiveness well up within him. Merlin had, inexplicably, managed to keep this book safe for the past two years, shut away from the eyes of a society that would not only ostracise, but outright kill him for even having it in his possession. The details were still hazy -- Arthur didn't know when Merlin first realised he could do magic, if he'd used magic since arriving in Camelot, why he'd never told Arthur his secret -- but the one fact with which he seemed to hold a great deal of confidence in was that Merlin most certainly was not his enemy. Protecting the magic book from his father, and even more importantly, using the same magic to help ensure Merlin's survival felt right to Arthur.
He fingered the worn leather cover before opening the tome to the first page. Words -- many of which he could not read or understand -- and pictures littered the various pages as he thumbed through them, the only recognisable English words seemingly the names of the spells.
Arthur had no idea what he was searching for as he scrutinised each page, eyes quickly scanning the text and pictures for something that appeared as though it might be helpful. Merlin had no doubt used magic numerous times in the past to protect Arthur; surely there was some spell in this book that would be able to protect him in return.
Several minutes passed as Arthur flipped through the book, words jumbling together, before he decided that he couldn't afford to do this on his own.
Standing, Arthur closed the tome and made his way towards the bed, book tucked safely under his arm. Bending down, Arthur lifted up the end of his mattress with one hand and shoved the book into place with the other. Even though the book itself was sizeable, its presence under the mattress was surprisingly undetectable. It wasn't the most brilliant of hiding places, but for the moment it would suffice.
Arthur ran a hand through his hair, a mildly exasperated sigh slipping past his lips unbidden, before he turned on his heel and made his way to the door in a few long strides.
Unbolting the lock, Arthur pulled open the door and poked a cautious head out into the corridor. It would be too much of a risk to head back to Gaius, he knew, but there was no reason why the physician couldn't come to him instead.
"Hey, you," Arthur hailed the first passing servant, "I need you to go and fetch Gaius. I have a terrible headache and require something for it immediately."
The servant's eyes flickered up to Arthur's face before he dipped his head reverently. "Right away, sire," he muttered, and trotted obediently off down the hallway.
Time seemed to drag as Arthur waited for Gaius. He paced the length of his room for several minutes, restless energy threatening to burst through, every few seconds casting his gaze in the direction of the door. Thoughts kept springing forth into his mind, demanding attention, but he knew he couldn’t afford to dwell on them at the moment, continuing to pace instead. When he grew tired of the pacing, Arthur decided to tidy his chambers, which were, surprisingly, not as unkempt as he would usually expect. He picked up a brown jacket, hung it in the closet, folded a blanket lying half on the bed and half on the floor, moved a few pieces of armour into the corner of the room. Arthur ran a finger across the top of the fireplace, decidedly impressed when the finger emerged dust-free. Merlin really was a mystery sometimes, with how he could be so generally incompetent most of the time, but then actually do something right here and there. No one else would put up with him, that was for sure, but Arthur couldn’t imagine things being any different to how they were right now. Shaking his head, Arthur tried to clear his mind of thoughts of Merlin; thoughts that had been conjured up by dust, of all the pointless things in the world. It said something about Arthur, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that was just yet.
He was in the process of shining his sword -- despite the fact that it had been sharpened and shined earlier that day -- when a soft knock sounded at the door, and he nearly dropped the weapon at the noise.
"Enter," he said, tensing involuntarily as the door creaked open.
Arthur released an audible sigh upon sighting Gaius, tossing the sword on top of his bed as he quickly ushered him into the room, closing and locking the door behind them.
"I assume you didn't want to see me because of a headache, sire," Gaius began, setting a vial down at the end of the table and shooting Arthur a pointed look, "but I brought something for you just in case I was stopped along the way."
Arthur nodded gratefully, eyeing the lock just past Gaius' left shoulder to ensure it was, indeed, still secured. "I need your help," he said, retrieving the book from its temporary hiding spot.
"What, exactly, do you think you can do with Merlin's magic book?" Gaius asked, stepping to stand beside Arthur as he placed the tome on top of the table and opened it to the first page. Arthur took a seat in front of the book; Gaius remained hovering over his shoulder.
"Surely there must be something in here that can help him," Arthur replied. They began to flip carefully through the pages.
"So you’ve said. Do you mean some spell that could get him out of Camelot?"
"Yes. No. Well, maybe." Arthur shook his head, frowning slightly as fingers glided over the worn pages. He tilted his head to the side, casting a longsuffering glance in Gaius' direction. "I don't know, exactly. I just know that my father won't let Merlin live, no matter how much I protest. And I'm quite certain that he will have someone keeping a close eye on me at all times, in order to ensure that Merlin doesn't suddenly disappear without explanation."
A flash of a memory flittered through his mind of a time not so long ago, when Arthur had disobeyed his father and sent Merlin safely out of the city before he could be arrested. How he wished that he'd been able to do something more than merely watch earlier today, as Merlin was hauled away to the dungeons. No matter what it took, Arthur would not see Merlin die; could not.
Gaius nodded solemnly before flipping another page. "What are you planning to do, once you find something?"
Arthur bit his lip. He hadn't quite worked out the details yet, but he had a vague idea. "Bring the spell down to Merlin myself. No one will search me. I'll give it to him, and he can do his magic." A beat. "Literally."
"Merlin won't leave Camelot," Gaius said after a pause, tone confident and assured, as if there was no room for refuting what he believed to be an undeniable fact.
"I can convince him," Arthur declared with a confidence that belied the uncertainty he felt in his gut. "Merlin's not going to die. Not this young, and not like this."
Gaius placed a gentle hand on Arthur's shoulder, squeezing lightly, as if trying to infuse some comfort or reassurance into him. Arthur shoved the emotions that were threatening to push forth back down, and forced his mind to concentrate solely on the task at hand.
They came across several potential spells -- one that made a person invisible for a short period of time (but it wouldn't last long enough to get Merlin out of Camelot); one that caused everyone within radius to forget the last twelve hours (but Gaius declared it too risky an endeavour); and one teleportation spell that apparently would require a great deal of practice to master effectively (but Merlin didn't have that kind of time) -- but nothing that would actually be effective in protecting him from his fate. They still had almost half of the book to search through, but Arthur was starting to get discouraged. Surely there had to be something useful among the hundreds of spells in the tome.
Numerous minutes and many pages later, they were still no closer to finding a solution. Arthur felt his frustration building, felt like he wanted to punch something. The fates were cruel and heartless, and whatever gods were out there, uncaring and determined to make Arthur’s life a living hell. There were no other real possibilities, as far as he was concerned. He was about to turn another page when something jumped out to him suddenly, though he couldn't identify what, exactly, triggered the reaction.
"What's this?" Arthur asked, pointing to the bottom half of the right page. The picture accompanying the spell showed the profiles of two generic people, standing across from one another, connected to each other via lines running between their chests, hands and eyes.
Gaius pulled the book so he could read the page clearly, resting both hands on the table and bending down to study the words more closely. "It's a soul binding spell," he answered after a moment, an unreadable expression on his face.
"A soul binding spell?" Arthur parroted, quirking both brows in question.
The physician nodded slowly. "Yes. Essentially it is the process of binding two souls together."
Arthur scratched absently at his chin, mind already churning as he watched Gaius carefully. "What does that mean, exactly?"
Gaius hesitated, a gaping silence filling the void for several moments, and Arthur felt a shift in the tension in the room, though he didn't understand why. "Basically, it means that when two people bind their souls together, they are connected in life and in death." He paused, deliberately, turned away from Arthur. "There are various types of bonds, but the general principles are all the same. The most significant one being that if one of the bonded dies, the other will die as well."
A spark ignited somewhere at the back of Arthur's mind. "So if person A gets injured, will person B also experience the same injury?"
Gaius considered this for a moment, eyes distant and focused on the far wall of Arthur's chambers before addressing him. "No, I don't think so. Not unless the wound is fatal. In which case, person B will feel the pain of person A without the actual physical manifestation of said injury. There is also frequently an emotional attachment of sorts, where the bonded feel elements of each other's emotions and moods, sometimes thoughts, though the details are somewhat hazy. Oftentimes there is also an element of detachment involved, in which the bond will react if the bonded are separated by too great of a physical distance."
Arthur considered this. "What happens if the bonded are separated?" he pressed.
Gaius eyed him disapprovingly, looking more than suspicious. “Sire, what’s this all about?”
But Arthur shook his head, unwilling to be deterred, even though it was quickly becoming obvious where he could be going with this. “Answer the question, Gaius.”
Gaius’ frown deepened. “Yes, sire. Though I would like it to be noted that I know very little about soul bonding spells.”
“That’s fine. Carry on anyway.”
An unimpressed glance was tossed in his direction before Gaius finally continued with his explanation. "Usually if the distance is small, both parties will feel intensely drawn to one another. This will dissipate upon reunion. If the distance is greater, any number of things can happen, ranging from decreased focus and concentration to physical weakness and physical or emotional pain. In very rare cases, death can even occur, if the bonded are separated for too great a distance for too long of a time, though that's usually only in the case of extremely strong bonds."
Arthur nodded, allowing the information to sink in, as the idea that'd been massaging his mind throughout the course of the conversation finally took shape. It was completely and utterly mad, but there wasn't a lot of time, and Arthur knew he had to do something. He was desperate, and thus far it was the best lead they had. Arthur was quite certain that when all was said and done, there would be a great number of ramifications that he'd have to contend with. But for now, those possibilities were inconsequential.
"Okay," he stated, pushing the chair back from the table and standing. "That's good enough for me."
Gaius folded his arms across his chest and stared at Arthur wearily. He looked decidedly unimpressed, but not the least bit surprised. “Sire, I’m sure you think this sounds like a good idea, but rest assured that it’s most certainly not.”
“Well, there aren’t exactly any other options jumping out at us here,” Arthur pointed out. “What would you have me do, then?”
Frown lines further creased Gaius’ face as his scowl deepened, shaking his head and appearing exhausted, both mentally and physically. “I don’t know,” he admitted with a certain air of reluctance, “but the soul bonding spell is both dangerous and foolish. Surely you can appreciate that, sire.”
And fine... Arthur was willing to concede that Gaius was correct in that it wasn’t exactly the most brilliant plan he’d ever devised. But the simple reality was that Merlin was going to die unless Arthur did something, and he’d rather take that risk than spend the rest of the night pondering other options until they ran out of time. In some ways it was complete madness, and in others, it was almost genius in its simplicity.
“I do, Gaius,” Arthur said, in his best attempt at a reassuring tone. “However, I also know that I can’t allow anything to happen to Merlin, and if this is our best option, then I’m not going to toss it away simply because it comes with personal risk.”
Gaius sighed, deep and with great frustration. "You could easily end up dead," he pointed out, just in case Arthur somehow missed that minor piece of information.
Arthur shrugged. "That's sort of the point, wouldn't you agree?" He felt like he'd completely lost his mind; and maybe he had. But he didn't see any other way, save for actually issuing a challenge to the throne and removing Uther from power, which he simply couldn’t imagine himself doing. "My father won't risk killing his son, the only heir to the throne. This is the only thing that makes sense."
"Don't be so sure about that, sire," Gaius jumped in again, reaching out as fingers curled tightly around Arthur's arm. "What do you think your father will do to you when he finds out you've used magic too? It's too dangerous to even think about attempting."
Arthur bit back a growl as a surge of anger coursed through his veins, fierce and unexpected, face flushing as a consequence. "And what am I supposed to do, Gaius? Just let Merlin die? You know as well as I do that if the situation were reversed, Merlin would be doing everything in his power to save me. The least I can do is the same in return. Yes, my father will be angry with me, but he'll understand, eventually."
"Merlin won't risk your life that way, Arthur. You know it as well as I do," Gaius added, voice taking on a softer tone.
"That's why I'm not going to tell him what he's doing."
Gaius' hand fell back to his side, and he tucked his chin against his chest, breathing out a sigh heavy-laden with uncertainty. "I respect your dedication to Merlin, my lord, but I fear you haven't thought this through clearly." He spoke with deliberation, as though picking his words with the utmost delicacy. "Even if you are able to successfully bind yourself to Merlin, and you both make it out alive, what then? Have you thought about what will happen to Merlin then? Or how this will impact you both in the future?"
But Arthur was done with the conversation; his mind was made up, no matter what Gaius threw at him. He was fully aware of the fact that this plan came with potentially volatile consequences; he would just have to deal with those when they arrived.
"I'm aware of the risks, Gaius. Just tell me what we need to do," he said, feeling the first surge of hope flood through his veins since this whole mess started.
After reviewing with Gaius at least four times what was required in order to properly execute the spell -- and enduring several more valiant, albeit failed attempts at derailing the plan -- Arthur felt confident that he would be able to pull this whole thing off. It was a rather mundane process, really, given the seriousness of the spell. The two individuals to be bonded needed to be in physical contact with one another when the spell was incanted, but beyond that, there wasn't much else they needed to do. While Arthur was unable to read the words, Gaius informed him that they were fairly straightforward. Seeing as how there was no safe way for Arthur to transport the magic book down to the dungeons without being caught -- and given Merlin's radical resistance to following orders of any kind, especially when it meant doing something to protect himself, or something that could possibly endanger another individual -- other measures needed to be taken. Arthur meticulously copied the words from the tome to a scroll while Gaius provided feedback. He wrote the entire thing out several times before he was satisfied with both penmanship and accuracy. Then he added a couple of extra sentences, nothing magic related, in order to increase the appearance of legitimacy for the story he'd already formulated in his mind.
Arthur deliberately opted to stick around his chambers after seeing Gaius off, much as his whole being itched to race down to the dungeons immediately. But Arthur knew that he needed to wait; if he rushed things, the whole plan could fall apart at his fingertips.
Once he felt sure that a reasonable amount of time had passed from the moment Gaius left, Arthur grabbed the folded scrap of paper and tucked it securely at the bottom of his right boot. With a heavy heart, Arthur pulled open his chamber doors and began the familiar trek towards the dungeon. An element of tension hung in the air, its aura so palpable that it seemed as though it could literally be sliced with a dagger. Arthur particularly felt it swell when passing fellow knights and servants in the halls. It was no secret that Merlin was, all around, a deplorable servant as far as practical skills went. He was clumsy and slow and had a particular penchant for egregious errors. It was also no secret that even those who spent a great deal of time within the castle walls wondered why it was that Arthur kept him around for so long. But those who knew him well saw his loyalty, his compassion, his helpful nature... and it wasn’t so hard to understand that maybe Arthur needed something more than merely a decent manservant.
Candlelight flickered softly from the sconces hanging on the wall, casting ominous shadows down every hall. The evening bustle within the castle walls was coming to a close as servants finished their tasks and headed home for the night, making the trip less eventful, in spite of the evening's earlier excitement. Arthur could hear hushed conversations as he neared the entrance and steeled himself for what he was about to do, rounding the final corner and coming face to face with the slew of knights that were apparently needed to guard the sorcerer.
"I'm here to see Merlin," Arthur announced, though recognised it was fully unnecessary, as every single guard in the room knew precisely why it was that he stood before them.
A couple of the guards cast nervous glances at one another, another coughed awkwardly, but no one moved to give him pass.
"Let me through," Arthur said, this time with more force and less patience.
Most of the guards -- several of them his knights, no less -- continued shooting each other hesitant looks as Arthur's patience began to grow thin. He was about to shove past them when finally Leon stepped forward, eyes meeting his before dropping respectfully, fiddling anxiously with the cuff of his sleeve.
"Sire, I'm afraid you don't have clearance to see the prisoner," Leon informed him, shrinking back into himself as though he feared some sort of retaliation from Arthur.
At that, he nearly exploded on the spot. What did they mean, he didn't have clearance? He was the bloody prince of Camelot; he could see whoever the hell he wanted to see, whenever he damn well pleased. But in the regal manner in which he was raised, Arthur forced his anger in check, blowing a breath out through his nose, before responding. "What do you mean I don't have clearance? On whose orders?" Arthur demanded, even though he already had an idea, voice level but with a distinct coldness.
Leon swallowed visibly, reaching up to run a hand awkwardly through his hair. "On the order of the king, sire." Leon shot him a pained look, something like sympathy glimmering briefly in his eyes. "I'm sorry, but we can't let you pass."
Arthur fisted his left hand tight against his thigh, feeling the bite of fingernails as they dug into his flesh, and he blinked the red-hot fury from his eyes. Arthur knew it was futile to try and argue with them, much as he didn't want to have to face his father about this issue. He briefly wondered what would happen if he tried to force his way through, mentally calculating his chances of success, but knew that it wouldn't buy him enough time with Merlin to get the spell completed.
"I understand," he said finally, then turned on his heel and marched back in the direction he'd come, a new side mission at the forefront of his thoughts.
*****
"Absolutely not." Uther's strong voice resounded and reverberated against the walls in the empty throne room.
"But Father," Arthur began, quelling the anger that was already bubbling to the surface of his consciousness. He'd barely had time to walk into the room and insist on being permitted to see Merlin before Uther was asserting his will on the situation.
"My decision is final, Arthur," Uther said, shooting his son a grim warning that marred his already dark features.
But Arthur was not willing to accept that as an answer. "No, it's not," he declared with all the conviction and assurance he could muster. "I have a right to confront my own servant. Especially after I find out he's been lying to me for the past two years." The hurt that radiated from his voice was entirely genuine, and he swallowed heavily.
Uther merely shook his head. "It's too dangerous."
Arthur actively bit back the scoff dancing on the tip of his tongue. "Merlin won't hurt me," he said, knowing without actual confirmation (except for the fact that he was willing to risk his life on the belief that he did know) that this was undeniably and inherently true.
"Don't be ridiculous Arthur," Uther nearly growled, shaking his head dismissively. "He's a sorcerer. A liar, a cheater and a murderer. They're all the same. You should know this by now."
"He exposed himself to save my life," Arthur protested, unable to prevent the incredulous tone that wormed its way into his voice. "If he wanted me dead, he could have let me die. Hell, he could have killed me thousands of times over again in the past two years and made it look like an accident, but he didn't. Merlin may be a liar, but he wouldn't hurt me, of that I'm sure."
Uther did not look convinced. "He has clearly bewitched you, then."
"No." Arthur took a deliberate step towards his father, pointing a finger accusingly in Uther's direction. "I am looking at the facts only. I see no logical reason why Merlin would save my life merely to kill me immediately after. There is no logic in that."
Uther scowled, lips twisting irritably. "Magic users have no logic to their thinking. They are dangerous and a threat. Why can't you see that?"
"What about Gaius? He used magic in the past, did he not?" Arthur pressed, shooting him a hard stare, and the king's expression faltered slightly.
"That is an entirely different situation," Uther said, stepping backwards and sinking purposefully onto his throne. "That was in the past. He no longer practises; has not done magic for many years now. Your servant openly displayed powerful magic mere hours earlier."
Arthur reached up with both hands, knotting his fingers together and pressing the palms to the nape of his neck, elbows pointing out towards the walls. "Merlin may be more powerful than Gaius," Arthur acquiesced. "But it doesn't change the fact that Gaius is an exception to your rule. And if there is one exception, then surely there can be others." His arms fell down to his side once more, nails scraping the back of his neck as they went. "Besides," Arthur continued, "if he's as determined to end my life as you seem to think, what's to say he'd even need to physically see me in order to finish the job? My visiting of him in prison will not change anything, and we both know it."
Uther made no move to respond, simply sat, arms crossed, expression dismal. This was a good sign, Arthur knew. He hadn't spent the last twenty-two years of his life figuring out all the intricacies and subtleties of his father's behaviour and body language for nothing. He took it as a sign to carry on.
"After tomorrow morning, Merlin will be... gone." He couldn't quite bring himself to utter the word 'dead', pushing down the automatic jolt of fear and disgust the thought evoked in his gut, carefully schooling his features. "At least allow me the courtesy of speaking with him one last time. I gave him my trust, something that I don't hand out lightly, and he used that against me. I need to know why he did what he did."
Uther seemed to be considering his words, but he still frowned, looking decidedly unpleased. "I know you cared for him, Arthur. Don't try and convince me that you didn't, or that this is merely about reprimanding a servant, because we both know that would be a lie."
"I never claimed such a thing, Father, and I never would," Arthur said, and squared his shoulders, hands fisting loosely at his side. "But that's all the more reason for me to be permitted to see him. If he were some nameless servant, it would be one thing. But as I say -- he was someone I trusted, perhaps even a friend, under different circumstances -- and so the deception hurts me all the more. Yes, I want to confront him about being a sorcerer, but also about how he betrayed both Camelot and my trust."
Uther pressed his lips together in a firm line, the tension in his shoulder dissipating ever so slightly.
"Surely ten minutes with him can do no harm," Arthur pleaded, could already see the stern consternation melting away, but still desiring to push his point home. "Besides, I saw how many guards you had posted down in the dungeons. I can assure you I have no intention of trying to help Merlin escape" -- and that, at least, was the truth woven amongst an entanglement of lies -- "but I would merely like an opportunity to have my final say."
"I know even you would not be so foolish as to try and help him escape," Uther said in a tone that very much implied Arthur had just been insulted. But he would gladly bear the offense if it meant putting an end to this conversation once and for all.
"Give me ten minutes," Arthur tried once more, bowing his head in deference. "That's all I ask."
The reluctant sigh that snaked past Uther's lips was enough of an assent for Arthur, and without a second thought, he turned on his heel and strutted confidently out of the room.
*****
In the end, Sir Hector ended up accompanying Arthur back down to the dungeons at Uther's behest, signalling to the other guards that Arthur had permission to see the prisoner.
Merlin was being quarantined, separated from the rest of the prisoners due to his extremely 'dangerous and volatile' status, though Arthur could not quite reconcile either word with the compassionate, clumsy, good and loyal man he knew. As they neared his cell, Arthur felt his chest clench tightly. They'd been here before -- more than once with Merlin getting himself thrown in jail for insubordination or his own stupidity -- but it'd never been quite like this. Things were decidedly different this time around, whether he liked it or not, and the knowledge hurt in a way that he wasn't quite sure how to interpret.
"He's in here," the guard announced, sticking his key in the lock and opening the cell door.
Arthur stepped inside, breath hitching in his throat, and he waited until the door clicked shut behind his back, the sound of boots padding on the stone floor disappearing.
It took a moment for Arthur's eyes to adjust to the dim light and he used this opportunity to scan the room for Merlin. The cell was dark and musty, chilly at this time of night, room filled with the faint scent of rotting leaves and stagnant water. The only genuine source of light crept through the bars of the window during the daytime, set high on the wall so that it was virtually impossible for a person to actually see outside, but at night it offered little in the way of visibility. A single candle, ensconced in its casing on the wall near the door lit the room with a soft glow, casting dark shadows along the walls. A weathered cot, so old and decrepit that Arthur wouldn't allow his worst enemy to come near it, rested against the far wall, a single sheet thrown casually on top of the bed as though it would offer some sort of respite from the chill of the night.
At first Arthur didn't see him, thought he'd been taken to the wrong cell, but then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a flicker of movement coming from the far left corner of the room. His eyes darted eagerly towards the source of the movement, and was slightly taken aback by the sight that greeted him. Merlin sat huddled in the corner of the room, wedged between the wall and the head of the cot, legs pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped securely around his shins. His chin rested in the small space between the tops of his kneecaps, right side of his head tilted just enough so his ear brushed against the stone wall, dark hair tousled and sticking out at various angles. Shackles were attached to his ankles. The thing that immediately jumped out at Arthur, however, was the fact that Merlin looked so small somehow; not only physically but in presence as well. He was a sorcerer -- and quite possibly a very powerful one, if today's display was any indication -- but he held the aura of a frightened mouse, and it threw Arthur completely.
"Merlin?" Arthur asked, voice husky and loud as it broke the quiet of the cell.
Merlin's head shot up for the first time since Arthur entered the room, almost as if he'd been in a daze and only recently broken free from it, turning wide eyes in his general direction. The fear written across his features was as prominent as if he'd walked over to Arthur and smacked him in the face with it. Arthur felt something churn in his gut as it dawned on him that he was not staring at the Merlin he'd thought he always known, in more ways than one. He knew that a various number of emotions should be flooding his mind -- anger, betrayal, hurt, fear, doubt, hesitation; but oddly, in this moment, he felt none of those things. Arthur had questions, so very many questions, and knew nothing had fully sunk in just yet; however, when he looked over at Merlin, cowering on the floor in spite of the fact that he probably very well could take Arthur apart with less than one blow, the only feeling that spread its wings, soaring across his mind, was one of a fierce and reckless desire to protect the man. Which assumedly was a good thing, considering the reason he now found himself standing in this very position, wild intentions and dangerous plans notwithstanding. Arthur sucked in a steadying breath and took a couple of tentative steps towards Merlin, who, for his part, appeared unaffected by his advancement.
Arthur strode forward, stopping a few feet away from his dark-haired servant, still hunched over on the floor, so that he was close enough to get a good look at him without crowding his personal space. "Stand up," he commanded.
Merlin, to his credit, actually did exactly as instructed, struggling clumsily to his feet, especially given the long chain attached to his ankle, and for the first time, Arthur noted with discomfort just how pale and thin he truly was. Surely the weight loss hadn't occurred in the past several hours, and it left Arthur with a cold sensation in his chest to know that he had missed something this huge in Merlin's life. He wondered what other secrets or stresses Merlin kept locked in the inner recesses of his mind, and how long Arthur had turned a blind eye to them all. Merlin scratched his left elbow, then curled fingers around the joint and pulled his arm into his chest, eyes downcast, silent and waiting.
At least several dozen questions tumbled through his mind as he opened his mouth to speak -- how long have you been able to do magic, why did you keep it from me for so long, do you not trust me, what were you thinking -- but what came out instead was, "Have you ever tried to harm me, or Camelot, with your magic?"
"No. Never." The answer arrived swiftly, and with more than the usual confidence that Merlin typically embodied, shaking his head vigorously. "I've never done anything to deliberately harm you or Camelot. Everything I've ever done has been to protect you -- keep you safe. I know you don't have any reason to trust me, but Arthur-- you have to believe that, if you don't believe anything else that comes out of my mouth."
His voice was desperate, pleading, but also calm and assured at the same time, if that were possible, as though the truth would be plain to see now that the evidence had been presented. Arthur met Merlin's gaze, searching his eyes for any sign of falsehood, but he saw nothing there except sincerity and truth, unbridled in the same manner with which his usual enthusiasm for life shone through. It was the first spark Arthur had witnessed since arriving in his manservant's cell, but it was enough to ignite confidence in him. He was exceedingly aware of the fact that Merlin had lied to him numerous times over the course of the past two years; but on this, he knew without any shadow of a doubt in his mind that Merlin was speaking the truth.
He bit back a sigh, shaking his head clear of the hundreds of questions that were now starting to fill his mind. There was so much Arthur didn't know, so much he didn't understand, but now was not the time to get into any of it. There were more important things that needed to be dealt with at the moment.
"All right. I believe you," Arthur said.
Merlin’s eyes enlarged in disbelief. “That’s it?” he asked.
Merlin was terrified and overwhelmed, that much was plain to see. Arthur knew he carried a burden and fear on his shoulders that he never should have had to bear in the first place. But Arthur needed him to focus, required all of his concentration if this was to work. There was no space for distractions, no room for error; Merlin needed to be grounded, pulled back into the present moment and the present time.
"Look, Merlin, we don't have a lot of time and I need your help with something," Arthur told him, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Merlin's shoulder, squeezing gently as Merlin caught his gaze, confusion written plainly across his face. But the contact seemed to do its job, stilling the restless energy in Merlin, and he visibly appeared to calm, shoulders relaxing and breath slowing just a fraction. It wasn't a miraculous turnabout, but it would suffice.
"Anything," he finally said, trusting, sincere, loyal as always. Even as he believed his death was imminent, Merlin still served Arthur with his entire being. If there'd been any lingering doubt as to Merlin's motives or plans, they would have been vanquished with that single word.
Arthur took a step back, pressing one knee to the ground as his fingers worked at his boot, Merlin watching his every movement with rapt attention, eyes narrowing in confusion when Arthur pulled the scrap of paper from its hiding place under the arch of his foot. He fixed his foot within the boot, and righted himself so he was standing face to face with Merlin once more. Arthur extended his outstretched arm in invitation, the scrap of paper resting between his index and middle fingers. Merlin stared at it for a moment, brows furrowing in concentration, before he plucked it from Arthur's hand and shot him an inquisitive glance.
"I need you to read what's written on that piece of paper for me."
"Why?"
"What do you mean 'why'? Because I told you to," Arthur instructed, voice filled with a sternness he didn't necessarily feel. He wanted Merlin to read the spell out loud without questioning him, though he preferred not to resort to bullying tactics to accomplish that goal. Just this once he prayed for some blind obedience, already knowing full well that Merlin wouldn't be Merlin if he didn't question every other order handed to him.
Merlin eyed him warily. "Arthur."
Arthur held his breath purposely, eyeing Merlin with the same level of trepidation, releasing a calculated sigh a few moments later. "It was written on a document I found in my father's possession. There was more, but I didn't have time to copy it all out." He'd sorted out the story in his head beforehand, but hearing it now, he questioned whether it was quite as brilliant as he'd originally surmised, and, more importantly, whether or not it was clever enough to fool Merlin.
Merlin stared blankly at Arthur for a moment, blinking several times in succession as if he were trying to process the words. "I don't understand," he finally said.
"The document appeared to be about you. I thought that perhaps this might tell us something that could help you, but of course my father didn't know I'd even seen it, let alone had time to jot down what was written there. I can't read it myself, but I thought that perhaps you might be able to." The lies flowed surprisingly easily from Arthur's lips, and he wondered if this was what it felt like for Merlin, when he'd lied to protect Arthur all those times in the past. It was incredible, really, the things that someone was willing to do for somebody they cared for. Of course, binding his soul was standard fare; Arthur would do the same for anyone else, he was quite sure, ignoring the tiny voice squawking in protest at the back of his mind. At the very least, he had developed a new appreciation for Merlin's predicament and he resolved to remember this later, when he had time to properly reflect on this whole situation -- when Merlin was alert and able to talk freely and still very much alive.
Merlin looked sceptical. "This was all you were able to copy?"
Arthur opened his mouth, poised to respond, but Merlin cut him off. "How did you even manage to find a quill and piece of paper in time? And why would you copy out something you couldn't even read--"
Arthur stopped him mid-sentence. "Would you stop over-thinking and over-analysing this? Just... read it. Please. We don't have time to waste arguing about this," Arthur said, coming about as close to begging as his princely pride would allow, fingers wrapping loosely around Merlin's wrist. And maybe some of the genuine desperation he felt translated into something more concrete, because as Merlin studied his features, he seemed to see something there that pushed him into action.
"All right," he said, acquiescing to Arthur's request. "If that's what you want."
"It is." His hand remained firmly attached to Merlin's wrist.
Merlin squinted in the darkness, holding up the paper with his other hand so the thin line of moonlight from outside illuminated the words scrawled across the page. It wasn't the best of circumstances, but it would suffice.
Merlin's eyes scanned the words several times before he turned his head to glance at Arthur. "Um, this doesn't make a lot of sense. It sounds like it might even be a spell, or something. And I'm not sure what this has to do with me..." he trailed off, and at the same moment, they both heard the sound of approaching boots scuffing on the floor in the distance. They turned in unison to stare at the cell door.
"Why would my father have a random spell written on a document in his possession? That idea is preposterous, Merlin. Don't be such an idiot," he insisted, voice soft, tearing his gaze away from the door and placing it back on Merlin.
Merlin shrugged, distractedly. Arthur gave Merlin's arm a squeeze after a moment, tugging at the wrist until his attention was back on the task at hand. "Just hurry."
Merlin nodded, concentrating on the piece of paper. He took a breath, then began to read the foreign sounding words on the paper, eyes alighting with a golden flame, visible even in the dimness of the small cell, and Arthur stared with a mixture of wonder and awe at the sight of Merlin -- Merlin, of all people -- casting magic right in front of his face.
The instant the words left his lips, a jolt of energy passed between them. It seemed to fly from Merlin's wrist, travelling up Arthur's arm and passing through his entire body like blood coursing through his veins, before shooting back into Merlin via the wrist Arthur still grasped. It was not a painful feeling, but definitely unmistakable, not something he could explain away, and Arthur was filled with the nearly staggering sense of relief at having successfully bonded his soul to Merlin's. Merlin practically jumped out of his skin at the energy transfer, literally fell back against the cell wall, as his eyes widened in realisation, a single finger pointing accusingly in Arthur's general direction.
"That was a spell," he hissed out, darting his head all around suspiciously, fear written across his features. "You felt that, I know you did. What did you just have me do, Arthur?"
"I didn't do anything," he lied, but the words lacked conviction this time.
"Arthur, what did you just do?" Merlin asked for a second time, worry replacing some of the fear in the tone of his voice, the downturn of his lips, the dullness of his eyes.
Unexpectedly, both for Arthur and Merlin, Arthur suddenly pushed Merlin's chest, so that he staggered back, shoulders landing against the wall at his backside. Without much thought, Arthur came to hover right into Merlin's personal space, only a fraction of a wall of air separating their bodies from being pressed together entirely.
"Do you trust me?" Arthur whispered against his ear, nudging his shoulder to press into Merlin's chest.
"What?" Merlin paused, sounding confused, worried, even wounded, somehow. Arthur pulled back just enough to stare into Merlin's eyes, left hand clamping down suddenly on his manservant's shoulder.
"Do you trust me?" he repeated, this time with a greater sense of urgency. Arthur ignored the little voice at the back of his mind reminding him of the secret Merlin kept from him all these years. They could deal with that later, when death was not knocking at their proverbial doors.
"Yes, you know I do--"
Arthur cut him off, bringing his mouth close to Merlin's ear once more, and digging his fingers into the muscles of Merlin's shoulder. "Then just trust me on this. Everything's going to be fine. I promise." He lingered there, perhaps a fraction of a second longer than was strictly necessary before he reluctantly pulled back. With his free hand, Arthur plucked the paper from Merlin's grasp, shoving the sheet down his trousers for safe keeping, much to Merlin's surprise; he was not about to leave evidence like that in Merlin's possession, lest his father somehow try and pin this whole thing on Merlin tomorrow.
A moment later two of the guards appeared at the cell door, just as Arthur released Merlin from his hold. "Trust me," he asserted, one last time, at the exact moment that one of the guards called out, "Sire?"
"Yes, my business here is finished," Arthur muttered, almost placed a hand on Merln's forearm, but decided against the action in case they were watching.
He dared not chance a look in Merlin's direction as he left, quietly reminding himself that he'd see the man again, alive.
That night Arthur dreamt of fear and blood and the rancid stench of death. In his dreams he watched Merlin, face haunted and devastated, as he was executed in front of his family and friends, over and over again in an endless, torturous cycle. Each and every time, Arthur tried to save him, fought against guards and fire and even his own physical chains, but the result was always the same. Arthur was prevented from assisting him at the last moment, Merlin always died, and Uther cheered for the continued freedom of Camelot from the threat of sorcery. The true horror of the decrees his father passed off as a necessity for justice and peace had never truly sunk in for Arthur before, until someone he cared for replaced the invisible threat Uther saw at every corner, and the realisation of the true wickedness of the past twenty years of iniquitous punishment for anyone who even dared to think of using magic stabbed Arthur like a physical blow.
He awoke just before dawn, vaulting up and out of bed, skin bathed in a sheen of sweat, heart thundering in his chest. Perching on the edge of his bed, Arthur lowered his face into his hands, breathing deeply as he struggled to shove the last wisps of the nightmares from his mind. As he sat there, a light breeze from the window he'd accidentally left open last night sent a chill rippling across his back, and Arthur suddenly felt the urge to go down to the dungeons, to just make sure that Merlin was all right.
*****
At first, the thought tickled the back of his mind, present and persistent, but not overly demanding. However, every subsequent minute that passed seemed to dredge up a greater sense of urgency in Arthur, the feeling building slowly in his gut, coiling around him as though a hand were squeezing him tight from the inside, and what'd originally started as an idea to quell his own anxiety suddenly started to feel like an absolute necessity. Arthur took off from his chambers at a quick, but steady, gait, wending his way through the corridors, only now starting to show signs of life at this still early hour. By the time he arrived at the dungeons, Arthur was traveling at a pace just short of sprinting, the fear that'd taken a hold of his mind virtually overwhelming. He was in such a frenzied rush, that he nearly bowled over Hector, one of the guards on shift, as he clambered through the main entrance.
"I need to see Merlin," he told Hector, fighting to keep his expression and voice as neutral as possible, as he came to an abrupt halt in front of him.
"He's not here, sire," Hector responded with a shake of his head.
A spike of terror flared through Arthur's gut, nearly choking off his breath, and he knew, just knew that something was very, very wrong with this whole picture. "What do you mean he's not here? Where is he? What happened?" Arthur entreated, involuntarily crowding into Hector's personal space.
Hector inched back just enough to put a bit of distance between them, as another guard appeared at his side.
"Leon and Gawain came down here not too long ago. Said they had orders to remove the prisoner," Bedivere jumped in, sidling up to Hector as he met the prince's stern expression.
Arthur's heart skipped another beat. "When was that? Where did they take him?" he demanded, voice rising as his gaze shifted rapidly between the two men, all earlier concerns about schooling his distress completely forgotten.
Hector shrugged nonchalantly, either too dense to notice Arthur's urgency or simply not interested enough to care, but Bedivere, at least, seemed to know something of use. "It wasn't that long ago. Five, maybe ten minutes. You just missed them, actually," Bedivere shared, eyes crinkling in concern. "Why do you ask?"
But Arthur's mind was already churning, sorting through the most logical explanations. There were only two feasible options he could come up with, and neither were even remotely good. Arthur cursed, loud and brash, feeling the sudden desire to punch a wall well up within him. Without another thought, Arthur whipped around on his heels, and tore off down the halls, away from the confused calls of the guards, not caring in the least that a few of the passing servants shot him baffled looks as he sprinted past them. By the time he reached Gauis' chambers, Arthur already knew that he'd find it free of his manservant, but he barrelled in nonetheless.
Gaius immediately bolted up in bed at the loud and obvious intrusion, face contorting in confusion and worry at Arthur's unexpected entrance.
"I think Merlin's been taken for an early execution," Arthur spilled before the physician could even open his mouth to form words, wasting no time in cutting to the chase as he hurried over to the bed.
Gaius's upper body stiffened, eyes widening in fear. "How do you know?"
Arthur shook his head, pacing. Frantic energy pulsed through his veins, and he fought against the rising panic, feeling on the verge of losing the last remnants of a fragile control he still possessed. "I don't know how I know. I just do. I woke up this morning and had this feeling that I needed to go and check on Merlin, but when I got there he was already gone. Bedivere said Leon and Gawain had received orders to remove Merlin. That was maybe ten minutes ago. All I know is that there's no reason to move him this early in the morning, and I can't get the idea out of my head that something awful is about to happen." Arthur scrubbed a hand over his face, the prickles of stubble scratching roughly against his palm.
Before he knew it, Gaius was out of bed, grabbing at his boots. "You have to find your father, Arthur. You must hurry," Gaius instructed, shoving his foot into one of the worn leather boots.
Arthur nodded without question, knowing that Gaius would be following in his footsteps as soon as he was able, immediately heading for the door once more. There were only two places his father would likely be, if he'd moved up the execution without informing anyone, and Arthur silently prayed to whatever gods were listening that he'd be able to find his father before it was too late.
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Continue on to part three.