One Prison is pretty much like another - part 5
Author: archaeologist_d
Title: One Prison is much like another - part 5
Rating: PG-13
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: He doesn’t remember much. Well, really nothing at all.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1275
Camelot Drabble Prompt #579: Award
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; They and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
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When Merlin woke, groaning a little in pain, he tried not to jerk back. Fingers were holding his eyelids back and as he tried to blink them away, an old geezer, his eyeball close enough to spit at, was staring down at Merlin. It was bloody disturbing.
But in the next moment, still frowning, he straightened up, letting go of Merlin’s face at least and harrumphed. “No concussion, although how you managed that, I do not know.”
Merlin didn’t answer, especially since the old man didn’t seem to expect one.
Instead, whoever he was looked concerned, pressing his hand to Merlin’s forehead, then using his fingers to feel for lumps behind his ear. Scowling down, with white eyebrows twisted in annoyance, he harrumphed and muttered under his breath, mostly about idiots and could he please stay out of trouble for at least a single day.
Merlin had no idea who the old antique was, but he seemed to be competent enough and he had on rich robes so he wasn’t some crony of Sarc’s. The room Merlin was in was solid with stone walls, pungent smells, and there were herbs hanging from the ceiling and delicate equipment scattered on every surface. Probably a physician’s quarters from the looks of it.
In the distance, Merlin could hear voices, asking questions.
The physician stared down at him, then with a final grimace, stood back and said, “Merlin, you are a wonder. It’s a wonder that you are still alive. What were you thinking?”
Arthur came into view. “How is he, Gaius?”
Grunting his displeasure, this Gaius person said, “Broken ribs, his right foot might be broken, too. There is a lump on his head that might cause dizziness for a while, bruises. I’ve rubbed an ointment into those to help with blood flow and swelling. But he won’t be able to return to his duties for some time.”
“I thought as much,” Arthur said, then turned to Merlin. “Take a few days off. You can help Gaius with whatever he assigns you, then come to me once you are… not acting like an idiot.”
Gaius gave a little cough. “That might take years, my lord.”
“Don’t I know it?” Arthur said, shaking his head and giving a little laugh as he glared down at Merlin. “As for you, you buffoon, did you find out Sarc’s plans? Contacts? Slaver routes? Anything?”
“Umm,” Merlin didn’t know what to say. He could hardly think, especially considering that he didn’t know who any of these people were. It could be dangerous for him to admit any weakness. It was bad enough that he was still injured and they knew it.
Finally, with them both staring down at him, he decided to just make something up. It’s not as if they’d know the difference. “He has maybe thirty men. Mostly from Escetir.” That was not a lie. He’d recognised the accents although how, he didn’t know, and in the distance of his memory, he remembered that there had been a lot of slavers so thirty sounded a good number. “They didn’t say much and the guards were too busy kicking the shit out of me for me to ask about routes. He did have regular customers, though, but I didn’t see who they were. I… umm… was pretty much out of it most of the time.”
“So your hare-brained scheme of disobeying me, leaving us worried half to death about what had happened to you and then getting beaten so badly that you fainted when we rescued you, worked as well as could be expected. As in not at all,” Arthur said, sounding very put out. “Typical. For someone who can’t find his own backside most of the time, you’ve certainly outdone yourself. I should hold a feast to proclaim your incompetence to all of Camelot.”
Gaius cleared his throat. “Sire, perhaps, he will remember more once he recovers?”
“Or maybe he will finally learn his lesson and listen to me. Or will hell freeze over first?” Arthur scowled down at Merlin. “I should throw you in the dungeon for being such an idiot but I know it won’t penetrate that thick skull of yours.”
Hopefully, the prat was just miffed and not actually ready to throw Merlin in the dungeon. He’d just got out of one and didn’t really want to repeat the experience.
Rubbing at his forehead, looking like he was at the end of his rope, Arthur said, “Next time… no, there will be no next time. Do I make myself clear?”
“Of course, my lord,” Merlin said, trying to sound like he meant it.
At that, both of them stared at Merlin as if he’d grown a second head. Finally Gaius let out a little cough. “Merlin will be fine in a few days. I’ll send him to you then?”
Arthur just nodded, then turned and stomped out of the room, muttering to himself.
When the door had closed, Gaius pivoted toward him. “Have you completely lost your mind? From what Sir Leon has told me of the attack, it sounded like you used magic in broad daylight. What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about. Magic is against the law. Everyone knows that,” Merlin tried to sit up, thinking to escape if this Gaius person was going to call on guards to arrest him but the old man just pushed him down again. Still, Merlin protested, “Sir Leon must have injured his head, seeing things like that, or maybe he just needs his eyes checked. I had nothing to do with it.”
Merlin was panicking, though. Just breathing was agony and he must have hurt himself falling off the horse. His right leg was now throbbing and as he curled his toes a little, there were shooting pains. Gaius might be right about the broken foot.
Great, now he couldn’t even run.
“Merlin, you didn’t, did you? Use magic?” Gaius sounded more concerned than anything else, almost as if he had expected Merlin to use it.
That just made things worse. If the old man knew about his magic, how many others knew, too? How long before they’d cut off his head for it? This was a disaster in the making.
Sick with worry, Merlin insisted, “I don’t have magic. I don’t. I’ve never had it.”
“Never?” Taken aback, Gaius just blinked down at him.
Merlin shook his head, growing a little dizzy, rattled by all the questions.
His eyes sharp on Merlin’s, still Gaius’s voice was mild as he said, “Merlin, well, I was just testing to see if you had any memory loss. Of course, you don’t have magic.” He gave Merlin’s hand a little pat as if to comfort him. “But I think it might be better if you went home for a few days, to rest up. I can arrange for your parents to come and take you back to Greenwood, if you like.”
Not thinking too clearly, Merlin gave Gaius a relieved smile. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.” If nothing else, a smaller village would be easier to escape from than a fortified castle. Greenwood, wherever that was, sounded perfect.
Another harrumph, Gaius still looked worried but something seemed to settle. He shuffled over to the table, gathered up a small vial, and brought it over. “We’ll have you patched up in no time. I’ll talk to Arthur about transport to Greenwood. But for now, here’s something for the pain.”
The potion looked like slime and smelled worse. As Gaius nodded, Merlin downed it quickly, the taste terrible, but it worked.
He was asleep in no time.
Title: One Prison is much like another - part 5
Rating: PG-13
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: He doesn’t remember much. Well, really nothing at all.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1275
Camelot Drabble Prompt #579: Award
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; They and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
------------
When Merlin woke, groaning a little in pain, he tried not to jerk back. Fingers were holding his eyelids back and as he tried to blink them away, an old geezer, his eyeball close enough to spit at, was staring down at Merlin. It was bloody disturbing.
But in the next moment, still frowning, he straightened up, letting go of Merlin’s face at least and harrumphed. “No concussion, although how you managed that, I do not know.”
Merlin didn’t answer, especially since the old man didn’t seem to expect one.
Instead, whoever he was looked concerned, pressing his hand to Merlin’s forehead, then using his fingers to feel for lumps behind his ear. Scowling down, with white eyebrows twisted in annoyance, he harrumphed and muttered under his breath, mostly about idiots and could he please stay out of trouble for at least a single day.
Merlin had no idea who the old antique was, but he seemed to be competent enough and he had on rich robes so he wasn’t some crony of Sarc’s. The room Merlin was in was solid with stone walls, pungent smells, and there were herbs hanging from the ceiling and delicate equipment scattered on every surface. Probably a physician’s quarters from the looks of it.
In the distance, Merlin could hear voices, asking questions.
The physician stared down at him, then with a final grimace, stood back and said, “Merlin, you are a wonder. It’s a wonder that you are still alive. What were you thinking?”
Arthur came into view. “How is he, Gaius?”
Grunting his displeasure, this Gaius person said, “Broken ribs, his right foot might be broken, too. There is a lump on his head that might cause dizziness for a while, bruises. I’ve rubbed an ointment into those to help with blood flow and swelling. But he won’t be able to return to his duties for some time.”
“I thought as much,” Arthur said, then turned to Merlin. “Take a few days off. You can help Gaius with whatever he assigns you, then come to me once you are… not acting like an idiot.”
Gaius gave a little cough. “That might take years, my lord.”
“Don’t I know it?” Arthur said, shaking his head and giving a little laugh as he glared down at Merlin. “As for you, you buffoon, did you find out Sarc’s plans? Contacts? Slaver routes? Anything?”
“Umm,” Merlin didn’t know what to say. He could hardly think, especially considering that he didn’t know who any of these people were. It could be dangerous for him to admit any weakness. It was bad enough that he was still injured and they knew it.
Finally, with them both staring down at him, he decided to just make something up. It’s not as if they’d know the difference. “He has maybe thirty men. Mostly from Escetir.” That was not a lie. He’d recognised the accents although how, he didn’t know, and in the distance of his memory, he remembered that there had been a lot of slavers so thirty sounded a good number. “They didn’t say much and the guards were too busy kicking the shit out of me for me to ask about routes. He did have regular customers, though, but I didn’t see who they were. I… umm… was pretty much out of it most of the time.”
“So your hare-brained scheme of disobeying me, leaving us worried half to death about what had happened to you and then getting beaten so badly that you fainted when we rescued you, worked as well as could be expected. As in not at all,” Arthur said, sounding very put out. “Typical. For someone who can’t find his own backside most of the time, you’ve certainly outdone yourself. I should hold a feast to proclaim your incompetence to all of Camelot.”
Gaius cleared his throat. “Sire, perhaps, he will remember more once he recovers?”
“Or maybe he will finally learn his lesson and listen to me. Or will hell freeze over first?” Arthur scowled down at Merlin. “I should throw you in the dungeon for being such an idiot but I know it won’t penetrate that thick skull of yours.”
Hopefully, the prat was just miffed and not actually ready to throw Merlin in the dungeon. He’d just got out of one and didn’t really want to repeat the experience.
Rubbing at his forehead, looking like he was at the end of his rope, Arthur said, “Next time… no, there will be no next time. Do I make myself clear?”
“Of course, my lord,” Merlin said, trying to sound like he meant it.
At that, both of them stared at Merlin as if he’d grown a second head. Finally Gaius let out a little cough. “Merlin will be fine in a few days. I’ll send him to you then?”
Arthur just nodded, then turned and stomped out of the room, muttering to himself.
When the door had closed, Gaius pivoted toward him. “Have you completely lost your mind? From what Sir Leon has told me of the attack, it sounded like you used magic in broad daylight. What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about. Magic is against the law. Everyone knows that,” Merlin tried to sit up, thinking to escape if this Gaius person was going to call on guards to arrest him but the old man just pushed him down again. Still, Merlin protested, “Sir Leon must have injured his head, seeing things like that, or maybe he just needs his eyes checked. I had nothing to do with it.”
Merlin was panicking, though. Just breathing was agony and he must have hurt himself falling off the horse. His right leg was now throbbing and as he curled his toes a little, there were shooting pains. Gaius might be right about the broken foot.
Great, now he couldn’t even run.
“Merlin, you didn’t, did you? Use magic?” Gaius sounded more concerned than anything else, almost as if he had expected Merlin to use it.
That just made things worse. If the old man knew about his magic, how many others knew, too? How long before they’d cut off his head for it? This was a disaster in the making.
Sick with worry, Merlin insisted, “I don’t have magic. I don’t. I’ve never had it.”
“Never?” Taken aback, Gaius just blinked down at him.
Merlin shook his head, growing a little dizzy, rattled by all the questions.
His eyes sharp on Merlin’s, still Gaius’s voice was mild as he said, “Merlin, well, I was just testing to see if you had any memory loss. Of course, you don’t have magic.” He gave Merlin’s hand a little pat as if to comfort him. “But I think it might be better if you went home for a few days, to rest up. I can arrange for your parents to come and take you back to Greenwood, if you like.”
Not thinking too clearly, Merlin gave Gaius a relieved smile. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.” If nothing else, a smaller village would be easier to escape from than a fortified castle. Greenwood, wherever that was, sounded perfect.
Another harrumph, Gaius still looked worried but something seemed to settle. He shuffled over to the table, gathered up a small vial, and brought it over. “We’ll have you patched up in no time. I’ll talk to Arthur about transport to Greenwood. But for now, here’s something for the pain.”
The potion looked like slime and smelled worse. As Gaius nodded, Merlin downed it quickly, the taste terrible, but it worked.
He was asleep in no time.