TAKEN (What's yours is Mine) - 5/6
Taken Four
Taken Five
*
Arthur paced back and forth in his cell. The wall to ceiling frosted glass was polished enough he could see the glossy shadow of his reflection on the walls. His footsteps echoed back at him and he suddenly understood the tendency their captives had always had for talking to themselves when they’d put people in the fishbowl, as they’d called it. It was easy enough to understand going a bit mad if left in here with nothing but the twelve steps back and forth and his own reflection on every surface for company.
That and his thoughts. A man’s thoughts were more than enough to drive anyone insane and Arthur’s were a special grade. Guilt driven and loud, full of Merlin in every form Arthur knew, and this underlying fear he was forcing down, like God putting his hands over the peak of a volcano to stop it erupting.
He was very aware of how close he was to doing something dangerous and reckless. Even more so given his current situation. What was more dangerous and reckless than breaking into the Knights Compound when you were on the Blacklist looking for a file hidden in the very bowls of the building where no one but the higher echelons of the hierarchy had access to?
His current position was the result of something reckless, but he was trapped in a glass box aware of the counting clock somewhere out in Camelot that a man with a scruffy beard and a desperate ambition to look badass was measuring for him. A clock that had Merlin’s life in the balance. And Arthur was in a box.
Fucking hell, he was in a box, without the file and without access to his bloody phone should the bastards even call him.
Arthur growled and ran his hands roughly through his hair.
A sharp click on the other side of the room drew his attention and he stilled, watching the door like a cat would a mouse and waiting. It only took another moment and there was the faint sound of a beep and the door opened and Arthur caught sight of black satin and rolled his eyes.
“And what strategy would you call this?” he asked as Mithian closed the door behind herself and turned to face him.
“I don’t know, Arthur,” she replied with all the unflappable grace he had remembered her for. “You were the one with the magic interrogation report, remember? I’m just a bureaucrat.”
“But a good one.”
“Flattery, Arthur? Really? Unfortunately this time it’s not going to get you anything nice.”
“Not even an unlocked door or six?”
“And I assume a disastrous blackout, rendering all the camera’s between here and the top floor useless?” she asked, her tone condescending. “Come on, Arthur, let’s not play games. We’re both old enough and much too busy to waste each other’s time.”
“Have you done what I asked?” he pressed, leading her further into the fishbowl.
“I looked into the file, yes.”
“And what did you find?” he asked.
“Arthur - “ she brokered, sounding like she was about to cut him off completely and he rolled his eyes. He knew this tactic. She knew everything, he was willing to bet. Everything.
“Mithian,” he countered, cutting her off. “You looked into it. You know what it is they want with Gareth.”
“I have an idea.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“Not right now,” she replied, her lips curling into a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. There was a seriousness to her posture that was making him wary.
“Why not?” he asked, turning to face her completely.
“Have you fallen so far, Arthur, that you now deign to ask stupid questions?”
“Tell me what it says.”
“No,” she said, with an air of finality.
“Then why are you in here? Why, Mithian? I am well aware of what I am; my status and everything that gives me. If you had to interrogate me some more you’d take me back to one of the rooms, not come to me in the fishbowl, reeking of questions.”
Mithian scrutinised him, her dark eyes narrowed and one finger tapping against the folders held against her abdomen. She must have found something she was searching for in his heady gaze, because he didn’t look away. It took a moment, but eventually she nodded.
“Follow me,” she said and turned back to the door. Entering her authority code the glass door opened with the rush of air pressure and stayed open. Mithian threw him a scrutinising look.
“Are you coming or not?” she asked, that wilful teasing back in her tone after a near on ten year sojourn.
Arthur gathered his wits and his caution and followed her. It was a short trip, and he gathered she had ensured it was. It was bizarre, as much for him as it was no doubt for their onlookers. He was a felon and yet he followed her with his hands free. He followed her much like a dog.
But their walk was short and it didn’t take long before she keyed in another code and a second set of doors opened, this time into the stretching space of the Cappa Division War room where the entirety of his old team was sitting warily around the desk, eyeing the doorway - and Arthur - apprehensively.
“Take a seat, Arthur,” Mithian said, as amiably as if he’d been on holiday all this time and not on the run. There were two empty spots - one at what was clearly considered the head of the round desk and that was clearly Mithian’s and one at the end that was clearly his. He walked across the room feeling like he was walking to the chopping block, feeling the wary stare of those people he had once counted as the most important in his life.
People he had discarded for Merlin.
People he now needed, needed to use in order to get Merlin back. Arthur had never felt as dirty in his life as he did right at that moment.
“All right, I guess we’re lucky none of us need introductions, so we’ll skip right to it. Leon, if you will - Gwen, as per, bring it up on the screens,” Mithian ordered and just like that it was like the old days. The lingering stares of everyone around him slid over to the large screen at the end of the room and Mithian, whose manicured fingernails drummed a perfect beat for a moment against the folders in front of her. She nodded at Leon, who cleared his throat and started talking, just as Arthur had once done when he had been in charge.
“Going by our reports, at 12:40 lunch time Merlin Ambrose was forcefully taken from his offices in downtown Camelot, premises unknown, by these men - Taigan Alvarr and his crew of hired - but loyal - thugs. Going by recent intel, it seems, and according to your pals, Mr Dubois, Alvarr is currently best friends with one Morgana Le Fay, who is spending some quality time with her sister, Morgause Gorlois. They found each other nearly two years ago, caused a ruckus and disappeared for a while. It seems like they were planning.”
On the screen clear photographs of Alvarr showed up, quickly followed by a woman with long dark hair and a curling smirk in her mouth, and an older blonde with shrewd dark eyes. Arthur’s wariness sank like a stone and transformed into cold dread.
“So it’s Morgause and Morgana behind this,” he said, even sounding resigned to himself. Mithian eyed him for a moment before she spoke.
“It seems so. You received a text message to your mobile about an hour ago from your friends.”
Arthur snorted. Text message. Right. Out of all the ideas they had, Gwaine and Percy went with a text message.
At least they knew he wasn’t in control of his own anymore.
How, though, was another thing altogether.
“Keep going, Leon,” Mithian instructed and Leon obeyed.
“Alvarr, their puppet, demanded in exchange for Ambrose, current information on one Kil Gareth, an ex Knight from the Magical Research Department.”
As Kil Gareth’s photo popped up on the screen Arthur cast another glance over at Gwen, who was making a point of not looking at him. Her lips were in a tight line and her gaze was fixed, but she was just as beautiful as he remembered, her hair longer and there was a ring glinting on her finger that truly suited her. Arthur could feel Lance’s dark gaze on him for a moment and he forced himself to look back at the screen and follow along.
“At the time of his discharge, Gareth was working on a project called ‘Ivan Bliminse’, or ‘Invisible man’. It was a serum he was developing for the Sorcerers amongst the Knights, who, at the time were coming under increasing scrutiny from the illegal side of the magical community. Sorcerers have an individual signature and such signatures were getting some stings blown up or worse, some Knights killed. However, when magic users came under scrutiny inside the Knights, Gareth and his research were one of the first to go,” Leon said, sounding resigned, which was more comforting to Arthur than he had rights to, really.
“If it was being designed to help, then why was he discharged?” Elyan asked from the other end of the desk.
Mithian grimaced.
“Politics, Smith. At the time the Knights were in chaos regarding magic users. Certain higher members of the agency were against magic and suspicious of magic users in general. My guess is that Gareth was discharged because of the dangers of his serum. He couldn’t prove he wasn’t manufacturing it for misuse or to undermine the Knights from within because it was a serum designed to hide
Magic. The agency felt vulnerable to a magical attack from within and threats that could hide a great deal of their skills were a dangerous commodity that no one was willing to risk. Not even to save lives.”
“But why not just shut it down?” Lance asked. “When he was discharged Gareth didn’t have it working. There would have been no harm.”
“Tell me, Dulac, if I told you that you and Smith could no longer be together because of protocol would you let it go?”
The look of outrage on Lance’s face was enough to quell the rest of the table and Mithian stood up, smoothing down her skirt.
“Based on the reports, this was something that Kil Gareth would not have left alone, and indeed, he did not.”
“And this is what Morgana and Morgause want? The information on this serum?” Arthur asked and Mithian nodded, looking relieved to have things back under her control.
“That’s what we believe.”
“Then they’re trying to finish it.”
“Clearly.”
“Then why don’t I think you’re not telling me everything,” he scowled and Mithian smirked. Arthur could feel everyone’s eyes on him again and he bristled but refused to give into her.
“Because we’re not. See, there is a lot more to Kil Gareth’s story than what we’ve said so far. A lot of it involves your father.”
“My Father?”
“Of course. Where do you think we got all this information from, Arthur? It wasn’t in the file you were trying to steal, I assure you that much. No, everything you’re hearing today is courtesy of the MDD Archives and the Director was not happy to pass them over. But that’s irrelevant. What isn’t irrelevant is that twenty seven years ago it was Uther Constance who started the Knights internal war on magic. Kil Gareth was discharged right at the beginning of the changes. Over the next couple of years, a lot changed in the Knights. Unfortunately, several Knights died. A lot of them sorcerers. Deaths that could have been avoided with Gareth’s serum.”
“You think he tried to finish it.”
“We’re certain of it.”
“See, Arthur, Kil Gareth was friends with a young Knight at the time called Balinor. Over the next year, Balinor lost his brother and his best friend due to mishaps and changes of protocol because they were magic. Sorcerers were forced to explain every action they took, sometimes even before they finished the mission. It got people killed. Balinor was angry. Understandably. Unfortunately, Balinor didn’t leave things to lie, no, he and a friend, August Gorlois, organised to confiscate what was left of Gareth’s notes from the vaults, where it had been stored after Gareth was discharged.”
“Did they get it?”
“They did. Except Gorlois was shot during their escape and died later that night. Balinor, however, made off with the notes and despite their best efforts it took months to track him down.”
“But he was found.”
“He was. He and Balinor had been working to complete the serum. There were rumours he finished it. But Uther was relentless and located him. When they realised they had been found, Balinor disappeared once again and Kil Gareth blew up his house, destroying himself and his serum, leaving Uther with very little to go with. Very little, but enough.”
“How long ago was this?” Arthur asked, feeling the first stirrings of dread.
“Nearly twenty seven years ago. Long enough for your father to develop a team dedicated to try and reverse engineer Gareth’s serum.”
“And has he?”
“We don’t know,” Leon said, looking uncomfortable.
Mithian sighed and all eyes drew back to her.
“He is developing something. I had the authority to take the files he had on Gareth and Morgana, but he was very specific about the active files. I think it’s our best guess that whatever he’s doing, he’s not using Gareth’s serum notes to hide sorcerers,” Mithian said, clearing her throat and reaching into her pocket for a small drive she rolled across the table to Gwen.
“Bring that up,” she ordered and Gwen jumped to it. Mithian didn’t wait until the file was on the screen before she started talking again.
“Uther was restrictive with what he allowed me to take from the MDD, however, I’m not one to always do what I’m told. I pulled this along with the other files,” she said grimly, turning in her chair to face the monitor. Arthur cast a quick glance around the table and was met with the stony stares of everyone facing forward. Tension in their shoulders - this was new to them, as well.
“Uther has been in control of the MDD for the last fifteen years. In that time very little of what goes on down there is privy to anyone without the authority to be down there working. Not even the other Directors are fully aware of what Uther Constance does in the name of protecting us against Magic. Every few months new tech reports arrive. Developments on sensing magic users and how to combat their magic. Magic guilds are brought down, cartels. Criminals with a little too much flair are processed and conveniently never heard of again. It’s the MDD’s jurisdiction to ensure that they serve their time and hopefully aren’t repeat offenders.
“I might not have the answers now, but given what Uther is developing from these files, I wouldn’t be surprised if the answers are found soon.”
She motioned to the screen finally staring back with the files from the second drive.
“Gareth wanted to use his serum to hide a sorcerers ability. It’s a natural affectation of their ability that they can sense each other. He wanted to temporarily stop that. Uther, however, is broadening his spectrum; he’s aiming to use Gareth’s original research to a greater extent. Try eliminating their ability. Controlling it. Binding it. He wants to use the research to help pinpoint sorcerers in the general public. It’s 100% foolproof, or so his brief believes.”
Everyone around the table is silent, staring at the monitor in abject horror.
Arthur found his voice first, a desolate croak.
“He wants to use it to pick out kids?”
Mithian grimaced.
“It looks that way. The basis of Gareth’s serum is exponential but so far, nothing has ever been completed.”
“And it shouldn’t be. Magic users aren’t criminals,” Arthur scowled.
“Only some of them are. A lot of them are, Arthur. Like your Merlin.”
“And a lot of them become criminals because of their lot. If you’re persecuted because of something that you can’t help, what do you think these people are going to do? Follow the law? Of course not. It’s unjust,” he fumed, aware he was getting angry, how his blood was pounding at the idea presented to him like an inevitability. His father was developing something to take away the freedom of everyone born a little different. Already so many of them had to give up their freedom and safety and now, with this, there would be nowhere for them to run. No chance for them to hide. Or worse still, it would just be taken away from them. Something that could be so wonderful, as Merlin had shown him. Flickering lights in a fireplace, dancing in the shapes of dragons and birds; a tickling warmth in the palm of his hand; ripples in water and self-folding laundry.
“It’s what happens,” Mithian said, sounding somewhat resigned.
“Well it shouldn’t,” he snapped, watching as her resolution faded.
“I agree,” she said, finally, before her shield rising back up, impenetrable as always. “But that’s not what’s important, Arthur. What’s important is that Morgana and Morgause weren’t after Merlin, they were after you.”
It was Arthur’s turn to scowl then, quaver behind his own mask, his own guilt.
“Merlin wasn’t supposed to be there.”
“Then we look at what they were going to use you for.”
“They just wanted the file. The guy on the phone said instead of getting information out of me, they were going to make me get the information for them.”
“Which means that either their plan is less formulated than we imagined, or they were telling a lot less to their lackeys than it first appeared.”
“All bets say the latter,” Leon muttered darkly. Arthur couldn’t help but agree with him.
“Then that still leaves us with why they wanted Arthur.”
“Uther,” Gwen said softly and the table quietened.
“My father?” Arthur asked and Gwen’s expression tightened.
“Your father, Arthur. Two and a half years ago you disappeared. You might not have thought much on what you left behind, but we did. Your father did. He searched for you. It hurt him; I know it did, because it hurt me too. If someone said that they had you in exchange for some information, no matter how important and secret that information was, I have to say I would at the very least consider it.”
“Gwen’s right. This could all be about Uther.”
“Now that would make sense,” Arthur chuckled quietly. He fell silent as he felt the others watching him.
“What? Considering the information you got out of his labs. What do you think they’re trying to do? They wanted the information so they could use the serum to disappear. Before Uther can finish what he’s doing.”
*
The room was cold and the chair was hard against his back and his backside, but no matter the conditions, the weariness in his bones sent Merlin into a fitful sleep, a sleep, however, that wasn’t anywhere near restful. It was driven by exhaustion and paramount to passing out more than anything.
When he woke fitfully, without any idea of how long had passed, how long he’d been captive, he was blessedly alone.
His body ached, pushed to the limits of his endurance he’d never reached before, and as he groaned in the quiet and took stock of himself, he could still see Morgause’s anger reflected on the backs of his eyelids.
She had not taken his ignorance well.
Moving his fingers Merlin winced as they cramped, his extremities feeling the absence of his magic the most. It wasn’t quite the same as extreme cold, he wasn’t going to die from hypothermia, his fingers weren’t going to drop off. But that didn’t stop them feeling like they wanted to. His muscles felt tense and they ached, his head pounded and he felt childish and churlish as he sat there, his arms bound behind his back, whimpering.
In all his twenty-six years he’d never been helpless; he’d got himself into some interesting scrapes over the years, but he had never been helpless and despite his lost magic, he wasn’t helpless now. He had built himself on the ability to continue his career without magic. Other people did it, others pulled off stunts he wouldn’t pull off with his magic, and he’d forced himself to get good at it. And he was, he was just as good as his non-magical contemporaries and they would all be scowling at him in displeasure at the display he was putting on, he thought grimly. Arthur would be disgusted with him.
Arthur.
Merlin stopped and clenched his eyes shut. Out of everything, he needed to get out of here for Arthur the most. Not himself, just Arthur.
Merlin forced himself to take a deep breath and he rolled his shoulders, trying to work through the tense ache in them as he did. He needed to loosen himself up, he needed to relax, calm down, find that part of him that could focus solely on getting out.
If he got out, then they could find something to break the cuffs and get him his magic back. But if he relied on his magic alone, he was going to die.
Morgause and Morgana were going to kill him and they were going to smile while they did it.
Rolling his shoulders again he twisted against the chair to find his movement, what it allowed him to give and what restrictions he had even before he made an attempt on the rope. It was a small allowance that he was tied up at all, if it had been handcuffs then he would be screwed. He didn’t have anything in his pockets that could help him, he might have got lucky finding something around the room, but it would take time he didn’t have.
The cuffs binding his magic were thick metal and would have made it impossible for handcuffs to close properly. But rope, rope he could work with. Twisting his wrist against the rope he slid it back as far as it would go before it started digging into his flesh and rotated his hand, testing how much give he had.
It might be enough, he thought grimly, testing it again.
Repeating the movement he felt the minor give of the rope around his wrist. All he had to do was stretch the bindings enough to give him room to slip one wrist free. He had long fingers and a slim palm, easy enough to follow through, as long as he could get his thumb through. Twisting his wrist he slid it back and forth once again, embracing the burn of the rope against his skin as part of his escape. They’d tied it tight and it tore at the skin of his wrists around the cuff, but compared to what Morgause had put him through earlier, it was nothing. The harder he worked, the more his residual drowsiness disappeared and with it the far off feeling of his magic. By the time he was all but free he could feel it again. It was there, but it was still just beyond his reach, still slugging and slow and the feeling left him off kilter no matter how desperate he was to escape. But it was there.
And desperate he was, because while he had no idea just how long he had been unconscious for, how long he’d been missing, the fact that both Morgana and Morgause had left him alone made him wary that something was happening, something important; something to do with their plan, and therefore, Arthur.
And anything to do with Arthur had a lot to do with him, and he wasn’t going to stick around to have Morgana come back and gloat about what they’d done to the man Merlin loved.
God be damned, he wasn’t sticking around any longer. Not when he had his chance to escape.
Twisting his wrist again he winced as the skin tore and the rope burned against his bare flesh before it gave just another slip and the bulge of his thumb slid under the first line of rope. Merlin laughed, a brief burst of relief, as he twisted the rope to bunch it and give himself enough room to pull his hand completely free. The tips of his fingers felt a little numb as he worked the last loops and slid his right hand out from the rope and freedom.
He brought his arms around gingerly and felt his muscles relax for a moment before he turned immediately to working the last of the rope from around his left wrist. It didn’t take long until he was free of it and he tossed it aside before pushing himself warily to his feet, gaging how steady he was before he let go of the chair altogether. His muscles were still sore from Morgause’s ministrations but they held him up and he breathed a sigh of relief as he staggered across the room to the door. The room was dimmer than it had been before, making it harder to see; the main light wasn’t on, but there was a large barred window on one side that was grimy and impenetrable that glowed faintly with a light from another room. It’s wasn’t for outside, Merlin knew that much; Morgana and Morgause wouldn’t be that foolish.
Focussing his attention on the door Merlin ran his fingers over the lock, trying to get a feel for it and what surprises the girls had. It didn’t look complex, but he was willing to bet there was something extra on the other side. Something he couldn’t test with his magic. He had no chance at all of gaging whether or not he was setting something off by picking the lock.
But it didn’t matter in the slightest because before he got a chance to even look for a pick, he heard the dull thunk of something beyond the door and as he took several shaky steps backwards the door opened with a heavy clunk and swung inwards.
“Nuh uh uh,” Morgana mocked as she entered, her heels clicking on the stone floor and her eyes flashing in amusement. She waved her hand and the door closed with a forced click that seemed to mock Merlin just as much as she did. There was a fierce glint in her eyes and his magic made a feeble attempt to flare up and break though the barrier between it and himself.
In that moment as Morgana advanced on him and his magic fizzled out in his veins he felt more like a cornered animal than he had tied up, than he had when he’d been bound by those morons back at the office. At least then he had control over his situation, he had been able to match them if he had chosen to, when Morgana had first bound his magic he had been as weak and helpless as a kitten, but then he had still the opportunity to use that underestimation against them. They had left him alone and that had been his chance. Now, now it had all come to this - he was defenceless, cornered and weak and Morgana had always been resilient to his charms.
The worst part of it all, though, was that Morgana knew. She was looking at him and she was smiling and she knew she had him cornered.
It was all there in her smile, in the pleased bearing of her shoulders, the glint in her eye.
“I must admit, Merlin, I was hoping for a little more,” she said, her lips curling into a smirk that made her anger shine through. She was still beautiful, that was the unfortunate thing about her. His mother had always said anger had a way of corrupting the beauty of a person - but with Morgana, it just changed it. She had always been angry, this fierce determination he had admired all those years ago. But that was gone, the person in front of him now found pleasure in other people’s torment.
His only comfort was the fact that he knew whatever this was, she believed was going to change things. That had been all she wanted before - change. No pressing fear of persecution, or the overbearing fear of one’s self because you had no peers to draw inspiration or comfort.
Morgana had become one of the saddest examples of what the laws against Magic had created, and he felt for her. A part of him yearned for her, pitied her that she hadn’t found someone who would take care of her. Accept her and protect her, the way Arthur had for him.
But in that moment, no matter how he felt for her otherwise, he was simply and genuinely scared of her.
Which was a new feeling.
It wasn’t a feeling he had very often, it was rare and destabilising and he took a step backwards.
Morgana’s expression brightened, her whole face lighting up with a burst of amused laughter.
“Oh Merlin, how the mighty have fallen,” she laughed.
“I thought you’d have run off by now,” he taunted and she laughed again.
“And miss this? Oh no. Not for the world. No, you weren’t a part of our plan, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to look a gift horse in the mouth. This whole thing is working out just as well as it could have before, except with this I get the added pleasure of breaking you as well.”
“You won’t break me.”
“Won’t I?” she asked, sounding delighted and once again Merlin’s magic made an attempt to break though the barrier. He felt the instinct of it rush forward, burning hot and fading quickly, fizzling out against the wall between him and it.
Like she knew exactly how he felt, Merlin watched Morgana’s eyes change from green to burning gold and the air crackled with her magic, bursting like electricity.
“Oh how I have never dreamed for this day, to have the mighty Merlin defenceless in front of me. It’s like Christmas.”
“I’m not as weak as you think,” he snarled, clenching his fists.
“Oh but you are. Arthur and your pet rogue may have taught you how to throw a punch, Merlin, but against me you won’t even get within touching distance,” she smiled and brought her arm up like she was making a point. She flicked her wrist, one long finger extended and it was like being struck across the face, a sharp stinging blow that Merlin felt split the skin. Instinctively he brought his hand up to the wound and his fingers came away bloody.
“You’re like a toy, Merlin, completely at my mercy. Embrace the feeling, it’s how your friends are going to feel when we pull their silly toy weapons from their hands and back them into the corner before we force them to their knees.”
“You’re insane, Morgana. Whatever notions you have in your head they’ll never work. Even if you had everyone with magic on your side, they still outnumber us.”
“But not as much as you think, Merlin. So many people have the ability, it just never manifests. Not anymore. You wouldn’t know, you treat the wounds, not attempt to defeat the source of their suffering. If given the chance Magic could be great. There is so much untapped potential - “
“And there it will stay. Magic is dying out.”
“And you are content to let it die? You, most of all? Don’t you miss it, Merlin? Now that you can’t reach it? That power? That warmth? Don’t you feel it?” she snarled, her magic curling around him, hot against his skin, reaching for his own, pulling at him.
“How can you deign to let the sun burn out when you know how blessed you are to feel it? How can you stand behind scared cowards who know nothing but their own prejudice and fears? They don’t know what it’s like, so they fear it. They fear it and that justifies all their atrocities, and we let them do it because we’re scared of ourselves. But I wont be. I’m not scared anymore, Merlin. And I will get what’s mine.”
“They don’t have anything, Morgana. You’re free, they don’t have anything else to take.”
Merlin felt another curl of fear as her eyes flashed in anger, burning gold and her magic seeped from her fingers, curling up in wisping gold smoke.
“Oh but they do,” she snarled, stepping towards him, her magic thickening in swirling streams. “They do. You don’t know what you took away from me when you broke me out of the Compound, Merlin. You broke me out and I was mad as a hatter and you stopped it. You took my memories away and you thought you saved me from the madness. But you didn’t. You made it worse.”
Merlin took another stumbling step backwards.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” he stuttered and she laughed again.
“You didn’t, no. You thought you were saving me from my nightmare, and in a way you did. But your hands aren’t clean, Merlin. They’re covered in the tragedies of a little boy you left there.”
“There wasn’t anyone else there. There was only you.”
“Oh but there was. There still is. Just out of reach, dozens of them. But they aren’t anymore. You’ll be able to reach them all, very soon. I promise you that.”
She laughed, the sound like a ringing bell that made Merlin’s insides curl up in terror as her magic curled around him like a snake stalking it’s prey, teasing him, taunting him. Inside him his own magic pushed against the barrier, burning hot and frustrated.
“You know, it’s funny,” Morgana grinned, advancing on him. “I wanted to use Arthur, to get to Uther, to get him back. But, you complicated things. So instead Uther gets to toy with you and on top of it all, I get the serum too. Arthur will get me the information about Kil Gareth and I will get Mordred back using you. If anything, this has worked out better than it could of before. I thank you, Merlin. You’ve proven ever so useful.”
“So that’s why you haven’t killed me yet.”
“That’s why I haven’t killed you yet. And believe me, it’s a true pity, but you have greater things to do for me than a few moments of pleasure. Have faith in that. No, you get to die in a laboratory, Merlin. An experiment for Uther Constance. But don’t worry; he’ll let you feel your magic while you’re there. He’ll let you feel it only to test you again and again by taking it away.”
She brought her hand up and her magic burned bright then, strengthening, the gold thick and it’s movements angry. Merlin took another step back, or tried to - the magic grasped him, then, like every part of his body was held in place, the air turned to rock and still, Morgana advanced on him. Her steps were slow and menacing and the panic welling up in Merlin made a desperate bid to burst out of him, like his magic, it thrashed inside him. Morgana’s eyes just burned as she spoke.
“He will break you down until you’re dry heaving and sobbing and don’t know what day of the week it is or what’s even your own name. He’ll drive everything from you and the first thing you’ll lose is everything you’ve ever associated with Arthur. He’ll drive every good memory out of you until you can’t think of blond hair and blue eyes without screaming. And I hope that when he’s gone you’ll still remember me, and what you did by making me forget.”
“I did what I thought was right,” he stumbled over the words, his brain buzzing and his lungs burning for air. Memories he had pushed away, memories he had hated at the time and hated now bursting into his subconscious without will, memories he had always thought he had cleansed. He had thought he’d helped her, cured her of the insanity that had her frantic and wide eyed, laughing like there was no hinge left to her, mumbling about feeling it growing, the heat, the life inside of her. He’d thought her mad, and she had been - driven half insane by whatever had happened inside that Compound.
But he had done her a disservice instead and he had driven her to darker things. Whatever had happened to corrupt her since they had last been together had been part and parcel to what he had done that day. She had remembered what he’d taken from her, and Morgause, Morgause had helped her syphon out the madness. Or some of it. There was a madness to her now, a madness in her cruelty that made her vibrant and terrifying as she advanced on him, her arm outstretched and her magic buzzing all around the room, pushing against him on all sides.
“You might have, but you took those memories from me, Merlin. You took my son away. He’s been there, raised as a lab rat and that is your doing. Yours and Uther’s and you will suffer for it. I promise you that.”
Morgana stared at him, her eyes flashing in anger as the knowledge of her son echoed in his ears Merlin felt it, he felt the stirring fear deep inside him at her words, at the images she drove into his mind. Losing light, his magic, Arthur. Arthur.
He had no implications that it wouldn’t happen, that Uther Constance couldn’t do exactly what she was saying, because he could. He would keep Merlin locked away and Arthur wouldn’t know what happened to him. It was clear now that Morgana had no desire to give him back to Arthur even if Arthur got what she wanted from him. She was going to take the information and run. Her and Morgause were going to double cross Arthur and Gwaine and Percy and that meant that they weren’t planning on playing by the rules. Someone was going to get hurt and there was nothing that Merlin could do about it, trussed up as he was, powerless and aching, waiting for the metaphorical axe.
He clutched at the cuffs around his wrists and reached, reached for the curling, far-off warmth deep inside him that was just out of reach.
Morgana laughed, giggled like she knew exactly what he was trying to do, and perhaps she did. Perhaps that had been her aim after all, to make him reach for it, make him want to burst past the barriers and drown in the rushing warmth of his power, the light and the feeling of invincibility that burned in him with it, like they were two halves of him. He had never felt so vulnerable as he did reaching for it and finding that cold blocking him, leaving him powerless and human and completely at her mercy.
“There’s no point, you know,” Morgana laughed. “They were made for me, specifically for those high grade nuisances like us and there’s no way out of them. Uther made sure of that. You’re stuck, Merlin. You’re stuck until someone frees you and I promise that will never happen. Not while I have any say.”
Her voice darkened at that, low and dangerous and Merlin tried to focus, tried to keep himself calm, keep himself sane and the panic welling up in him, his lungs burning once again for air as Morgan’s magic tightened it’s hold on him and all of a sudden there was nothing, nothing but the need to breathe and then, as suddenly as it was there, it was gone. Her magic dropped him, released it’s grip and he was left to himself. His knees buckled under him and he fell hard onto the cold stone, gasping for air like a fish. His heart beating with a tempo like it wanted to break through his chest.
He wasn’t even aware as Morgana left, the door swinging shut behind her with a slam, completely of its own volition.
Instead he fought to catch his breath, and with it, his wits.
*
Morgause was waiting for her outside the room. Unlike the hired help, Morgause was not afraid of her in her anger and she relished the chance to let it sooth. Almost by proximity did Morgause help calm Morgana’s thoughts, help quell the raging storm.
“You let him anger you too much, sister,” Morgause cautioned as she stormed into the parlour and went straight for the scotch.
“He deserves it,” she snapped and felt her sister move closer.
“He does, for what he did to you. I will not argue that. But emotion does blind so easily and it will not do well for Mordred if we let it cloud our judgement.”
“Then we do it now, I need him, sister. I need Merlin gone and Mordred here.”
“Then we must make the call to Uther.”
“Then do it.”
“You should be the one, sister,” Morgause said, holding out the phone towards her. Morgana stared at it like it was a viper. To hear that man’s voice - she snatched it out of Morgause’s hand. Her angry remarks disappearing off her tongue.
To hear that man’s voice and know he thought he could do her over, oh she was going to savour every single moment from this point on. Tonight she would get her son back, but after, after - there would be nothing to save Uther Constance.
She would have her revenge on him one way or another.
But for now, she needed to take what he had first.
She felt her sister watching her as she input each of the digits and pressed call. The sound of it ringing echoed in the small, sparsely furnished room.
The sound of Uther Constance answering echoed even louder.
“Constance, ” the man growled and Morgana smirked, her lips curling of their own volition.
“I have a proposition for you, Director Constance,” Morgana said, imagining the way Uther stopped still as he recognised her voice.
“How did you get this number? ” the old man asked, a growl of suspicion undermining his voice. Morgana could have laughed.
“Would you like me to waste your time with useless answers we both already know?”
“What do you want? ” Uther countered and this time she couldn’t help it, she cackled.
“Very good, Director Constance. As I said, I have a proposition for you. I have something you want and you have something I want. I suggest a trade.”
“And what could I possibly desire that you possess? ” he asked, and she imagined the curl of his lips as he smirked, like he had her backed into a corner. She knew he was wasting time; the old toad would already be tracing the number. She didn’t care. He could find her if he wanted, they would be gone by the time anything could be done and it would still be in her favour. The only people left behind would be Alvarr and his useless crones. If the man happened to find them he was doing them a favour.
“I have Merlin Ambrose, the man who took your son.”
Uther was quiet and Morgana openly chuckled.
“I have Emrys, Director Constance. I’ll give him to you, him and all his magic all bound up like a pig for the fire.”
“And in exchange?”
“Mordred.”
There was a pause and this; this was a crucial moment, where it all hinged upon. He held the upper hand here. But there was no chance in hell she was letting him keep it.
“The boy is special to me.” He sneered and Morgana chuckled.
“Anything Mordred could offer is more than doubled with Ambrose. And wherever Ambrose is, Arthur will follow.”
Uther was quiet again and Morgana closed her eyes, imagining the look on his face as he visibly fought with himself. She imagined as he made his decision.
“The Warf, warehouse sixteen, in an hour. Bring Ambrose and we’ll make the exchange,” he snapped and Morgana smiled, feeling it stretch across her face.
“Until then,” she said, cutting off the call before Uther could say another word, before he could do it himself. She would have the last laugh over Uther, she would.
She punched the end call and threw the phone aside, not caring where it landed or what it broke.
“We have an exchange,” she grinned, and watched as the smile crept upon her sister’s face.
“It seems our modifications are working well, sister. Uther will give us Mordred and Arthur will give us everything we need to disappear.”
Morgana’s smile could not have been wider. An hour. In an hour, she would have him back. Her Mordred.
And Uther would pay for his cruelty.
*
In all the years he had been a Knight, and all the years he had been before then, he had never expected at all to bear witness to Gwen Smith (DuLac now? Details, details, Dubois) interrupt and tell all those present that Uther Constance was on the move.
His father had been put under surveillance.
The ping of her computer interrupted the argument around the table and it all went silent as Gwen’s expression went from intrigued to surprised, before she finally settled on biting her lip and looking at Mithian beseechingly.
“Gwen?” Mithian answered and if Gwen’s reaction hadn’t pulled anyone’s attention that certainly had.
“He’s moving, Mithian,” Gwen said and Mithain’s expression schooled blank.
“Where?”
“Outside the Compound. He’s moving, moving.”
“Who?” Elyan asked from across the table and once again all eyes went to Mithian.
“I ordered Agent Smith to place a trace on Director Constance’s phone.”
“You’re tracking Uther?” Leon asked, sounding half impressed half insane.
“Given earlier suspicions and later findings I wanted to be sure. I was given the authority to do everything that I needed in order to finish this, and I will. Given what we found in his files, I will be submitting an official inquiry into the MDD and anything that happens forthwith during this case will be submitted as evidence if it proves, or disproves the allegations.”
“You think he’s going to make a deal with Morgana,” Arthur said, feeling the weight of the words on his tongue as he said them.
“I do,” Mithian answered darkly, looking at each person around the table.
“I need you all to gear up. As soon as we have an idea of where Director Constance is going, we follow, is that understood? Anyone wishing to step down may do so without recourse.”
The table was quiet and Mithian nodded.
“Owaine, you and Gwen will remain here. Leon, you’re in charge. Elyan, Lance, suit up Dubois. I want a bloody tracking anklet on him. But he’s coming along. Suit up, we’re out in ten. Gwen, radio in when you have directions.”
Mithian stood up, her face impassive before she nodded down at them and was the first to leave. Leon stood up a moment later and followed her out.
Lance stood up next and walked over to Arthur.
“What is she doing?” Arthur asked before he could stop himself. Lance, like Mithian, was wearing an expression of calm control. He barely blinked at his orders, or Arthur’s question.
“I think she’s giving you a chance, Arthur,” he said quietly, slapping a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.
“We have our orders, come on. Otherwise Mithian might leave without us.”
“Merlin would kill me if he was rescued by the Knights without me,” Arthur replied with a hollow smile.
His father being involved didn’t necessarily negate any of the danger Merlin was in now, but something inside him clenched, anxious about what could happen to Merlin if Uther Constance got his hands on him.
*
Merlin had to admit he was surprised when Morgause came for him soon after Morgana had left him. He was still reeling from her outburst, but as the door opened and Morgause entered, regal and proud and her dark eyes flashing, Merlin felt his magic flare, a burst of heat that seemed to burn for a moment deep in his chest. Beyond the barrier, a useable part of his magic, it seemed to flare in warning, like a shield or the hackles of a dog. It was there and as suddenly as he realised it, it slipped from his fingers, disappearing back beyond the barrier like water down a plug hole.
Morgause didn’t look any the wiser but simply continued towards him, moving over to him and kneeling down in front of him. She reached for his hands and it was only then that he saw the coiled rope she had with her. He didn’t fight it as she looped it around his wrists, securing them together once again, this time, mercifully, in front of him.
She stood up and without a word started heading for the door, dragging him behind her like a pet, yanking hard on the rope.
She didn’t blindfold him or hinder him at all; she simply paraded him out of the room and down a narrow hallway, damp and as dimly lit as the room had been. She led him down to a mouldy front door and out, out into the bitter chill of the night. The fog above them curled into mimicking shadows of clouds and their movement could almost mistake for the glint of stars somewhere high in the mist. The air was cold, a sharp biting wind that was there and gone as fast as it took for Morgause to drag him over to the black sedan parked in the front. It was non descript and boring, and almost as cold as it was outside as Morgause pushed him into the back seat, looping her end of the rope around the hand rest, pulling it taught so that he couldn’t move. There was little chance he’d even try to open one of the back doors in transit now, the rope was just long enough he’d probably kill himself being dragged along the tarmac, which he supposed was her point.
His magic was gone, he was bound and as helpless as he was going to be, tied to the car about to take him towards his destiny. Towards Uther Constance.
Morgana was just as quiet as she slid into the drivers seat a moment later and as she turned the engine, Morgause slid into the passengers seat and it was done, like a signature on a contract.
*
For Arthur, it was like stepping back in time. The black fatigues, the armour, the gloves and the feeling of movement going on around him as his fellow teammates did the same, stepping into the other part of themselves.
Except, no matter how similar it felt, how familiar and soothing it was very, very different. There was no gun in Arthur’s boot, no holster around his shoulders, instead his hands were cuffed in front of him and Lance was a warm weight beside him, guiding him through the corridor out to the SUV’s. The tinted black glass shone back at him as Lance guided him into the car and as Elyan joined him on the other side as Mithian, dressed in her own combat gear, slid into the passenger seat and Leon in front. The whole situation felt surreal. It kept slipping out from between his fingers, impossible to truly grasp.
And at the centre of it, was Merlin.
All of this was for Merlin.
“You’re sure?” Mithian asked, one hand pressed to the headset in her hear as Leon revved the accelerator and the tyres screeched on the cement as he guided it out from the holding bay and up through the car park and out - out onto the long stretch of highway between the edge of the compound and the rest of the civilian life.
“Ok, tell me the moment something changes,” Mithian said, continuing her one sided conversation before she turned her attention on Leon.
“The Warf, he hasn’t stopped yet, but that’s his direction.”
“Got it,” Leon murmured, mostly to himself. Mithian twisted in her seat then, contorting herself to look at the three of them in the backseat.
Elyan and Lance had a grim tension in their shoulders, their expressions tight and eyes dark. Mithian was the same. Seeing her out of her usual prim suits was perhaps the most disconcerting - in all the time he had known her, he had never seen her as she was, her body bulked with the added bullet proof armour that added another ten to fifteen pounds to the whole getup. It was as if some part of her had been stripped away and he mocked himself internally for a moment, continuing to watch her. It had always been her choice to be a bureaucrat in place of an agent. He knew that, he also knew that she had the balls to cut it if she’d wanted it. He’d seen her results on the firing range, on the athletics course. She was one to beat, and always had been.
But somewhere along the line she had chosen a different battlefield. Yet to see her now, here, helping him - bringing him along to help save Merlin.
Something gave in his chest, this wave of thanks that pushed him off kilter for a moment before he could gather himself properly and push it all back into place.
“From the beginning I want recon before any of us go in. We’re facing sorcerers, here,” Mithian said grimly, dragging him back into the present with her calm determination.
“I don’t want to take anyone back in a body bag because they got impatient, mind,” she warned and he felt her eyes bore into him then. He could feel them all looking at him.
He nodded, unable to open his mouth for fear something else would come out - like laughter.
He couldn’t promise her anything, not with this. Not with Merlin.
Because as much as he was hoping, he knew in some way shape or form, that he and Merlin weren’t getting out of this.
Mithian might have been doing him a service by letting him come with her, but that didn’t matter.
Merlin was on the Wanted list and Arthur himself, was Blacklisted. They were targets just as much as Morgana and Morgause were.
“If you have the shot to incapacitate any of the sorcerers, do it. Take the shot,” Mithian said in the quiet a moment later and the darkening sense of fear Arthur was feeling upped itself a notch.
As much as he owed them, as much loyalty as he felt, renewed or remembered Arthur stilled himself then, he closed his eyes and swore, because as much as he loved them, each of them sitting around him in the car, he loved Merlin more.
It didn’t matter what happened, he was going to get Merlin out.
That was his goal.
It wasn’t his father, or Morgana and Morgause, it was Merlin, and Merlin alone.
And this time he wouldn’t let him down.
*
It began as quickly as it had started.
Uther was already waiting for them when they arrived, the man standing steadfast in the doorway of the warehouse. Parked in the shadow of the security lights was a black SUV, it’s windows tinted, next to it, the sedan seemed tiny and inconsequential.
Merlin knew Uther wasn’t fooled, as anyone should be.
Morgause and Morgana were not women to take lightly.
As Uther well knew, but that didn’t stop him.
Uther waited, impassive, as Morgause dragged Merlin out of the car, barely waiting to let him get to his feet before she started dragging him into the building.
Uther was alone. He was standing in the centre, his hands behind his back and Morgana’s snarl echoed around them tenfold.
“Where is Mordred?”
“The boy is in the car, Morgana. Where it’s warmer,” the man sneered, sounding for all the world like a knowledgeable parent. Like he cared.
It was almost laughable.
Morgana and Morgause were not impressed.
“Go and get him.”
“Be patient, girl,” Uther replied, his voice calm and collected, but he spoke with the authority of a man who didn’t need his anger to be obeyed.
“Let me look at this whelp you claim is Emrys,” Uther mocked and at that Merlin scowled. Morgana looked furious, but Morgause was her composed self and with a sharp push she shoved him forward into Uther’s waiting gaze.
Uther circled him, his small grey eyes staring into Merlin, into the depths of him and he felt his magic roil, like the ocean during a storm and he reached for it, hitting the barrier once again. Only this time he felt it give and his magic rushed up to meet him only for it to slip away once again.
Uther reached out and clutched Merlin’s chin tightly, pulling him forward to stare at him properly, intimidate and unsettle him. Threaten.
Merlin steeled himself and clenched his jaw, clinging to that brief moment of magic.
He wasn’t afraid of Uther Constance, not of the man - he had heard too much from Arthur. He knew too much about Uther not to know that there was a man underneath the exterior, underneath the bristling fury and madness that made Morgana more his daughter than her blood did.
He wasn’t afraid of Uther, he was afraid of the power Uther possessed once he was back in the MDD. He was afraid of how helpless he could become.
He was afraid of being trapped, but he wasn’t afraid of a man.
“To think something about you enchanted my son,” Uther scowled, his voice low and angry and Merlin scowled.
“You will pay for the magic you used on my family, boy,” Uther snarled and in that moment Merlin had to fight not to laugh, because there was something perfectly hilarious about the man’s delusions. About the fact that it was Arthur who enticed his magic, not his magic enticing Arthur.
About everything, this whole mess.
All he’d wanted was Arthur, all he’d wanted was to come home early and let the blonde prat kiss him hello and was that too much? Had he asked too much of it all?
It built up into his throat like a sob and he clenched his jaw shut tighter in that moment, desperate not to let it out lest he wouldn’t stop - laughing or crying; they were one in the same in that moment.
And that’s when it peaked.
Uther let go of him, pushing him back like he was an animal he was done with. He turned back to the two women watching him like hawks, their eyes burning and their magic bristling.
“Where’s Mordred?” Morgana snarled and Merlin didn’t have time to hear whether or not Uther answered her because there was a soft thud as something hit the ground behind them. Merlin turned, just in time to see the tiny black device and recognise it before it exploded.
The force of it picked him up and tossed him like a doll, throwing him across the room to slam back onto the ground and roll, his limbs loose under him and his head ringing. In that moment as he stirred back to coherency he was dimly aware of shouting echoing somewhere further away.
The room was full of smoke, billowing and black and it was impossible to see - the room sliding in and out of focus. Merlin forced his hands under him and tried to push himself up, feeling his body protest and his magic roil again, like it wanted to burst out of him like bile.
For a moment he wanted to be sick, but there was nothing in his stomach to heave and there was too much going on.
The shouting grew louder and he pushed himself to his knees, blinking through the smoke and trying to listen, to make out the words from the shouting.
And that’s when he heard it, the sound he had been yearning to hear since he’d been taken, since he’d woken up yesterday, since he’d left two weeks ago.
Arthur.
Part Six
Taken Five
*
Arthur paced back and forth in his cell. The wall to ceiling frosted glass was polished enough he could see the glossy shadow of his reflection on the walls. His footsteps echoed back at him and he suddenly understood the tendency their captives had always had for talking to themselves when they’d put people in the fishbowl, as they’d called it. It was easy enough to understand going a bit mad if left in here with nothing but the twelve steps back and forth and his own reflection on every surface for company.
That and his thoughts. A man’s thoughts were more than enough to drive anyone insane and Arthur’s were a special grade. Guilt driven and loud, full of Merlin in every form Arthur knew, and this underlying fear he was forcing down, like God putting his hands over the peak of a volcano to stop it erupting.
He was very aware of how close he was to doing something dangerous and reckless. Even more so given his current situation. What was more dangerous and reckless than breaking into the Knights Compound when you were on the Blacklist looking for a file hidden in the very bowls of the building where no one but the higher echelons of the hierarchy had access to?
His current position was the result of something reckless, but he was trapped in a glass box aware of the counting clock somewhere out in Camelot that a man with a scruffy beard and a desperate ambition to look badass was measuring for him. A clock that had Merlin’s life in the balance. And Arthur was in a box.
Fucking hell, he was in a box, without the file and without access to his bloody phone should the bastards even call him.
Arthur growled and ran his hands roughly through his hair.
A sharp click on the other side of the room drew his attention and he stilled, watching the door like a cat would a mouse and waiting. It only took another moment and there was the faint sound of a beep and the door opened and Arthur caught sight of black satin and rolled his eyes.
“And what strategy would you call this?” he asked as Mithian closed the door behind herself and turned to face him.
“I don’t know, Arthur,” she replied with all the unflappable grace he had remembered her for. “You were the one with the magic interrogation report, remember? I’m just a bureaucrat.”
“But a good one.”
“Flattery, Arthur? Really? Unfortunately this time it’s not going to get you anything nice.”
“Not even an unlocked door or six?”
“And I assume a disastrous blackout, rendering all the camera’s between here and the top floor useless?” she asked, her tone condescending. “Come on, Arthur, let’s not play games. We’re both old enough and much too busy to waste each other’s time.”
“Have you done what I asked?” he pressed, leading her further into the fishbowl.
“I looked into the file, yes.”
“And what did you find?” he asked.
“Arthur - “ she brokered, sounding like she was about to cut him off completely and he rolled his eyes. He knew this tactic. She knew everything, he was willing to bet. Everything.
“Mithian,” he countered, cutting her off. “You looked into it. You know what it is they want with Gareth.”
“I have an idea.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“Not right now,” she replied, her lips curling into a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. There was a seriousness to her posture that was making him wary.
“Why not?” he asked, turning to face her completely.
“Have you fallen so far, Arthur, that you now deign to ask stupid questions?”
“Tell me what it says.”
“No,” she said, with an air of finality.
“Then why are you in here? Why, Mithian? I am well aware of what I am; my status and everything that gives me. If you had to interrogate me some more you’d take me back to one of the rooms, not come to me in the fishbowl, reeking of questions.”
Mithian scrutinised him, her dark eyes narrowed and one finger tapping against the folders held against her abdomen. She must have found something she was searching for in his heady gaze, because he didn’t look away. It took a moment, but eventually she nodded.
“Follow me,” she said and turned back to the door. Entering her authority code the glass door opened with the rush of air pressure and stayed open. Mithian threw him a scrutinising look.
“Are you coming or not?” she asked, that wilful teasing back in her tone after a near on ten year sojourn.
Arthur gathered his wits and his caution and followed her. It was a short trip, and he gathered she had ensured it was. It was bizarre, as much for him as it was no doubt for their onlookers. He was a felon and yet he followed her with his hands free. He followed her much like a dog.
But their walk was short and it didn’t take long before she keyed in another code and a second set of doors opened, this time into the stretching space of the Cappa Division War room where the entirety of his old team was sitting warily around the desk, eyeing the doorway - and Arthur - apprehensively.
“Take a seat, Arthur,” Mithian said, as amiably as if he’d been on holiday all this time and not on the run. There were two empty spots - one at what was clearly considered the head of the round desk and that was clearly Mithian’s and one at the end that was clearly his. He walked across the room feeling like he was walking to the chopping block, feeling the wary stare of those people he had once counted as the most important in his life.
People he had discarded for Merlin.
People he now needed, needed to use in order to get Merlin back. Arthur had never felt as dirty in his life as he did right at that moment.
“All right, I guess we’re lucky none of us need introductions, so we’ll skip right to it. Leon, if you will - Gwen, as per, bring it up on the screens,” Mithian ordered and just like that it was like the old days. The lingering stares of everyone around him slid over to the large screen at the end of the room and Mithian, whose manicured fingernails drummed a perfect beat for a moment against the folders in front of her. She nodded at Leon, who cleared his throat and started talking, just as Arthur had once done when he had been in charge.
“Going by our reports, at 12:40 lunch time Merlin Ambrose was forcefully taken from his offices in downtown Camelot, premises unknown, by these men - Taigan Alvarr and his crew of hired - but loyal - thugs. Going by recent intel, it seems, and according to your pals, Mr Dubois, Alvarr is currently best friends with one Morgana Le Fay, who is spending some quality time with her sister, Morgause Gorlois. They found each other nearly two years ago, caused a ruckus and disappeared for a while. It seems like they were planning.”
On the screen clear photographs of Alvarr showed up, quickly followed by a woman with long dark hair and a curling smirk in her mouth, and an older blonde with shrewd dark eyes. Arthur’s wariness sank like a stone and transformed into cold dread.
“So it’s Morgause and Morgana behind this,” he said, even sounding resigned to himself. Mithian eyed him for a moment before she spoke.
“It seems so. You received a text message to your mobile about an hour ago from your friends.”
Arthur snorted. Text message. Right. Out of all the ideas they had, Gwaine and Percy went with a text message.
At least they knew he wasn’t in control of his own anymore.
How, though, was another thing altogether.
“Keep going, Leon,” Mithian instructed and Leon obeyed.
“Alvarr, their puppet, demanded in exchange for Ambrose, current information on one Kil Gareth, an ex Knight from the Magical Research Department.”
As Kil Gareth’s photo popped up on the screen Arthur cast another glance over at Gwen, who was making a point of not looking at him. Her lips were in a tight line and her gaze was fixed, but she was just as beautiful as he remembered, her hair longer and there was a ring glinting on her finger that truly suited her. Arthur could feel Lance’s dark gaze on him for a moment and he forced himself to look back at the screen and follow along.
“At the time of his discharge, Gareth was working on a project called ‘Ivan Bliminse’, or ‘Invisible man’. It was a serum he was developing for the Sorcerers amongst the Knights, who, at the time were coming under increasing scrutiny from the illegal side of the magical community. Sorcerers have an individual signature and such signatures were getting some stings blown up or worse, some Knights killed. However, when magic users came under scrutiny inside the Knights, Gareth and his research were one of the first to go,” Leon said, sounding resigned, which was more comforting to Arthur than he had rights to, really.
“If it was being designed to help, then why was he discharged?” Elyan asked from the other end of the desk.
Mithian grimaced.
“Politics, Smith. At the time the Knights were in chaos regarding magic users. Certain higher members of the agency were against magic and suspicious of magic users in general. My guess is that Gareth was discharged because of the dangers of his serum. He couldn’t prove he wasn’t manufacturing it for misuse or to undermine the Knights from within because it was a serum designed to hide
Magic. The agency felt vulnerable to a magical attack from within and threats that could hide a great deal of their skills were a dangerous commodity that no one was willing to risk. Not even to save lives.”
“But why not just shut it down?” Lance asked. “When he was discharged Gareth didn’t have it working. There would have been no harm.”
“Tell me, Dulac, if I told you that you and Smith could no longer be together because of protocol would you let it go?”
The look of outrage on Lance’s face was enough to quell the rest of the table and Mithian stood up, smoothing down her skirt.
“Based on the reports, this was something that Kil Gareth would not have left alone, and indeed, he did not.”
“And this is what Morgana and Morgause want? The information on this serum?” Arthur asked and Mithian nodded, looking relieved to have things back under her control.
“That’s what we believe.”
“Then they’re trying to finish it.”
“Clearly.”
“Then why don’t I think you’re not telling me everything,” he scowled and Mithian smirked. Arthur could feel everyone’s eyes on him again and he bristled but refused to give into her.
“Because we’re not. See, there is a lot more to Kil Gareth’s story than what we’ve said so far. A lot of it involves your father.”
“My Father?”
“Of course. Where do you think we got all this information from, Arthur? It wasn’t in the file you were trying to steal, I assure you that much. No, everything you’re hearing today is courtesy of the MDD Archives and the Director was not happy to pass them over. But that’s irrelevant. What isn’t irrelevant is that twenty seven years ago it was Uther Constance who started the Knights internal war on magic. Kil Gareth was discharged right at the beginning of the changes. Over the next couple of years, a lot changed in the Knights. Unfortunately, several Knights died. A lot of them sorcerers. Deaths that could have been avoided with Gareth’s serum.”
“You think he tried to finish it.”
“We’re certain of it.”
“See, Arthur, Kil Gareth was friends with a young Knight at the time called Balinor. Over the next year, Balinor lost his brother and his best friend due to mishaps and changes of protocol because they were magic. Sorcerers were forced to explain every action they took, sometimes even before they finished the mission. It got people killed. Balinor was angry. Understandably. Unfortunately, Balinor didn’t leave things to lie, no, he and a friend, August Gorlois, organised to confiscate what was left of Gareth’s notes from the vaults, where it had been stored after Gareth was discharged.”
“Did they get it?”
“They did. Except Gorlois was shot during their escape and died later that night. Balinor, however, made off with the notes and despite their best efforts it took months to track him down.”
“But he was found.”
“He was. He and Balinor had been working to complete the serum. There were rumours he finished it. But Uther was relentless and located him. When they realised they had been found, Balinor disappeared once again and Kil Gareth blew up his house, destroying himself and his serum, leaving Uther with very little to go with. Very little, but enough.”
“How long ago was this?” Arthur asked, feeling the first stirrings of dread.
“Nearly twenty seven years ago. Long enough for your father to develop a team dedicated to try and reverse engineer Gareth’s serum.”
“And has he?”
“We don’t know,” Leon said, looking uncomfortable.
Mithian sighed and all eyes drew back to her.
“He is developing something. I had the authority to take the files he had on Gareth and Morgana, but he was very specific about the active files. I think it’s our best guess that whatever he’s doing, he’s not using Gareth’s serum notes to hide sorcerers,” Mithian said, clearing her throat and reaching into her pocket for a small drive she rolled across the table to Gwen.
“Bring that up,” she ordered and Gwen jumped to it. Mithian didn’t wait until the file was on the screen before she started talking again.
“Uther was restrictive with what he allowed me to take from the MDD, however, I’m not one to always do what I’m told. I pulled this along with the other files,” she said grimly, turning in her chair to face the monitor. Arthur cast a quick glance around the table and was met with the stony stares of everyone facing forward. Tension in their shoulders - this was new to them, as well.
“Uther has been in control of the MDD for the last fifteen years. In that time very little of what goes on down there is privy to anyone without the authority to be down there working. Not even the other Directors are fully aware of what Uther Constance does in the name of protecting us against Magic. Every few months new tech reports arrive. Developments on sensing magic users and how to combat their magic. Magic guilds are brought down, cartels. Criminals with a little too much flair are processed and conveniently never heard of again. It’s the MDD’s jurisdiction to ensure that they serve their time and hopefully aren’t repeat offenders.
“I might not have the answers now, but given what Uther is developing from these files, I wouldn’t be surprised if the answers are found soon.”
She motioned to the screen finally staring back with the files from the second drive.
“Gareth wanted to use his serum to hide a sorcerers ability. It’s a natural affectation of their ability that they can sense each other. He wanted to temporarily stop that. Uther, however, is broadening his spectrum; he’s aiming to use Gareth’s original research to a greater extent. Try eliminating their ability. Controlling it. Binding it. He wants to use the research to help pinpoint sorcerers in the general public. It’s 100% foolproof, or so his brief believes.”
Everyone around the table is silent, staring at the monitor in abject horror.
Arthur found his voice first, a desolate croak.
“He wants to use it to pick out kids?”
Mithian grimaced.
“It looks that way. The basis of Gareth’s serum is exponential but so far, nothing has ever been completed.”
“And it shouldn’t be. Magic users aren’t criminals,” Arthur scowled.
“Only some of them are. A lot of them are, Arthur. Like your Merlin.”
“And a lot of them become criminals because of their lot. If you’re persecuted because of something that you can’t help, what do you think these people are going to do? Follow the law? Of course not. It’s unjust,” he fumed, aware he was getting angry, how his blood was pounding at the idea presented to him like an inevitability. His father was developing something to take away the freedom of everyone born a little different. Already so many of them had to give up their freedom and safety and now, with this, there would be nowhere for them to run. No chance for them to hide. Or worse still, it would just be taken away from them. Something that could be so wonderful, as Merlin had shown him. Flickering lights in a fireplace, dancing in the shapes of dragons and birds; a tickling warmth in the palm of his hand; ripples in water and self-folding laundry.
“It’s what happens,” Mithian said, sounding somewhat resigned.
“Well it shouldn’t,” he snapped, watching as her resolution faded.
“I agree,” she said, finally, before her shield rising back up, impenetrable as always. “But that’s not what’s important, Arthur. What’s important is that Morgana and Morgause weren’t after Merlin, they were after you.”
It was Arthur’s turn to scowl then, quaver behind his own mask, his own guilt.
“Merlin wasn’t supposed to be there.”
“Then we look at what they were going to use you for.”
“They just wanted the file. The guy on the phone said instead of getting information out of me, they were going to make me get the information for them.”
“Which means that either their plan is less formulated than we imagined, or they were telling a lot less to their lackeys than it first appeared.”
“All bets say the latter,” Leon muttered darkly. Arthur couldn’t help but agree with him.
“Then that still leaves us with why they wanted Arthur.”
“Uther,” Gwen said softly and the table quietened.
“My father?” Arthur asked and Gwen’s expression tightened.
“Your father, Arthur. Two and a half years ago you disappeared. You might not have thought much on what you left behind, but we did. Your father did. He searched for you. It hurt him; I know it did, because it hurt me too. If someone said that they had you in exchange for some information, no matter how important and secret that information was, I have to say I would at the very least consider it.”
“Gwen’s right. This could all be about Uther.”
“Now that would make sense,” Arthur chuckled quietly. He fell silent as he felt the others watching him.
“What? Considering the information you got out of his labs. What do you think they’re trying to do? They wanted the information so they could use the serum to disappear. Before Uther can finish what he’s doing.”
*
The room was cold and the chair was hard against his back and his backside, but no matter the conditions, the weariness in his bones sent Merlin into a fitful sleep, a sleep, however, that wasn’t anywhere near restful. It was driven by exhaustion and paramount to passing out more than anything.
When he woke fitfully, without any idea of how long had passed, how long he’d been captive, he was blessedly alone.
His body ached, pushed to the limits of his endurance he’d never reached before, and as he groaned in the quiet and took stock of himself, he could still see Morgause’s anger reflected on the backs of his eyelids.
She had not taken his ignorance well.
Moving his fingers Merlin winced as they cramped, his extremities feeling the absence of his magic the most. It wasn’t quite the same as extreme cold, he wasn’t going to die from hypothermia, his fingers weren’t going to drop off. But that didn’t stop them feeling like they wanted to. His muscles felt tense and they ached, his head pounded and he felt childish and churlish as he sat there, his arms bound behind his back, whimpering.
In all his twenty-six years he’d never been helpless; he’d got himself into some interesting scrapes over the years, but he had never been helpless and despite his lost magic, he wasn’t helpless now. He had built himself on the ability to continue his career without magic. Other people did it, others pulled off stunts he wouldn’t pull off with his magic, and he’d forced himself to get good at it. And he was, he was just as good as his non-magical contemporaries and they would all be scowling at him in displeasure at the display he was putting on, he thought grimly. Arthur would be disgusted with him.
Arthur.
Merlin stopped and clenched his eyes shut. Out of everything, he needed to get out of here for Arthur the most. Not himself, just Arthur.
Merlin forced himself to take a deep breath and he rolled his shoulders, trying to work through the tense ache in them as he did. He needed to loosen himself up, he needed to relax, calm down, find that part of him that could focus solely on getting out.
If he got out, then they could find something to break the cuffs and get him his magic back. But if he relied on his magic alone, he was going to die.
Morgause and Morgana were going to kill him and they were going to smile while they did it.
Rolling his shoulders again he twisted against the chair to find his movement, what it allowed him to give and what restrictions he had even before he made an attempt on the rope. It was a small allowance that he was tied up at all, if it had been handcuffs then he would be screwed. He didn’t have anything in his pockets that could help him, he might have got lucky finding something around the room, but it would take time he didn’t have.
The cuffs binding his magic were thick metal and would have made it impossible for handcuffs to close properly. But rope, rope he could work with. Twisting his wrist against the rope he slid it back as far as it would go before it started digging into his flesh and rotated his hand, testing how much give he had.
It might be enough, he thought grimly, testing it again.
Repeating the movement he felt the minor give of the rope around his wrist. All he had to do was stretch the bindings enough to give him room to slip one wrist free. He had long fingers and a slim palm, easy enough to follow through, as long as he could get his thumb through. Twisting his wrist he slid it back and forth once again, embracing the burn of the rope against his skin as part of his escape. They’d tied it tight and it tore at the skin of his wrists around the cuff, but compared to what Morgause had put him through earlier, it was nothing. The harder he worked, the more his residual drowsiness disappeared and with it the far off feeling of his magic. By the time he was all but free he could feel it again. It was there, but it was still just beyond his reach, still slugging and slow and the feeling left him off kilter no matter how desperate he was to escape. But it was there.
And desperate he was, because while he had no idea just how long he had been unconscious for, how long he’d been missing, the fact that both Morgana and Morgause had left him alone made him wary that something was happening, something important; something to do with their plan, and therefore, Arthur.
And anything to do with Arthur had a lot to do with him, and he wasn’t going to stick around to have Morgana come back and gloat about what they’d done to the man Merlin loved.
God be damned, he wasn’t sticking around any longer. Not when he had his chance to escape.
Twisting his wrist again he winced as the skin tore and the rope burned against his bare flesh before it gave just another slip and the bulge of his thumb slid under the first line of rope. Merlin laughed, a brief burst of relief, as he twisted the rope to bunch it and give himself enough room to pull his hand completely free. The tips of his fingers felt a little numb as he worked the last loops and slid his right hand out from the rope and freedom.
He brought his arms around gingerly and felt his muscles relax for a moment before he turned immediately to working the last of the rope from around his left wrist. It didn’t take long until he was free of it and he tossed it aside before pushing himself warily to his feet, gaging how steady he was before he let go of the chair altogether. His muscles were still sore from Morgause’s ministrations but they held him up and he breathed a sigh of relief as he staggered across the room to the door. The room was dimmer than it had been before, making it harder to see; the main light wasn’t on, but there was a large barred window on one side that was grimy and impenetrable that glowed faintly with a light from another room. It’s wasn’t for outside, Merlin knew that much; Morgana and Morgause wouldn’t be that foolish.
Focussing his attention on the door Merlin ran his fingers over the lock, trying to get a feel for it and what surprises the girls had. It didn’t look complex, but he was willing to bet there was something extra on the other side. Something he couldn’t test with his magic. He had no chance at all of gaging whether or not he was setting something off by picking the lock.
But it didn’t matter in the slightest because before he got a chance to even look for a pick, he heard the dull thunk of something beyond the door and as he took several shaky steps backwards the door opened with a heavy clunk and swung inwards.
“Nuh uh uh,” Morgana mocked as she entered, her heels clicking on the stone floor and her eyes flashing in amusement. She waved her hand and the door closed with a forced click that seemed to mock Merlin just as much as she did. There was a fierce glint in her eyes and his magic made a feeble attempt to flare up and break though the barrier between it and himself.
In that moment as Morgana advanced on him and his magic fizzled out in his veins he felt more like a cornered animal than he had tied up, than he had when he’d been bound by those morons back at the office. At least then he had control over his situation, he had been able to match them if he had chosen to, when Morgana had first bound his magic he had been as weak and helpless as a kitten, but then he had still the opportunity to use that underestimation against them. They had left him alone and that had been his chance. Now, now it had all come to this - he was defenceless, cornered and weak and Morgana had always been resilient to his charms.
The worst part of it all, though, was that Morgana knew. She was looking at him and she was smiling and she knew she had him cornered.
It was all there in her smile, in the pleased bearing of her shoulders, the glint in her eye.
“I must admit, Merlin, I was hoping for a little more,” she said, her lips curling into a smirk that made her anger shine through. She was still beautiful, that was the unfortunate thing about her. His mother had always said anger had a way of corrupting the beauty of a person - but with Morgana, it just changed it. She had always been angry, this fierce determination he had admired all those years ago. But that was gone, the person in front of him now found pleasure in other people’s torment.
His only comfort was the fact that he knew whatever this was, she believed was going to change things. That had been all she wanted before - change. No pressing fear of persecution, or the overbearing fear of one’s self because you had no peers to draw inspiration or comfort.
Morgana had become one of the saddest examples of what the laws against Magic had created, and he felt for her. A part of him yearned for her, pitied her that she hadn’t found someone who would take care of her. Accept her and protect her, the way Arthur had for him.
But in that moment, no matter how he felt for her otherwise, he was simply and genuinely scared of her.
Which was a new feeling.
It wasn’t a feeling he had very often, it was rare and destabilising and he took a step backwards.
Morgana’s expression brightened, her whole face lighting up with a burst of amused laughter.
“Oh Merlin, how the mighty have fallen,” she laughed.
“I thought you’d have run off by now,” he taunted and she laughed again.
“And miss this? Oh no. Not for the world. No, you weren’t a part of our plan, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to look a gift horse in the mouth. This whole thing is working out just as well as it could have before, except with this I get the added pleasure of breaking you as well.”
“You won’t break me.”
“Won’t I?” she asked, sounding delighted and once again Merlin’s magic made an attempt to break though the barrier. He felt the instinct of it rush forward, burning hot and fading quickly, fizzling out against the wall between him and it.
Like she knew exactly how he felt, Merlin watched Morgana’s eyes change from green to burning gold and the air crackled with her magic, bursting like electricity.
“Oh how I have never dreamed for this day, to have the mighty Merlin defenceless in front of me. It’s like Christmas.”
“I’m not as weak as you think,” he snarled, clenching his fists.
“Oh but you are. Arthur and your pet rogue may have taught you how to throw a punch, Merlin, but against me you won’t even get within touching distance,” she smiled and brought her arm up like she was making a point. She flicked her wrist, one long finger extended and it was like being struck across the face, a sharp stinging blow that Merlin felt split the skin. Instinctively he brought his hand up to the wound and his fingers came away bloody.
“You’re like a toy, Merlin, completely at my mercy. Embrace the feeling, it’s how your friends are going to feel when we pull their silly toy weapons from their hands and back them into the corner before we force them to their knees.”
“You’re insane, Morgana. Whatever notions you have in your head they’ll never work. Even if you had everyone with magic on your side, they still outnumber us.”
“But not as much as you think, Merlin. So many people have the ability, it just never manifests. Not anymore. You wouldn’t know, you treat the wounds, not attempt to defeat the source of their suffering. If given the chance Magic could be great. There is so much untapped potential - “
“And there it will stay. Magic is dying out.”
“And you are content to let it die? You, most of all? Don’t you miss it, Merlin? Now that you can’t reach it? That power? That warmth? Don’t you feel it?” she snarled, her magic curling around him, hot against his skin, reaching for his own, pulling at him.
“How can you deign to let the sun burn out when you know how blessed you are to feel it? How can you stand behind scared cowards who know nothing but their own prejudice and fears? They don’t know what it’s like, so they fear it. They fear it and that justifies all their atrocities, and we let them do it because we’re scared of ourselves. But I wont be. I’m not scared anymore, Merlin. And I will get what’s mine.”
“They don’t have anything, Morgana. You’re free, they don’t have anything else to take.”
Merlin felt another curl of fear as her eyes flashed in anger, burning gold and her magic seeped from her fingers, curling up in wisping gold smoke.
“Oh but they do,” she snarled, stepping towards him, her magic thickening in swirling streams. “They do. You don’t know what you took away from me when you broke me out of the Compound, Merlin. You broke me out and I was mad as a hatter and you stopped it. You took my memories away and you thought you saved me from the madness. But you didn’t. You made it worse.”
Merlin took another stumbling step backwards.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” he stuttered and she laughed again.
“You didn’t, no. You thought you were saving me from my nightmare, and in a way you did. But your hands aren’t clean, Merlin. They’re covered in the tragedies of a little boy you left there.”
“There wasn’t anyone else there. There was only you.”
“Oh but there was. There still is. Just out of reach, dozens of them. But they aren’t anymore. You’ll be able to reach them all, very soon. I promise you that.”
She laughed, the sound like a ringing bell that made Merlin’s insides curl up in terror as her magic curled around him like a snake stalking it’s prey, teasing him, taunting him. Inside him his own magic pushed against the barrier, burning hot and frustrated.
“You know, it’s funny,” Morgana grinned, advancing on him. “I wanted to use Arthur, to get to Uther, to get him back. But, you complicated things. So instead Uther gets to toy with you and on top of it all, I get the serum too. Arthur will get me the information about Kil Gareth and I will get Mordred back using you. If anything, this has worked out better than it could of before. I thank you, Merlin. You’ve proven ever so useful.”
“So that’s why you haven’t killed me yet.”
“That’s why I haven’t killed you yet. And believe me, it’s a true pity, but you have greater things to do for me than a few moments of pleasure. Have faith in that. No, you get to die in a laboratory, Merlin. An experiment for Uther Constance. But don’t worry; he’ll let you feel your magic while you’re there. He’ll let you feel it only to test you again and again by taking it away.”
She brought her hand up and her magic burned bright then, strengthening, the gold thick and it’s movements angry. Merlin took another step back, or tried to - the magic grasped him, then, like every part of his body was held in place, the air turned to rock and still, Morgana advanced on him. Her steps were slow and menacing and the panic welling up in Merlin made a desperate bid to burst out of him, like his magic, it thrashed inside him. Morgana’s eyes just burned as she spoke.
“He will break you down until you’re dry heaving and sobbing and don’t know what day of the week it is or what’s even your own name. He’ll drive everything from you and the first thing you’ll lose is everything you’ve ever associated with Arthur. He’ll drive every good memory out of you until you can’t think of blond hair and blue eyes without screaming. And I hope that when he’s gone you’ll still remember me, and what you did by making me forget.”
“I did what I thought was right,” he stumbled over the words, his brain buzzing and his lungs burning for air. Memories he had pushed away, memories he had hated at the time and hated now bursting into his subconscious without will, memories he had always thought he had cleansed. He had thought he’d helped her, cured her of the insanity that had her frantic and wide eyed, laughing like there was no hinge left to her, mumbling about feeling it growing, the heat, the life inside of her. He’d thought her mad, and she had been - driven half insane by whatever had happened inside that Compound.
But he had done her a disservice instead and he had driven her to darker things. Whatever had happened to corrupt her since they had last been together had been part and parcel to what he had done that day. She had remembered what he’d taken from her, and Morgause, Morgause had helped her syphon out the madness. Or some of it. There was a madness to her now, a madness in her cruelty that made her vibrant and terrifying as she advanced on him, her arm outstretched and her magic buzzing all around the room, pushing against him on all sides.
“You might have, but you took those memories from me, Merlin. You took my son away. He’s been there, raised as a lab rat and that is your doing. Yours and Uther’s and you will suffer for it. I promise you that.”
Morgana stared at him, her eyes flashing in anger as the knowledge of her son echoed in his ears Merlin felt it, he felt the stirring fear deep inside him at her words, at the images she drove into his mind. Losing light, his magic, Arthur. Arthur.
He had no implications that it wouldn’t happen, that Uther Constance couldn’t do exactly what she was saying, because he could. He would keep Merlin locked away and Arthur wouldn’t know what happened to him. It was clear now that Morgana had no desire to give him back to Arthur even if Arthur got what she wanted from him. She was going to take the information and run. Her and Morgause were going to double cross Arthur and Gwaine and Percy and that meant that they weren’t planning on playing by the rules. Someone was going to get hurt and there was nothing that Merlin could do about it, trussed up as he was, powerless and aching, waiting for the metaphorical axe.
He clutched at the cuffs around his wrists and reached, reached for the curling, far-off warmth deep inside him that was just out of reach.
Morgana laughed, giggled like she knew exactly what he was trying to do, and perhaps she did. Perhaps that had been her aim after all, to make him reach for it, make him want to burst past the barriers and drown in the rushing warmth of his power, the light and the feeling of invincibility that burned in him with it, like they were two halves of him. He had never felt so vulnerable as he did reaching for it and finding that cold blocking him, leaving him powerless and human and completely at her mercy.
“There’s no point, you know,” Morgana laughed. “They were made for me, specifically for those high grade nuisances like us and there’s no way out of them. Uther made sure of that. You’re stuck, Merlin. You’re stuck until someone frees you and I promise that will never happen. Not while I have any say.”
Her voice darkened at that, low and dangerous and Merlin tried to focus, tried to keep himself calm, keep himself sane and the panic welling up in him, his lungs burning once again for air as Morgan’s magic tightened it’s hold on him and all of a sudden there was nothing, nothing but the need to breathe and then, as suddenly as it was there, it was gone. Her magic dropped him, released it’s grip and he was left to himself. His knees buckled under him and he fell hard onto the cold stone, gasping for air like a fish. His heart beating with a tempo like it wanted to break through his chest.
He wasn’t even aware as Morgana left, the door swinging shut behind her with a slam, completely of its own volition.
Instead he fought to catch his breath, and with it, his wits.
*
Morgause was waiting for her outside the room. Unlike the hired help, Morgause was not afraid of her in her anger and she relished the chance to let it sooth. Almost by proximity did Morgause help calm Morgana’s thoughts, help quell the raging storm.
“You let him anger you too much, sister,” Morgause cautioned as she stormed into the parlour and went straight for the scotch.
“He deserves it,” she snapped and felt her sister move closer.
“He does, for what he did to you. I will not argue that. But emotion does blind so easily and it will not do well for Mordred if we let it cloud our judgement.”
“Then we do it now, I need him, sister. I need Merlin gone and Mordred here.”
“Then we must make the call to Uther.”
“Then do it.”
“You should be the one, sister,” Morgause said, holding out the phone towards her. Morgana stared at it like it was a viper. To hear that man’s voice - she snatched it out of Morgause’s hand. Her angry remarks disappearing off her tongue.
To hear that man’s voice and know he thought he could do her over, oh she was going to savour every single moment from this point on. Tonight she would get her son back, but after, after - there would be nothing to save Uther Constance.
She would have her revenge on him one way or another.
But for now, she needed to take what he had first.
She felt her sister watching her as she input each of the digits and pressed call. The sound of it ringing echoed in the small, sparsely furnished room.
The sound of Uther Constance answering echoed even louder.
“Constance, ” the man growled and Morgana smirked, her lips curling of their own volition.
“I have a proposition for you, Director Constance,” Morgana said, imagining the way Uther stopped still as he recognised her voice.
“How did you get this number? ” the old man asked, a growl of suspicion undermining his voice. Morgana could have laughed.
“Would you like me to waste your time with useless answers we both already know?”
“What do you want? ” Uther countered and this time she couldn’t help it, she cackled.
“Very good, Director Constance. As I said, I have a proposition for you. I have something you want and you have something I want. I suggest a trade.”
“And what could I possibly desire that you possess? ” he asked, and she imagined the curl of his lips as he smirked, like he had her backed into a corner. She knew he was wasting time; the old toad would already be tracing the number. She didn’t care. He could find her if he wanted, they would be gone by the time anything could be done and it would still be in her favour. The only people left behind would be Alvarr and his useless crones. If the man happened to find them he was doing them a favour.
“I have Merlin Ambrose, the man who took your son.”
Uther was quiet and Morgana openly chuckled.
“I have Emrys, Director Constance. I’ll give him to you, him and all his magic all bound up like a pig for the fire.”
“And in exchange?”
“Mordred.”
There was a pause and this; this was a crucial moment, where it all hinged upon. He held the upper hand here. But there was no chance in hell she was letting him keep it.
“The boy is special to me.” He sneered and Morgana chuckled.
“Anything Mordred could offer is more than doubled with Ambrose. And wherever Ambrose is, Arthur will follow.”
Uther was quiet again and Morgana closed her eyes, imagining the look on his face as he visibly fought with himself. She imagined as he made his decision.
“The Warf, warehouse sixteen, in an hour. Bring Ambrose and we’ll make the exchange,” he snapped and Morgana smiled, feeling it stretch across her face.
“Until then,” she said, cutting off the call before Uther could say another word, before he could do it himself. She would have the last laugh over Uther, she would.
She punched the end call and threw the phone aside, not caring where it landed or what it broke.
“We have an exchange,” she grinned, and watched as the smile crept upon her sister’s face.
“It seems our modifications are working well, sister. Uther will give us Mordred and Arthur will give us everything we need to disappear.”
Morgana’s smile could not have been wider. An hour. In an hour, she would have him back. Her Mordred.
And Uther would pay for his cruelty.
*
In all the years he had been a Knight, and all the years he had been before then, he had never expected at all to bear witness to Gwen Smith (DuLac now? Details, details, Dubois) interrupt and tell all those present that Uther Constance was on the move.
His father had been put under surveillance.
The ping of her computer interrupted the argument around the table and it all went silent as Gwen’s expression went from intrigued to surprised, before she finally settled on biting her lip and looking at Mithian beseechingly.
“Gwen?” Mithian answered and if Gwen’s reaction hadn’t pulled anyone’s attention that certainly had.
“He’s moving, Mithian,” Gwen said and Mithain’s expression schooled blank.
“Where?”
“Outside the Compound. He’s moving, moving.”
“Who?” Elyan asked from across the table and once again all eyes went to Mithian.
“I ordered Agent Smith to place a trace on Director Constance’s phone.”
“You’re tracking Uther?” Leon asked, sounding half impressed half insane.
“Given earlier suspicions and later findings I wanted to be sure. I was given the authority to do everything that I needed in order to finish this, and I will. Given what we found in his files, I will be submitting an official inquiry into the MDD and anything that happens forthwith during this case will be submitted as evidence if it proves, or disproves the allegations.”
“You think he’s going to make a deal with Morgana,” Arthur said, feeling the weight of the words on his tongue as he said them.
“I do,” Mithian answered darkly, looking at each person around the table.
“I need you all to gear up. As soon as we have an idea of where Director Constance is going, we follow, is that understood? Anyone wishing to step down may do so without recourse.”
The table was quiet and Mithian nodded.
“Owaine, you and Gwen will remain here. Leon, you’re in charge. Elyan, Lance, suit up Dubois. I want a bloody tracking anklet on him. But he’s coming along. Suit up, we’re out in ten. Gwen, radio in when you have directions.”
Mithian stood up, her face impassive before she nodded down at them and was the first to leave. Leon stood up a moment later and followed her out.
Lance stood up next and walked over to Arthur.
“What is she doing?” Arthur asked before he could stop himself. Lance, like Mithian, was wearing an expression of calm control. He barely blinked at his orders, or Arthur’s question.
“I think she’s giving you a chance, Arthur,” he said quietly, slapping a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.
“We have our orders, come on. Otherwise Mithian might leave without us.”
“Merlin would kill me if he was rescued by the Knights without me,” Arthur replied with a hollow smile.
His father being involved didn’t necessarily negate any of the danger Merlin was in now, but something inside him clenched, anxious about what could happen to Merlin if Uther Constance got his hands on him.
*
Merlin had to admit he was surprised when Morgause came for him soon after Morgana had left him. He was still reeling from her outburst, but as the door opened and Morgause entered, regal and proud and her dark eyes flashing, Merlin felt his magic flare, a burst of heat that seemed to burn for a moment deep in his chest. Beyond the barrier, a useable part of his magic, it seemed to flare in warning, like a shield or the hackles of a dog. It was there and as suddenly as he realised it, it slipped from his fingers, disappearing back beyond the barrier like water down a plug hole.
Morgause didn’t look any the wiser but simply continued towards him, moving over to him and kneeling down in front of him. She reached for his hands and it was only then that he saw the coiled rope she had with her. He didn’t fight it as she looped it around his wrists, securing them together once again, this time, mercifully, in front of him.
She stood up and without a word started heading for the door, dragging him behind her like a pet, yanking hard on the rope.
She didn’t blindfold him or hinder him at all; she simply paraded him out of the room and down a narrow hallway, damp and as dimly lit as the room had been. She led him down to a mouldy front door and out, out into the bitter chill of the night. The fog above them curled into mimicking shadows of clouds and their movement could almost mistake for the glint of stars somewhere high in the mist. The air was cold, a sharp biting wind that was there and gone as fast as it took for Morgause to drag him over to the black sedan parked in the front. It was non descript and boring, and almost as cold as it was outside as Morgause pushed him into the back seat, looping her end of the rope around the hand rest, pulling it taught so that he couldn’t move. There was little chance he’d even try to open one of the back doors in transit now, the rope was just long enough he’d probably kill himself being dragged along the tarmac, which he supposed was her point.
His magic was gone, he was bound and as helpless as he was going to be, tied to the car about to take him towards his destiny. Towards Uther Constance.
Morgana was just as quiet as she slid into the drivers seat a moment later and as she turned the engine, Morgause slid into the passengers seat and it was done, like a signature on a contract.
*
For Arthur, it was like stepping back in time. The black fatigues, the armour, the gloves and the feeling of movement going on around him as his fellow teammates did the same, stepping into the other part of themselves.
Except, no matter how similar it felt, how familiar and soothing it was very, very different. There was no gun in Arthur’s boot, no holster around his shoulders, instead his hands were cuffed in front of him and Lance was a warm weight beside him, guiding him through the corridor out to the SUV’s. The tinted black glass shone back at him as Lance guided him into the car and as Elyan joined him on the other side as Mithian, dressed in her own combat gear, slid into the passenger seat and Leon in front. The whole situation felt surreal. It kept slipping out from between his fingers, impossible to truly grasp.
And at the centre of it, was Merlin.
All of this was for Merlin.
“You’re sure?” Mithian asked, one hand pressed to the headset in her hear as Leon revved the accelerator and the tyres screeched on the cement as he guided it out from the holding bay and up through the car park and out - out onto the long stretch of highway between the edge of the compound and the rest of the civilian life.
“Ok, tell me the moment something changes,” Mithian said, continuing her one sided conversation before she turned her attention on Leon.
“The Warf, he hasn’t stopped yet, but that’s his direction.”
“Got it,” Leon murmured, mostly to himself. Mithian twisted in her seat then, contorting herself to look at the three of them in the backseat.
Elyan and Lance had a grim tension in their shoulders, their expressions tight and eyes dark. Mithian was the same. Seeing her out of her usual prim suits was perhaps the most disconcerting - in all the time he had known her, he had never seen her as she was, her body bulked with the added bullet proof armour that added another ten to fifteen pounds to the whole getup. It was as if some part of her had been stripped away and he mocked himself internally for a moment, continuing to watch her. It had always been her choice to be a bureaucrat in place of an agent. He knew that, he also knew that she had the balls to cut it if she’d wanted it. He’d seen her results on the firing range, on the athletics course. She was one to beat, and always had been.
But somewhere along the line she had chosen a different battlefield. Yet to see her now, here, helping him - bringing him along to help save Merlin.
Something gave in his chest, this wave of thanks that pushed him off kilter for a moment before he could gather himself properly and push it all back into place.
“From the beginning I want recon before any of us go in. We’re facing sorcerers, here,” Mithian said grimly, dragging him back into the present with her calm determination.
“I don’t want to take anyone back in a body bag because they got impatient, mind,” she warned and he felt her eyes bore into him then. He could feel them all looking at him.
He nodded, unable to open his mouth for fear something else would come out - like laughter.
He couldn’t promise her anything, not with this. Not with Merlin.
Because as much as he was hoping, he knew in some way shape or form, that he and Merlin weren’t getting out of this.
Mithian might have been doing him a service by letting him come with her, but that didn’t matter.
Merlin was on the Wanted list and Arthur himself, was Blacklisted. They were targets just as much as Morgana and Morgause were.
“If you have the shot to incapacitate any of the sorcerers, do it. Take the shot,” Mithian said in the quiet a moment later and the darkening sense of fear Arthur was feeling upped itself a notch.
As much as he owed them, as much loyalty as he felt, renewed or remembered Arthur stilled himself then, he closed his eyes and swore, because as much as he loved them, each of them sitting around him in the car, he loved Merlin more.
It didn’t matter what happened, he was going to get Merlin out.
That was his goal.
It wasn’t his father, or Morgana and Morgause, it was Merlin, and Merlin alone.
And this time he wouldn’t let him down.
*
It began as quickly as it had started.
Uther was already waiting for them when they arrived, the man standing steadfast in the doorway of the warehouse. Parked in the shadow of the security lights was a black SUV, it’s windows tinted, next to it, the sedan seemed tiny and inconsequential.
Merlin knew Uther wasn’t fooled, as anyone should be.
Morgause and Morgana were not women to take lightly.
As Uther well knew, but that didn’t stop him.
Uther waited, impassive, as Morgause dragged Merlin out of the car, barely waiting to let him get to his feet before she started dragging him into the building.
Uther was alone. He was standing in the centre, his hands behind his back and Morgana’s snarl echoed around them tenfold.
“Where is Mordred?”
“The boy is in the car, Morgana. Where it’s warmer,” the man sneered, sounding for all the world like a knowledgeable parent. Like he cared.
It was almost laughable.
Morgana and Morgause were not impressed.
“Go and get him.”
“Be patient, girl,” Uther replied, his voice calm and collected, but he spoke with the authority of a man who didn’t need his anger to be obeyed.
“Let me look at this whelp you claim is Emrys,” Uther mocked and at that Merlin scowled. Morgana looked furious, but Morgause was her composed self and with a sharp push she shoved him forward into Uther’s waiting gaze.
Uther circled him, his small grey eyes staring into Merlin, into the depths of him and he felt his magic roil, like the ocean during a storm and he reached for it, hitting the barrier once again. Only this time he felt it give and his magic rushed up to meet him only for it to slip away once again.
Uther reached out and clutched Merlin’s chin tightly, pulling him forward to stare at him properly, intimidate and unsettle him. Threaten.
Merlin steeled himself and clenched his jaw, clinging to that brief moment of magic.
He wasn’t afraid of Uther Constance, not of the man - he had heard too much from Arthur. He knew too much about Uther not to know that there was a man underneath the exterior, underneath the bristling fury and madness that made Morgana more his daughter than her blood did.
He wasn’t afraid of Uther, he was afraid of the power Uther possessed once he was back in the MDD. He was afraid of how helpless he could become.
He was afraid of being trapped, but he wasn’t afraid of a man.
“To think something about you enchanted my son,” Uther scowled, his voice low and angry and Merlin scowled.
“You will pay for the magic you used on my family, boy,” Uther snarled and in that moment Merlin had to fight not to laugh, because there was something perfectly hilarious about the man’s delusions. About the fact that it was Arthur who enticed his magic, not his magic enticing Arthur.
About everything, this whole mess.
All he’d wanted was Arthur, all he’d wanted was to come home early and let the blonde prat kiss him hello and was that too much? Had he asked too much of it all?
It built up into his throat like a sob and he clenched his jaw shut tighter in that moment, desperate not to let it out lest he wouldn’t stop - laughing or crying; they were one in the same in that moment.
And that’s when it peaked.
Uther let go of him, pushing him back like he was an animal he was done with. He turned back to the two women watching him like hawks, their eyes burning and their magic bristling.
“Where’s Mordred?” Morgana snarled and Merlin didn’t have time to hear whether or not Uther answered her because there was a soft thud as something hit the ground behind them. Merlin turned, just in time to see the tiny black device and recognise it before it exploded.
The force of it picked him up and tossed him like a doll, throwing him across the room to slam back onto the ground and roll, his limbs loose under him and his head ringing. In that moment as he stirred back to coherency he was dimly aware of shouting echoing somewhere further away.
The room was full of smoke, billowing and black and it was impossible to see - the room sliding in and out of focus. Merlin forced his hands under him and tried to push himself up, feeling his body protest and his magic roil again, like it wanted to burst out of him like bile.
For a moment he wanted to be sick, but there was nothing in his stomach to heave and there was too much going on.
The shouting grew louder and he pushed himself to his knees, blinking through the smoke and trying to listen, to make out the words from the shouting.
And that’s when he heard it, the sound he had been yearning to hear since he’d been taken, since he’d woken up yesterday, since he’d left two weeks ago.
Arthur.
Part Six