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When Morgana had first come for Merlin, he hadn’t been worried. People had come for him before, hell, they came for him all the time. They never realized just what they were involving themselves with until Merlin destroyed them with barely a twitch of his finger. So when Morgana had entered his room that night, a candle in one hand, an ice cold iron manacle in the other, Merlin hadn’t thought it would be any different.
It was only after he felt the biting chill of the metal on his skin as it snapped around his leg that he realized he may have miscalculated.
Now his wrists and ankles were swollen and chafed from the chains scraping across flesh. He knew his wrists were infected and, though it was too dark to examine his ankles, there was a good chance those were infected too. His body was flushed with sweat, both from pain and fever. Long, looping chains locked him to the ground. There was enough room for him to stand and even take a few steps, but the weight of them kept him on the floor. He didn’t have the strength to haul them around needlessly.
This couldn’t last for much longer.
He had no way of knowing how many days he had been locked in this sunless dungeon. He was pretty sure that he was somewhere deep in the catacombs of the citadel, but if he were truly being honest he’d admit that he had no clue where she’d taken him. But surely he’d been missing for a while now. He could only hope that someone would have noticed his disappearance. Gaius, at the very least, had to have been wondering where he’d gone. And Arthur . . .
Surely Arthur would have noticed by now, wouldn’t he?
The cold manacle on his ankle burned when he shifted. It was like a flame being held to his skin, except the flame was as frigid as the mountains in the dead of winter. It sucked the energy from him, to the point where it felt like he hadn’t slept or eaten in days, but really that was just his body’s reaction from being cut off completely from his magic.
He wondered if normal people felt like this all the time. If they did, no wonder they were all so grumpy.
The cell door squeaked open, causing Merlin to wince at the horrid sound. He looked up to see Morgana entering the cell. She looked nothing like the fair princess he’d met when he first arrived in Camelot. Her long raven hair was no longer silky smooth, but ratted and grown out, framing her head like bog witch’s of past legends. Her gown was mostly rags, though Merlin could see that it had once been of the finest silk.
She didn’t laugh, or jeer when she saw him. Just looked at him with an almost pitying expression.
“Good morning, Traitor,” she said. Not a hint of irony in her voice. Merlin laughed, but cut off when Morgana kicked him solidly in the stomach, knocking him over and to the ground. “Don’t mock our dead kin,” she hissed, fury in her dark eyes.
Merlin groaned into the floor, but didn’t answer.
“You turned your back on all of us, Merlin,” Morgana continued. “All this time you’ve been here, hiding in Uther’s court, every opportunity to overthrow this mistake of a government, and yet you never took it. Never bothered trying to free the people unjustly persecuted here.”
She knelt down by him, burying her long fingers in his hair and yanking his head up. “Why?” she hissed. Merlin didn’t answer, so she slammed his head onto the stone cold floor.
His ears rang and his skull felt like it had been hit with a mace. Merlin had to spit blood before he could speak.
“You know why,” he growled.
Morgana scowled and stood once more. “You know, there was a time where I really admired you, Merlin. Your loyalty, your fearlessness. I truly considered you one of my closest friends. I’d have died for you, Merlin. Truly.” As she spoke, she pulled a wooden chair from the corner of the room, planting it squarely in the middle of Merlin’s crisscrossing chains. Merlin eyed it wearily, but didn’t struggle when she came over and grabbed his hair once more, lifting him up off the floor and into the seat.
He yelped, unable to stop the cry of pain as her magic twisted around his neck and shoulders, pulling all of it up together. If Merlin wasn’t able to scramble to get his feet under him, it felt like Morgana would have lifted his entire head off.
There was something truly terrifying about being in Morgana’s presence when she was like this. He’d always found her a little intimidating, but now, with her magic wrapped around her and sparking like a shield, with her hatred so thick Merlin felt like it had engulfed him in its cloud, now she was his nightmares personified. He couldn’t access his magic, couldn’t defend himself, couldn’t do a single thing.
At that moment, he didn’t think he’d ever hated or feared somebody more.
She kissed his head gently once she finished locking him to the chair. “You really were a good servant, Merlin,” she said, running a hand through his hair. “It’s a shame to see you like this.”
Merlin spat at the floor near her feet.
She smiled, undeterred, then slapped him across the face. The force of it knocked Merlin backwards onto the back two legs of the chair, before overbalancing and taking everything to the ground. He slammed to the stone floor, an angry ringing filling his ears as he gasped for breath. Morgana took a few steps toward him as he struggled, and placed her foot against Merlin’s windpipe, pushing down ever so slightly.
“It would be so easy, you know,” Morgana said, applying just a little more pressure to watch Merlin’s eyes bug out of his head. “To snuff you out entirely. But you have information that I need, don’t you?”
Merlin forced himself to look away.
“You know, you’ve been down here for nearly two weeks,” Morgana said conversationally. She walked around Merlin’s fallen form, finally having let up on his throat. She kicked him in the side, causing him to grunt and try to curl inward. “I was a little anxious at first. Worried that someone would notice the prince’s personal servant vanishing into thin air, but, it turns out I didn’t need to. Apparently you do this quite often, don’t you Merlin?”
She laughed, kneeling down next to his head and grabbed his hair, twisting it around her long fingers. “They’re not coming for you, Merlin. I know you’ve been waiting for it, hoping for it, that Arthur will come in at the last moment and save you from the evil witch who so wrongly wants better for her kinfolk. But the truth is that Gaius thinks you ran off on another foolish little quest, and is enjoying the blessed silence. Gwen hasn’t even taken note of your absence, she has enough going on in her life. And Arthur, well.
“He’d be the one who should have noticed first, shouldn’t he? And don’t worry, he grumbled for a while about his lazy manservant and his tendency towards drink, but after a few days he simply started asking one of the other servants for help, and now the two of them are quite the team.” Morgana slammed Merlin’s head against the floor, causing blood to explode from his nose. He screamed, unable to help himself, so she did it again.
“I want names, Merlin!” Morgana growled. “I want names and I want locations. Every single place where magic users could be hiding.”
“Go straight to hell,” Merlin gasped.
Morgana scoffed, tossing his head forward one more time. “Shouldn’t have expected anything better from a leech like you.” She stood up and grabbed the chair, dragging it upright. “Arthur doesn’t deserve your loyalty.”
Merlin lifted his chin defiantly, staring up at her, unafraid even as his head rang and his nose gushed blood.
“He never loved you, Merlin.” Morgana gripped Merlin’s chin, raising his eyes to hers. “Never for a minute, or a moment, or a second. Servants will get attached to their masters sometimes. They’ll think they’re worth more to their lord than they really are. That their relationship means something. That it matters. It’s easy for nobility to feign friendship, to pretend to be engaged with the servant’s life and dreams. But I can tell you from experience,” Morgana leaned forward and allowed her lips to brush the edge of Merlin’s ear. “That it’s fake. As soon as you’re out of sight, Arthur doesn’t give you a single thought.”
Merlin couldn’t help it, he snarled. “You don’t know Arthur at all.”
“Don’t I?” Morgana pulled a knife from some pocket hidden in her gown. The faint light in the room reflected off its blade, lighting up Morgana’s cold eyes for just a moment. She traced the blade lovingly along Merlin’s neck. “Or maybe it’s you who doesn’t know him.”
“He’ll come for me,” Merlin growled. In his heart, he knew he was going to die here. He knew that the chances that Arthur would even be able to find his body were slim to none. But still, his soul cried out for him, in a way that Merlin had never been able to control. Two sides of the same coin. One was not complete without the other.
“No,” Morgana whispered. “He won’t.” Morgana pressed the knife against his jugular, applying just enough pressure for the blade to knick through the first layer of flesh. “Are you absolutely certain there’s nothing else you want to tell me?”
Her face was inches from his, the two of them staring into each other’s eyes with varying degrees of rage and hate.
Merlin spat in her face.
Morgana stumbled back with a screech, then lunged forward, blade shining, and shoved it straight into the soft flesh of Merlin’s side. Merlin felt it cut through muscles and sinew, felt the gush of warm blood, before the pain finally hit. And it was only then that he screamed.
The door to the dungeon burst open, and for a moment Merlin thought he must’ve done that, that his magic had returned, but no. A man stood in the doorway, and now Merlin was convinced he was hallucinating. Arthur Pendragon stormed into the room, his blade nearly glowing as he backhanded Morgana away from Merlin. Two knights had accompanied him and both of them descended on Morgana with manacles already clinking together.
But Merlin didn’t see her cuffed or escorted from the room. Arthur blocked his view, grabbing his face and gently tilting it side to side to get a look at the damage Morgana had done. He was murmuring something, but it was so soft, Merlin couldn’t understand the words. Arthur cupped the back of Merlin’s head and if Merlin didn’t know him better, he could have sworn he’d seen a faint sheen of tears in the other man’s eyes.
“So this is where you’ve been, you worthless dungheap of a servant.” Arthur murmured. “You disappear for days and I find you hiding in the dark with Morgana. The emotional distress will be coming out of your paycheck.” His voice cracked and Arthur gently bumped his head against Merlin’s. “I got you,” he whispered. “It’s going to be okay, I got you.” His hands were extraordinarily gentle as he ran them over Merlin’s arms, the back of his head, his shoulders. Almost as though he couldn’t fully believe that Merlin was real. Merlin tipped his head forehead and pressed it against Arthur’s breastplate. Despite the agonizing pain in his side, it felt like he could breathe for the first time in days.
“You’re going to be just fine, Merlin,” Arthur whispered, he’d abandoned pretense and was full on embracing Merlin at this point, Merlin’s head tucked neatly under his chin. “I found you, you’re going to be just fine.” He must have been more worried than Merlin had thought, to be acting like this.
It takes a few moments, but Arthur is eventually able to pry the chains off of Merlin’s hands and feet. He broke the magic blocking one with a rock, and the moment it was gone Merlin gasped as though he’d just emerged from underwater. Arthur looked at him strangely, but didn’t comment. He tossed the manacle into the corner of the room, completely out of sight.
“Can you walk?” Arthur asked as he pulled Merin to his feet. Merlin fought to keep himself from groaning. Arthur was here, he’d come for him, that was what ultimately mattered. But he was too late. Merlin had known the second the blade pierced him that this wasn’t a wound he could recover from.
“Yes,” Merlin lied, leaning heavily on Arthur for support. Arthur hauled the two of them up and stumbled through the doorway, Arthur’s strong grip the only thing keeping Merlin upright.
He needed to say something, before the bloodloss took him from consciousness. But he couldn’t figure out a way to bring it up. He didn’t want to cause panic. He didn’t want to have to see Arthur mourn.
But how cruel would he be to simply slip away without even trying to say goodbye?
“You’re gonna be fine, Merlin,” Arthur was still saying. Merlin wasn’t entirely sure he even realized he was doing it, but the words kept falling from his lips.
“Right,” Merlin gasped. His feet stumbled. “I – You’re right. But – but if I’m not –”
“Don’t talk like that,” Arthur said curtly.
“Of course. . . prat.”
He made it two more steps before his legs gave out on him. Arthur wasn’t prepared for the sudden increase of Merlin’s weight, and the two of them stumbled to the ground together. Arthur managed to catch them before he could land quite literally on top of Merlin; pulling up at the last second and managing to get them settled, if somewhat ungracefully, on the floor.
Merlin huffed out a pained laugh. “My hero.”
“Oh shut up, Merlin,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes. He paused for a moment, his breath a little heavier than it should have been. He was looking at the floor so he didn’t need to meet Merlin’s eye. “A real hero would have gotten there sooner.”
“Arthur –”
Arthur waved him off and leaned down to wrap his arm once more around Merlin’s waist and haul him to his feet, but this time his hand fell onto the blood soaked hole in his side.
Arthur’s face immediately went pale.
“Merlin?” Arthur said. His voice was rather high and unlike his usual crow.
Merlin swallowed. He didn’t have to explain, as Arthur was already rolling him onto his back and examining the wound. The blood was leaking around the edges of the knife, the blade being the only reason Merlin hadn’t already bled out on the floor.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Arthur shrieked. “Get Gaius!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. Merlin couldn’t see the guards Arthur had brought with him, but he could hear their clunking steps echo on the stairs. “Merlin? Merlin! Hold on, you idiot, hey, hey look at me. You’re going to be just fine, you hear me? You’re going to be just fine.”
It was time to stop pretending. “I’m going to bleed out,” Merlin said. Arthur flinched back but Merlin reached forward and grabbed his hands, clutching them tightly. “There’s no use denying it. I’m ready to face my fate.”
“Your fate is here with me,” Arthur snarled. “You are a worthless servant whose entire job is to bring me breakfast and fetch my clothes and clean my room. Everything you do is for me, your entire life is centered around what I want and dammit Merlin I won’t let you die!”
“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispered.
Tears slipped down Arthur’s face, and he looked absolutely furious about it. He dashed his gauntleted hand against his face, surely bruising himself in the process.
“C’mon, you moron.” Arthur tried to haul Merlin once more to his feet, but Merlin resisted, trying to pull him back.
“Arthur, there are things I need to say.”
“There’s nothing to say, you bullheaded imbecile! You’re going to be fine!”
“You’re going to make a really wonderful king one day,” Merlin whispered.
“Shut your mouth.”
“But please, I need you to promise me.” Merlin gripped Arthur’s hands to his chest, desperately trying to force Arthur to look into his eyes. “Promise me you’ll change the laws about magic. This land will never know peace as long as that kind of inequality haunts our lands. You’re a better man than your father could ever be. I know that because of you, Camelot will become the greatest kingdom in the world. Because of you, our people will finally have peace.”
“You know it because you’re going to see it, you noodle-brained asshole! Stop lying there and help me –!”
“You’re going to be okay,” Merlin slurred, his eyes slipping shut. “I know – you’re going to be okay –”
“Merlin?” Arthur’s voice started as a croak, but then raised to a shout. “Don’t go to sleep! You have to stay awake. Merlin. Merlin, stay awake!” But Merlin had never been particularly good at following Arthur’s orders.
Arthur curled into Merlin, his entire body weighted down, and screamed. It was unbecoming of the future king to show such blatant emotion, especially for a servant, especially for Merlin, but Arthur could not have cared less about what a future king should or shouldn’t do.
He crushed Merlin to his chest, holding him there and weeping into his hair. Begging him to wake up, to hold on just a little longer.
“Gaius is coming, Merlin, just stay with me. You can’t give up. Merlin? Merlin!”
By the time Gaius came running as fast as his elderly legs could carry him, Arthur had ceased calling out and was instead mumbling inconsolably into his friend’s hair.
***
Merlin didn’t expect to open his eyes, so when he did his primary emotion turned out to be confusion, rather than relief.
Every inch of him ached down to his bones. His mouth was dry and his eyes felt like they’d been coated in vinegar. He tried to turn his head but only managed to kind of flop it around to get a different view of the room.
He was in Gaius’s sick bed. Merlin blinked a few times and the room began to come into focus. A dark shadow that had been pacing back and forth along his bedside solidified and transformed into Arthur Pendragon.
For a moment, the two of them stared at each other. Then Arthur took two strides to get to his side and immediately started yelling.
“You selfish, ungrateful, coward! You almost died, pig brain! Do you realize what would have happened if Gaius hadn’t shown up at that second? He didn’t think he could save you, he thought you were gone, but I told him to do whatever it took to save you, no matter what it cost and – but none of that matters. Do you know how many stinky sheets I’m going to make you wash to make up for this? Not just mine, but every sheet in the entire citadel! No, no, actually I don’t feel like sharing you right now, you’ll wash my entire wardrobe. And you’ll polish all of my blades and armor. I’ll even have you stitch up the rips in my tunics, they’ve been needing attention –”
He stopped to draw breath just long enough for Merlin to moan, bringing a hand to his forehead. “I’m too tired to be yelled at right now,” he groaned, and closed his eyes, trying to block out the big prat’s face.
“Merlin,” Arthur’s voice was soft, soft enough that Merlin opened his eyes, squinting to make sure he was alright. “You are the most worthless servant I’ve ever had.” Merlin closed them again. Arthur laughed and suddenly his hands were on the sides of Merlin’s face, gently stroking his cheeks.
“You’re going to be okay,” Arthur whispered. For perhaps the thousandth time that day. “I promise you, you’re going to be just fine.”
Merlin smiled. He reached for his friend and pulled his head closer until Arthur’s forehead rested against his own. He left his hand on the back of Arthur’s head for a moment, holding the two of them in place.
“I know,” Merlin said, smiling with his eyes still closed. “You’re here.”