Chapter Text
Arthur had never been one to back down from a challenge. He’d faced off against the undead, had fought countless bandits, and had trained one of the greatest groups of knights that Camelot had ever seen. But even he had to admit that the wandering in the dark was beginning to drive him mad.
When he and Leon had first started searching it had been easy to follow the trail that Merlin left behind. Down one corridor they went, pointing out a drop of blood or a scuffed footprint with crimson at the heel.
They passed an old stairwell that had been blocked by fallen stones, and then a bedchamber that neither wanted to try going inside. Then they came upon a dead end, with a single stone door that they could not get open no matter how much they tried. But there were no other signs of Merlin, and the blood trail had ended two hallways before, so they had backtracked.
They’d searched more thoroughly, but when no other pathways opened themselves up, they’d found themselves outside the bedchamber from before. The room was so dirty and dusty that Arthur could hardly stand to breathe when they went inside.
“There’s another door, down that way.” Leon pointed, only to recoil in disgust as a strand of webbing clung to his outstretched finger.
“How long do you think this place has been here?” Arthur asked, ignoring the door as his attention instead flitted to a desk off to one side of the room.
“Decades at least, I would imagine.” Leon shrugged, waving his torch around the cobwebs in an attempt to clear a path.
Arthur on the other hand had begun to walk away, approaching the desk that was filthy, but arguably less so than the rest of the room.
“Arthur?” Leon called, and the king merely shook his head.
“Come look at this, Leon.”
“It’s a desk, Sire.”
“I know that,” The blond muttered dryly, side eyeing his knight. “The placement of it, doesn’t it seem odd?”
“Odd how?” Leon asked, walking up to the king’s right side as the man turned to face the rest of the room.
“Bed there,” The blond pointed, his brows knitting together in thought as his hand swept to the other side. “Chairs there, if that wall were a window.” Continuing on, Arthur pointed to a dust covered mound pressed against the wall. “And a wardrobe there.”
“I don’t understand what you’re getting at.” Leon shook his head, and Arthur spun back around.
“This bedchamber, it’s set up exactly the way my father’s was.”
“What?” The knight’s eyes went wide, and Arthur walked around the back of the desk and began tugging on the warped drawers. When one finally broke open, the man found nothing was inside.
“I’m certain of it, this room is exactly like his was.” Arthur shook his head, shoving the drawer back in with a splintering sound before he began tugging on another. “The question is why?”
“Wait,” Leon interjected, pointing back to the door they’d just walked through. “The hall, and then a stairwell. If that led down—”
“—that would match the citadel, almost exactly.” Arthur nodded. “I had thought things seemed familiar, but this is too strange even for me.”
“We still haven’t found Merlin, either.” Leon stated, dragging the king’s thoughts back to the reason they’d come into the room in the first place.
“Right, of course. Was there any of his blood to be found in here?”
“No, but that door leads out into more corridors. Perhaps he wandered that way after coming to the dead end.” Leon suggested while Arthur frowned in thought.
“There’s also those other halls, back when we first came down here.” As the two men met each other’s eye, Arthur knew what it was they needed to do.
“You want to split up to search for him.” The knight uttered, obviously reading the other’s face easily.
“If he’s injured, and he’s somehow managed to wander about without leaving a trace, we need to find him. Besides, this place was clearly made to resemble Camelot, or the other way around, and I’d like to know more about what’s here.”
“And what if one of us finds Merlin?” Leon asked, the small frown turning down his lips making it obvious how he felt about the plan.
“We’ll take him to where we fell in. It’s not as if it will take us hours to locate him, we weren’t that far behind to begin with.” Arthur reasoned, though he could see his knight internally struggling against it.
“Should we meet back up after a period of time whether we find him or not? Two hours at most?”
“Yes, we’ll do that.” Arthur nodded, his thoughts already shifting to what the rest of the castle they were in might hold that matched his home above ground.
“Here, take this with you.”
Rummaging around in the bag hanging over his shoulder, Leon retrieved a small vial of oil and passed it over to the king. Taking it and tucking it inside a small loop in his belt, Arthur gave his knight a firm nod before the man walked through the bedchamber and out the door he’d first pointed out, leaving the blond alone.
Waiting barely more than a moment, Arthur returned to his search of the desk. There was nothing inside the drawers, but it was clear something had resided there until recently. After a quick search of the rest of the room, Arthur finally began to backtrack through the halls, walking until light from the afternoon sun could be seen from the hole.
“Merlin?” Arthur called out, pausing beside the edge of the rubble and glancing at the two other directions he could go. “Merlin!” He shouted again, only to let out a sigh when no noise came from his missing servant.
Scratching the back of his neck, the king chose the corridor straight ahead and directly opposite from the blood that they had found. Holding his torch up high, the man walked cautiously through the darkness, aware in the foreign space that he no longer had anyone watching his back.
One corridor turned into another, and three different rooms appeared to his left, though all were closed off by fallen stones or locked doors. The longer he walked on, the more Arthur became disconcerted by the silence, with his steps growing softer and his breaths quieter.
There were no signs of Merlin anywhere, and no rooms for him to try and explore. The most he had to work with was the fact that the layout was the same as the citadel. Rooms were in the same places, as were stairwells. The things that were different were broken walls and cracked floors.
Everything else was so eerily similar to Camelot, but it was also ancient. So which had inspired the other? Which had come first? And did any of that really matter?
The longer Arthur pressed on, with his torch flickering in front of him, the more he thought of Merlin wandering through the darkness, alone and injured. Not that he cared, of course. Not at all. Why should he? It wasn’t as if they were actually friends.
Merlin was his servant. And a poor one at that. That was all it was. He was only searching because he respected Gaius, and the young man was in his care. Nothing more. And yet..
Stopping in the middle of a dark hall, Arthur closed his eyes and drew in a slow breath. He couldn’t help but worry. Couldn’t help but imagine the worst.
How often had Arthur had to save the young man? Through blizzards and fires and storms. He hated the way he always seemed to be stuck worrying over Merlin. Why could he never just take care of himself? Why was he always getting into trouble and putting himself in harm’s way? It frustrated Arthur to no end. Merlin was such an idiot. And he was too damn loyal. And stubborn. And idiotic.
“Damn him.” Arthur cursed softly, rubbing a weary hand across his face.
What had he done? How could he have caused this? Obviously he could never have known this was what awaited the young man when he went back through the forest, but still. Arthur should have known better.
He was only angry because Morgana had hidden so much from him, and everyone had seen how that had worked out. He didn’t want Merlin to feel the need to hide things as well. Not from him. Not from his damned friend.
“Merlin!” Arthur shouted, forcing his pesky thoughts to the back of his mind as he pushed on again, gripping the torch just a little tighter than before.
Rounding the next corner, the king came to a fork and paused, debating which corridor to try. As he stood there thinking, the darkness heavy on all sides, he heard something scuffling. Arthur’s shoulders tensed at the noise, his head whipping to the left of the fork as he caught his breath and listened. Someone, or something, was coming towards him.
Drawing his sword from his side with his free hand, Arthur stood ready and waiting for whatever was coming. The scuffling grew louder, until the shadowed figure of a person emerged on the outskirts of the king’s torchlight. The leg of the figure was dragging, creating the sound and sending small rocks skittering across the floor.
Staring hard until a bloodied face emerged, Arthur let out a gasp. “Merlin!”
The man’s sword dropped from his grasp, clattering to the ground as he lunged forward and caught Merlin’s shoulder while the young man let out a wheezing breath.
“Are you alright? What are you doing all the way down here?” Arthur pressed, leaning back and lifting his torch higher.
He regretted it the moment he did, because the sight of Merlin’s broken face was enough to make his stomach roll in disgust. The young man had cut open his right eyebrow and blood had streaked down over his eye and dripped down his cheek.
His left eye was bruised, the corner dark red and already beginning to swell. His nose, however, had to be the worst with the partially dried blood just beneath it and the appendage itself shifted incorrectly to one side.
Arthur couldn’t help but grimace at the sight, and as he directed his eyes elsewhere, found his gaze drawn to his servant’s leg instead. The limb he’d been dragging looked to be broken, or at the very least sprained, with his weight barely supported on a makeshift crutch he’d created out of a tree branch. Blood had soaked through his boot in patches, though the spots were now dirty with mud as well.
“Ar.. thur..” Merlin’s voice was hoarse and broken, like he struggled to even speak, and Arthur’s attention shot back up to him.
“What were you thinking trying to walk around like this?” He demanded immediately, gripping the young man’s shoulder tighter.
“Ar.. thur..” His name came out of those cracked lips again, more insistent as Merlin reached weakly for the king’s face. His fingers and nailbeds were bloody and raw, as if he’d spent time trying to scratch his way out of the castle he’d been trapped in.
“I’m here. So is Leon. You’re going to be fine.” Arthur promised, forcing his frustration down as Merlin’s hand came to a rest on his arm.
“Arthur.. Arthur..” Merlin took a wavering step forward, nearly falling, and Arthur’s heart galloped in his chest. His servant looked downright haunted.
“What is it?”
“Help.. me..”
“I’m trying.” The king huffed, fear he couldn’t explain running rampant inside him as shadowed blue eyes searched his face blindly. “Merlin?” Arthur shook the young man gently, and those blue eyes snapped up to meet his.
“Help me.. Arthur.. He’s going.. to kill.. me..”
“What is it you plan to do, exactly?” Merlin asked, his body suddenly weary as his eyes flitted up to where the lanterns glowed on the walls above them.
“Nothing much.” Ralcade shrugged, eyeing the warlock with a far too innocent expression on his face.
“Oh really? And why don’t I believe that?” Merlin asked, slouching in his seat with a narrowed gaze.
“Because you can be quite untrusting of me at times.” Ralcade shook his head as though the idea upset him immensely. “Truly, Merlin. All I wish to do is sit here and talk with you. That is all.”
“This coming from you right after you tell me that only one of us will survive this little ‘talk’.” The warlock snapped, and finally the sorcerer’s façade dropped.
“You wish to hear my story, do you not?”
“I don’t think I care, actually.” Merlin stated, folding his arms across his chest.
“You do, and you will sit there and listen as I tell it to you.”
“No, I won’t.” The warlock shook his head, watching as Ralcade placed both his hands on the table between them.
“Seeing as the two of us are here, with no way out, it appears you do not have a say in the matter.”
“Actually, I do. There is always a choice.” One of the lanterns on the wall to his left flickered just then, and Merlin’s gaze shot over as the fire sputtered and died out entirely. It wasn’t much, but the room seemed to grow just a bit darker with the loss of the light, and the young warlock could not suppress the shudder that racked his body.
“We could sit here for an eternity. Do you really wish to suffer through that in silence?” The sorcerer snapped, glaring at Merlin as the warlock pushed himself to his feet and paced the edges of the room, hunting for an escape.
“Frankly, Ralcade, I don’t care about a single thing you want to say. To me, or out loud just to yourself. I want to go home and forget that you ever existed in the first place.”
“Merlin—”
“Where is the door?” Throwing up his arms in exasperation, Merlin thrust out his hand at an empty section of the wall. “Bedyrne ús! Astýre ús banonweard!”
When nothing happened, Ralcade tutted behind him. “I tried to tell you—”
“Shut up!” The warlock yelled, stalking further away and trying again. “Bedyrne ús! Astýre ús banonweard!”
Still, nothing came of his magic. He could not even feel his power within himself any longer, and with a sense of dread, Merlin’s eyes cut to where Ralcade remained seated, watching him with his chin leaning in a hand.
“Are you quite finished?”
“What did you do to my magic?”
“Nothing. Your magic simply does not work here. I thought you understood that.”
“I don’t understand anything that is happening right now!” Merlin shouted, running his hands roughly through his hair.
“We exist here mentally, but our bodies are not physically here. With enough practice, one could exist in both states simultaneously I suppose, but as of now, your entire state of consciousness is here. Do you understand?”
Merlin managed a short, sharp nod of his head.
“Because of that fact, we can neither touch each other, nor use our magic. We can touch the items already here, but that is the extent. To put it in simple terms, this place is a halfway point between existence and a void of nothing. And until we reach a point where one’s will might overpower the other’s, we will both remain here, indefinitely.”
Unable to do anything but stare at the sorcerer, Merlin finally forced his feet to move back to the table where he collapsed onto the bench. “Fine.” He muttered, glancing again to the lanterns above them where another across the room had started to flicker.
“Finally,” Ralcade’s reptilian smile made Merlin’s stomach turn, but really, what else could he do? “Let me start from the beginning.”
“Who is trying to kill you, Merlin?” Arthur demanded, holding his friend tightly while searching his mangled face for some sort of answer. “What happened to you down here?” He tried again, but all the young man did was blink sluggishly at him.
“Merlin!” Arthur shouted, causing the other to meet his eye.
“Help.. me..” He whispered, leaning into the king’s hold.
Biting back an aggravated sigh, Arthur forced himself to nod. “Yes, fine, alright. Let’s get out of here.”
Taking a step back, Arthur waited for Merlin to acknowledge him, or move, or something. Still, he just stood there, motionless, aside from his eyes which were tracking his every move.
“Merlin, did you hear me?”
“Help.. me..” A chill ran down Arthur’s spine at the repeated words.
Merlin had asked for help several times already, but this time it was different. The words were too deep, too cold, too evil. They were not Merlin’s words.
“Merlin?” Arthur asked slowly, taking another step back as the young man’s blue eyes darted down to the king’s feet.
“You.. owe.. me..” That same voice, dark and gritty and agonized came out of his servant.
“What exactly do I owe you?” The blond asked quietly, lifting his left foot up slowly and placing it down a step behind him.
In the same moment Merlin’s eyes shot up and narrowed into slits. “You owe me.. for saving.. him..”
Arthur’s eyes widened in surprise, the deep growl making his heart stutter. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Merlin.” His words were fake, he could hear the forced calm in his own voice. But how could he not?
He knew what those words meant. He knew where they came from. He rarely went a single day without thinking about the deal he’d made. His mistakes were finally coming back to haunt him, weren’t they?
“You.. owe.. me..” Lifting a cut up hand that had blood trailing from his thumb, Merlin stared at Arthur and left him wondering what kind of hell they had stumbled into.
It was a horror show, witnessing his friend moving as awkwardly as a puppet on a string. How was he supposed to fix this?
“You. Owe. Me!” With a sudden, inhuman scream, Merlin surged forward.
His fingers wrapped tightly around Arthur’s throat before the blond could react, his back pressing against the cold stone wall as he was slammed against it. Merlin bared his teeth, and his face hovered only inches from the king’s.
The worst part though were the eyes. Merlin’s once blue hues had turned completely black, with even the whites of his eyes falling into shadow as the torch Arthur held fell to the ground and rolled away from them.
“I will.. be paid.. in full.. King Arthur.”
“Magic used to be so great and mighty when I was a child.” Ralcade sighed, leaning back while Merlin glared at him from his bench. “I was born into a loving druid home, with sisters and brothers and cousins. The whole family dynamic, if you will.” The sorcerer said, waving his hand about as he spoke.
“There were great elders back then, some of whom carried strong bonds with dragons. They worked together in peace and learned from one another. We taught them the newer ways we had discovered of magic and life, and the dragons taught us of where we came from, and the old ways that magic often still clung to.”
Merlin was already bored, and his eyes drifted again to the lanterns as the one that had been sputtering faded to a dull glow of embers.
“I worked with those elders, learning from them and the dragons. But as life went on and I grew older, the world began to change. Dragons became something to fear in the eyes of many. I myself was still quite obsessed with them, and the power they held. Too many in our village were frightened, however. Both of the magic they possessed and the fact that they wandered about freely, unrestrained.”
Shifting in his seat, Merlin’s thoughts drifted to Kilgharrah and how frightened he knew people were of him. Afraid enough to have chained him down and locked him away.
“I continued to learn from the oldest dragons, the ones who stayed and remained friends with the elders of our village. I learned a great deal. I became a master of our magic, but deep inside I knew I was destined for more. I wanted to create magic. New spells and potions. I wanted my name to be said with the same reverie as people always spoke of the dragons.”
A dark expression crossed Ralcade’s face, and Merlin shuddered as the sputtering lantern’s glow disappeared entirely, and a new shadow spread across the room.
“I uncovered a great deal in my time studying. Things that people ignored simply out of laziness or lack of interest. The dragons were a great source of magic in our realm, and I knew that within them were an abundance of untold secrets. Powers and magics beyond belief. I just needed to be brave enough to look.”
As the sorcerer’s words grew more sinister, Merlin’s eyes fell back to him, and he leaned against the table between them. “What did you do, Ralcade?”
“I snuck out of our camp one night and went to speak with the oldest and wisest dragon. Yel-Sew had been a part of our land for longer than anyone could remember, which meant he’d had a long enough life. I approached him under the guise of learning beneath his fire, and when he turned his great head, I took my sword and slit his throat.”
Merlin’s blood ran cold at the pure glee Ralcade expressed while reliving his supposed triumph.
“He let out a mighty roar, but the deed was done and as I said, he was quite old. I cut again, deeper, and collected a measure of his blood on my blade for later use.”
Merlin’s mouth was agape in horror, no words able to break free as a third lantern above him went out with a hiss.
“I used his blood to create a new potion, and for days I experimented with the limits of magic. Many knew what I had done, but they were too frightened to stop me. I was cast out of my home, but that did little to deter my efforts. I was meant to do these things. Meant to expand what we knew of magic. But all too soon Yel-Sew’s blood ran out.” Shaking his head as if it were a tragedy, Ralcade sighed.
“So, I went hunting for more dragons. It became increasingly more difficult as time went on due to stories of my ‘blood thirty rampage’ making their way around. I tried explaining to those I crossed paths with, and to each dragon I killed, what my purposes were. None of them believed. None of them cared.” Snarling with the words, the sorcerer slammed his fist down on the table. “So I killed them without any thought. If they cared so little for me, why should I care for them?”
“You’re a monster.” Merlin whispered, horror and disgust making his stomach turn as Ralcade glared at him.
“I did what I needed to do.” Sitting up straighter, the sorcerer’s gaze flickered to the lanterns himself, and he rolled his head slowly.
“Besides, what I was doing opened the pathways I needed to make progress. Until the time came when my work was brought to a halt. I could no longer push the boundaries, as there were none left. At least, not for a druid. I hunted for years after that, looking for the perfect specimen. And finally, I found her. She was a young dragon, black as the night sky and innocent as a newborn child. I lured her away from her nest and captured her. I took her to my workshop, and I crossed the threshold of nature that so many are too afraid to even glance at.”
Merlin swallowed thickly, his body growing heavy and his heart more so as he watched the sorcerer run a finger slowly down the scales on the edges of his face. Black scales.
“I mixed the young dragon’s blood with my own magic and the dark forces I had come to master. It was painful, excruciatingly so, but it was worth it in the end. Fusing myself with the power of that creature, adorning myself with her scales to show outwardly what was now on the inside. No one had ever dared to do what I had, you see. Some said I butchered the creature, ripping the scales off it’s back and draining it’s magic drop by drop. But that was the day I truly became a master of magics.”
Merlin wanted to be sick. It was as if, for a moment, he could feel the dragon’s pain. Could hear the creature screaming in agony. Or was he hearing Ralcade’s own memory?
“Still, no one understood.” The sorcerer scowled, dragging his nail across the wooden table. “They all claimed I was a freak. I was hunted. They wanted to put an end to me and to everything I had accomplished. Can you believe that? They wanted to wipe me from history and pretend I had never existed! Like I was something to be ashamed of rather than revered. I couldn’t stand for that, so I began to hunt them back. I suppose in a way I became half dragon in both body and in nature.”
A fifth lantern sputtered, and Merlin grimaced as the flames died away. Shadows were creeping along all the edges of the room, and the warlock’s fingers had begun to grow numb with cold.
“I lived for decades in that manner. One with nature, with magic. I was feared and despised, that is true. But I was alive.” Ralcade drew in a deep breath with a smile lifting the corners of his mouth while his eyes landed on the young warlock. “And then, I met Uther Pendragon.”
The fingers around Arthur’s throat tightened with inhuman strength, and the king struggled to breathe as Merlin’s face contorted into one of anger.
“Ralcade.” Arthur rasped, barely managing to get the name out as his servant, his friend, nodded.
“I. Am. Owed.”
“How are you doing this?” The blond asked, gripping Merlin’s fingers tightly and giving himself a moment of air before the young man was shoving him hard against the wall again.
The words were clearly difficult to get out, the servant’s lips twisting into a snarl as if he were fighting for each syllable.
“What happened to Merlin?” Arthur demanded, reaching out and grasping the other’s shoulders in an attempt to free himself.
“Merlin. Is. Dead.” A growl accompanied the words, followed by the young man’s head jerking to the right and shaking, as if something were caught in his ear.
“No, he isn’t.” Arthur hissed, refusing to believe the words despite the fear making his heart race inside his chest. It just wasn’t possible. He refused to believe it. Not when Merlin, or at least his body, was standing in front of him.
“He’s dying.. Slowly.. Painfully.. Without.. realizing..” Ralcade’s words from Merlin’s mouth were disturbing, and fresh blood began to drip from his left nostril.
“Why are you doing this?” Arthur demanded, dropping one of his hands and reaching for his belt instead.
“You.. made.. a deal.. His life.. for.. a favor..” Merlin’s head rolled to one side, and Arthur caught sight of the blood trailing from his right ear. “You will.. listen.. to me..”
“Will I?” Arthur scoffed, grasping hold of the oil Leon had given him.
“You will.. die.. otherwise..” A sharp gasp shuddered through Merlin’s body, and even in the shadows Arthur could see how pale his friend had become.
“What do you want?”
“Magic.. returned.. Allow it.. to.. be used.. freely..”
“Return magic?” Arthur nearly laughed, the only reason he didn’t was due to his servant’s sharp nails digging into his throat. “Why should I?” The king asked, his focus split between the young man before him and his fingers trying to pry the cork out of the vial with one hand.
“Whole kingdom.. destroyed.. You will.. obey..” Merlin grit out, his unblinking black eyes boring into Arthur.
“I see.” The man uttered, relief bursting through him as the cork finally broke free.
Unable to keep hold of the vial and stopper both with one hand, the cork went flying to the side and bounced against the cracked stone to the right. Merlin’s head jerked to follow the noise, and in the moment of distraction, Arthur swung his arm up and splashed the vial’s contents in the young man’s eyes.
With a scream of rage Merlin dropped Arthur, allowing the king to roll to the side and grab his sword before leaping to his feet in a single fluid motion.
“Sorry for that, Merlin. If you’re still in there, at least.” He muttered, watching the young man swipe awkwardly at his face, one of his hands flailing uselessly as he did.
“More power.. by the second.. You are weak.. You are.. nothing..” Merlin growled, the noise rumbling throughout the corridor as stones from above clattered down around them.
“I will not give you anything you ask for, Ralcade. My kingdom will not be held captive by you or your magic’s tyranny.” Holding his sword at the ready, Arthur steeled himself for what he knew would come.
Merlin—Ralcade—looked ready to attack him again. He would have to fight back, protect himself and Camelot. But on the other hand, it was Merlin. His Merlin. His idiot. His friend. Could he truly fight him if he were still alive?
“Will.. not.. fail..” With a shaking step forward, Merlin turned towards the king, before all movement stopped abruptly. He stood frozen for several tense moments, black eyes glaring at the king, before he collapsed.
“Merlin?” Arthur asked, starting forward before stopping himself. What if it were a trap?
“Arthur..?” Merlin’s voice, quiet and pained, but his spoke up. Weakly lifting his head, Merlin’s bright blue eyes were back, though they were unfocused as they tried to find the blond in the shadows.
“I’m here, Merlin. I’m here.” Kneeling down a few feet away and with his sword still tight in hand, Arthur’s brows knight together in concern as his friend’s mouth opened but struggled to speak. “Merlin?”
“Can’t.. hold on.. Arthur..” Blinking slowly, a look of determination crossed his face. “Kill me.”
“What?”
“You have.. to kill me.. before.. it’s too.. late..”
“Merlin, I can’t—I can’t kill you.” Arthur objected, watching as the young man’s head drooped. “Merlin?”
“Should. Have. Listened. To. Him.” Merlin’s head lifted again, black eyes gleaming, and he bared his teeth at the king. “Return magic, Arthur. Or I will bring your kingdom to its knees.”