Chapter Text
The first thing Merlin knows is that he’s cold. The cold seeps deeper than the gooseflesh on his skin and the near painful cramping of his toes--shoes, scarf, and jacket long gone, leaving him only in his too short trousers and worn thin shirt. It is in his veins, recycling freezing blood into his heart and back to the rest of his body. It has frozen his bones to ice, sending sharp pains through his ribs with every breath he struggles to take.
As his senses start to awaken along with his mind, Merlin can feel thick shackles locked tightly against his wrists and ankles. He blinks a few times, trying to adjust to the darkness. Neither sun nor candlelight illuminate the room, so he summons his magic to force his eyes to see. The warmth of it in his chest swells for only a second before it sears white hot down his spine and fizzles out.
Holding back a gasp, Merlin squeezes his eyes shut as the burn of his chains slowly eases away, leaving him without warmth again. He’d heard of cold iron before, but never expected it to be so literal.
Taking a deep breath, he tries again to open his eyes and take in his surroundings.
A faint sliver of moonlight breaks through a ratty cloth covering the lone window high above, bringing with it a brisk wind that somehow cuts through Merlin despite how cold he already is. But his eyes finally start to make out where the walls meet the floor as well as the shapes of furniture around him.
The room is nearly as big as Arthur’s chambers but stretches longer one way than the other--giving it the appearance of a very small banquet hall. Cobwebs are stuffed in every corner and dust blankets nearly everything, making it easy to figure out what has been used most recently.
It is a trail of disturbed dust that leads Merlin’s eyes to a work bench sitting halfway across the long room. A stool has been dragged away from the table--filled with familiar looking tools and foreign bottles filled with liquids he hopes he doesn’t get the chance to identify up close. It takes him a bit, but he realizes his prison is an abandoned physician’s quarters.
Just as his mind starts to wander, thinking of all the reasons he’s been chained up here of all places, a figure moves into his peripheral vision. At first, with his thoughts still reeling, Merlin thinks it is a bear--large and furry, taking each step carefully forward.
Once the moonlight falls over the silhouette, he sees that it is a man, clad in a thick fur cloak with the hood casting his face in the darkest shadow in the room.
“Emrys…”
The man’s voice is low and smooth, full of something like awe, but there is an edge to his mannerisms and tone that makes Merlin tense. The action sends another stab of ice through his limbs, but he doesn’t respond, unsure of the man’s intentions.
Lowering his hood, Merlin can tell the man is much older than him--his short beard and unkempt hair are mostly grey and his dark eyes seem to sink into the shadows underneath them. He finally lights a single candle, casting a dim light over his wrinkled face. The man has a warm, welcoming smile, but his wild eyes have Merlin inching closer to the wall behind him.
“I am grateful and humbled to be in your presence, Great One,” he says with a bow before dragging the stool behind him towards Merlin. He stops just short of where Merlin could plausibly kick out if he had the energy and sets the candle holder on the seat.
He sighs contentedly, looking over his prisoner as if Merlin were a magnificent statue or tapestry.
“I have travelled all of Albion looking for you, Emrys.” The man’s eyes stop wandering, locking his gaze on the warlock. “Searching for…” he waves his hands through the air, looking for his words. “Well,” he pauses to laugh, “for anything about this legend I heard so many years ago.”
He chuckles, as if recounting a tale with a friend instead of holding a stranger hostage.
“You see, druids and sorcerers alike are so secretive about their prophecies and stories. But, I have found in my travels, anyone is willing to open up to an enthusiastic listener. And, my word! Some of your people are so eager to tell their stories. Pass them on, in a way.”
Merlin stares him down, not yet ready to reveal anything until he finds out what the man’s plan is. Truthfully, he isn’t sure his voice would work with how tight he feels coiled inside.
“Even so,” his tone turns mournful. “There is so little to learn about you from anyone, it seems. You sure keep your adventures to yourself!”
He takes a few steps closer, and if Merlin could melt into the wall, he thinks he would if it meant he could get away from the ominously joyful man. The man squats down next to him, patting Merlin’s knee with a large, gloved hand. He flinches at the touch, much to the dismay of his aching body and to the interest of the man--if his quick smirk is anything to go by.
“I have tried, Emrys, I really have, to learn as much about you--about your power--so that this… meeting of ours could be less straining. Less embarrassing, even.” He smiles again, shaking Merlin’s leg back and forth. “I don’t wish to bother you with so many questions,” he leans in. “There is so much about magic I do not understand. But, with your help,” he cups Merlin’s cheek in his hand, forcing him to look up, “I am eager to learn as much as I can.”
***
Gaius immediately notices Merlin’s absence, but doesn’t bother getting caught up worrying over the whereabouts of the young man. It often happened on nights the physician spent long hours in the lower town--Merlin had a lot on his shoulders not just as the King’s servant but as a great sorcerer living in secret. When he disappeared, it was best to just expect him to come home within the next day and find out what he was up to while tending his wounds.
Knowing that he sometimes goes missing out of duty doesn’t always bring the old man comfort, but it at least lets him relish in quiet pride thinking of what sort of magic he is using to protect Arthur and Camelot.
Truly, there is nothing out of the ordinary when he doesn’t come stumbling into their quarters in the middle of the night or when Gaius wakes the next morning and doesn’t find him passed out at the workbench.
It isn’t until a few days later without word from Merlin that it strikes Gaius as odd. Not that his assistant hasn’t lost track of time before, or decided that for the safety of others, he needed to stay quiet for some time. When a full week passes without any sign of him returning soon, Gaius pulls Arthur aside after a particularly uneventful Round Table meeting.
“Ah, Gaius, I’ve been meaning to speak with you,” the young King says, joyful eyes following Guinevere as she exits the hall. Once the doors shut behind her, he turns his full attention to the old man. “When is Merlin returning from Ealdor? I know he hasn’t had the time to see his mother in a while,” he frowns slightly, knowing he’s the reason Merlin has been busy. “But, if I can speak honestly,” he drops his gaze. “I am getting tired of George’s punctuality and his horrid sense of humor.”
He looks back up to see Gaius’s knowing smile and scrunches his nose. “He just doesn’t know how I like my clothes folded! Or that, at this point, I expect my dinner to be late!” The defensiveness in his tone holds no weight, and they both know the physician can see right through him.
“That is… actually why I pulled you aside, Sire,” Gaius finally speaks, smile turned into a worried frown. “I did not expect him to be away this long,” he says truthfully. “A few days at most, but I haven’t heard a word from him since before he left.”
Arthur furrows his eyebrows, searching Gaius’s face for only a moment before relaxing his face. With an exasperated sigh, he rolls his eyes.
“Knowing Merlin, he probably arrived back in Camelot a few days ago and went directly to the tavern!” He throws his hand in the air and shakes his head. “Either blacked out at the inn or thrown out to sleep with the pigs.”
Though he sounds frustrated, it’s easy for Gaius to read into his exaggerated gestures and quick glances around the room. Whether or not he believes Merlin has spent the last days in a drunken stupor, Arthur is concerned.
His eyes land on Elyan and Gwaine as the latter begins to open the door to leave.
“Elyan! Gwaine!”
They both stop, shoulders slouching as they turn around and walk back towards the center of the room.
“Meeting’s over, princess,” Gwaine huffs, crossing his arms. “Percival’s on guard rotations this week. Whatever you need, ask him.”
Elyan elbows him in the ribs, looking to the ceiling as if someone from above will grant him the patience to deal with the other knight.
“Ignore him, Sire,” he shares a look with the King. “Though he has a point. I’m meant to be meeting Gwen to discuss an outing soon.”
“I’ll make it quick then,” Arthur starts. “I need the both of you to do a sweep of the lower town. Be sure to check the tavern first.”
“Already ahead of you there,” Gwaine says, smacking Elyan’s shoulder with the back of his hand.
“I’m sending you to look for Merlin, not to get drunk, Sir Gwaine.”
Both knights perk up at the mention of the servant.
“Why would we look for Merlin at the tavern?” Elyan asks, turning his attention to Gaius. “Did an illness break out?”
Before the physician can respond, Arthur answers for him. “It’s nothing like that. He’s just gotten himself lost again, and I’d wager he’s too intoxicated to know it.”
Gwaine scoffs, looking at Gaius with a disbelieving look on his face. “And why would you think Merlin of all people has gone and gotten himself in such a state?”
“Will you just go look for him?” Arthur huffs. “I don’t care what state he’s in, as long as you bring his lazy ass back here! He’s skipping on both his duties to me and as Gaius’s assistant.”
With one last wave of his hand to dismiss them, Arthur walks away as the knights hustle off to the lower town.
Though Gaius needs to dispel this unfortunate picture he’s painted for the King about his servant, he silently hopes Elyan and Gwaine do find him huddled over a pint in one piece.
***
Despite what Merlin always says, Arthur does not pace. He simply keeps his body occupied while he thinks--usually by walking back and forth in his room.
It’s been hours since he sent his knights to search for his servant--the autumn sun now low enough in the sky that the moon can be seen visibly from his window.
He’d spent the first few hours avoiding George at all costs--checking the armory, conversing with stuffy council members, running through training drills. And when his muscles got too tired, he went back to his quarters, finally going through letters and reports, writing speeches, and sending George home for the night. Merlin would bring him dinner whether he was drunk or not.
Guinevere had been understanding about Elyan’s absence and concerned about Merlin--the emotion easier for her to show than Arthur felt he could.
The more people he tried to comfort by telling them the servant was probably at the tavern, the less he believed it.
The last bit of sunlight fades from over the hills right before there is a rough, loud knock at the door. Gwaine.
“Enter.”
Elyan opens the door for both of them, entering the room in a tense silence--and any quiet moment from Gwaine carries with it a sense of foreboding. The lack of his scarf-clad servant seems to weigh heavy on all of them.
“Where is he?” Arthur asks, hands on his hips. He clings onto the last bit of hope that maybe his men had been feeling generous and took Merlin to Gaius first.
That hope shatters as soon as Elyan begins to speak.
“It appears Merlin isn’t in Camelot, Sire.”
Arthur slowly closes his eyes and takes a moment to center himself before responding. “Gaius said he went to see his mother in Ealdor. Did you ask any of the shops if they received any letter from him?”
“If Merlin had gone towards Ascetir, he would have passed the baker’s home-”
“And the baker said he hasn’t seen Merlin in over a week,” Gwaine interrupts him, huffing. “Every single person that lives on the edge of town said the same thing. No one has left or entered Camelot for a few days,” he pauses, looking sideways at Elyan. “Except one person.”
Before Arthur can ask, Elyan continues.
“About a week ago, the night before Gaius said Merlin would have left, a stranger passed through in the evening,” he starts slowly. His eyes shift over Arthur’s face, assessing his reaction before the King nods him on. “He entered Camelot from the east. Both the baker and cobbler described him as cloaked and large--tall even when sitting down. He came in on a small cart with what those who saw him suspected were his wares. He stopped at the Rising Sun early in the night-”
“Evoric says he spent no coin! Not even for food or drink,” Gwaine grumbles, throwing his hands in the air. He spins on his heel before pacing away and back again once. “He didn’t stay at the inn and barely spent more than an hour asking about Gaius.”
Arthur straightens his back at the mention of the old man. “Why would he ask about Gaius?”
“Seems he was trying to find a physician,” Elyan answers before Gwaine can speak over him again. “Some of the regulars said he must have been from somewhere cold with how thick his cloak was-”
“Heard it was entirely made of some animal’s fur,” Gwaine adds.
Letting out a slow, controlled breath and closing his eyes for a moment, Elyan holds in his temper and instead keeps talking as if the other knight weren’t there. “He left, a few others outside the tavern saw him head towards the castle, but he turned off the beaten path before reaching the citadel.”
“And after that?” Arthur turns around to sit at his desk, hands folded in front of him to keep himself from balling them into fists.
“The cart disappeared near the far side of the castle.”
Elyan doesn’t need to specify--the stranger went towards the tower where both Gaius and Merlin live.
“The moon was at its highest point in the night the next time the man was seen. He headed north towards the Darkling Woods.”
When the knight finishes his report, Arthur closes his eyes and sits in silence as he tries to sort through all the information he’s been given. No one saw Merlin leave for Ealdor, the last time he was seen was before the strange merchant entered Camelot.
If the man had simply been looking for help, he could’ve gone directly to Gaius or even petitioned the King. Instead, he had-
“He kidnapped Merlin.”
Arthur’s eyes snap open, looking up at Gwaine who has just spoken his thoughts aloud. He turns his gaze towards Elyan who nods his agreement.
“Then we need to find him.”