Merlin Oneshots

17. Truth be Told (Part 1)

Merlin was exhausted, physically and emotionally. It was the anniversary of his father's death and both Gaius and Arthur had already had him running about all day with chores and errands, not to mention the assassin he'd had to stop the previous night, leaving him with virtually no sleep whatsoever, and he'd hardly had time to grieve. All that caught up with him though when he and the knights left for the scheduled hunting trip at noon.

"What's wrong with you?" Arthur shot Merlin a calculating look.

"Hm?" Merlin asked, looking up from the little wooden dragon Balinor had carved for him, "Oh, it's nothing."

"Nothing my ass! What's wrong?" Gwaine frowned, leaning into Merlin's side in a comforting gesture, "You've been quiet all day."

"Seriously, it's nothing." Merlin swiped a tear from his cheek and stuffed the dragon into his pocket, "I'm fine."

"We are your friends, Merlin." Elyan spoke up, "You can tell us if something is bothering you."

"Elyan's right, we're here for you." Percival said gently, sensing his distress. He could see some nods of agreement, including Arthur, albeit reluctantly - he really wasn't good with feelings.

Fresh tears stung at his eyes, "I'm going to collect more firewood." He muttered, shooting up quickly and making a beeline for the trees.

"I'll help." Gwaine announced with a nod to the rest of them, following Merlin closely behind. When they got far enough in the trees he saw Merlin go rigid before he dropped like a sack of potatoes and Gwaine was about to shout out but he caught sight of a hooded figure lurking only a few feet away - arm outstretched - and soon enough Gwaine had joined Merlin in unconsciousness.

***

Merlin awoke to a bucket of ice cold water in his face and found that he was chained from the ceiling. He suddenly couldn't help but be reminded of the Fomorrah incident, and let an involuntary shudder overtake him before his eyes adjusted to what was happening. In the low light he could just about see Gwaine in the corner, seemingly unharmed but unable to escape or make a sound due to some kind of magic bubble he was in. Merlin assumed the muting went both ways, it'd be no use to the captor for the prisoner to hear everything but not the other way around. He let his gaze fall upon the woman in front of him and couldn't help but snort. Of course it was Morgana.

"How unoriginal." Merlin frowned at the setup, with a roll of the eyes.

"Hello again, Merlin." Morgana smirked, setting down the bucket.

"Hello, Morgana, I see you've redecorated." Merlin gestured vaguely to her newly decorated cave (of which was pretty empty last time he'd been captured by her) before screwing up his features in distaste, "I don't like it."

"You reduced me to this, Merlin." She sneered.

"Oh wow, really? And what is it this time? Come to rant about taking over Camelot? Failing to take over Camelot? How apparently everyone who isn't you is an evil oppressor, even though you are exactly like your father?" Merlin scoffed, "I've got a new topic of conversation for you: how about we talk about hiring you an interior decorator? I mean really, you chose that rug with those bloody torture devices? Talk about tacky."

"Enough." Morgana spat, "I need information."

"What a surprise." Merlin rolled his eyes, "You'll get nothing from me."

"Don't be so sure if yourself." Morgana made her way over to her crooked shelves and picked up a black vial, "Now, I'm going to ask you a question, and I need you to think very carefully about your answer. If you don't give me what I'm looking for, I'll have to force it out of you." She smirked condescendingly, "Tell me, why does Emrys help you?"