Chapter Text
Merlin could not fathom his hatred for hunts, let alone impromptu ones. Arthur was tired of court duties, sure, he understood that. It's just… Why must his version of relaxation be harming innocent animals for fun while sitting and sleeping on the forest floor and having no proper place to relieve oneself. Merlin preferred to relax by laying in bed, reading for fun instead of study or life-saving, or lounging around with his friends.
Lancelot seemed to be the only one who understood his pain, though the knight himself enjoyed a good hunt. Stupid knights and their violent tendencies. Sometimes he wondered if it was his magic that prevented him from enjoying hunts, as he was connected to all life and all that Emrys stuff…
Whatever. Point is, he was always given stupid jobs on top of already having a foul time and therefore he quite enjoyed spending his time ruining their chances of finding game and glaring daggers at Arthur’s head, all while cursing their stupid masculine urges.
“Merlin! Watch for sticks or I swear the next arrow that is shot will be directly at your head!”
Merlin stuck his tongue out at Arthur, earning laughs from Gwaine and Elyan. The other knights were either too busy actually hunting or trying to remain on Arthur’s good side - he didn’t know.
A quarter of an hour had passed before Merlin noticed a spot of red in his peripheral. He stopped his beating stick as he stilled, peering at the spot. It was full of greenery, but Merlin felt something had been there. He noticed Gwaine pause ahead of him, an eyebrow raised.
“Coming?”
Maybe it was an injured animal, or his imagination taking over since he was bored out of his bloody mind.
He gave Gwaine a simple nod, eyeing the woods once more before shaking it off as nothing. As he walked back up to the group he made sure to keep an eye out for anything curious, just in case.
“What's going on up there, hmm?” Gwaine reached out to tap his forehead, causing Merlin to swat his hand away with a playful frown.
“A hatred for this day,” Merlin supplied, keeping his suspicion to himself. Not that it would shock Gwaine, considering he got funny feelings a lot, but he was honestly half convinced it was nothing.
Gwaine’s smile faltered, just for a second, before it was back in full. “Want to make it a bit more exciting?”
“Gwaine! If you could please stop being a hindrance for one-”
Arthur was interrupted by a clash of swords and a shout from Leon. Merlin knew something was up! Mostly!
The knights sprung into action and Merlin took a step away, assessing the situation and trying to figure out if he was needed or not. The odds were about three bandits for every knight, which would usually be decent odds with his assistance but suddenly a few men specifically caught Merlin’s eye.
They wore robes, stitched with design and colorfully worn. None of them did anything but stand still as the fight continued, watching as the knights defeated more men. It was as if they all were waiting for something, a cue or signal. Merlin tried to find one, watching the men Arthur fought specifically. Maybe they were waiting until Arthur was distracted properly, or for an injury. Maybe they waited until he was the last man standing before they cursed him or killed him. A man in a deep blue seemed to watch Arthur more than the others, not even flinching when a piece of his long hair fell from his braid and into his eye. He seemed familiar, in the oddest way; they all did.
Merlin found himself realizing they… they looked like druids. The thought made him freeze, and it wasn’t until a man in a burnt orange robe began a spell that he was sprung back into reality. His hesitation, his disbelief, had taken far too long.
The knights all fell unconscious, and Merlin found himself panicking as he tried to think of something. A spell started on the tip of his tongue, his magic was building and he felt everything as time slowed down - only for someone to appear behind him and knock against his skull.
He only knew darkness and his failure as consciousness alluded him.
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When Gwaine opened his eyes he found himself cloaked in shadow. His other senses perked up when his eyes gave nothing away, and he didn’t like what he found. The chilled rough floor beneath him reminded him of a cold winter night spent on the floor of a tavern, too drunk to move and too poor of a customer to be helped. His body ached, just the slightest bit, like he had been forced into a position and wasn't aware it was uncomfortable - something he figured had actually occurred.
It was his ears that gave away the situation, however. The familiar grunt of Percival becoming conscious; the curse that flew out of Arthur’s mouth; the shifting of limbs as his comrades came to and became aware of their bodies; the breathing pattern of the man beside him, trying to calm himself.
“Everyone here?” Leon spoke, his voice louder than Gwaine would have liked. As if waiting for a cue, his head pounded with such force he winced and put a hand on the crown of his head to try and appease its cries.
“Unfortunately,” Arthur replied, sounding truly irritated. Not that Gwaine could blame him, as his own irritation was growing with his hunger, pain, and confusion.
“Lancelot,” the man altered the others, as they were unaware in the dark. The voice came from his right, so Gwaine reached out to feel for him. His fingers reached his friends chainmail, frigid and still.
“Elyan.” His voice came out just above a whisper, revealing what Gwaine had feared - the man was hurting. Percival’s rough voice broke the silence next, leaving Gwaine.
“‘M here. Anyone hurt?”
There was a grunt, but overall a sign nothing was too bad. Elyan just had head pain, likely from being thrown in here, and was wary of making it worse with the sound of his own voice.
“Where's Merlin?” Lancelot voiced. The cell - yes, Gwaine had deduced it was such a thing - was left in stunned silence.
“Shit.”
Gwaine forced himself to stand as he focused his worry into action. His goal was to find a door or a gate or something of the sort but he was stopped as he stepped on something.
“Ow, you idiot!”
Scratch that, it was a someone - a certain princess. Someone who really needed to mind who he called an idiot because really Gwaine was the one standing and at a much greater advantage.
“Apologies. Looking for a way out; you know, to find Merlin?”
The rest of the men stood in a rush of chain bumping together and limbs hitting against stone. It seemed his call to action worked, as they all began to blindly search for a way out.
Gwaine only had the courage to hope Merlin was alive. If anything happened to his oldest friend, he didn’t know if he’d ever leave the tavern ever again. Ever.
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As Merlin awoke, his first thoughts were of dread. Then anger, failure, and more dread. How could he have been so stupid as to freeze?! What if the knights were hurt or - or worse?
No. With a shake of his head Merlin forced himself to snap out of it and assess the situation. With the skill of both a warlock and a physician, he scanned himself for injury. He was surprised to find himself perfectly fine, if not a bit hungry and tired. Even his head, which he was so certain had been the cause of his black out, was fine.
He was shrouded in darkness save for the tiniest sliver of candlelight above him, probably a window of some sort.
Then his eyes were burning as the door seemed to disappear without warning. Once he blinked enough to see, a man in orange staring down at him with a pained smile.
“I’m glad you’re awake, Master Emrys. How do you feel?”
Merlin scoffed. Of bloody course. Just his luck to have this bullshit happen again. He swore on the Great Dragon that if any of his friends were hurt in the process of getting to him, he’d kill everyone responsible.
“Do not call me master and force me into your hand; it's hypocritical and annoying. What do you want from me?”
“I know it seems rash, but we are tired of being patient. Our people are persecuted and put to death because you have not yet fulfilled your destiny. If the people in your life have failed you after this many years, we can only hope to do better the second time around.”
Merlin was momentarily dazed; not only was his speech much shorter than most enemies, but that final bit confused him greatly.
“Second time around what?”
The man sighed, like kidnapping was a great burden on him instead of his victim. Typical. “I wish I could say you would soon understand, but you won’t. Your cooperation would be greatly appreciated in this next part, however.”
Merlin scrambled back against the wall as four more men came into view. He reached for his magic but found it was shying away from him, leaving him hopeless and more confused and hurt than ever.
“We’ve disabled your power just for a moment, Emrys. Do not fear, a power such as yours can not be held for long.”
It seemed he was being truthful. Merlin was unable to touch his own power, and it was as if a light went out in his very being as he struggled even harder to grasp it. His magic… How could he live without his magic?
In his panic he didn’t hear the men begin to chant, nor did he realize his body was starting to tingle all over.
In his last seconds of awareness, he could only scream.