grabbed Gwaine's sword and ran down the hall, Percival just behind him.
One minute, Merlin had been being dragged gently along with Gwaine towards a destination unknown. The next, Gwaine was flying forward, head smacking into the wall. Merlin was thrown off balance and almost went tumbling down with him, but a vice-like grip latched onto his left arm. He tried to pull away, but fingers like claws dug in and twisted his arm brutally behind his back.
Merlin, still strung out from his encounter with the king, went limp and was pulled along with whoever it was without a fight.
He was pushed abruptly into a room, left shoulder stabbing with pain, and almost fell over. There was the click of a door shutting, and he looked up to find a woman watching him with unreadable brown eyes, long blonde hair tumbling down.
"Morgause," he gasped . But that wasn't possible, was it? Morgause had died, and besides, it had been Morgana in his – oh. One of the half-formed memories that had rushed forward earlier surfaced again, of Morgause yelling and then nothing but blinding agony.
"You've promised me something, Emrys," she said, and Merlin's throat seemed to close in on itself. She knew about the magic, then. For the life of him, he could only stare at her with his mouth hanging open. "You've promised me something, and I am here to collect on that."
"Wh-what," said Merlin, and forced himself to stop. Then, with a slightly stronger voice, he said, "I don't have a clue what you're talking about."
Somewhere outside the room, a voice loudly yelled out, "Merlin!"
"It seems Prince Arthur's discovered that you're gone," she said. "Strange, that he's so worried over you. Especially after he made you leave like that."
Merlin stilled, and a second of the half-formed memories that had ripped it's way forward while Uther questioned him drifted across his mind. Arthur's voice, ringing out, snapping something at him. Merlin, however, couldn't remember the actual words. "I don't know."
Morgause, silent, just stared at him for a while. Then, eyes narrowing, she said, "You have no idea what I'm talking about. How interesting. You have no idea."
"I've no idea about what?" Merlin said. He knew straight down to his bones that listening to Morgause could only end badly. But he wanted answers, answers she seemed to have.
From outside, closer this time, Arthur bellowed, "Merlin, answer me!"
"This changes things," she said, "This changes everything. Did you know that I was going to take you with me today? But, no...No, I think you're best here."
She moved closer, and Merlin backed away until his back hit the wall behind him. When he didn't answer, her eyes flared gold and she pressed her palm against his forehead, and –
He hurt, everywhere. The chains were biting and cold, burning and freezing his skin at the same time. His magic was screaming to get out, tearing and raging at him. Every inch of him throbbed and ached, stabbed and crawled with agony.
"You can make it stop, you know," a voice whispered softly, gently in his ear. "It is easy."
Merlin couldn't concentrate, couldn't think, couldn't do anything, except hang there and beg for it to stop. "Please, please, just ta.. take it away..."
A hand grasped his chin. Grave, brown, uncaring eyes stared back at him. "Then swear it."
He stared back. A week ago – two weeks? Three? He didn't know anymore, didn't know anything anymore, only that he hurt, everywhere – he would've spat right in her face, and snapped exactly what she could do with that offer. Now, though, he just sobbed and pleaded.
