Arcane Asylum 7/16

[new_kate]

Title: Arcane Asylum
Fandom: Merlin BBC
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin and a bunch of less true pairings mentioned in the flashbacks.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings for this part: deaths of minor characters, violence.
Summary: Modern AU. Originally written for this prompt at kinkme_merlin
Many thanks to devikun and ghost_guessed for betaing!
Word count: 6K for this part.

First part
Chapter index

Part 7: Sanctuary



When Muirden requested for the new boy to be his cell mate, which had to mean 'personal fuck toy', Uther actually laughed in his face. Of all the inmates Muirden was the one least likely to be receiving any favours from him, and they both knew it perfectly well. 

Muirden didn't even bring any bargaining chips to the table. He didn't offer to uncover an escape plot or give up a safehouse on the outside. He simply asked, and then waited patiently in front of Uther's desk, hands clasped behind his back, head bowed - the very picture of a model inmate.

It was, however, clear that there were no downsides in granting his wish, but ample opportunities. Muirden's influence on the others was too great for comfort, and Uther had been working on him for a long time now. But so far he couldn't claim any significant victories. Muirden was completely insane, lacking any spark of human emotion, as if anything Uther could use - fear, self-preservation instincts, pride, greed - had been burned away by the fire that scorched his face. Uther had a theory that Muirden might have let his bugs into his own brain, to eat away any soft spots and weaknesses. But now finally there was something, now he was vulnerable. His desire for this boy could be exploited. 

Uther had seen the new inmate, and had a cursory glance through his file. He was very pretty, unspoiled innocence shining in every line of his face - must have been a tempting find for a deviant like Edwin. But better still, the boy was as soft as they came: fragile, sheltered, easily frightened, slow and naive, trusting and harmless. If Uther was choosing an ideal cell mate for Muirden, he couldn't have picked better himself. It was almost too good to be true, but better men than Muirden had been blinded by lust and made mistakes.

He finished laughing and approved the cell transfer. He left plenty of time for the things to simmer and settle, and after a month or so summoned Merlin into his office.

The inmate was obviously nervous, fidgeting and glancing around like he already knew he was in trouble. Uther let him stew for a while in front of his desk, leisurely going through the paperwork, and then motioned for a guard to remove the handcuffs. 

"Hands behind your back where I can see them," warned the guard and moved back to the doors. Merlin relaxed a little, clearly relieved, and carried on rubbing at his wrists behind his back. This had to be his first experience with the special restraints.

"You've been here for a while now," said Uther. "I think it's time we had a little chat."

Merlin met his eyes for a second and shiftily looked away, nodding meekly. This was going to be too easy.

"I see you're sharing a cell with Edwin Muirden."

He held a pause, staring till the boy looked almost panicked.

"Yes, sir," Merlin finally said, his voice quivering even on the straight answer.

"Well, I am concerned that this might not be the best arrangement. I have received a lot of complaints about him in the past, from the young men such as yourself."

"Have you?" asked Merlin quietly, ducking his head down and biting his lips. "Well, I'm not complaining."

It sounded almost cheeky, almost like he was suppressing a smile. That wasn't unexpected. Muirden could be charming.

"He's much older than you," said Uther in his softest voice. "It's easy for him to abuse your friendship. If he's making you do something you're not comfortable with, you should tell me. I can help you."

"I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions. Sir."

"I doubt that. I don't think Edwin has been honest with you. You seem like a good man, Merlin, and I don't think you'd be defending him if you knew who he really is."

"He's my friend."

"Merlin, I'm trying to help you. I know you think you're very smart and mature. All boys your age do, but you still need guidance and advice. I assume that's what you think Edwin is giving you, but he's using you. He's playing on your lack of experience and need to be loved."

Merlin shifted from foot to foot, slumped a little, trying to get comfortable standing there with his hands behind his back. He was getting tired. Softened up.

"I can't help but feel protective of you, Merlin. I'm a father, you know, I have a son about your age. His name is Arthur," he turned the picture on his desk to let Merlin see.

"He's very handsome," Merlin said politely.

"His mother was killed by magic before Arthur had a change to get to know her. She was killed by people like Edwin."

Merlin stopped avoiding Uther's eyes, and now that he wasn't looking shifty he just looked extraordinary stupid, his face almost blank, eyes clear and unclouded by thought. He had to be mentally challenged, no matter what Gaius's reports said, but that was fine, that would only make him more useful.

"You deserve to know the truth. Come closer," Uther pulled Edwin Muirden's file from his desk where he had it at the ready, with the best pictures clipped to the front pages. "You can read all of it. Have a seat and take your time."

Merlin cautiously unclasped his hands, threw a worried glance at the guard and dragged a chair over. He turned a few pages, skimming them quickly, looked at the pictures. Those images made seasoned detectives lose their lunch, but the little cretin just stared at them dumbly and went back to reading.

"Do you see now? He's a monster. All those innocent people... And I believe he's plotting something awful again. I need your help, Merlin. We have to stop him. And for that I need information only you can provide. You're the one closest to him - "

"I'm sorry, sir, there's something I don't understand," said Merlin, turning another page.

"What is it, tell me and I'll try to explain," Uther offered patiently.

"Why do you think I'll believe my jailer over my friend?" Merlin asked, blinking at him with those stupid, empty blue eyes. For a short moment Uther had a suspicion that the idiot look was nothing but an act, but that would be giving the inmate too much credit. 

"The proof is in front of you," he said, keeping his temper in check. "These are all official reports, everything in this file had been documented meticulously. All of this happened, he did all of this."

"It's not proof. It's only text and pictures."

Merlin's hand hovered over the page, and the lines blurred for a moment and changed. The photograph lightened, the shapes blending together, and finally Uther recovered from the shock and yanked the file out of the inmate's hands.

The image of the mutilated bodies had transformed into a picture of horses frolicking in a field. All the text on the page was replaced by endless repeats of 'Edwin is my friend, and I trust him', unpleasantly reminiscent of an old horror movie.

Merlin stared at him blankly. He clearly wasn't even smart enough to comprehend direct consequences of his actions.

"Guard," Uther said. "The inmate used magic."

He watched with some satisfaction as the guard kicked the boy off the chair and administered a few shocks. Merlin curled up on the floor, shaking and making small pained sounds, and didn't struggle as he was handcuffed and pulled up again.

"This is a serious breach of discipline, Merlin," Uther said. "I'll have to punish you."

Merlin's eyes darted to the guard's stick and he ducked his head into his shoulders, expecting another jolt. 

"No, this clearly isn't doing it for you. I've had far too many reports from the guards about you using magic. It's all in your file. Looks like it's time for the box."

"Th-the box?" stuttered Merlin, obviously, satisfyingly frightened.

"Yes. Have the others told you? We have a solitary unit for the especially stubborn. It's made entirely of meteoric iron, same material as these handcuffs. Do you feel that? I'm told it's very unpleasant. Imagine being surrounded by it."

The boy looked like he imagined it very clearly, and was desperate now, ready to break. 

"The box is not very big," Uther pressed on. "I hope you're not claustrophobic. I could forgive you if you give me something useful on Muirden. But it has to be good. Think, Merlin, do you have something good for me?"

"No, sir," Merlin muttered. "I don't."

"Well. Next time we speak make sure you do. There will be a next time, Merlin. This is just a taste."

He watched as the guard hauled wide-eyed, terrified Merlin away and considered the meeting a success. This kid was going to be feeding him inside information before the week was over. 
 


Two months later he'd made absolutely no progress and he was starting to lose his patience. In a rather desperate move he sent for Muirden and attempted a bluff.

"Your little friend Merlin told me many interesting things about you," he said. "But I'm going to give you a chance to save your skin before I file a request to have you put down like the rabid dog you are. Give me the others, and I might spare you."

"I'll pass," said Muirden. "My death won't change anything, you know. Actually, no, it will! It will greatly aid the cause. Oh, Uther, you are truly a genius when it comes to radicalising the fringe. I still have much to learn from you."

He smiled widely, his grotesque face pulled oddly by the scar tissue. He knew Uther still had nothing on him, that was obvious.

"He will talk very soon," Uther said. "He's at his limit. Last time he was here he cried and begged to be spared."

"Of course he cried. He's not prideful, when he's hurting he cries. And of course he begged, he still foolishly believes that you're a human being capable of compassion. But you really picked the wrong man to terrorize. You see, Merlin is very sweet, and a little gullible, yes. But when he makes his mind up on something he wouldn't budge whatever you try, it's like hitting a wall. I know, I have. He's open to new ideas, but once we reach the issue on which we differ I just can't seem to persuade him. I suppose I should thank you, because right now you're making my point for me very, very eloquently."

"Oh? And what's that, pray tell?"

"You're proving to him that we shouldn't feel any remorse for you, because you don't have any remorse for us. As you torture that sweet young man, you shape him into a warrior. I really shouldn't be telling you this. I ought to stand by and watch as he comes into his true power and realises his destiny, I know that all this will only make him stronger. But I'm genuinely fond of him, and I'd rather you stopped. You'll get nothing out of him. You know I'm right."

He stuck Edwin in the box for three days, and then watched, furious, as he strutted around the yard, unruffled as always, all the others revering him as a martyr. Merlin was at his side, their hands clasped together.



Twenty minutes after the next time he sent Merlin to the box, even before he made a note in the file, Gaius came into his office without requesting an audience.

"Sir, I have some serious medical concerns about one of the inmates," he said. "I'd like to hospitalise Merlin for treatment, and I must insist that he not be disciplined till I give him a clean bill of health." 

"There is nothing wrong with him."

"He's dangerously underweight. Any kind of restrictive diet can do permanent damage to his health."

"He's only skipping a few meals a week. Gaius, he's always been scrawny."

"Precisely. This has been a long-standing problem with his health, and it needs to be addressed immediately. His injuries aren't healing quickly enough, and more than that, the box - sir, I have no idea what exactly is it doing to them, but it's doing something. It causes distress to all systems, and I can't allow him to be subjected to that any longer. This is my medical opinion. It's all in my report."

He put a folder on Uther's desk. 

"Noted. If that's all I won't keep you any longer."

"Sir, I regret to say that if you don't follow my recommendations I will be forced to resign. Effective immediately. I am responsible for the health of the inmates, and I don't want to be charged with malpractice when this incident is investigated. And I'm afraid there will be a cause for an investigation if we don't give Merlin urgent medical care he needs. I'm going to file a copy of this report with the Commission to explain my decision."

"Gaius, stop this nonsense, he's perfectly fine."

"I just can't watch this anymore," whispered the old man, his face quivering. "I'm sorry, Uther, this is wrong."

"You'd betray me over an inmate?"

"I know we've done worse things in the past, and I helped you and covered for you. But he's just a boy. He's a gentle soul, he's never hurt anyone. Please, Uther."

He didn't believe that Gaius would go through with this ridiculous stand, the man could normally be swayed quite easily. But he didn't want to lose an old friend over this. 

He went to the box himself to have the last go at making the boy cooperate, hoping the setting would play in his favour. When he peeked in through the vents Merlin was curled up against the wall, too tall to stretch out inside, one foot twitching nervously against the plastic bucket in the corner. As the guards pulled the iron door open, he flinched hard and rolled up in a ball, covering his head with his arms. Uther felt a surge of possessive rage.

"I will review the camera footage and find out who's been abusing my prisoner," he told the guards.

"No, no, sir, they're always like that when you open it. Overwhelmed, like," said one of them earnestly, without a twinge of guilt on his face. "We wouldn't, not him, he's a nice kid."

Merlin stopped shivering and lifted his head. Uther surveyed him critically. He did look a bit thin and pale and his eyes were bloodshot and sunken, but he didn't seem ill, at least not ill enough to need urgent medical attention.  

"I'll give you one more chance," he said. "And then I'm going to stop coddling you and trust me, you won't like what's coming next."

"You really should leave me alone," said Merlin flatly. He looked different somehow. There was something deathly still about his face, something in the set of his jaw that made Uther a little uneasy. Merlin's eyes weren't glazed over stupidly like they were most of the time. They were very cold and devoid of any fear. And there was more, Uther could feel it - there was something in there with the boy, suspended in the stinky air of the solitary, curled invisibly around his feet, something angry and waiting. He felt that before, a very long time ago. 

He ordered the guards to take Merlin to the infirmary right away, and wrote the whole thing off as a dead end. That idiot probably was too useless to gather any good information, in any case.



Next time it was Merlin who requested to see him, a few months later.

"Now you're ready to talk?" Uther asked, amused. 

"Sir, I'd like to be placed into segregation," said Merlin quickly. He's been rehearsing this speech. "I have reasons to fear for my life and safety. Please could I go into protective custody?"

"Not till you tell me who's been threatening you."

"They were anonymous threats, sir."

"Well, did you bring any proof? Threatening notes, dead fish, horse heads?" 

This was hilarious, and the boy seemed more rattled now than Uther had ever seen him be. Now he really looked like he was cracking. His eyes were dark and he couldn't stay still, rocking on his feet, his neck taut and jaws clenched hard. They must have scared him good and proper.

"No. They were - magical threats."

"Then there isn't much I can do for you, I'm afraid."

"Please. Please, just this once, I'm begging you. I can't stay there."

"You've found out something, haven't you? Muirden told you something about his plans, and now you're scared. Now you want out. Well, it's too late for that, Merlin. You're all the way in, unless I say otherwise. Tell me what you know."

"Nothing that you don't. It's all in his file," said Merlin bitterly. "You were right. He's a monster. I can't stay there any longer. Please, just lock me up, don't send me back to him."

"You'll have to earn that. Unless you have something to bargain with, you're going right back into that cell to your murderous lover. I think I might order a cell lockdown for a couple of days, to really give the two of you some together time."

Merlin's throat made a croaking sound that could've been choked laughter. 

"Right," he said quietly. "Of course."

"You understand now what's going on, don't you? They are planning a riot. If they go through with it, a lot of people will die. And once the riot is beaten down, I will have the green light to dispose of all those responsible. And you will be right there, by his side, and you'll be complicit in everything he does. Unless you give up the instigators right now and testify in front of the Commission, you will burn along with them."

"No. I'll have no part in that. I won't be there."

He unclasped his hands from behind his back, and even as the guard shouted a warning he thrust his arm forward and uttered a single word in an odd hissing tongue.

All the paperwork on Uther's desk burst into flames. For a few seconds he could barely believe his eyes, watching dumbly as fire consumed the freshly signed papers, curled up his leather stationery set and engulfed Arthur's framed picture. The guard had already wrestled Merlin down and handcuffed him; as Uther buzzed the alarm and five more men came running in he left one of them to douse the desk with the fire extinguisher and walked over to the rest, to watch them administer shocks and kick the squirming inmate in the ribs. 

"What do we do, sir?" asked one of them. "Solitary?"

"Oh, no. He's going back to his cell. This stunt isn't going to work, Merlin."

Merlin grunted and twisted furiously in the guards' hold, and next moment Uther was flying backwards through the air. His back hit the wall, hard; he was suspended a foot above the floor, not able to move a muscle. There was pressure on his chest, growing with every second, pushing him against the wall till he could barely manage an inhale.

Some guards ran over to him and began to tug uselessly on his arms and legs, trying to dislodge him. That only hurt worse. The rest were across the room, beating Merlin without any of their usual detached laziness. He was still conscious, still crying out and moving – but any moment he would pass out and the spell would be broken. The pressure now was enough that Uther felt his ribs slowly caving in.

There was a sound like a dozen shock batons discharging at once, and Uther saw tiny blue arcs of lightning flow across the floor, radiating from Merlin. He didn't have the breath to call out and warn anyone. The lightning reached the guards, and all the men collapsed in seconds. As they convulsed on the floor, feebly attempting to get up, Merlin rolled up onto his knees to face Uther. The boy's eyes were horrifying: they'd gone pale yellow, shimmering, utterly beyond human.

"Solitary," said Merlin. Uther felt his heart stutter under the brutal force pressing down on him, and nodded as much as he still could. 

He was released and slid down the wall, coughing and wheezing. The guards were picking themselves up slowly, but none of them seemed very eager to subdue the prisoner again.

"You've attacked me," Uther said. Talking hurt, but he wasn't going to let it show on his face. "I can have you put down. I can put a bullet through your head right now, it's well within my right."

Merlin sat on his heels with his back straight despite his hands chained behind him, calm and motionless, waiting. His eyes were still yellow, animal-like.

"Put him in the box till further notice. I'll decide what to do with him later."

Merlin rose to his feet and let the guards lead him out. At the doors he threw one last glance at Uther and inclined his head in a mockery of a bow. 

Uther watched on the security monitor as Merlin was locked up. The boy looked so young and skinny on cameras, so harmless. As the cage door slammed shut and all the locks slid home, Uther expected to feel safe again. But a worrisome feeling of foreboding wouldn't leave him alone.  

The riot began two hours later.



It happened incredibly fast, with amazing efficiency. They've been preparing for this for a long time. They could have been planning this since the day the Facility went operational and the first batch of them woke up in here as their tranquillizers wore off. 

When the first alarm sounded he glanced at the monitors just in time to see them opening the cells. As he watched the bars twist, break and melt down to the floor, he remembered having a recurring nightmare about this. 

They came out, unhurriedly, stretching their arms, flexing their wrists, stepping over the corpses of the guards who were in the cell block when it began. One of them raised both his arms high in the air; white tendrils of electricity flickered between his fingers, and the cameras went dead. 

By the time Uther got to the guard station it was already burning, and now the fire was spreading along the walls, obscuring the view and choking him with smoke. The phone landlines were silent; his mobile and radio weren't working. He saw a few corpses of the guards, mangled and twisted, and another guard screaming in a hallway, clawing at his own face, beyond help. The rest were missing - managed to escape, or had been taken away.

As he ran back toward the medical unit, praying that at least the doctors were still alive, he came across the inmates for the first time - just a few of them, maybe four. He only saw orange blurs at the end of the hallway, beyond the flames and the smoke, heading in his direction. He emptied his gun at them and reached for the spare clip, peering through to see if he got anyone. A wave of red energy lashed the concrete under his feet, and he turned and ran. 

The sprinklers finally kicked in, and now his suit was drenched, weighing him down. He still had six bullets. If he could get to the doctors, they could try to shoot their way to the segregation and barricade in there till help arrived. Help would arrive, in the morning at the latest, people would know something went wrong in here.

He passed several more corpses of the guards. There were less than he feared - the day shift had left already, leaving only the smaller night crew. He tried not to linger, not to look at them, not to see what was done to them. There was a huge snake coiled on the chest of one of the dead. It snapped at his leg as he ran past, missing him narrowly. The voices and the sounds of explosions were getting closer; he heard gunfire a few times, always followed by gurgling screams. 

He didn't make it to the medical unit. They cornered him at the end of a hallway and spread in a wide half circle around him, not attacking, savouring the moment.

"Fifteen years I've waited for this," said Muirden. "Fifteen years. Finally."

The others were talking too, screaming, rattling off accusations. Their faces blurred into one in his eyes, all wearing identical expressions, all drunk on blood and burning with hate, muttering spells in warlock tongue. He fired twice; both bullets exploded in the air as they left the barrel. The shrapnel cut his cheek, and before he could pull the trigger again the gun turned red hot in his hand and he dropped it, bits of skin coming off his palm where it burned onto the metal.

His legs were about to give out and he propped himself against the wall, determined to die standing. Igraine's face flashed through his mind, clear and perfect, clearer than any photographs he had of her, and then merged into Arthur's, the way he was at the age of ten, tiny, fearless and full of adventurous energy. He thought of them to block out the voices of the inmates, not to listen to the warlocks arguing about how to best torture him before they killed him. Some started to lose patience and were throwing spells at him: jolts of pain, handfuls of fire, lashes of light that made shallow cuts in his flesh. He bore them silently, unflinching - his dignity was all he had to hold on to now.

Foolishly, cowardly, he was hoping to die quickly, or at least to faint easily and be out of it for the parts of what was to come. But he knew all too well that with Muirden's medical expertise they could keep him alive for a very long time, through unimaginable things. Even as the pain grew so much he could barely keep quiet, as he felt the darkness pressing in and his grip on consciousness wavering, the cold water constantly beating on his face still kept him awake.

Suddenly something changed. There was no new pain, and the noise of the water had stopped. The sprinklers had shut off, abruptly and all at once, and the fire that still burned along the walls died down instantly. The spells flying at him fizzled out in the air, and the warlocks who cast them stared down at their hands in confusion. 

"What's going on?" said someone. "I can't..."

"Wait," came the voice from behind them, from down the hall. It carried strangely well, echoing off the walls they way their yells hadn't. 

Someone was walking toward them, his feet making tiny splashing noises in the puddles. His footsteps were the only sound in the sudden dead silence. The man was tall and lithe, and he moved through the smoky air with easy grace and deadly composure. He looked almost weightless, darkly radiant, otherworldly, beautiful and terrifying. The crowd of inmates parted to let him through without questions, without a word. 

Uther didn't even recognise Merlin till he saw the ears.

There was nothing human in his face, no expression Uther could discern. Merlin shouldn't have even been here - but of course they must have let him out. Everyone was staring at him in reverent silence, holding their breaths.

"Emrys," someone finally whispered, and a murmur rolled through the crowd, excited and joyous. Merlin didn't spare them a moment's glance. His eyes looked like molten metal churning in a blast furnace: deadly heat beyond anything a man could relate to. 

"It's over," said Merlin and raised his hand. 

Uther closed his eyes.



There was water trickling on his face again. He thought that the sprinklers might have restarted, and then realised he was still alive and there was more still to come. He opened his eyes and saw endless lines of rain streaming from the black sky, disappearing between the stars.

He was lying on the ground outside the Facility's fence. There were more people sprawled around him, stirring slowly: some guards, a few doctors. Gaius was here, and Uther crawled closer to the man to check on him. His whole body ached as if he'd been dragged over rocks.

Gaius was coming to, slowly, screwing his face up in pain. He had a bleeding gash on his forehead and his white coat was scorched in places. 

"It was Merlin, wasn't it," Gaius muttered as soon as he opened his eyes. "Merlin saved our lives. They were about to kill me, and he..."

The guards were pulling themselves up, looking around, confused and disoriented, all cringing and wincing with every move. The phones were working now. Uther needed to start making calls.

If it were up to him, he'd order an aerial strike on the compound - right now, before they had a chance to disperse through the countryside - and be done with it. But he knew it wasn't going to be that easy.



The hastily established perimeter was flimsy and Uther couldn't help but think that all those soldiers he had surrounding the fence were dead meat, cannon fodder for the spell-happy warlocks inside. The inmates were still inside, or at least satellite imagery seemed to indicate that they were. Not that imagery could be trusted: he still remembered Merlin conjuring up a picture of happy horses, effortlessly, on a whim. It had never changed back to the forensic photograph it used to be. But there hadn't been any reported sightings of the inmates lurking free, and the perimeter defences were never attacked. 

By the noon next day he was pacing by the main entrance, waiting for the tanks to arrive, when the gates suddenly opened. Muirden stood on the ramp, alone, smiling into the sights of the guns trained on him. 

"I wouldn't shoot if I were you," he said. "It would ricochet. Uther, a word, please."

"I'm not going to negotiate with you," he said, feeling dangerously exposed despite a small army by his side ready to provide cover fire.

"Oh, this isn't a negotiation. I only wish to relay a message."

"A message? From whom?"

"I think you know."

Uther nodded to his men and stepped closer to the gates.

"You were spared so you could bear witness to what has happened here," Muirden said. "We feel that our vengeance can be postponed. For now, we offer a truce."

"No."

"It's up to you, but I think you should hear us out. This place is ours now. This fence has been made impenetrable, you can't get in unless we let you, and you can't harm us. This is now our sanctuary. You can continue bringing more of our people to us, we'll take them all in. Out there you wouldn't leave us be, but in here we can be safe, and we can be together. In recognition of our status you will supply us with electricity, water and food, and if you don't start within twenty four hours, or if you ever stop, or if you ever attack us we'll all leave the confines of the fence and rejoin the fight. And you know now what we can do."

Now Uther could see a transparent shimmering film stretched over the gates like a curtain, separating him from Muirden. Uther reached out with his hand to touch it, but thought better of it. 

"Yes," said Muirden. "This is our shield. We'll give you an hour to experiment with it. Just make sure not to fire anything at a straight angle, I wasn't kidding about the ricochets. We will open a breach right here, every day at sunset, and we'll allow two of your men to come in and bring us supplies. Today we'll allow two of your men to come in and collect your dead. We return their bodies to their families as a gesture of good will."

"If you think for one second that I'm going to comply..."

"Uther, listen to me," said Muirden in an urgent whisper. "This isn't a part of the message. Remember when I told you that you would turn Merlin into a warrior? Well, what we have on our hands is a walking nuke of raw magic. I didn't expect this. If he goes to war now, the world will burn around him. Don't make him angry. Even I don't like him when he's angry."

"You're scared of Merlin?"

"Aren't you?" said Muirden with a little hysterical laughter. "Aren't you, Uther?"

Finally Uther saw what he was trying to achieve for several years - a look of genuine fear on the face of Edwin Muirden, well-hidden but present. It didn't bring him any satisfaction.

"He wants this for now. I say we let him have it," Muirden said.

"You're a messenger boy for your catamite. How the mighty have fallen."

"Nobody else has the guts to go near him right now."

Uther remembered the boy's yellowed eyes, and the way his ribs were slowly caving into his chest as Merlin knelt on the floor, calmly watching him suffocate, and the crowd of deranged murderers parting before him like faithful subjects. 

"If any of you ever steps beyond this fence, they will be shot on sight," he said. "Anyone who harbours a warlock from now on will be charged with conspiracy to commit murder. If you ever attack my people..."

"Yes, yes, I'll let you have the last word," said Muirden, waving at him dismissively. "I know it's important to you. Sunset. I'll see you then."

The report Uther wrote was a thing of beauty, outlining wonderfully all the benefits of letting the inmates manage themselves inside the perimeter. It could even be considered more humane, which would appease the left. And if the captive warlocks would happen to tear each other to pieces like scorpions in a jar, that would only prove that they weren't fit for society, not even each other's. 

The press coverage of the riot concentrated on the atrocities committed by the inmates and on the smart, innovative decision of the Commission to operate the Cheshire Facility remotely, to reduce costs and risks. Uther hadn't told anyone about Merlin, and had sworn Gaius to secrecy. He hadn't seen the boy since the riot - he was never by the gates when the breach was open - and Uther had rather hoped that the others had tired of being afraid and found a way to get rid of him. When Arthur brought up Merlin's name Uther's first instinct, as always when in doubt, was to avoid too much lying but reveal as little of the truth as was possible. He hoped he painted the right picture for the occasion: of a dimwitted, useless inmate who was best left alone. Really, that would be for the best.

Next part

Comments

[mishaphappens.livejournal.com]

Agugrhuaifnd! Why did Merlin want sanctuary? Was he about to lose control of his magic and wanted to be away from the battle?

What did Merlin see in Edwin to call him a monster?

QUESTIONS QUESTIONS.

[new-kate.livejournal.com]

Ehehehee aw thank you so much for reading this thing, your comments make me so happy!! And yey so glad the questions got answered :D See, I constantly outsmart myself with my plots and fall into my own plotholes but thankfully awesome betas save me most of the time!

[frakkin-addict.livejournal.com]

Wow! Stunning chapter. Really, I couldn't imagine a more perfect Merlin. That power, the way he used it, the way he changed things - it was amazing. Fantastic writing.

[new-kate.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! So happy it worked. Merlin = so badass he can afford to be merciful. I squeed so hard at the end of season 2, that was exactly the Merlin I love the most.

[brunettepet.livejournal.com]

Wonderful description of Merlin being driven to the edge and what he's capable of even when he's holding back. It's no wonder Edwin is cowed. Merlin could wipe the slate clean. It's a good thing he still had a foot in both worlds - Edwin and Uther would have made mincemeat out of a less centered person. Their agendas are just that, agendas. There's truth to both arguments. Merlin's no pawn and the riot was all Edwin's doing.

It's fascinating to find out the background for this dynamic Arthur has entered. Edwin wants revenge as much as Uther does, they're willing to tear the world apart to get justice. Is tearing the world apart justice? It seems Merlin doesn't think so. Uther leaving his son, even unwittingly, in the hands of this sorcerer is great.

Man, this is a great read.

[new-kate.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! Mmm, justice vs mercy, that's a topic dear to my heart, even though I do let Arthur take a bunch of shortcuts in this story. I'm so,so glad you're enjoying this!

[hermette.livejournal.com]

[new-kate.livejournal.com]

Lolol FUCKYEAH I love this gif. <3 Thank you!

[lady-ganesh.livejournal.com]

How I love "aren't you scared of him?" Damn!

[new-kate.livejournal.com]

<3 What can I say, badass Merlin is my weakness.

[(Anonymous)]

mlasjldslgn;lkGASAKGFSLG.

I EFFING LOVE BADASS MERLIN.

AND YOU. I LOVE YOU, TOO.

[new-kate.livejournal.com]

Oh, anon, aw, thank you so much! <3 Badass Merlin is my favourite totally!

[absynthedrinker.livejournal.com]

The darker side of Magic has appeared. Fantastic chapter!

Peace,
Bubba

[new-kate.livejournal.com]

Yesss :) Thank you so much! So happy you're still enjoying the story!