Chapter Text
A stupid mistake, he repeated over and over as he was herded forward with the others. He should have just let him die… no he couldn’t do that. He was his friend, and no matter how much danger it had put himself in he wouldn’t change his decision. It was final, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it now, except to pray. Pray, that even if they were treated like cattle, that he could survive and flourish.
These thoughts ran through his head as they were shoved like cattle being sent to slaughter into the bleak cold hallway. There was no life, just bleak grey walls, and stone faced guards that would sneer and laugh at their misfortunes. They were pushed up against the wall, forced to wait for their sentencing; cuffed by shackles that restrained their spirits and itched at their minds. One by one they were called into the chamber at the end of the hallway; he feared what awaited him. To be branded like cattle like all the others, to be told that he was worthless; it made him angry and he felt the rage bubbling up inside of him. He worked hard to keep it down and keep his face expressionless, he could not show fear, they fed on fear.
He was next in line, and soon the doors slid silently apart to admit him forward. He entered the chamber; it had pillars lining the walls, made of marble, as if to flaunt the power of the looming man behind the podium. He was grabbed by the back of his neck and pushed forward onto his knees as a swirling device that looked quite like an old machine gun dropped from the ceiling to inspect him.
"Merlin Emrys, you are accused of using magic in the kingdom of Camelot. You are hereby sentenced to time in the Reform Facility for the Misunderstanding.” Misunderstanding, that's what they called it, he thought, more like hell for magicians! The swirling machine gun like thing dropped down to face right in front of him as his head was pulled back. So this was his punishment, to be sent to the facility and branded like cattle.
The device scanned him for a moment before a bright beam shot from it. It was painful, they had made it as painful as possible without unhinging someone, and Merlin could feel it. It felt as if his face was on fire. When it was over he was released and he sunk forward onto his arms barely keeping from passing out, the mark burnt on his skin still sending shockwaves through his nervous system. He could not see what the mark was, it was different for every person, but he could feel it etched upon his skin. It was a mark to symbolize to all that he had magic, and that he was a 'stain upon the human race,' as Uther put it.
The next thing he knew after his eyesight went dark was waking up in a bleak cold cell. He was on a top bunk, from what he could see, in a two person cell. He stretched his arms and legs painfully, rolling off the bunk to jump onto the floor. His arm was grabbed as he moved, and he turned to look at what must be his cell-mate. He was branded with a single quarter moon beside his eye; the color was a pale grayish yellow. He had sandy brown hair and was wearing a simple jacket and shawl.
"Will," he said sticking out his hand.
"Merlin," he returned, tilting his head in a question.
"Don’t have magic, but when accused you must have it, you?"
"Got caught saving someone from getting killed by a car, with magic."
Will just rolled his eyes, "don’t you see how grateful Uther is to you for protecting his citizens." He turned around on the bed muttering, "Fucking idiotic tyrant, locking away helpful people."
Merlin just continued on to the mirror in the cell. When he looked at himself he was shocked, there on the left side of his face was a dragon tattoo. The wings were drawn back at his cheekbone, and the head was right above his brow. Its coloring was a dull gold, but it did not take away the fact that someone behind the programming of the tattoo knew he was a Dragonlord.
Gwaine, he realized, his friend Gwaine worked for Uther but had helped Merlin whenever Uther wasn't looking over his shoulder. He was the one who programmed the tattoos; he had always said that he tried to make them look cool so the magicians, instead of being branded, had their own art. Gwaine had done well, and Merlin would have to thank him, that is… if he ever saw him again.
The doors were unlocked from a remote source and they slid open into a square compound too many stories high to count. As he exited he saw all the people, many probably not even magicians. Merlin made himself a promise that he would make friends, allies; and he would find away to escape this prison. He would survive, and with that promise he went to scout this new territory.