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Chapter Text

*~*~*

The girl went out to her mother's grave every day and wept, and she remained pious and good. When winter came the snow spread a white cloth over the grave, and when the spring sun had removed it again, the man took himself another wife.

This wife brought two daughters into the house with her. They were beautiful, with fair faces, but evil and dark hearts. Times soon grew very bad for the poor stepchild.

*~*~*

"If I stay it won't be long

'Til I'm burning on the inside

If I go I can only hope

That I make it to the other side

If you want to get out alive

Whoa-oh, run for your life..."

-Three Days Grace, Get Out Alive

"Cut me down

But it's you who'll have further to fall

Ghost town and haunted love

Raise your voice, sticks and stones may break my bones

I'm talking loud not saying much..."

-David Guetta, Titanium

Once upon a time there was a boy named Merlin Emrys. Even when he was a little boy he was handsome (never cute), possessing a classic look to him, and he had vast magic powers. He also had loving parents who doted upon his every need.

Then, one unfortunate day, his mother Hunith passed away from a horrible disease that had swept the kingdom. His father, who loved his son very much, decided to marry again so he could provide a proper mother for him. So he married a noble woman named Nimueh, whose husband had also died by the horrible disease. She brought along two daughters, Morgana and Morgause.

Nimueh acted kind to her husband but was cruel to her new stepson. She toned down such cruelty in front of her husband, but when he died under mysterious circumstances (Merlin was nine), her full cruelty came out. 

She moved them all to a different town , a whole new manor. She tried to disguise Merlin's magic prowess and handsomeness. She took away Merlin's rich clothing and dressed him in rags- she even grew to refer to Merlin as a servant, of no relation to her or her two prideful children. She called him 'Ashes', which denoted his inferior status. She confined Merlin in the castle, only allowing him out once a day to pick up supplies in the town, and she beat him whenever he screwed up or used magic. It worked for ten long, painful years.

But now Merlin is growing too powerful for her to hide for much longer.

A knock comes at the door. As per usual, Merlin stands up from his position cleaning the floor and walks to the door. His stepmother and stepsisters have more important things to do than open the door. "Who is it?" He asks.

"It's me, Mer, open up! I have an important gift for you!" A brash, familiar voice says.

Merlin opens the door with a grin, and is greeted with the sight of his best friend Gwen, a pretty young maidservant who he'd helped set up with Lance, the man she'd fallen in love with. They'd been seeing each other for three months now.

But at this moment the fact that she worked at the palace as the princess's maidservant was more important, as were the four golden invitations in his hand. "Are those to the Royal Balls?" He asks, pointing at the invitations.

"Yeah they are, Mer!" She shouts, handing to her, "Maybe you'll even meet Arthur. He's pretty cool- hey, he might even be your type!"

He snickers, but is cut off by the sound of her stepmother's cold, dismissive voice his her. "Oh, look, it's the serving girl again."

Gwen bristles, her smile disappearing, but doesn't say anything. Nimueh leans forward and plucks the invitations from Merlin's hand. Then she waves a dismissive hand at Gilbert. "Go live your life, serving girl," She says, turning on her heel to walk away.

Gwen shoots a worried glance at Merlin behind Nimueh's back, and Merlin just gives her a reassuring smile, not displaying the disappointment and hurt he's feeling inside, and shuts the door. He then follows his sorceress stepmother down the corridor to the kitchen, forcing down the magic that his rage was pulling to the surface. He knows he's not strong enough to break free of her magical hold on him yet. Sure, he can bend the rules, but the punishment when she finds out (because there is no if about it, she always does), is severe.

His fingers drift up to his shoulder, running over the roped scars under the thin fabric. Severe is an understatement- he has trouble standing up after some of them. He's never told Gwen about this part of the treatment he gets from Nimueh. She only knows about the neglect he experiences the rest of the time, the lack of attention Nimueh pays toward Merlin except to treat him as a servant. She knows nothing about this.

"So, Ashes, you think you're going to the Balls?" Nimueh asks, a malicious taint to her voice. Merlin snatches his hand away from his shoulder, looking up to find her cold, evil brown eyes focused on his icy blue ones.

"If it pleases you, milady," He says with a dip of the head, the taste of bile rising in his mouth at the words he has to speak. If he shows any hint of the defiance boiling within him, he'll get hurt. He knows by now what he has to do to protect himself- act subservient, like he listens to everything she says.

There is still a spark of defiance lingering on inside of him, though, and it won't be much longer until he lets it out.

***

Prince Arthur is not excited for the upcoming balls that will last the next three nights. The purpose of it is for him to find a wife, and he's not happy about that. You see, girls aren't exactly Prince Arthur's type. He prefers the Kingdoms to the North, which allow for a Prince to take a wife or a consort.

But here in Camelot King Arthur is too obsessed with the rules of succession and providing an Heir to the throne to care about his son's feelings.

"You know, Arthur, I'm quite worried about Merlin," Gwen says as she delivers his meal. He sets to eating the chicken and vegetables, thinking about what she has said. Normally her stories about her adventures with her friend Merlin are the highlight of his day, but once in awhile (such as today) they depress and/or anger him. How can a woman neglect her stepson and treat him like that? He would have called out the horrible woman a long time ago, except for two things: one, Gwen talked about how Merlin was pretty okay with it and preferred to handle things on his own, and two, Arthur felt like there was something up with the situation, something that he couldn't quite figure out. Why hadn't a nineteen-year-old ran away from home yet after being treated like a servant for so long?

Something in his mind snaps. "Gwen, can we head down to the village before the Balls tonight?"

She cocks her head in confusion. "Why?"

"I want to meet your 'Merlin' before the Balls begin. After all, it's about time I met people outside of the palace."

She smiled. "That sounds like a great idea, Arthur, but he's not my Merlin."

***

"Well, you can come if you want," Nimueh says. A rush of hope runs through Merlin for just a second before he notices her venomous smile.

"What's the catch?" He wants to ask, but somehow manages to keep his mouth shut. It's hard, as his sharp comebacks are legendary among town, but the painful memory of what happens whenever he talks back keeps him quiet.

Instead, "What is required of me?" comes out of his mouth.

"Well, Ashes, you merely have to complete all of the cleaning, repairing, and overall grunt work around the house as well as finding yourself a suit," She says in a chilly voice, her smile venomous, "And don't even think about using your accursed 'talents' for the job."

Merlin's hope crashes down around him, the blood pounding in his ears. He should have known that this could never have happened. He had never been this lucky before- How could he have ever expected anything different from tonight?

"Yes, milady," Merlin says, bowing his head and choking down his anger, "But first I shall to go collect supplies for dinner, if it pleases you, milady?"

She nods, then turns on her heel and leaves, elegantly kicking over the bucket of soapy water as she walks by. "And remember to clean up this mess when you get the chance," She says, false honey and sugar dripping from her voice.

Merlin bites back a retort, grabs his tattered old jacket from its spot scrunched up in the corner, and leaves before he gets himself in serious trouble.

Chapter Text

*~*~*

Now it happened that the king proclaimed a festival that was to last three days. All the beautiful young girls in the land were invited, so that his son could select a bride for himself.

When the two stepsisters heard that they too had been invited, they were in high spirits. They called Cinderella, saying, "Comb our hair for us. Brush our shoes and fasten our buckles. We are going to the festival at the king's castle."

*~*~*

"It’s hard enough to find my place at home

It’s easier out here on my own

A father’s love is no such thing I know

Things Aren’t Always What They Seem..."

-Max Schneider and Keke Palmer, Things Aren't Always What They Seem

"We don’t own our heavens now

We only own our hell

And if you don’t know that by now

Then you don’t know me that well..."

-Marina and the Diamonds, Buy The Stars

Merlin walks into town, a basket strapped to his back. He has no horse or pageboy to help him- merely his own four pale, skinny limbs.

First he goes to the butcher's and picks up the meat for the night's dinner, then picks up the other vegetables and ingredients from the market down in the middle of town. Not too bad so far, but then he has to pick up the fabric and embellishments for his step-family's gowns. The burlap-wrapped packages of material are extremely heavy, almost to the point of unbearableness, but Merlin manages. Ten years have made his muscles as iron strong as the prince's, though nowhere near as noticeable.

His heart's like iron as well- unbreakable and unbending, and can only melt under the strongest heat.

He abruptly rams into what feels like a brick wall and his packages go flying as he falls back. Oh, no, is his first thought, even before 'ow', if I get that fabric dirty then I'm going to be in hell for the night.

Then the pain sets in, and he picks himself up, clutching at the tender lump back of his head. "Ow..." He hisses, leaning forward to pick up the packages.

Suddenly he feels a hand brush up against his, a large, smooth one with light calluses along the fingers and the bottom of the palm. A tingle runs through his hand and up his arm, causing him to look up, and the sight takes his breath away.

It's a well-muscled and tanned man with golden hair and twinkling cornflower blue eyes. He's wearing a simple red tunic, a brown leather vest, brown trousers, and black leather boots, but of an obviously higher quality than anyone around them.

He can do nothing but gape for a few moments, but then reality sets in and he snaps out of his trance as he gathers up the last of the packages.

"Excuse me," He says quietly, getting up, "But I have to go."

The handsome man's eyes flash with indignation. "No thank you, peasant?" He says somewhat nastily, but it seems to be lacking a real sense of malicious intent.

Even so, it still deserves a retort. "Not for a prat like yourself," Merlin throws at the man, but it's not sincerely rude. He doesn't really mean it, it's just a reflex.

"Excuse me, but I am a-" The man pauses for just a moment as if to remind himself of something, then continues on, "Man of noble birth. You are not allowed to speak to me like that."

Merlin smiles, a comeback flowing easily off of his lips "I knew you were a prat," He says, then turns away from Arthur and starts to walk away, "I just didn't know you were a noble one."

"Hey!" The man shouts. He reaches forward and grabs Merlin's shoulder. Merlin flinches as the man's fingers brush over his scarred shoulder.

"Dear Lord," The man murmurs in shock, his hand slipping off of Merlin's shoulders, and Merlin knows he has felt the scars marring his shoulders. So he runs with the packages in his arms, not responding, and doesn't look back.

Because no one can know the truth- no one.

***

Arthur runs after the man, the image of his face plastered across the front of his mind. Sickly pale, sharp features, high cheekbones, largish ears that somehow make him even better looking, and bewitching icy blue eyes framed by wavy black locks, dressed in a ragged blue tunic, trousers in a similar state of disrepair, and worn brown boots. An old red bandanna encircled the man's thin neck, merely emphasizing the fact that he's barely more than skin and bones.

The look in the young man's eyes was haunting, more than anything he'd ever seen before, but still not as concerning as the roped lines of scars that he could feel through the threadbare fabric of the young man's shirt.

Arthur is worried, more than he's ever been before.

The young man, somehow, is getting farther and farther away from Arthur despite his seeming frailty. Arthur is running at top speed, unhampered by his armor and only armed with a short sword, and yet the boy, encumbered by arms full of packages, is speeding away.

Then a light mist descends and for just a moment Arthur loses sight of the young man. Then the mist lifts a second later and the young man's gone. Arthur freezes in his tracks. How is he to find this entrancing young man again?

Though he's not one to give up on his goals, it is obvious that this boy has disappeared into thin air. He begrudgingly heads back into the village where he's supposed to meet Gwen.

Only one thought occupies his mind as he heads back to Gwen: How will he ever find the man again?

***

Merlin transports himself to the drawbridge to the moat leading to family's castle and staggers forward, barely able to hold onto the packages. His magic reserves are almost completely depleted. He hasn't completely mastered this spell, but at least it doesn't send him sprawling to the floor overwhelmed by unconsciousness like the first time he tried to transport himself.

"Get up here now!" He hears Morgause's voice snap, and he looks up at the stone cold, pale features and brown eyes she inherited from her mother. The golden locks of hair, inherited from her father, are all her own, though.

"Yes, my young Lady," Merlin answers, hurrying to get up the steps and please Morgause. If she complains to Nimueh then he gets whipped. He has to get these gowns and his chores done before the first part of the Balls tonight if he wants any chance of going.

(Not that he has a chance of going, anyway. Even if he manages to Magick up a suit, he still has no chance of getting in)

He doesn't think about the golden-haired man in the village for the next few hours.

***

As soon as Arthur gets back to the village he searches out Gwen. "When shall we meet this Merlin friend of yours?" Arthur asks.

She frowns. "You just missed him, Arthur. He comes out at the same time every day, picks up his family's daily packages, and heads home. You know how we sneak out at night, but because of the Balls I don't think I'll see him for a little while."

Arthur sighs and heads back to the trees where they've tied the horses' reins. "You know, Gwen, it'll be nice to finally meet the famous nighttime adventurer Merlin. I bet he's good-looking as well."

Gwen giggles as she climbs up onto the horse, shifting into the side saddle position. "One of the advantages of you having the preferences you do means we can talk about boys, Arthur."

Arthur just rolls his eyes as he mounts the horse, an unfortunate ignoble habit he's picked up from Gwen over the years. "Well, you'll be happy to know that I met a boy today, and he was quite handsome."

"Ooh, really?" She squeals like a giddy young girl as they begin to ride.

"Yeah, but I'm worried about him. I...touched his shoulder and I could feel horrible scars beneath the tunic. It felt like he'd been terribly hurt sometime recently. Then he ran off and disappeared."

"Oh," She says, frowning, "Do you have any way of finding him again?"

"No, but I'd recognize him if I saw him again, trust me with that."

She raises an eyebrow. "He made that much of an impression, then?"

Arthur nods, then falls silent.

Unlike Merlin, Arthur cannot keep the unknown handsome man he saw off of his mind. Thoughts of the pale-skinned man with the icy blue-grey eyes fill his mind for the rest of the evening, even up until the minutes before he's supposed to go out and present himself.

He looks at himself in the full-length mirror. Minutes before Gwen had delivered his outfit for tonight, the first of the three Balls. He had a rich red tunic embroidered in golden dragons, seamless black trousers with golden buttons, black boots polished to perfection, and a red cloak edged in gold. George had dressed him, as was one of his few jobs. Gwen takes care of almost everything save dressing him, pouring his bath, and anything to do with his armor.

"Not too bad, George," Arthur says, and then dismisses his servant with a half-hearted wave. George bores him. The servant never initiates a conversation and isn't brave enough (or is it reckless enough) knock him down a level when he needs it like Gwen does.

A knock comes at his door a few minutes later. "It's Gwen," says a familiar voice.

"Come in," Arthur says, and the door clicks open behind him. He turns to find Gwen in a beautiful purple gown, her hair pulled back prettily from her face.

"You look amazing, Gwen," Arthur says with a smile, and though he doesn't feel for girls like that he's being honest. She's one of the prettiest girls he's ever seen. He smiles, "Is there a boy you're looking to impress?"

She smiles, but there's a sort of regretful tinge to it. "He couldn't make it."

"Sorry, Gwen," he says, then pauses. "Well, would you mind if I put you on my dance card for the night? Most of these girls I could care less about, but you're a good friend."

"Of course, your Highness, " She says with a curtsy and a grin.

Chapter Text

*~*~*

Then the bird threw a gold and silver dress down to her, and slippers embroidered with silk and silver. She quickly put on the dress and went to the festival.

Her stepsisters and her stepmother did not recognize her. They thought she must be a foreign princess, for she looked so beautiful in the golden dress. They never once thought it was Cinderella, for they thought that she was sitting at home in the dirt, looking for lentils in the ashes.

*~*~*

"That I'm hypnotized yeah

I'm drawn to your eyes

I just wanna see your face

Welcome to my Masquerade

Masquerade

Who are you? What is your name?

Is this a two-faced game?

It's tragic 'cuz after tonight

My heart will never be the same..."

-Robsoul, Masquerade

"It's time to go, girls," Nimueh says from the bottom of the stairs. Draped in a blood red gown that off sets her pale skin, turquoise eyes, and dark brown hair, she looks the very incarnation of evil to Merlin. Well, maybe that was only because he personally knows that her ethreal beauty is merely a façade that hides the ugly, twisted evil inner core.

Morgana and Morgause descend one by one down the staircase, their skirts spilling over their slippered feet. Morgana is dressed in a deep green gown while Morgause is wearing a red and silver beaded dress. Merlin has to admit (at least from his position cleaning the floor) that he has done a good job on all of their gowns. The three women do carry a natural beauty about them when they aren't sneering at him or plotting something evil, and he's done the best job possible to bring out what visual perfections he can.

(Not that any of them are as pretty as Gwen. In his own opinion, his best friend is the most beautiful person in all of Camelot)

The stepsisters reach the bottom of the stairs and stand before their mother, hair pulled up into intricate hairdos earlier by Merlin and gowns perfect. If the prince is only going for looks, then either of them can probably net him. It will be mostly Merlin's work that will do it, though.

Merlin's decided not to go. He doesn't want to watch the brave prince he's heard Gwen go on so much about fall for some random damsel just based on her looks, as he's bound to do.

Then Merlin's stepmother's words pierce through the fog of his thoughts. "Remember, girls," come her cold, quiet words, "You have magic. Use whatever you have to in order to snare the prince."

Merlin cannot let this stand. Nimueh can use her magic on him, do whatever she wants to hurt him, but she is not allowed to inflict her evil intent on others, especially the prince of Camelot himself. The quickest formed, sloppiest, (and probably most likely to fail, though Merlin will never admit it even to himself) plan in the history of Camelot forms in his mind in the blink of his eye. If he manages to pull this off, then... well, he'll get to meet the prince Gwen admires as well as save his life. Maybe he'll even see the handsome nobleman there.

He stays quiet while Morgana, Nimueh, and Morgause head out the door. "Remember, Ashes," Nimueh says with a tinkling laugh as she leaves, "You have to finish all of your chores without magic. Remember, I can and will check."

Merlin nods and doesn't respond, instead continuing to look down at the floor he's scrubbing. He glares at it, wishing he could get out from under her hold and flee far, far away instead of living out his days as her magical slave of a stepson.

After a moment of silence and wishing she'd just leave, Merlin hears Nimueh snap her fingers and instantly a long, needle-thin cut burns across his cheek under his left eye. "I am the master of this house, Ashes," Nimueh says coldly as Merlin sits there, frozen still. He knows better than to move- that if he's quiet and still she's more likely to just leave, "And you would do well to remember it."

He nods and then she leaves, the door slamming behind her. Merlin immediately stands up, his eyes flaring gold, and waves his hand in front of him, murmuring the incantation that will set the cleaning equipment going. He knows there will be hell to pay when Nimueh comes back and finds out, but he has more important things to do. And plus, whatever happens to him doesn't matter as long as he protects the heir to Camelot's throne.

He runs upstairs and to the sewing room. He grabs a scrap of leftover fabric from the inner layer of Morgana's gown, a white silk. Now let's see, what is the incantation again? Ah, right. He whispers a spell and the fabric and his body transfigure. As he looks at his hands they deepen a few shades from their normal sickly pale into a fairer color. They flesh out, no longer skin and bones.

The piece of fabric expands, turning into a tunic and trousers that magically replace the clothes he's wearing. A strip of white fabric with eye holes cut into that can be tied behind one's head, disguising his features, appears in his hands. Merlin puts it on and ties it, then walks over to the mirror and examines his appearance. He looks like a totally different person now- his face is filled out as well as his body, gaining a few pounds in all the right places and smoothing out the hard edges a little. The cold, stony blue-grey of his eyes softens a bit, replaced by a softer light blue, and the cut on his cheek is covered by the mask so his face looks fine. He's healthier and better looking than he has been in a long, long time.

He checks over everything, making sure he's ready. Then he goes over the plan. The Balls run until one in the morning each night, so he needs to leave by midnight in order to get back in time. He'll find Prince Arthur somewhere during that time and make sure that the prince stays out of the way of his step family. He tries to ignore the fact that there are so many gaping holes in this plan, so many ways this could screw up, and just focus on protecting the prince.

He takes a deep breath. He's ready to go.

He races to the stables, careful not to get his white clothing dirty, which is easier than you'd expect as he's still wearing his old boots. He'll Magick up a new pair once he gets to the castle. He goes to a nearby stall where Aithusa, an old but strong white mare, is stabled, and saddles her up. Though Merlin hasn't ridden in ages, he still retains a but of muscle memory from his childhood, and with a minor spell they're off towards the palace, Aithusa calm but swift.

Merlin prays he'll get there in time.

He arrives at the palace and quickly leads the horse to the stables. He pats the horse's back, rubbing her down a bit, before exiting. He knows that a stable boy will come by soon- he can see a carriage coming up ahead that has horses which will need to be properly tied in.

He hides in the shadows behind a tree, fervently wishing and waiting for someone to walk by. A couple minutes later (just as predicted) a couple dressed in grays walks by, invitations in the woman's hand. He gets a good look at them, then creates a glamour over a leaf. It transforms into an invitation in both color and touch- to anyone else the disguise would be foolproof. He replaces his boots with new ones and walks up to the door, then hands his invitation to the doorman and enters the ballroom.

Once he gets far enough in, he steps out of the way and into a corridor. He leans up against the wall, pressing his forehead up against the cool stone while breathing a little sigh of relief- he's finally in!

Someone clears their throat behind him. "Excuse me," a familiar voice says, "But who are you and what exactly do you think you're doing up here?"

Merlin groans lightly and turns around to be greeted by the sight of the nobleman from the square, except this time dressed in the rich, unmistakable clothing of the royal family. Merlin's mind makes the connection almost immediately and he groans inwardly. Oh, bloody hell- the insufferably rude yet handsome nobleman is actually the prince?

"The name's Emrys," Merlin blurts honestly, "I was feeling anxious. I'm worried about someone."

The prince- Arthur, right- softens a little. Not much, but still a noticeable enough. "Really? He says, "As it happens, so am I."

Now it's Merlin's turn to be bit surprised. "That's interesting. I wouldn't pin you as the caring type, sire." He says this last word somewhat flippantly.

Prince Arthur scowls, but there's not much force behind it. "I'm much more than I seem, idiot," he says.

Merlin smiles, the corner of his lips twisting upwards. "I don't doubt that for a moment,  your Highness." He pauses for a moment, but then asks on a whim, "Do you happen to know where I can find a drink, sire?"

"As it so happens, Lord Emrys, I do," Arthur says, and offers his hand with a mysterious smile, "And there's no way I'm going back to that ballroom." Merlin hadn't originally thought that the blond-haired slightly thick-seeming prince could be anything but straightforward, but somehow there's something he's managing to hide from Merlin's sight.

Merlin takes Arthur's hand and lets himself be dragged by an excited prince (who currently is disregarding all rules of propriety and court order) down a stairway, then a corridor, then a back stairway, all the while reviewing hastily made plans. Keep the prince away from Nimueh, Morgana, and Morgause, as well as making sure that the prince doesn't connect the dots between the scarred shoulders he touched earlier today and the identity of the best friend of Gwen, his maid. If Arthur connects the dots and decides to go after Nimueh, then, well...Merlin nearly shudders at the thought.

They emerge at the bottom of the stairs into a large kitchen. Due to what he's lived through during the last ten painful years, Merlin is well acquainted with kitchens and can assess their quality with a glance. This one is very good, of great quality and the finest ingredients in the land. Arthur lets go of Merlin's hand, leaving him at the wooden table in the center of the room. Then he heads over to where tankards of beer are lined up and grabs one. He attempts to lift it, but he gets a look on his face as if of constipation that prompts Merlin to laugh. "Hey," Arthur says, "It's not that easy!"

Merlin stops laughing (though can't help snickering), and moves forward to help. He takes care to keep to the other side of the tankard so that Arthur doesn't feel his scars, but between their combined strength they manage to move the tankard to the table. Arthur probably just thinks that my strength is from training, Merlin thinks, there's no way he'll ever suspect the truth.

They pop the lid on the tankard and Merlin instinctively goes to the cupboard that holds the goblets, pulling out a pair for the two of them. He turns around to find Arthur looking at him with a funny look on his face. "How did you know where to find them?" Arthur asks.

"I spent a childhood in the kitchen," Merlin says, a story weaving its way through his brain and flooding over his lips. Technically nothing he's saying is completely false, though the truth is being stretched a little. "My mother died when I was young and my father remarried. I never really liked my stepmother Nimueh and I've spent most of my life with servants as a result." He pours their drinks as he's talking, "You see, I'm an only child, so my only friends are the ones in the kitchen."

Merlin walks over and hands Arthur his goblet. "Here, sire," He says with a smile, "Have a drink."

Arthur takes a swig, trying to gather his thoughts, then brings the cup away from him lips, lightly swishing the liquid inside as he thinks. How can this Lord Emrys act so nonchalant about something like that? Arthur knows how it feels to grow up without a mother, how lonely it can be.

"Really?" Emrys says softly and Arthur realizes that he has spoken aloud, "I didn't realize that."

"It's fine. I never knew her," Arthur says dismissively, "And how can you miss someone you've never known?" He takes another swallow of the drink as Emrys responds.

"You're right, sire," the dark-haired man replies, and Arthur notices for the first time that his voice is slightly familiar. For some reason the lilt and dialect- simple yet elegant- strike something within Arthur. He can't remember exactly where he's heard Emrys' voice before, but it draws a sense of warmth, the faintest impression of sunlight and wide open spaces out of Arthur. He has no idea why it does, though.

"Do I know you, Emrys?" He asks abruptly.  Emrys frowns slightly for a moment, and Arthur finds his line of sight following the movement of the man's lips. Then Emrys' lips curve upward into an enigmatic smile, and Arthur finds his heart being tugged along with them. 

"No, sire," Emrys says inscrutably, "but I know you."

Arthur snickers as he takes a drink. Yes, this is why he shouldn't be drinking. It loosens his tongue and dissolves the guards he normally puts on his actions. "Emrys, are you trying to sound as if you are a spy?"

"Maybe, sire," Emrys replies, purposefully being mysterious. God is that charming.

Arthur chugs the rest of the goblet and slams it down on the table. "Lord, Emrys!" He says, "Are you trying to get arrested?" His voice slurs slightly, his formal language breaking away as the drink slowly begins to affect him. It's not enough to make him do anything he wouldn't normally do, just enough to release the hold that the court has on him. 

Emrys shakes his head, then purses his lips. "Sire, shouldn't we be going to the dance?" The charming pale young man looks as if the suggestion is repellent to him, but that he's resigned to it if he has to.

"No," Arthur replies, "Well, I'm supposed to dance with all the Ladies but to tell you the truth I'm not all that comfortable with the whole courting thing, so I worked out an agreement with my cousin Gwaine. If he stands in for me whenever I'm not there, he can spend as much time with the girls and food during the next couple of days as he wants."

Emrys raises an eyebrow. "So you're not that big on the courting thing? Does that mean you're not a fan of women?"

Arthur mentally swears, cursing the hold the drink has on his tongue. He never would have been this careless if he'd been in his normal state of mind. He presses his lips together, not saying a word. What will Emrys think if Arrhur tells him the truth? The world is not prepared for his kind of thinking-

"Because I'm the same way, sire, if it makes you feel any better admitting it," Emrys says.

Arthur is taken aback. This perfect man in front of him is of the same unholy mold as he? It seems too good to be true, but it is. He nods. Arthur has been heralded as one of the bravest knights in the land, but to openly admit the truth to an almost stranger (even though this man has already admitted so much to him) is beyond Arthur's realm of courage.

Suddenly "Do you want to dance?" slips out of Emrys' mouth. Arthur looks up at him, surprised, to see that it looks like Emrys didn't mean to say that, as his hands have flown to cover his lips.

"Why not?" Arthur says with a small smile, reaching out his hand. Emrys steps forward around the table and takes the offered hand, a cheeky grin of true enjoyment forming on his face.

"I've never danced before, sire," Emrys says as they begin to go through the first few steps. Arthur is a bit surprised that a Lord of the court does not know how to dance, but not too much- Emrys is probably from one of the farther lordships.

"Then I guess I'll just have to show you, then," Arthur says, "You'll just have to follow while I lead, as I have only ever danced that role."

Emrys nods, and Arthur begins to gently teach the young man how to dance.

***

Finally Merlin has been deemed good enough to properly dance. Prince Arthur has been patient with him, slipping into the role of a stern and flippant yet kind mentor despite the fact that he's slightly drunk. Then Prince Arthur dips him in the middle of a move and Merlin finds their faces incredibly close together. He can smell the faint scent of beer and something almost woodsy on the prince's breath, and his heart stutters. Then Prince Arthur pulls him back up, the moment over, and Merlin remembers to breathe.

"Not too bad, Emrys," Prince Arthur says, pausing the dance. Their hands are still intertwined, but Merlin doesn't call attention to it. He feels safe here in this warm, homey kitchen with Prince Arthur, despite the fact that his job is only to protect the prince from Nimueh. He finds himself staring into Prince Arthur's blue, blue eyes, and he knows he's falling for the prince...

Suddenly the clock chimes, and Merlin breaks away from Prince Arthur's eyes. Everything comes flooding back to him, all the details about his horrible life. "I'm sorry, your Highness," he says, pulling his hand out of the prince's, "But I have to leave. I'll see you tomorrow evening. Where might I meet you?"

"How about in the ballroom this time?" Prince Arthur asks, a smile forming on his face.  

Merlin freezes for a moment, weighing his options Nimueh might recognize him, but then again he can figure out more about the court this way. He nods. "I'll see you then, your Highness," He says, then takes off at a run, not waiting for the Prince's response. He knows he's being a bit rude but if Nimueh discovers he wasn't at home then he can't come back tomorrow and protect Arthur again.

As he runs to the horse he tries to convince himself that his reasons for coming back are entirely selfless, but both we all know that's not quite true.

Chapter Text

*~*~*

The prince approached her, took her by the hand, and danced with her. Furthermore, he would dance with no one else. He never let go of her hand, and whenever anyone else came and asked her to dance, he would say, "She is my dance partner."

She danced until evening, and then she wanted to go home. But the prince said, "I will go along and escort you," for he wanted to see to whom the beautiful girl belonged. However, she eluded him and jumped into the pigeon coop.

*~*~*

"What remains of a man, when that man is dead and gone?

Only memories and stories of his deeds will linger on

But if a man's accomplishments aren't in the tale they tell

Are the deeds that go unheralded his legacy as well?..."

-Twisted, Team Starkid

"Yesterday I died, tomorrow's bleeding.

Fall into your sunlight.

The future's open wide, beyond believing.

To know why, hope dies.

Losing what was found, a world so hollow..."

-Trading Yesterday, Shattered

Nimueh knows from the beginning that the 'prince' dancing with the Ladies is an imposter. She's seen the prince before- she knew his parents when they were a young, happy couple unaware of death and grief- and he looks different than the long-haired brunette man chatting with all the Ladies.

She fists a piece of her dress in her hand, anger flowing through her, but lets go of the red material after a moment and fixes herself. She can't show any of her inner negative thoughts at the moment- no, that would not work well for the plan. She smiles primly and sets herself to dancing with the men in the court, always keeping an eye on Morgana and Morgause. They can't mess this up- she just won't allow it.

She knows she looks as young as her daughters due to her spells of youth which are mostly fueled by tapping into Merlin's inner magic. If that boy realizes what power he contains within him and decides to use it...well, she's not thinking about that. After all, she's almost succeeded in beating the rebellion out of him. Just give it another year or so and he'll be her complete slave.

Suddenly she feels a twinge behind her ear,  which is a sign that Merlin is using magic. It's the second time that it's happened this evening. She resists the urge to march out and back to her home to see what that miserable warlock child is doing, but keeps her calm. Her plans have been screwed for the night, that is sure, but that doesn't mean she can't fix them tomorrow.

And plus, she can always take out her anger on Merlin. 

***

Merlin arrives home and stables Aithusa. While still in the stables he dissolves the disguise, changing it back to the one scrap of white silk. He tucks the disenchanted fabric into the inner pocket of his jacket (he sewed it in himself) and steels himself for the tiring and painful day ahead as he runs to the house. He knows there will be punishment awaiting him when he wakes up, for Nimueh will know that he used magic to complete his chores.

But even with the prospect of what awaits him tomorrow weighing on his shoulders, the smallest smile still graces Merlin's lips. He can go back to the castle tomorrow night and there he will dance with Arthur again. For once in his life he has hope, and there's no way anything Nimueh can do that will take that away from him.

Merlin kicks off his boots and throws his jacket into its customary holding place. He quickly gestures, sending the cleaning supplies back to their closets with a flash of gold in his eyes, then heads up the stairs to his attic room. He falls onto his cot and covers up with his threadbare sheets, his heart pounding in his chest even as he falls asleep, exhaustion overwhelming him from a day of heavy magic. He's getting stronger but he's still not that strong. Someday soon, he promises himself as he drifts off, someday soon I'll be as strong as her...

***

Nimueh gets home and immediately gathers her special magic after sending the girls along to their respective rooms. Each magic user has one that they're better at than others- Morgana is best at Divination, Morgause at combat spells, and she herself at Seeing auras. Merlin's specialty, well, she hasn't seen it manifest yet, and she never will if things go according to plan. Merlin's magical core will be harnessed for her own purposes and he won't develop beyond basic cleaning spells.

She feels around her for the traces of Merlin's magic, which leaves a distinct light blue trail behind it. Well, at least it did until a couple weeks ago. His aura suddenly changed over to a faint golden shade. She knows that many disciples of the Old Religion change aura colors as they get stronger and grow into their powers so she doesn't let it bother her too much.

(Even though if you look back at magical history, golden auras only belong to Dragonlords, the greatest warlocks in history)

The most obvious traces are the normal ones, signs of cleaning. The floors and closet doors are all covered by a thin film of gold magic. Nimueh knows what to discipline Merlin for when he wakes up, to push into that malleable mind of his. She almost dispels her ability but then something catches the corner of her eye. Over his unassuming jacket are the fading signs of discontinued magic, concentrated over his pocket. She bends down and turns over the jacket, delicately picking out the piece of white silk.

She raises an eyebrow. Now this is interesting. She can't tell exactly what spell was used, which means she's unfamiliar with it. How can Merlin know how to do a spell that she can't?

Nimueh isn't sure, but she knows how to find out. She quickly casts an enchantment on the fabric that will alert her when the spell on it is activated again. It will also give her a way to locate the fabric again for whenever the spell is in use.

She puts the piece of fabric back into the jacket pocket and stands up, dusting herself off. Pride for her handiwork is evident in her smile as she walks up the stairway to her room. She'll solve this mystery tomorrow- it's just as important as getting revenge on the King. When she rules over Camelot she must make sure that she knows all of Merlin's petty tricks.

***

Arthur wakes up with a headache. It's not the worst hangover ever (Gwaine hadn't been there with him the night before, so he hadn't gotten completely wasted), but a hangover is still a hangover and he groans as he sits up in bed.

Then he remembers the man he met the previous night and a smile breaks across his face. It had been fantastic, talking and dancing last night, and tonight will be even better. They'll be in the ballroom, with music and food and...Uther. He falls back on his bed with another groans. His father will undoubtedly find a way to ruin his evening, just like always.

As per routine, someone knocks on the door. Arthur knows it's Gwen with his breakfast, so he just says, "Come in."

She pushes open the door, balancing a tray laden with food and a chang of clothing. "Here you are, Prince Arthur," She says, setting his food on his bedside table. She sets down his clothes on the end of his bed, "Your food and your day clothes."

"Thank you, Gwen," he says. 

She raises an eyebrow. "Thanking me, Arthur?" She jokes with a smile, "Did something happen last night?"

He immediately blushes, his cheeks burning. "It's possible, Gwen," he says as he leans over to grab some bread from the tray. He can already tell that this is going to be a long conversation, and he's once again glad that he's taken to sleeping with his shirt on. Long discussions over breakfast with Gwen would rapidly become awkward if he was shirtless.

Both of her eyebrows shoot up as she sits down into an armchair, settling in for a good conversation. "I was just joking, Arthur. I mean no offense, but I didn't think there was a chance of you falling in love. With your proclivities and everything, I mean..." She trailed off, obviously embarassed with no idea of how to recover from her blunder.

He grins. "He's handsome, at least from what I could tell as a mask covered his eyes. He has a humble sort of grace, but also a good sense of humor. He's intelligent and absorbs information quickly, and his mother died when he was a child, just like mine. He's sensitive but not overly clingy, and he didn't just throw himself at me like all those girls do, even though he openly admitted that he shares my 'proclivities'."

Gwen smiles, happy one of her best friendsis experiencing love like she has. (Now, if only Merlin can fall in love, then everything will be perfect) "He sounds perfect, Arthur. Is he coming back tonight, and might I get to meet him?"

He nods, and she can see the palpable joy on his face. "He's going to meet me in the ballroom tonight instead of the kitchens like last night. Maybe I'll even get to see what's behind that mask of his, right?"

She laughs, and they continue on with their banter for a little while.

***

Merlin heads up to his room for a minute before he heads into town. Every step jars the newest wounds on his back, the fresh bruises and cuts. He grits his teeth against the pain, which surprisingly is not as bad as it could be. It expected one of the worse punishmenthan,  but instead got off with average.

He opens the door to his attic closet of a room and grabs the two small jars from his dresser. He perfected a pain-killing medicine and a healing brew made from herbs years ago, as the beatings got to the point where the pain was so great he could barely stand up afterwards. He downs the pain-killer before carefully stripping off his tattered and bloodied tunic. He looks at the lacerations cutting through the back side and sighs. Yet another piece of clothing that he'll have to replace due to Nimueh's punishments.

Well, he can at least use it as bandages for now. He tears it up into a trips and soaks them in the healing brew, then winds the fabric around his stomach and back with nimble fingers. He doesn't even need to look backwards to check himself as he works, he's so used to the routine. He can do it in the dark if he needs to, he's so used to it.

He doesn't cry as one of the bandages cuts into athe edge of a wound as he positions it correctly. He hasn't cried over physical pain for a while, years even- he spent all of his tears early on, in the first few years after his father's death. His tears have all dried up, and he doesn't think that he has any more to spare over the pain he's gotten used to.

There's no reason to cry, though, right? He deserves this pain. Maybe not all of it, but at least some of it for disobeying Nimueh. He brought this punishment upon himself for breaking her rules, and he's lucky that she wasn't in the worst mood as he could have gotten a far more crippling beating.

He dismisses such dark thoughts as he pulls his spare tunic down over his head, conscientious of the bandages. There is a glimmer of hope for him amongst the suffering he is being forced to endure- he gets to see Arthur again tonight. He just has to make through the trip to the town and the afternoon, then he can sneak off to the Ball.

He takes a deep breath, calming himself before he is to go out to the town, then stands up and heads down the stairs.

***

"Merlin!" Merlin hears Gwen's familiar voice shout, and he slows down a bit. He went out slightly early today, so he has a minute or two to talk to his friend before getting material for new dresses for his stepfamily to wear to the Ball tonight.

"Hi, Gwen," he says as she walks up, "How was the Ball last night?"

"Oh, it was heavenly," She replies, a huge smile on her face, "I only wish that you and Lancelot could have been there. Then it would have been perfect!"

He resists the urge to smile at her comment. If only she knew... But he doesn't have the self-restraint to keep from asking her, "How was the Prince? Did he have fun with the Ladies last night?"

"No," She says, "In fact, he spent the entire night with a man down in the kitchens with a man he'd met. Arthur wouldn't tell me his name, but whoever it was sounded like the most interesting guy in the world from how Arthur described him. Hell, if the guy hadn't been gay even I would have wanted to be with him."

This time Merlin didn't stop himself from grinning. Arthur found him interesting? Oh, by the gods, this is just perfect! The most powerful, eligible bachelor in the entire land was not only gay but also likes him.

Suddenly a thought pops into his head: he should tell Arthur the truth. He told Arthur almost everything else about himself last night while they were dancing and talking, only withholding the most important and dangerous bits- the abuse, the magic, and his name. He had spilled every other sordid detail of his childhood and everything he likes and dislikes. He had told one of his greatest secrets, the fact of his attraction to other men.

That settles it. Tonight he'll tell the Prince his name, of not everything about himself.

"Um, Merlin?" Gwen asks, an eyebrow raised in confusion, "Are you okay?"

Merlin realizes that he's been staring off into space. He nods quickly. "Yeah, Gwen, I'm fine. Well, I have to go. I hope you have fun at the Ball tonight."

Gwen nods, unaware of the storm of thoughts that have just erupted in Merlin's head. "Have a good evening, Merlin." Then she brightens as if she's had a thought, "Maybe your stepmother will let you come to the Ball as a servant tonight. She can't be that cruel."

You have no idea, Merlin wants to say, but keeps his mouth shut. "Maybe," he replies instead, "Bye, Gwen. Have a good afternoon."

She smiles and replies in kind.

***

Once again Nimueh and her daughters leave, each in a new gown that Merlin has sewn.

Earlier he had wrapped his bleeding fingertips in plain white scraps of a plain fabric before delivering the gowns to the women- he'd worked that hard on his chores that day, feverishly sewing seams and embroidery at a breakneck pace. He didn't know any healing spells and he knew that he would be punished severely if a single drop of his worthless blood got on their new gowns.

This time around Morgana is in a dark blue number which offsets her pale skin well while Morgause is in a deep purple, which does not work as well for her image as the red and silver beaded dress did yesterday. They ignore him as they walk past, joining their mother at the door.

Nimueh fixes him with a strange look in her eyes that he's never seen before, one that seems like a mixture of disgust, covetousness, and glee, before they leave. "We shall be back by one, Ashes," She says, "Make sure all the housework is done, and remember, no magic."

"Yes, milady," He answers in a deferential tone, remembering what had happened the night before when he hadn't responded properly. He doesn't feel the need to rebel tonight, unlike usual- he lets this feeling of anticipation and excitement fill him instead of a feeling of hatred and resentment.

She nods and leaves. He waits for a few minutes just to be sure that they're gone before jumping into the same routine as the night before. He has a ball to get to! 

***

Nimueh feels Merlin's spell activate her charm on the cloth and smiles slyly as she enters the ballroom. The tracking spell showing that Merlin is heading toward the castle. She'll soon find out what Merlin has been hiding, and as soon as she does she'll figure out a plan to destroy him.

***

Arthur leans up against a wall in the ballroom, watching all the couples dance and feeling very out of place for a future king of Camelot. Tonight, now that he's in the ballroom, he's wearing a mask. It's simple yet rich, made of feathers of gold leaf that pattern the mask around his eyes like a hawk's.

"Nice mask, your Highness," a familiar voice says from behind him.

He spins around to find Emrys, clad in the same simple white clothing as the day before. He feels his gaze drifting up to Emrys' very kissable lips- oh shite, did he just think that- which are shaped into a smirk. "You recognized me?" Arthur asks, a bit surprised that Emrys, who he'd only net for a few hours the night before (but what a night it had been, a quiet voice in his mind argues) has recognized him.

"Of course, your royal pratliness," Emrys responds, smiling. A remembrance of something, just the barest wisp of a memory, sparks in Arthur's mind at the sound of Emrys' dulcet tones saying those last words, but it slips away when Arthur tries to grasp at it. He nearly groans in frustration, but keeps his cool. He looks away from Emrys' face and down at the young man's hands, where he finds only a simple thick crust of bread being held delicately between long fingers. Interesting choice, considering all the rich food the castle has to offer. King Uther spared no expense for the Balls in which his son is to find his Queen, "Why, did you expect me not to?"

Now that Arthur thinks about it, yes. He didn't think that Emrys would recognize him in this mask. Many of the women in the room, who he's known all his life, haven't noticed him tonight. It's strangely liberating to stand in a room and have no one recognize him, to try and mob him with false compliments.

He suddenly finds himself saying as much, the words spilling over his lips in an attempt to get out. Emrys just smirks that characteristic smile of his and takes a bite of the bread. He has decent manners- not the pomp and circumstance of the rest of the court, but still with a certain grace. He eats as if it's actually food, something that will sate his hunger, and not just something that can be used to show wealth. Arthur finds his attraction growing by the minute.

Oh gods above- did he seriously just compliment a guy (at least in his head) on said guy's eating habits? He must really be falling in love if he's content to just wait for Emrys to finish instead of demanding that he hurry up like Arthur would with anyone else.

Once Emrys finishes he stretches out a hand to the man. "May I have this dance?" He asks, disregarding the expectations of his father and the court for once. He just wants to dance with this enigmatic, intriguing man, and then who knows what after that? He's the next King of Camelot- maybe he might even have the courage to change a few laws.

Emrys smiles and takes his hand. Every thought flies out of Arthur's head as he leads the dark-haired man to the dance floor, and every worry about status quo dissolves from his mind when they assume their positions and begin to dance, the music swelling magically above their heads.

***

Nimueh feels the spell's presence close and she looks over the edge of the balcony where she'd gone to in order to observe the Ball properly. Her eyes narrow as she focuses in on where she feels the spell. A sharp intake of breath passes over her perfect dark red lips as she realizes what Merlin's secret is.

Thoughts and plans fly through her head. She now realizes where she must focus her attention, and it's not on the Prince and her revenge plot against the King. It's a petty feud anyway, and it's nothing compared to the amount of magical potential she can tap into from Merlin. A shapes hitting spell is nearly beyond her realm of expertise and power, a spell that is a product of many, many years of hard work and discipline.

How a mere boy has managed to perform such a work of magic without proper training or instruction is just inconceivable, but it shows just how much power she tap into with the advanced version of the curse she currently has on Merlin's soul. It's purely theoretical at the moment, but if it works she can drain every ounce of power from Merlin's body. Sure, there are a few drawbacks such as the fact that she'll have to keep Merlin alive in order to keep using his power, but she can get over that easily. Until she takes over Camelot, she can just keep him in her lair, hidden away from the eyes of any who would seek to find him.

Her lips curl with disgust as she spots Merlin dancing with Arthur. She can tell that both young men are very much in love. She has no idea as they couldn't have had much time to get to know each other, let alone form such an unnatural affection for each other. If she takes Merlin then this boy will certainly go searching for him. Then her mouth twists into a smug smile as she figures out this last bit of the puzzle. She knows two ways to keep the Prince from searching for Merlin, and plans form in her head. Both will break Merlin, so both are fine.

She sweeps out of the balcony seats with a dramatic swish of her skirts as the two young men dance on below her, innocent to the plot forming to destroy them.

***

Arthur takes Emrys out to the balcony after a dance in order to escape the stares and gain a little privacy. They sit down on a stone bench and turn so they're facing each other. They sit close, their hands entwined together on the bench between them. Warmth surrounds them, protecting them against the air of the cool evening around them. Anyone who could see them now would not be able to deny that they are in love. 

"Emrys, I have something to ask you," Arthur says, gathering up the courage to ask Emrys the question. The young man in front of Arthur is perfect in every way- even his flaws are the perfect kind of flaws. Emrys is composed, intelligent, accepting, understanding, and above all honest- everything Arthur can ever hope for in a potential spouse.

Emrys smiles at him, warm and loving. His gray-blue eyes sparkle from beneath his white mask, and Arthur finds himself wanting to kiss the man across from himself so bad, but knows he should wait. It'll be even better if Emrys says yes. He opens his mouth to speak but before he can abruptly Emrys leans back, his back going as straight as a spear. His eyes narrow as if he's seen something strange. He sucks in a strangled-sounding breath.

Arthur frowns. "Is there something wrong?" He asks.

Emrys shakes his head, his lips pressing into a straight line as he stands up. He gives Arthur's hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go. "There's nothing wrong, your pratliness. I just need to check on something. You can ask me that question when I get back if you want." He gives Arthur a smile before moving off into the shadows.

Arthur pauses for a moment, hesitating, before he gets up and begins to follow Emrys. It isn't 'nothing'. Emrys is worried, and there has to be a reason. He follows as quickly as possible as Emrys heads down a back hallway as if he knows the place.

Suddenly pain shoots through Arthur's head from the back and he topples over, his vision going black.

***

Merlin hears the sound and spins around to see Arthur falling to the ground, a figure in dark clothing holding a glowing hand to his prince's head. He screams, but a hand claps over his mouth from behind him, muffling his cries. Another hand wrenches his own hands behind his back and ties them with thick rope before he regains his senses and tries to kick out and away. Instead he is met with a slap to the cheek so forceful it makes his vision go spotted.

He twists around to see who is holding him and finds Nimueh, an expression of vicious triumph on her face. "Your prince is dying, Ashes," She says, her tone low and proud, "And you'll never see him again. You're coming where no one will ever find you."

Merlin looks back at Arthur and with a flash of his golden eyes he can literally see the life fading from his prince's body. He turns back to Nimueh, hands tied behind his back. Tears spring into his eyes. "I won’t stop! For every minute for the rest of my life, I will fight you. I will never stop trying to get away from you!" He pauses, biting his lip, and makes the decision that will probably end up with him never seeing Arthur again. Then he realizes he doesn't care. He doesn't care if Nimueh frames him, if he never gets to see anyone he loves again- nothing matters as long as Arthur is alive. Then he continues, "But if you let me heal him, I’ll go with you. I’ll never run, I’ll never try to escape," Merlin rushes out, "Just let me heal him. Please. Then you can use me however you want."

Nimueh nods slowly, her eyes sparkling cruelly. Merlin drops to his knees and feeds energy into an unconscious Arthur's chest. He's never done this spell be fire, but just like with most other things his instinct tells him what to do. "Goodbye," he whispers into his prince's ear, "I love you, Arthur, and I'm sorry I have to leave you."

Then, as soon as he sees Arthur start to breathe again, he straightens up and turns to Nimueh. "I'm yours now, Nimueh, just as always," He says, a lump in his throat. "I was a fool to think otherwise. I'll go back to being your slave. I'm sorry I ever rebelled against you- I've learned my lesson."

A venomous smile greets his eyes and his throat goes dry. "Oh, my dearest Merlin, you are too important to be a slave any longer. I have a far more...satisfying place for you now."

His heart plummets as he notices that this is the first time she's used his true name. It frightens him.

Then she extends a hand with parchment and a quill in it, and he realizes what he's meant to do. Tears begin to flow freely as Nimueh starts dictating what he is to write, and when he is done she tells him what he is to do. 

Chapter Text

*~*~*

The girl cut a piece off her heel, forced her foot into the shoe, swallowed the pain, and went out to the prince. He took her on his horse as his bride and rode away with her. When they passed the hazel tree, the two pigeons were sitting in it, and they cried out:

Rook di goo, rook di goo!

There's blood in the shoe.

The shoe is too tight,

This bride is not right!

He looked down at her foot and saw how the blood was running out of her shoe, and how it had stained her white stocking all red. Then he turned his horse around. 

*~*~*

"Just waiting on an angel

To take me out of my hell

I'm falling for you

Just dropping out of thin air

You came out of nowhere

Right out of the blue

When heaven sent you..."

- Hinder, Heaven Sent

"Howling ghosts– they reappear

In mountains that are stacked with fear

But you're a king and I'm a lionheart.

And in the sea that's painted black,

Creatures lurk below the deck

But you're a king and I'm a lionheart..."

-Of Monsters and Men, King And Lionheart

Arthur hands over the letter to his father the next morning, lips set in a hard line to disguise the storm of thoughts that was raging inside of his head. King Uther reads the letter and gasps in horror. "How dare this man do such a thing?" He asks angrily. "How dare he bespoil that name?"

Arthur raises an eyebrow at his father's outburst. "What do you mean, sire?"

"The name of Emrys is a noble one, Arthur. Lord Balinor Emrys was a close friend of mine and a strong ally to the throne before he and his son were killed in a riding accident ten years ago, leaving behind his grieving wife and two step daughters. It is atrocious that a thief would steal such an honorable name to make his way into our castle." Uther scowls,"I knew that obsession of yours was trouble, and this is also why I don't want you associating with anyone I haven't checked first. He could have done far worse than this."

Yet another slight against the man- whatever his name was- yet Arthur still wasn't fully convinced he was evil. He'd been so open and honest with Arthur, something no one else had been before. No matter what this letter said- that the man called Emrys is merely a thief who had connived his way into the palace in order to steal jewels and weapons (they were found missing when the King sent guards to check, and a dead guard had been found nearby when Arthur had woken up)- Arthur holds out for the flimsy belief that something isn't exactly right with this account of the story.

After all, why would Arthur have found a familiar white mask on the ground next to letter, a few suspicious small red spots decorating the edge?

***

Merlin had known that this was going to hurt when he made the choice to leave Arthur. What he didn't know was that it would hurt this much. It is worse than the time when he was ten and was locked in the basement for a day without food or drink for being caught using magic, more painful than when he was thirteen and received ten lashes upon Nimueh's discovery that he'd snuck out with Gwen, and more damaging than when she first used magical torture when he was sixteen because she'd found out he preferred boys.

Every lash she lands on his bare back is both physically and emotionally torturous. She uses Arthur's name liberally in an attempt to break Merlin, her tongue dripping amber honey and acid when she tries to coax screams out of Merlin's battered body. He doesn't respond- she will never get that pleasure out of him again- but it hurts nonetheless. 

The only comfort he gets is when a couple of days later Morgana delivers the news (and a bit of food- it has turned out that she isn't all bad) to his tower cell that the King has postponed the final ball at the Prince's request. According to official decree there has been a break-in at the castle and the security forces are fixing it before any outsiders are to be allowed in.

Though he knows it to be unlikely, Merlin desperately thinks that maybe the castle's security forces will upgrade enough to take on Nimueh. He knows it was a foolish thought- Nimueh is a High Priestess of the Old Religion, as Morgana revealed in conversation that first night. Nevertheless, Merlin can at least take comfort in the fact that Nimueh has to wait a few days to sneak into the palace with the crowds and charm Arthur- his Arthur, he thought with an inner sob- into marrying one of her daughters. There are a few more days left, and at least it seems like she is more interested in breaking Merlin than killing Arthur now.

***

A Week After The Second Night

Arthur can tell Gwen is upset about something. She is barely speaking to Arthur, and she constantly has a frown on her face. Eventually he stops her as she's placing his food down. "Gwen, what's wrong? You know I can't stand it when you're upset. You're my best friend- I can't bear us both being in a bad mood."

She sighs. "Well, you remember Merlin, right? My other best friend?"

He nods. He remembers the man she'd constantly chattered about before the Balls, who he has never actually gotten to meet. He remembers the neglected boy who somehow was so optimistic and kind, who constantly made jokes and went on adventures with Gwen at night. 

"Well, I haven't seen him some before the first Ball, when I handed him the invitation to the Balls. I'm worried about him- his name day is coming up and I'm afraid his stepmother, Nimueh, might have done away with him in order to prevent him from claiming his lordship."

Arthur freezes, memories suddenly crashing together with Gwen's words in his head. He grabs her by the shoulders and looks her in the eye. "Gwen, I need you to answer a couple of questions for me. You've got to be honest, okay? It's a matter of grave importance."

She nods, bewildered.

"Merlin's stepmother's name is Nimueh, correct?"

"Yes."

"Would his last name happen to be Emrys?"

"Yes, how'd you know?"

He ignores the second part and instead asks the most important question of all.

"Gwen, what does he look like?"

"Black, messy hair, icy blue eyes, pale, sallow skin, great cheekbones, skinny, and the biggest ears I've ever seen." Arthur's knees go out from underneath of him and he sits down heavily on the bed as the implications sink in- Merlin is Emrys.

"Arthur, are you okay?" Gwen asks in a concerned tone of voice, sitting down on the bed next to Arthur.

Merlin, Emrys, whoever he was- what happened to him? He was in no danger from Arthur (quite the contrary- he had been about to propose), and if he wasn't a thief then what purpose did he have in the palace? Unbidden, another memory, completely unconnected to Emrys, floats up in his mind- bumping into the scarred man in the village. His face- oh god, his face! Arthur slots in that man's face over top of Emrys' face and it fits! Sure, the man in the village was a bit thinner and paler, but it has to be the same man, it just has to be.

All three- Emrys, the village man, and Merlin- are the same man. Arthur is sure of it, though he has no evidence to back his position up, and that means...well, then that means... Oh god, the scars! If Merlin is Emrys, that means that his Emrys has those self-same scars. But how did Merlin get them in the first place? Who would hurt a young man, who according to Gwen, only saw the outside of his home for half an hour around lunch and at night, when he could manage it? The only one who seems to have any hatred for him was Nimueh, his stepmother, who neglects him and forces him to be a servant. 

Arthur stands up. He's got to get to Merlin's house. If Merlin's stepmother is guilty of the crimes Arthur fears she is, then there should be evidence of such mistreatment. She's the only suspect that Arthur has of Emrys' disappearance and he's got to leave as soon as possible. "I'm fine, Gwen," he says, a look of determination on his face, "I think I've just figured out an answer to both our problems. Get me George- I need my armor- and tell the stable hands to get my horse ready. I have a young man to rescue."

Chapter Text

*~*~*

"This is not the right one, either," he said. "Don't you have another daughter?"

"No," said the man. "There is only a deformed little Cinderella from my first wife, but she cannot possibly be the bride."

The prince told him to send her to him, but the mother answered, "Oh, no, she is much too dirty. She cannot be seen."

But the prince insisted on it, and they had to call Cinderella.

*~*~*

"No more talk of darkness

Forget these wide-eyed fears

I'm here nothing, can harm you

My words will warm and calm you

Let me be your freedom

Let daylight dry your tears

I'm here with you, beside you,

To guard you and to guide you..."

-Phantom of the Opera, All I Ask of You

"Maybe I'm just a ghost

Just a whisper in a puff of smoke

A secret that nobody knows

No one will ever hear

What's the point of saying, 'Rescue me!'

If no one ever hears?"

-Coldplay, Ghosts

Yesterday Nimueh knocked out Merlin and replaced the ropes that bound him with heavy iron chains and cuffs that drained him of his magic. He can feel himself growing weaker and weaker as his magic was pulled out and into the cuffs. Any attempt he makes to cast a spell or escape siphons off more of his life force, leaving him weaker and weaker.

Morgana tries to help by casting pain-numbing spells, but they don't do much. His very life is draining away, leaving him in a deeper pit of despair than before. If this keeps up, he'll die before he can figure out a way for Morgana to save Arthur.

*** 

Arthur sets off for the House of Emrys with a Knight on either side of him and Gwen sitting on the horse behind him. She was there to tell them where to go in order to get to Merlin's home as Arthur had found out when he'd gone to check the maps in the library that apparently every record of the place had been stricken from the record- yet another sign that something was seriously wrong.

Arthur is worried and scared for Merlin Emrys, who is defenseless against whatever his stepmother has planned for him. He can't believe that anyone would stoop to the level of imprisoning their stepson inside their house, as all the signs point to.

***

Nimueh enters his tower cell, and this time she carries no weapons or tools of torture, merely a small smirk. Merlin isn't fooled- he knows that the worst pain that the sorceress can deliver is with her words.

"The Prince has rescheduled the final Ball for tonight, and he has sent out an order for your arrest." She smiles, sickly sweet as if she is about to give him a gift he won't want. "Don't worry, I won't give you up to his Knights. I'll keep you safe from those monstrous villains."

He glares at her, even as his heart sank at her news about Arthur. "They're not villains- they're the defenders of Camelot."

She merely smiles. "They're going to execute you if they find you, Merlin, and we'll keep that from happening. Don't worry- I won't let you out of my sight."

***

As soon as they reached the Emrys Manor, Arthur leaps off his horse and runs up the steps. He doesn't care that this is undignified behavior for a prince- he's too worried and excited to care. Before he can get to the door, though, a young woman steps out of the door, blocking his path. She has raven hair, the same as Merlin, and is wearing a beautiful yet simple dark blue gown, but her eyes are golden amber, glowing softly. She surveys him carefully, eyes raking over his entire appearance. "So you're Merlin's prince. You don't look like much; I can't believe he's willing to go through Nimueh's tortures for you. You know, she has offered multiple times to lessen her 'punishments' in exchange for him giving her information on you- what you like in a person, what you don't- but he's never taken her up on it. No idea why, but I'll help you get to him anyway. You need my help to get through the wards she set uo to guard the house and his cell."

Arthur has no idea how to respond- Nimueh has tortured Merlin, her own stepson? She's a sorceress as well? What other kinds of evil does the woman possess? Well, at least one question has been answered- Nimueh must be the one behind Merlin's scars.

Gwen walks up behind him. "Why do you want to help? I'll welcome anything you can give us, but Merlin's told me that you treated him as a servant for all of his life. Why stop now?"

Morgana smiles, but there is something in her expression that keeps Arthur wary. "Sometimes you have to do what you think is right and damn the consequences. It's taken me awhile to figure that out, but watching Merlin take Nimueh's wrath for love has shown me that. Now come on, I can cover your path through the house with a disillusionment charm but it will only last a little while, an hour at most. Just follow me and I'll take you to him." She turns around, about to go in, but looks over her shoulder before she starts walking. Arthur sees a dangerous glint enter her golden eyes. "You know, Prince Arthur, you don't deserve him. He's the strongest person I know- no one else could have survive what Nimueh is putting him through for as long as he has, even with my help. I'm as magicless as you compared to him, and his spirit is as strong as a god's. Treat him well, Sir Prince, or I will hunt you down and destroy you. He deserves happiness more than anyone in this world."

Then she enters the house, a golden glow surrounding her, and Arthur and his allies follow her in.

Arthur swings open the door at the top of the steps, revealing a dark room with only a tiny window near the top of the wall. The window is encased in dust- the light it shed on the room was dismal at best.

"What?" Comes Emrys'- Merlin's- melodic, beautiful voice, but to Arthur's dismay it is broken, harsher and more cynical, "This isn't the normal time, Nimueh. What, have you decided to ramp up the torture?"

Tears spring to Arthur's eyes as he steps forward into the room. How could someone have done this to his beloved Merlin? How could someone have broken a person so bright and unafraid? "It's me, Merlin. It's Arthur." Suddenly the light from Arthur's torch falls on Merlin, and a gasp escapes Arthur's lips. "What have they done to you, Merlin?"

Merlin stands in front of the wall, his arms pulled up by thick iron chains that lead to cuffs on his wrists. Bleeding wounds cross his shoulders, and a dark liquid drips ominously from his back. He's bare chested, wearing only a pair of trousers, and this showcases his blatant maltreatment and starvation more obviously than ever before.

"By the White Goddess," Merlin whispers, looking up at Arthur. Arthur sees that the icy blue-grey of Merlin's eyes has been replaced by a dangerous gold, and it's not going away like any other sorcerer's would after a spell. Creases of pain line his forehead, and now that Arthur's looking carefully he can see that the muscles on Merlin's arms are taut, straining against the iron cuffs, "This can't be real. You're just another dream, aren't you, Arthur?"

Arthur's heart nearly breaks at the words. Merlin believes him merely a dream, a wishful thought rather than a real rescuer. "No, it's me, Merlin," he says as he walks slowly forward.

Merlin shakes his head. "It can't be. Arthur doesn't even know my name, and even if he somehow found out the truth he couldn't get past Nimueh's wards on his own."

"I didn't, Merlin," Arthur says, kneeling down in front of the warlock, "Morgana helped us in. And I do know your name- I figured it out with a little help from Gwen." He gently cupped Merlin's cheek in his hand, "Oh gods, Merlin, how could I ever have doubted you?"

It looks like Merlin wants to respond, but suddenly Merlin's eyelids flutter and a choking noise escapes his throat. "The iron, Arthur, it's killing me-" He manages to get out before he falls unconscious, his body slumping heavily against the chains.

"Morgana!" Arthur screams to the Seer waiting near the top of the steps, "Help!"

Morgana runs up the stairs and into the room. She immediately sees how the color is draining out of Merlin's skin, being leeched away from his body and toward the iron cuffs encircling his wrists. She swears at herself for not realizing it earlier, quickly withdraws her sword (which she stole from Nimueh's room ages ago as a prank) and slices through Merlin's cuffs. His limp body falls forward and Arthur swiftly jumps forward to catch him, wrapping his thin body with his arms. He quickly unclasps his cloak and tucks it around Merlin, who to Morgana's relief is regaining color in his skin.

"We've got to get him away from here," Arthur says quietly, a hard edge to his voice, and Morgana looks at him, shocked to see a look full of quiet yet unending fury on Arthur's face. Morgana nods and pushes open the door, leading Arthur, who is still holding Merlin, down the stairs to where his two Knights and Gwen are waiting.

A cold fury takes hold of him, stronger than any emotion he's ever felt before (except for maybe his love for Merlin). He will make Nimueh and Morgause pay.