Chapter Text
Merlin woke up, and found himself lying face down on the floor in a small stygian cell. The smell of dirt, manure and stale urine permeated his senses and he found himself shooting up to a sitting position, almost gagging on the scent. As he shot up, white sparks danced across his vision, causing a flare of dizziness that made his head throb. He closed his eyes and waited for the pain to pass, and then slowly opened them. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the cell, his other senses started to flood in. He could feel the damp stone beneath his hands, his fingers brushing over the damp patches of mold that covered the slick tiles. Merlin strained his ears, but could only hear the faint trickle of water coming from the furthest wall.
Drip.
Drip.
Dip.
As his vision cleared, he could discern no notable light sources, except for a tiny slit in the door where a weak beam of candlelight was trickling through. The room was surrounded by three oppressive stone walls, whilst the fourth had a large iron door built into it. There was nothing else in the cell. He wasn’t even shackled, nothing to keep him contained. Did the guards of this place really not consider him a threat? Merlin was getting the eerie sense of dread that this was not the first time he had been confined to a dungeon.
Perplexed, he put his hand to his head to rub it, and found there was a patch of dried blood on the back of it. Well that was even more concerning. How had that happened? He tried to think back about what happened, but couldn’t remember a thing. His head felt like it was full of thick linen balls, too congealed and full of fluff. Merlin felt the panic rise up in his chest, and a million questions bubbled to the surface of his mind.
Why was he here?
What had happened?
Where was he?
And even more concernedly, who was he?
Past remembering that his name was Merlin, he was pulling a complete blank about anything else correlating to himself. Was he a stranger in someone else’s body? Trying to swallow some of the panic down, he tried to take slow deep breaths. He looked down at his body, and found that he was wearing a thick cotton shirt and trousers, as well as a sturdy leather jacket and boots. A neckerchief scarf that was slowly fraying around the edges was tied loosely to his neck.
He took it off and examined it. It seemed well made, despite the wear that was evident in it. A well loved piece of clothing then. And why was he wearing it? Did this belong to him, or maybe perhaps a lover? What did this signal about him? The clothes themselves didn’t look like he was some nobility, but more rather a laborer, judging by the hardy, practical nature of the attire.
He decided to put the scarf back on for now.
His next move would be to figure out how to leave the cell. That is, if he could will his body to stand. Surely the guards would be here for him soon, especially if they could hear him moving about in his shadowy prison. Merlin had the faintest feeling that somebody was watching him, but as he strained his ears once more, he could still only hear the faint, slow drip of the water on the wall.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
There were no other sounds in the eerily silent dungeon.
He put his hands on the floor and slowly crawled towards the looming iron door. Merlin’s body felt heavy and over-encumbered with every movement, like it had not been used in quite a long time. Alongside the pounding in his head, the soreness in his muscles and the pain lactating his stomach, it was like he had been run over by a horse with how wrecked he felt. A growing sense of urgency however was growing in the back of his mind, the need to leave. Logically, that would be what any sane person would think in this situation, but an erratic part of Merlin was screaming at him to leave NOW.
With weakened hands, he slowly used the wall to stand up. His breath came in quick pants, as a wave of nausea threatened to rise up from his stomach. Gritting his teeth, Merlin leant against the wall, his forehead pressed against the coolness of the stone. After an embarrassing long time, the nausea and pounded finally eased up slightly, and he pushed off slowly against the wall.
Thankfully the world seemed to stabilise around him. Before attempting to open the door, he slowly tested each limb, making sure that he had full control of each one. Despite his muscles protesting in dull pain, nothing seemed to be broken. Slowly, he ventured towards the overly imposing iron door, which as his eyes had adjusted to the dimness, he could see was covered in various scratches along the outer rim. As Merlin got closer, he could see that they weren’t random, but rather etched into various swirls and patterns. Frustratingly, they looked annoyingly familiar to something he had seen before, but with his head still feeling foggy, he couldn’t figure out what they were.
To his surprise, after giving the door a small push, it swung open with relative ease. He poked his head out tentatively, but the gloomy corridor leading away from his cell was almost as dark as the room he was in, only lit by a few torches interspacially placed. Merlin glanced at the closest one, and saw it was almost a stump. How long had he been down here for? He strained his ears, trying to make out any signs of life. However… nothing. This unnerved him. After a few minutes of silence, he stepped through the iron door into the connecting hallway. Merlin kept his hand to the stone hewn wall and began to slowly follow it along. It was a long and arduous walk, and he stumbled several times upon the uneven floor, barely being able to make out the area in front of him.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
After what seemed like an eternity, he reached the bottom of a staircase. By this point, the pounding in his head had lulled to a low ebbing throb. He was acutely aware of how thirsty he had become, his throat becoming more parched by the minute. And there was a chill dampness from the air that permeated into his very being. He hadn’t felt it initially, but as his body had gotten used to the aching pain from the cell, the frigid temperature had become a lot more noticeable. Although he was wearing thick clothes, they did nothing to protect against the cold slowly seeping into his bones.
A movement in the corner of his eye caught Merlin’s attention. He turned, trying to spot what had moved. But there was nothing in the dim hallway behind him. However as he was about to turn back, he noticed that the door to his cell had closed. When did that happen? He hadn’t heard the door shut, the silence had been his only companion. Unnerved by this, a spike of anxiety shot through his chest. He had to get out.
Merlin squinted his eyes, peering up at the towering staircase. It twisted away in a dizzying spiral, meaning that he couldn’t see how far underground he was. Each step seemed dauntingly high, his calf muscles had strained in protest at his slow hobble down the corridor. However, he couldn’t stay down in the dungeons forever. He couldn’t tell whether he would die from frostbite or dehydration first, and he wasn’t willing to find out.
With much exertion, he lifted his right leg and shifted his weight onto the first step. Then his left leg onto the step. And then his right leg again on the third.
On and on the steps went.
Around and around.
Minutes seemed to stretch into hours, with how laboriously slow the ascent of the stairs were.
One foot after the other.
Up and up.
Around and around.
Finally, after what seemed like a millennium of climbing, the stairs petered out into a wide hallway. Merlin sagged with relief, sliding down to the floor in an effort to catch his breath, his lungs almost burning from the climb. The headache still pounded at the back of his skull, but the exhaustion of exercise on his weak body had somewhat taken the edge of the chill in his bones.
His mind wandered once more to the predicament that he was in. His memories were still clouded over with a hazy fog, and he clicked his tongue with mild annoyance that nothing had surfaced in the long walk from the cell to the top of the stairs. The only thing that he could thank his lucky stars for, was the fact that this place seemed utterly abandoned. Aside from the sound of his own heavy breathing, he had heard nothing stir within the confines of this place. Well, at least he thought that was lucky.
And that stoked another chilling question. Why would someone go to the effort of placing himself in the dungeon, beaten and bruised, but not kill him outright. There weren't even any guards placed to monitor him. Or moreover, why were there no guards to detain him?
The question unnerved him, more than he cared to admit.
As he sat, sagged onto the floor, the fogginess of his mind overtook him, and Merlin felt himself sliding into oblivion.
/
Waking up a second time on a stone floor was just as unpleasant as the first time, but at least his mind didn’t feel as clouded as before. As he sat up from his uncomfortable position from the floor, he felt his limbs responding to him more quickly than before. That was a good sign at least.
Sighing softly, he stood up once more and slowly began to trudge down the corridor once more, feeling less like a newborn foal walking for the first time, and more like a lame horse. It was still a struggle to walk, but at least he could walk.
Once again, as he began his slow escape, he was struck by how desolate the castle was. Surely in a place this big, they wouldn’t leave it abandoned. It made no sense to him. He passed by rooms that had large wooden doors. Merlin didn’t care to look inside, he just wanted to leave this place as quickly as he could. At several points, he felt a prickle on the back of his neck, as if he was being watched. Every time this happened Merlin turned, but saw nothing behind him in the dark passageway. Merlin could only fruitlessly attempt to speed up his pace.
Judging by the low light permeating the hallway, he guessed that it was early morning, with the sun not quite risen yet. There were no windows, the only light leaking out was from underneath the doors. However at the end of the corridor, was another set of broad wooden doors, with one of them left slightly ajar.
As he reached and pushed through it, the corridor led out into a massive hall, almost cavernous in size. The first thing that struck him was the floor, an ethereal white marble that almost seemed to glow in the gloom. As Merlin shuffled more slowly into the empyrean chamber, upon closer inspection of the floor, he noticed it had various suspiciously dark brown stains splattered across the surface, facing the doorway. To his horror, Merlin thought he could smell a faint metallic tinge in the air, and almost stumbled backwards in shock. However, he quickly composed himself, and turned to look around the rest of the room.
There were no walls, or rather, the room was covered floor to ceiling in immense, glittering, stained glass windows, with each panel intersected by towering stone pillars. Yet as he wandered over, he could see each pillar was cracked in some way, and the beautiful stained glass windows were missing chunks due to various sections being shattered. As Merlin glanced upwards, he could see that the highly arched ceiling was intricately decorated in ornate swirling paintings. He squinted trying to make sense of the artistry, but the faint morning light, as well as the thumping headache at the back of his skull, made it hard to try and bother deciphering what it was.
The most terrifying feature in the darkened hall however, was the large marble altar that lay in the middle. It had been sunken slightly into the floor. Most of the dried blood stains were around the foot of the stone table. Burnt out candle stubs were melted onto the floor’s surface. Even more notably, were the four iron shackles that had been left haphazardly on the top. Merlin felt a spike of horror through his heart at what lay in front of him, swallowing down the bile that was threatening to come out of his throat. He lingered by the windows, the eerie sense of dread rooting him to the spot. Whatever had happened on that altar, it had been horrific. Death hung in the air here. Yet, even as his body wanted to flee this place as soon as possible, a small part of him wanted to look closer at the altar, to see if he could discern any clues to his amnesia.
Merlin loitered, unable to make a decision. The silence was deafening to his ears. The cold was biting at his body. There was some innate thing inside of him that was repulsed by the altar.
Yet…
His morbid curiosity eventually won out. As he edged closer to the center of the hall, he could again see the swirling marks etched on the side of the altar, similar to the ones that were scratched into the iron door to his cell. He brushed his fingers lightly over the surface, and felt a small static shock from the stone surface, a flash of white seared across his vision. He pulled his hand away quickly. He continued to slowly circle around the table. The dried blood was splattered everywhere except for the surface of the altar.
A low moan broke the silence that was blanketing the hall. Merlin shot around, trying to see where the source of the disturbance had come from. However he was alone in the cavernous hall. Or so he thought. Merlin felt the fear prickle in his chest. As he had looked back at the way he had come, both of the wooden doors that led to the dungeons were swung wide open. Merlin knew that he had only left one of them open.
That was enough for him.
Merlin bolted towards one of the shattered windows, where he barrelled straight out into the castle grounds. He needed to be away from this castle as soon as he physically could. However, the sudden movement had caused him yet another shower of stars to rain over his vision, and he came to a stop, having to bend over to stop himself retching the bile that was threatening to come up.
As his vision cleared, he realised that the stars had been replaced with a light snowfall. Large, lazy tufts floated down from the sky above. The stark contrast from the inky darkness from the depths of stygian cells, to the dazzling snowscape of the castle grounds caused his head to throb once more. However he steeled himself, taking in slow breaths. Though he might be outside, he was not out of danger just yet. He needed to find another human. The pervasive emptiness of the castle had left him disturbed to the core.
Glancing around, Merlin saw that he was in some sort of courtyard, the snow blanketed the ground and the surrounding structure. Spotting a fence in the wall, he began to head towards it. As he walked, he left deep footprints in his wake. There were no other footprints. In a place that should have been teeming with courtly life, a central hub of activities, there was only loneliness.
To his small mercy, as he reached the fence, he noticed a guardsroom had been built into the wall. Merlin nervously peered his head in, and was rewarded with his first signs of human life. Leather armour and cloaks were hung up on various racks around the room, muddied boots were lined up against one wall, and there were several swords stacked in a crate. Not wanting to stay in the keep any longer than he had too, Merlin grabbed the closest cape he could see, buckling it to himself before heading out once more onto the snowy grounds.
The fence led out a large drawbridge, which to Merlin’s relief, opened out into a large expansive snow-cloaked forest. A lone crow that had been sitting on the chain of the drawbridge, darted seeing him walk onto it. The sudden movement made him jump, but he was happy to see some sign of life at long last.
/
Merlin trudged through the snow, trying to ignore the damp chill that was slowly seeping into his bones. He had been wandering the forest for nearly half a day, with no end to looming woodland in sight. Thankfully the snow had stopped falling, which had blanketed the ground and trees in a pristine white layer. Any other day, Merlin would have marveled at the crystalline snowscape that surrounded him, but right now fear was once more beginning to set in. He was utterly lost in the forest, and the sun was beginning to begin its gentle descent across the sky. Night was going to fall soon and if he didn’t find shelter soon, there was a very real chance that he was going to freeze to death. Not to mention the hunger that was gnawing in the base of his stomach; the meager amount of berries that he had scrounged for breakfast had long since burnt off.
He scanned the landscape around him, but there was only the endless expanse of trees in front of him. Merlin had slowly been tracking the sun all day, figuring that if he headed in a northern direction, eventually he had to find some sign of human life, maybe a village, or a larger town if he was lucky. Though at this point he’d settle for a cave to try and escape the endless snow.
He was grateful for the thick fur lined cape that he had found upon leaving the keep, but even the base of it was beginning to weigh him down, as the snow slowly had started to soak through the bottom.
On and on he trudged.
The sun sunk lower and lower, blazing the sky with streaks of orange and rose pink tints, basking the forest in a golden glow. Merlin couldn’t help but be awestruck at the cacophony of colours filling the sky. He was so distracted that he almost missed the path of hoof prints on the ground in front of him. His mind still felt muddled, and he did a double take, just to check what he had almost walked past.
The tracks were too large to be made by a wild deer, and they seemed to follow a path which had been obscured by the snow. Sighing in relief, Merlin veered off to his right and began to follow, picking up his pace in order to cover as much distance as he could, before night truly fell.
After about another twenty minutes of scurrying through the snow, he was rewarded with the faint glow of human life in the distance. As he walked towards it, the trees began to thin out, and the snow had churned into muddy slush. Getting closer towards the settlement, he could see that various hay thatched cottages lined the outside, interspersed with several small barns. Merlin prowled around the outside of the village until he saw one such barn that had its door left slightly ajar.
He slipped inside, taking stock of the rows of stalls that contained horses of various sizes. The stable was dark, only illuminated by the thin shafts of moonlight that cracked between the wooden slats. Merlin walked down the aisle, checking each stall until he found one that was empty. Too exhausted to check whether it was clean or not, he flopped down on the hay, and was asleep before he knew it.