His Name: MERLIN

1: Beginning

I know this is shocking, but I don't own Merlin, it's characters, or BBC.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  All I can taste is sweat and blood, my arms suspended from chains. What's it been now, 2 days, or was it 3?
  "Well Merlin? Tell me, where does the new KING-" Morgana practically spits the word, "keep the key to the treasury? It's a simple question, and we both know how much you like to prattle on and on." She gives an evil grin as she nods to her brute who brings the whip down again.
  "You know," I barely recognize my own voice. It's raspy from the lack of water, and the agonized screams she's gotten out of me haven't helped either. "I used to love our talks before you became a murderous psychopath."
  Morgana hisses at me like some sort of demented snake, and the whip is brought down again. I close my eyes as a yell beaks free of my cracked lips, and it takes all my willpower not to send her flying with a spell. It would be so easy...No! I can't. If she finds out who I am it will endanger everything I've worked for. Arthur will be in danger. Albion will be in danger. I must allow her to think I'm the worthless and clumsy servant they assume. I can't risk it. It's not time yet. Not yet.
  Another crack of the whip and I taste more salt now. Sweat? No, I realize, tears. I'm not sure when I started crying, but as my knees buckle I'm left hanging from the unforgiving steel shackles around my wrists. I wipe my face on the tattered remnants of my blue shirt, trying to stay strong. I need to stay strong. I need to focus. It doesn't matter that the world is spinning. It doesn't matter that my body feels like everything is broken. It doesn't matter that she's talking. Oh! She's talking.
  "You seem keen on dying, Merlin," she says coldly. I have to blink a few times to focus on her, and I realize after a few seconds what she's saying. I can feel blood running down my back, down my face, and now down my arms as the shackles cut in deeper.
  "No. Not- not on dying," I pant. "On loyalty. To the TRUE heir to the throne." I barely finish the words before I suddenly feel her fingers at my throat, nails digging sharply into my neck. I can't breathe. The world is going black when she releases me, and I can barely hear her as I cough and suck in fresh air.
  "Fine! Then stay true." She puts one hand over my eyes and begins chanting in the old religion. I catch a few words, "call upon", "vision", and then the final phrase which she repeats twice: "let his sight be mine, let his sight be mine". I feel a wave of powerful magical energy strike my face hard and everything goes black.