Just finished the sequel to Mine. About time too. :)

Thanks goes to Bailieboro for the beta!

Prequel.

Warnings: mild strangulation

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The cell is dark, a damp, depressing atmosphere to match Merlin's mood perfectly.

He had thought Arthur knew him better than that. The Prince should have known that Merlin wasn't evil. Then again, nothing that had happened in the last twelve hours should have happened.

The warlock should have been able to protect the royal family without magic, to protect his mother who had come to visit him. He should have found a way. Then, everything should have returned to normal.

But, nothing that should have happened occurred that day.

Instead, Merlin found himself watching from behind bars, the light from the torches, play on the walls in the dungeon. As he waited, for the Prince to descend the stairs, for his friend, to help him break out of this cell, this castle, and Camelot.

He had taken pity on Modred, a small boy whom he barely knew. Why should Arthur do anything less for a well known friend?

But, nothing was going the way it should.

As the minutes passed, Merlin's conviction that Arthur wasn't coming for him grew more certain, the awful feeling of hurt and betrayal sinking into the pit of his stomach before finally puncturing his heart. His thoughts gradually grew darker, and once the moon lifted high into the sky, the warlock realized that he couldn't wait for his once close friend, anymore.

He would have to be his own knight in shinning armor.

Merlin would have to depend on himself. Why had he ever expected anything less from a brainwashed, spoiled man?

The mage closed his eyes briefly, listening as the door to his cell was opened. The click of boots but not Arthur's, entered his hell.

With a quick opening of his eyes, and a flash of gold, the man standing outside the door is shot back against the wall. Merlin rushes out, running past him, towards the door to his freedom.

Only, it is not freedom which he finds on the other side.

In its place, stand four men with a rope which the warlock suddenly finds around his neck. With a quick yank, he is pulled to the ground, his thoughts dizzy and slow when his raven-haired head hits the hard stone floor.

"Remember what the Prince said. Be gentle with him!"

Words and a chuckle are heard as blackness begins to envelop the corners of his vision. He can hear laughter, and what sounds like a heavy purse of coins being tossed to one of the men.

The world finally goes dark as he feels his body being hauled into a carriage. Something cold is slipped around his neck, and the wooden box takes off as it carries the young warlock out of Camelot's gates and into a long, unshakable nightmare.

Merlin has magic. Magic is evil.

The realization pierces Arthur's mind like a knife. He watches from the window as the carriage takes his former manservant outside of the capital and into safety. He drums his fingers lightly against the window sill, nerves on end and mind racing.

Merlin has magic. Is he evil?

'No!' he reminds himself, fingers drumming at an increasing speed. No matter what the prince had been taught all his life, he could not replace the image of a grinning, cheerful manservant with that of an evil sorcerer.

Magic may be the depths of corruption and wrong, but Merlin could never be either of those.

Satisfied with his answer, he waits until the last of the carriage disappears into the night beyond Camelot's walls before he leaves for bed, ignorant to the fate he gifted his friend.

Magic, unbeknown to Prince Arthur, pales in comparison to the corruption and greed war and money can achieve.