Hey there. Once again thank you! For everyone who had read. Oh my god, writing a one shot is a lot easier than writing a story with multiple chapters (yeah yeah I know that's obvious :D). The stubborn words will not arrange themselves to form the story I want. But finally as the queen of this fic I was able to put them in order.

Disclaimer: Nope, I still don't own Merlin

Hope you enjoy…


Middle of the night

(after Arthur has finished thinking about the past - PRESENT)

It was late and nearing midnight. Arthur rose from the chair he had occupied, fully dressed. He had spent most of the night there. Sleep was out of the question, he knew that. So he had not tried to sleep. As he glanced around the room, a sense of purpose stirred within him.

He had something to do. They did not know everything. He had yet to hear the truth. And what he wanted, he got. He was positive. He would see the sorcerer in front of him. On his knees, shattered.

His face was set with determination; he had one more task at hand.

With quick strides Arthur walked out of his room.


(PRESENT)

His hands were bleeding. The shackles were bound too tight, restricting the slightest movement. The guards were not merciful. They had thrown him in unceremoniously. But for once he had not complained. He was unusually quiet. Arthur would have been happy to see him that way. He always complained about his mindless chatter.

Then it all came back. With vivid clarity he saw Arthur's face, twisted with hate and rage, condemn him.

Overnight Arthur had changed, from friend to king and finally to foe. Because of one secret.

He sat down on the floor. The ground was hard and cold. He looked back at his bleeding hands. They were bound in strong metal bands. As he looked closely he saw that there were strange markings on them. A language that he did not understand.

It was meant to restrict his magic, he understood. A small laugh escaped from his lips. As if that was even possible.

He had not complained when they had dragged him away.

He had not defended himself as Arthur accused him of sorcery.

That did not mean he would stay here. He had to get out.

Opening the lock had not been that hard. A metal rod lying on the floor was suitable. With some persuasion, it acted as the key. Dark eyes watched patiently as one by one the guards fell asleep, weary from the day's work.

Quietly he slipped out.

The passage was dark and the night was silent. He had snuck out of the castle many times, but now uneasiness settled within him, he was afraid.

And he should be.

He had almost reached the end of the passage away from the visible and audible range of the guards and his heartbeat started to calm down from its furious pounding to a steady beat. When he suddenly stiffened.

He sensed danger. The passage was dark as the night itself, revealing nothing. He paused for a moment. A slight footstep to his right, accompanied by the quiet sound of steel on steel was the only warning he got.

The tip of the unsheathed sword touched his back. The sharp blade cutting through his clothes and drawing blood.

But the worst was yet to come.

This he would have tolerated, this he could have fought through. He would have endured being held at sword point a thousand times, if he could have avoided the rest. If the sword did not belong to him. If only it had been someone else.

Cutting through the deathly silence of the night, a voice spoke.

"Going somewhere?" The tone was low and dangerous, daring him to answer.

It was Arthur.

Holding the sword aloft Arthur came into view. His face half in the shadows. But the emotion there was clear. It was pure anger.

Unable to do anything else, he suddenly sprinted away, pushing Arthur roughly out of the way. Driven purely by the panic in his mind. But even as he ran he knew there was no point. A flying figure came through the air and slammed into him knocking him to the ground.

A strong hand curled around his throat, applying pressure.

He panicked as he felt Arthur slowly strangle him. He gasped struggling for air. It never came. Mustering all the energy he had, he brought his fist as hard as he could into Arthur's jaw. The pressure at his throat disappeared. The face of Arthur Pendragon loomed before him as Arthur stood up.

Arthur did not flinch. He looked down at the terrified eyes before him. His eyes darker than the night. Then he swung his sword. It travelled in a dangerous arc and sliced neatly through the skin.

He had not expected this. He watched helplessly as Arthur swung his sword. The steel slashed through the air and cut through his cheek. A deep gash appeared. Blood spilled freely. Horrorstruck he watched numbly as they decorated the floor like a thousand rubies.

It was then that he felt it. A searing pain travelled through the side of his face, making him dizzy. His eyes lost focus. The walls tilted around him threateningly as he struggled to stay upright. He could not see anything through the red haze in his eyes. Fear in his heart. He waited for the next swing that would end his life.

It never came.

He felt rough hands grab his shirt and drag him back. His bloodied hands slithered through the floor. He winced as the uneven rock sliced through them. Intensifying his pain.

Arthur did not care. He threw open the door of the cell and hauled in the prisoner.

He crashed into the wall with terrifying force. Another sickening pain erupted from the back of his head. And he lay there barely conscious. He heard a sound. He felt rough hands grabbing his wrists. Then with a sudden click, the iron grip around them disappeared.

Everything was dark, and the night was once again silent. He tethered on the edge of consciousness and hoped Arthur had finally left.

He was wrong.

He felt someone leaning towards him. And he gasped as an iron grip secured around his already bruised shoulder, holding him in place. He wanted this to end. He wanted to be free of the pain.

A low, cold, menacing voice delivered its last warning.

"Don't you dare try thing again." The words were spoken slowly, each word emphasized.

"Or else your friend will pay" Arthur waited for the words to make their mark.

"even more." He finished.

As the words hit him, He felt as if he was hurling down a bottomless pit. Falling helplessly. The pain of his injuries vanished. Ice shackles restrained his heart, constricting him from within as he comprehended what Arthur meant.

A single thought echoed through his mind.

Arthur knew!

This was all a game and he was a pawn. A cruel game where Arthur held the ropes of their lives. Soon he would cut them loose.

He thought he was the only one to be punished; he thought Arthur would at least have the mercy to limit the suffering. He was wrong, completely wrong.

And it all went black.


Arthur stood up, holding the shackles in his hands. Before him the prisoner finally succumbed to unconsciousness. The wound in his cheek was still bleeding. His body decorated with bruises.

He left the cell. Casting a look of contempt at the still snoring guards, he locked it.

And without a backward glance at his friend, he walked back to his chambers.

This was just the beginning. The sorcerer will be punished. Severely.


A/N

ooohhhhh Arthur is getting darker and darker and the plot thickens. So what do you think? Any ideas about where this is going to go? Leave a review and let's see whether you could read my mind ;D

- Xylie -