A/N: I'm on a roll now, but from now on I probably won't update so fast… Once every other day or so. Thanks so much for all the reviews!


"Arrest him."

The sorcerer does not look surprised, though he is being arrested, and you can see that he expected it. Even at this moment, as guards flank him and hold him roughly, he cannot blame the blond man. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like hell to be treated like this. The guards hold his arms back, making his shoulder ache and his chest thrust forward. His breathing is heavy and irregular, and it isn't just from his recent excursion. The magic-user is meeting the gaze of the royal, his own eyes filled with tears but his face smooth and expressionless. He doesn't move.

(You've seen the power in the sorcerer's eyes. You know he can escape. He knows it. The prince may know it. But if he does that, he may have to hurt the prince. And so the sorcerer stands utterly still. He is losing what may be his only chance to escape. And he knows that, too.)


"Arrest him."

The prince said the words, but he didn't mean them. He's said them before, but he never means them. He wants to shout something else; he wants to tell the sorcerer to run, to escape. If not for the guards all about, crawling through the forest like worms in the soil, he would have done it—or would he? Being loyal to Camelot is what he does best, and he's always strived towards peace there. He is loyal to tell the guards to arrest the sorcerer. But now the guards have him, and in his heart, the prince wants them just to let go. Now the guards are holding the thin man, and the thin man is looking at him, and it hurts to see the tears in his eyes, now totally blue. The prince, though, refuses to let it show, and so you can't know.

He is being loyal. But it feels as though he is the worst of scoundrels.