A/N: Happy Tuesday! I don't have much to say for once so just enjoy.

DISCLAIMER: I'm not even a legal adult yet, of course I don't own Merlin.

Beyond the Solitude

Chapter 3

Arthur is convinced that something very foul is afoot in his city, and he is determined to get to the heart of it. He spends the rest of that day talking to people, trying to gain information without bringing attention to what he is doing. Being the King of Camelot, he has enough sense not to go about simply interrogating people; he is aware that anyone carrying out criminal actions would become more cautious, and it is still a definite possibility that this has been the work of malicious criminals. Because of this, he feels as though it would be too ostentatious to simply go out into the street and ask passing people if they've noticed any disappearances, so he decides to keep his inquiries within the castle, at least for the time being. He begins by bringing it up with some of the other knights who are finishing their afternoon training.

"Gwaine," he says upon finding the other man taking off his armor, "I need to talk to you."

"Back again, are we?" Gwaine replies with a smile. "You were in quite a rush to leave the other day."

"Yes, well, I've been busy," Arthur replies vaguely. "I wanted to ask, what was it you were saying the other morning about Merlin?"

Obviously, this is not what Gwaine was expecting him to say. "What, you mean about his mood recently?"

"Yes."

Gwaine still seems vaguely bemused, but takes it in his stride. "It just seemed to me as though he's been bothered about something lately, I guess. And he seemed a little tired, although that's not particularly new. Didn't stop him from going with me to the tavern when I asked him to the other night. Actually, he doesn't usually go with me unless I make him, but he seemed pretty eager this time. And then I don't think he even drank very much… ended up having to help me get back home, if I remember right. I wasn't too lucid at the time."

Arthur takes this information and turns it over in his head. "Thanks," he says somewhat absentmindedly, before telling the knight to get some rest and leaving, ignoring Gwaine's somewhat confused look at his apparent lack of concern over the drinking.

He wanders the halls, occasionally asking guards if they've seen Merlin recently; none of them have much information, and it's with frustration that he begins to realize how difficult this might actually be. Eventually, he manages to find some passing servants to talk to, and it's one of them that points him towards the kitchens; apparently, Merlin has been spending more time down there than usual, and he decides it's better than nothing to go on.

Upon reaching the busy entryway, Arthur pauses, realizing how unfamiliar he is with this part of the castle and the people who frequent it; other than a few odd servants he recalls from many banquets and dinners with court nobles, he finds that he does not recognize the majority of the castle staff present, a fact which he is slightly ashamed of. Trying to maintain his kingly composure regardless, he begins to make his way farther into the room, playing immune to the sudden decrease in conversation and staring faces surrounding him. The head cook, however, is obviously not immune, and comes trotting over as soon as she feels the change in the room's atmosphere. The stout woman, being somewhat familiar with Arthur, beckons him to follow her away from the crowd and toward a quieter side of the extensive kitchen where only a few people are working. Attempting yet again to seem like the king he is despite the strangeness of his errand, he proceeds to inquire as to when she last saw Merlin.

"The boy?" she repeats. "I'm not sure. He seems to be here all the time lately, but I haven't seen him since… oh, it must have been two days ago, in the morning. Does that sound right, Minna?" She turns to confirm with a nearby kitchen servant, a young woman who is wiping a bowl clean with a cloth. The girl, Minna, jumps and looks up very suddenly with something close to panic on her face, startled at being addressed as her face turns red.

"Y-yeah, I, um, I guess so. I, I mean, um, yes, could've been. I think." Looking vaguely sick, she excuses herself, drops the bowl, and leaves. The cook, noticing Arthur's taken aback look, shakes her head and apologizes.

"Some of these young people seem to get a bad case of nerves whenever there's royalty around, and Minna hasn't been feeling right lately as it is. Don't let it get to you."

Arthur nods, still somewhat bemused, and asks a few more questions. The cook, however, is usually too busy to pay much attention to what everyone around her is doing, so she doesn't know much else about what Merlin has been up to. Feeling disappointed that his one possible lead hasn't helped much, he thanks the cook and leaves, still ignoring the stares he can feel on his back and the hushed whispers barely within hearing as he leaves.

Returning to his chambers that evening, Arthur dejectedly sits at his desk, remembering how only a few days ago he was sitting right here talking to Merlin, just like usual with nothing out of place. Well, almost nothing. Arthur refuses to allow himself to wonder if it was his fault that Merlin's gone, that he should have talked to the manservant earlier and maybe avoided this whole awful situation. Just thinking about it gives him a slightly sick taste in his mouth; anything could have happened to Merlin, and he's just sitting here being useless, giving up after talking to only a few people. He should be going back out, finding new people to talk to, searching for more clues. The trouble is, he feels like he's hit a dead end, and he doesn't know where else to look.

He decides to take account of what he knows. Merlin seems to have vanished, after he was supposedly 'investigating' something, something that involves missing people. The only lead he's gotten is that Merlin has been spending some extra time in the kitchens, a fact which two people have now testified to. Well, Arthur thinks, three, if you count that kitchen girl, but she was so flustered that it's hard to tell if she meant what she said or was just agreeing from pressure of being put on the spot. Arthur sighs inwardly; he has to admit to himself that it's rather upsetting to see people reacting so badly to his presence. He doesn't remember getting quite as bad a reception when he was prince, so why should it be any different just because he's king? Sighing again, he tries to turn his thoughts back to the problem of Merlin instead of his own; but still, the way that girl had seemed so terrified is stuck in his mind. It was incredibly disconcerting. She had seemed so terrified; he has to wonder, does his mere presence really have that kind of effect on people? But it was more than that, he realizes. Something about her answer seemed off to him, something about it is bothering him more than as a personal matter. Something about… her…

And then it occurs to him very abruptly.

Is it possible…?

For the second time in two days, Arthur leaps out of his seat and rushes out the door of his chambers, barely waiting long enough to close it again before he's striding down the hallway, back the way he just came.

Merlin stumbles yet again, tripping over a bare root sticking out of the ground. The man holding his rope, one of the guards from earlier, turns to glare as he attempts to regain his balance, leaning briefly on a tree to support his body. His hands are still tied, making it difficult to keep up without falling, but he doesn't mind this too much considering he wants the excuse to grab on to nearby boulders and branches. Every few minutes, he curls up the fingers of one hand to press against the new cut he made on his palm; he does his best to insure it remains open and wet without causing him too much blood loss, a task which also is handy for distraction, something of which he is currently in desperate need of.

It's not the pain he's feeling, nor worry for where they're going that he wants to be distracted from, but rather the thoughts of his friends. It's the slowly diminishing triumph in his chest, the confidence that he will be found and rescued by Arthur or the knights and his clue will help lead them. He had thought his clue fairly useful and clever at the time, considering how little he had to work with, and for a while he had been brimming with faith that Arthur, or anyone searching, would eventually be led to him. He had been full of expectancy, though he knew it was foolish, watching for signs of anyone coming nearby, some sort of knight or search party making a grand entrance and helping fight these men at any minute. But alas, after two full days (or so he thinks, depending on how long he was unconscious), there is no sign that anyone is nearby, forget about preparing to ambush. Too soon, he tells himself, just be patient and they will eventually find you. His confidence in Arthur, however, began dwindling after a few hours of walking through dense, uncharted forest areas, and he is becoming worried. What if they didn't find the clue? What if they didn't even make it to the campsite? What if they don't find me? He clings on to his remaining hope as best he can, and in the meantime he concentrates on making himself trip just the right amount, so it won't be apparent that he's faking many of his falls.

Eventually they arrive at the camp, and Merlin has a moment to take in everything he can about the place before he is roughly dragged away with the other two women to, yet again, a holding area somewhat separated from the rest of the camp. This one, however, seems a bit more permanent and has some sort of cages, looking like large crates made from a combination of wooden panels, branches, and metal bars. He briefly sees a few other people in other cages before he is thrown into one himself. He hears the young girl who arrived with him shrieking, before she is slapped and throw into a cage a few meters away, while the older woman is put in one next to his. They seem to be have been made purposefully small, as though the architect intended for them to make movement difficult; Merlin can barely stand once inside, and finds that he cannot fully stretch his arms out. The men who were leading them latch the doors and leave altogether, surprising Merlin; apparently they trust these cages enough that they don't feel the need for a constant guard.

Once the men are all out of range, Merlin turns and tries to look at the other people who share his predicament in the quickly diminishing daylight. Besides the two who came with him, he sees another even younger girl, an old man, and a young boy. He calls out softly to the boy, whose cage happens to be within a few feet of his own, until the boy notices and lifts his head cautiously to look.

"Aron?" Merlin asks softly, not wanting to attract unnecessary attention from their captors. Seeing the boy tense slightly upon hearing the name but give no other reaction, Merlin continues. "You're Aron, aren't you?"

After a moment, he warily nods, but still makes no verbal reply.

"Are you alright?"

The boys seems slightly taken aback at this question, and it's another moment before he hesitantly nods his head.

"I… I'm sorry," he says in a very small, hoarse voice, "do I know you?"

Merlin gives him a small smile. "I'm here to rescue you." At the completely blank look upon Aron's face, Merlin clarifies. "Well, I was supposed to help rescue you, but as you can see, that didn't go too well. I started trying to find you when-"

At this point, Merlin cuts off, hearing one of the other prisoners shush him quickly. Two men are making their way over, and Merlin watches as the young girls shrink away from the front of the cages. The men, however, only seem interested in one particular person. As they come up to his cage, Merlin recognizes one as his previous guard, but the other is unfamiliar; he does, however, have an air of importance about him, something about the way he walks, that exudes confidence. They tower above the cages, the stranger staring at Merlin while the other murmurs to him.

"This is 'im. We wasn't sure, so we decided to just bring 'im here."

The stranger merely nods, still staring at Merlin, who stares right back, undaunted. After a moment, the stranger simply turns and begins to walk back, the other man immediately following behind. Once they're gone, Merlin turns back to continue talking to Aron, only to find that the boy is curled up and hugging his knees, his eyes wide with fear.

"Aron…?" Merlin calls out softly, watching as the boy turns again to look at him, the fear only somewhat diminishing. "How long have you been here?"

The boy swallows before answering quietly. "Almost a week."

Merlin just watches him sadly as Aron takes a deep breath. He can't be more than nine or ten years old judging by his looks, and this must be quite a terrifying ordeal for him. "Listen," Merlin tells him, "you will make it out of here, safely. I promise. Even this very moment, I'm sure there are people looking for you, people who are smarter than me and won't get caught. People from Camelot. Maybe even knights, if we're lucky, although some of them are even more stupid than me."

This coaxes a small smile out of the boy, but it falls again almost immediately. "How do you know? No one has come yet."

"I came," Merlin reminds him. "I admit it wasn't how I expected, but I found you, didn't I? And I know they'll come because I know them. Who knows, maybe even the king himself will come."

Aron snorts at such a crazy idea, but he is noticeably feeling better, with the fear being slowly replaced by a tentative hope. He smiles briefly, before lying down to sleep for the night. Merlin copies him, his confident smile falling into a weary face as he turns away. If only it were so easy to convince himself, he thinks bitterly.

A/N: And so the plot thickens! ...Slightly. And I leave you with another somewhat-dramatic cliffhanger and your own speculations. The next chapter should be posted same time next week. As ever, thanks a million for reading!

- SwitzD