Thanks to everyone who followed and favourited! And especially, I thank from the bottom of my heart everyone who reviewed! I'm sorry I couldn't reply to each one.

Anyway, this chapter turned out too long compared to the others, so I split it. The way I split it (just before a flashback) might seem strange, but that's the only way I could leave both chapters with a decent length. Sorry about that.

Chapter 3

Morgana woke up abruptly, gasping in fear and pain.

Glancing at the little dragon, she sighed in relief when she noticed it was unharmed. She almost had a heart attack when her eyes fell on an unconscious Merlin, but then she remembered everything about the previous day and relaxed.

The last questioning had been particularly unpleasant. Maybe it was the Sarrum's presence, or maybe it was Merlin's — she didn't know why, but her tormentors had been rougher than usual. Of course, thanks to her natural magic — no restraints could keep it from flowing inside her — the wounds would heal too quickly to be healthy, and she would be in a great deal of pain as soon as the healing process started. It was not the first time it happened, and she feared it wouldn't be the last.

However, she realised that it had been Merlin's first torture session — the Sarrum's thugs called them 'questionings', but there was actually more beating than asking. They demanded things, and it didn't matter if the prisoner answered or not, because they would get hurt anyway. If they answered, though, they wouldn't be beaten too harshly. Morgana felt sick at the thought that she had begun to know what to expect from those men.

A noise brought her attention back to Merlin. He was stirring, and by all the trashing she guessed he was either having a nightmare or he was hurt quite badly. The witch almost felt sorry for him. Even though they had been brought to separate chambers to be questioned, she had heard every single one of his screams — like he had hers. The Sarrum's mercenaries had showed more interest in him than her, excited for their new plaything.

(should she feel grateful?)

Well, if the small grunts of discomfort he was letting out were anything to go by, the man in question would indeed awaken soon.

Morgana wasn't surprised when he came to consciousness with a jolt, much like she had done. What they had been through was something bound to scar them forever (and not only physically).

The warlock's eyes travelled in a panicked haze around the well before falling on his nemesis-turned-companion. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then thought better of it, resorting to try and wipe away the dried blood that had come out of his nose with his upper arm — the only part close enough to his face which he could move easily enough with his hands bound over his head.

Morgana didn't know if his powers would heal him as hers would, or at least make up for the lack of food and water. And no, that wasn't worry, just practicality — she didn't want to have to deal with the stench of a corpse in such a small space, thank you very much. She wasn't worried at all (or so she told herself).

The silence was getting annoying, and so she tried to break it. "You know what?" she said suddenly, voice rough from screaming. "If I get out of this, I promise I will never attack Camelot again. I don't care about the throne anymore. I just want to get as far as possible from that wretched place and finally be able to live in peace. If you'll let me, that is."

The former servant's eyebrows disappeared under his hair. "That was... unexpected," he muttered, not knowing if he should cry victory to the heavens or still be wary around the witch. He opted for the second. "Very unexpected. What brought it on?"

She shrugged. "Being imprisoned in here made me realise that I value my freedom and autonomy more than anything else. Anger, bitterness, hatred... they're feeble emotions, born out of fear and pain. Temporary. I spent years trying to take Camelot when I could have focused on so many other things. Like my magic, for example; I haven't sat down and learned a new spell in what feels like forever."

Merlin snorted. "You're not the only one, believe me. Trying to practice magic in Camelot is not only dangerous, but difficult, too. As a servant, I am rarely left alone and if I am, then I spend my free time asleep. It's a tiring job, especially when the queen isn't around to mollify the royal prat."

Despite his words, a small smile had formed upon his face at the thought of his friends. A sudden pang of nostalgia overtook him, and the grimace he wore didn't go unnoticed by Morgana.

"You miss them, don't you?" she asked softly, not unkindly, and her eyes betrayed a longing of her own — Merlin didn't dare voice it aloud, but he thought she missed Camelot as much as him.

"Of course I do. But it doesn't matter — I won't go back there, not after what happened," he explained gravely, blue eyes filling with melancholy.

Morgana instantly knew she had touched a sore spot, but curiosity got the better of her. "Do you feel like telling me?" she asked, knowing that, in spite of their attempted subtlety, there were few things they didn't know about each other by now. But still, sometimes people just wouldn't talk about their inner demons aloud. And Merlin was such a secretive young man — she wouldn't be surprised if he chose to keep silent on the matter.

A beat, and he opened his mouth to answer. "Arthur knows."

It was enough. Morgana instantly knew what he meant, and what it meant for him. Even if he managed to get out of the well, he would be a criminal in Camelot. "You can't go back," she breathed, surprising herself by how much the thought unsettled her. Of course, she could relate with him — Camelot had once been her home, then for a short time it had been her domain, and then it had become a place she couldn't step in lest she be cut down by Arthur's knights.

"How did he find out?" she asked without preambles, too curious to be tactful.

Merlin didn't seem to mind. He let out a sigh, and his dirty hands curled into tight fists. "We were patrolling. Normally, Arthur would have sent a couple knights in his place, but this time I think he needed to get out of the castle — the last couple of months have been quite stressful, and Gwen suggested he leave Camelot. There were rumours about bounty hunters in our territory — as we found out later, they were mercenaries hired by the Sarrum — so I went with him to know more," he explained.

Morgana listened to his tale with wide eyes. Even if it wasn't surprising, she was worried for the mercenaries' closeness to her former home — there were many Druid camps in that territory, and she feared for her kin. Longing to know more, she urged Merlin to continue when he got lost in his memories.

Letting out a long sigh, he resolved to tell her everything. "At first, nothing seemed unusual; we were enjoying the view and the fresh air of the forest, exchanging tales with the knights. The bounty hunters took us by surprise."

TBC.