A/N: Well, here we go. I give you the longest chapter yet, clocking in at over 6,000 words :) Most of which were written yesterday so that I would only have to proofread today (since my sister and I spent the night watching Anime since she had to work yesterday. That being said, anime fans, go watch Durarara. It's amazing and has become one of my favorite shows ever! *end shameless plug*).
And hurray! I might actually get more than 4 hours of sleep tonight :) Still not a lot, but it's an improvement.

Title: Of Twisted Morals and Human Weaponry
Author: BeyondTheStorm
Rating: T for...well, a lot of things. Some language, some violence, the whole general situation, a bit of torture, etc.
Characters/pairings: The cast is as follows: Merlin, Arthur, an antagonist, two guards with names, and a few without. Merlin and Arthur are the main focus of this story. Oh, and no pairings. Only friendship here, though if you want to read more into it, feel free. Whatever floats your boat :)
Spoilers: Um...none, as far as I know.
Warnings: Abuse, a bit of torture, me being descriptive
What to expect: Bromance, introspection, angst, some whump, H/C, lots of drama, lots of worrying...oh, and some magic. Can't forget the magic :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin :)

Not much to say this time, just that I hope you enjoy :) This is the chapter that many have been asking for, after all :)


CHAPTER 9

The castle was silent under the cover of darkness, the only sounds being the occasional echo of footsteps through the corridors from the patrolling guards. Most of the castle's residents and staff had turned in for the night, including its master, which left those who were still up far more at ease than they often were during the day. It was much easier to talk and move about without their tyrant of a lord breathing down their necks or listening in to their conversations. Therefore, it was the perfect opportunity for a plan to slowly be put into motion.

As he made his way through the halls, lit only by torchlight, Rordan made no effort to hide himself from the patrols as he walked quickly towards his destination. No one questioned his presence nor did they try to bar his access, even when he reached a part of the castle that no one was supposed to enter so late at night. However, he still remained as quiet as possible as he slipped into an alcove and made his way towards one of the supply rooms, a bag slung over his shoulder.

Once he reached his destination, he quickly unlocked the room and ducked in, closing the door behind him. He made sure that not a soul had seen him enter, because even though he trusted most of the guards not to say anything, he still couldn't risk that word would get back to Barragh. If the man were to ever find out about what he had been doing for the past few weeks, he would certainly punish him for it. After all, it was one thing to sneak a bit of extra food and a blanket or two, but stealing enough supplies for a few days' journey was another thing entirely.

So, in order to leave the man in the dark about his actions, he had been taking things discretely. A shirt here, some bandages there, clothing, oil, flint, herbs, anything he could think of that would be useful if someone were to be out in the woods for a few days without shelter or a horse to ease the trip. He had already filled a few water skins, secured a bit of food that wouldn't spoil for at least another week (mostly nuts and some dried meat. He'd worry about the rest later), and had even managed to pilfer a dagger. He would have to see if he could manage to get a sword as well, just in case.

For now though, he was simply searching for a few more necessities needed for taking care of wounds. It was true that Merlin was healing well, that he had even regained some of his strength, but he was far from well. He was still going to be in pain for a while, but at least there was no longer a risk of his wounds reopening. He would likely make a full recovery so long as he didn't try anything stupid (which unfortunately wasn't likely given his current record). Rordan was going to have to talk to him soon, to try and convince him not to do anything reckless, that they had a plan to get him out of the castle and on his way back home. He just needed to be patient.

So focused was he on his mission to find sufficient supplies that he didn't notice the sound of approaching footsteps, growing louder and louder as they got closer to the room. He did, however, notice when the door was thrown open and then just as forcefully closed, causing him to nearly drop not only the bag in his arms but his torch as well as he tried to reach for the sword at his side. He was met with a pair of raised arms, a show of both peace and an attempt to placate. The guard just sighed, letting the tension flow out of him at the familiar sight of light hair and green eyes.

"Owyn," he said softly though not without a bit of chastising. "I thought I asked you not to do that."

"Sorry," the man replied sheepishly as he lowered his arms. "Honestly, I didn't mean to scare you, but I really need to talk to you."

"What is it?"

Owyn came closer, glancing around a bit before lowering his voice to something just shy of a whisper.

"We can trust the prince," he said with absolute certainty, a small smile on his face, and Rordan was instantly curious if not a bit wary. After all, he had yet to actually meet the crown prince of Camelot, although he had certainly heard plenty about him from Owyn as well as some of the other guards. It wasn't that he doubted Owyn's word on it, but he couldn't just trust Arthur Pendragon without some sort of proof that he was actually worth it. A life was at stake, and a precious one at that.

"Are you sure?" he asked, because he needed to know, needed to be one hundred percent sure that they weren't about to make a huge mistake. It wouldn't do to save their friend only to condemn him to another cruel fate.

"Yes. He pretty much admitted that he doesn't agree with his father when it comes to magic." That was actually a bit hard to believe, but he knew Owyn wasn't lying. For the past week, he had been trying to get to know the prince, to get a feel for the type of person he really was instead of how he was often perceived to be. He had even gotten him to admit a few things that he likely wouldn't have under different circumstances, but if there was one thing Owyn was good at, it was talking. He was friendly and honest enough that most people would eventually let their guard down around him—a useful but rather dangerous skill, and Rordan was just grateful that the man was a genuinely kind human being.

It was a good thing that Barragh didn't have a true hold on him and didn't know just how sly the man actually was. He would be a dangerous enemy, because in most cases, he had found that out of all the weapons available to man, wit and intelligence combined with the power of words was by far the most deadly. A sword could wound a man, but a traitor masked as a friend could break one.

"Arthur is a good man. I think we can trust him with Merlin," Owyn continued before his expression turned a bit thoughtful. "We'll still probably have to make some kind of deal with him, but I don't think it'll be too difficult. Arthur's a man of his word. If he agrees to help, he'll see it through to the end."

"…Alright," Rordan relented, unable to find any fault in those words. If they really could trust Arthur, then that would make things a great deal easier. Sure, the plan would have worked without him originally, and it still could if necessary, but after Merlin had been injured, things had become significantly more difficult. Getting him to the gate would be simple enough, but there was no way he'd be able to make it back to Camelot on his own, not in the condition he was in, and especially since they had no way of removing the brace from his arm. Without his magic he would be defenseless, which was where Arthur came in. The prince was an incredible fighter, the best warrior in all of Camelot. He would be able to protect Merlin, surely…so long as they could get him to accept the fact that the young sorcerer wasn't evil—he was quite possibly the furthest thing from evil, honestly.

Sure, it would be easy enough to not mention the magic, but Arthur would surely be curious, and in order for him to find someone out there to remove the band on Merlin's arm, he would need to know why it was there in the first place. It wouldn't be fair to send him out without giving him all the pieces (and if Arthur were to find out on his own, without either himself or Owyn there to act as a buffer, he likely wouldn't take it as well). The prince would have to be told. There really wasn't an easy way around that.

Thankfully they still had some time to figure things out.

"I still need a few more days to get everything together," he said. "Once I'm ready, I'll let you know. Until then, just be careful. Barragh can't find out about this."

"Of course."

Owyn turned to leave, needing to get back to his station, but Rordan still had something he needed to say, something that he couldn't keep putting off, because there was a good chance that when the time came, he wouldn't be able to.

"Owyn," he called just as the man reached the door, turning to look back across the room. Rordan swallowed thickly before speaking in a much more subdued tone, somber and hesitant. "If this…goes badly…I'm sorry."

To his surprise, the guard just smiled.

"Don't be. This was my choice, after all."

He turned back towards the door, ready to head out, but as he was about to open it and step into the corridor, he hesitated. Rordan watched as Owyn lowered his head, his shoulders rising under the strain of taking in a deep breath. Even though he could no longer see the younger man's face, he was almost certain it was devoid of its previous grin.

"Just…" he began, his hand clenching around the door handle. "If something does happen, promise me you won't give up."

Owyn raised his head and turned to look at him, and even in a room inhabited mostly by shadows, he could still see those bright eyes, full of resolve with just a glint of fear, though not for himself.

"We can't just leave him here."

It was a lot to ask, and they both knew it, because there was so much at stake—not just their own lives, but the lives of the people they cared about. However, at the same time, they couldn't just do nothing, couldn't sit back and watch things unfold. They couldn't allow Barragh to win, and no matter what, they couldn't let him break Merlin. He was far too kind, too selfless, and the thought of Barragh using him, of abusing the incredible power that the young warlock could wield was enough to make them feel sick. They couldn't let it come to that. They would never let it come to that.

"…I promise."

Apparently satisfied with the answer, Owyn opened the door much more quietly than before and then closed it just as softly behind him, leaving Rordan to continue his search for supplies. He would have to gather a few more things now that he knew for sure that Arthur would be accompanying Merlin back to Camelot. He wouldn't be able to take too much more without it being noticed, but he could still scrape together enough for the trip.

As he continued collecting items and shoving them into the bag he had brought with, he allowed himself to entertain the idea that everything would go as planned, that nothing would happen to any of them, that Barragh wouldn't find out until it was too late to stop them. He found himself smiling at the thought. In just a few days, Merlin would finally be free. Everything was finally falling into place; his plan was about to be set in motion. As soon as he had it all put together, he'd talk to Merlin. They would get him out of here.

He only hoped that the warlock had the patience enough to wait.


It had taken almost five days for Merlin to finally find the strength to sit up on his own without being in terrible pain. Two more after that, and the throbbing in his back had eventually been reduced to a dull burn, still very present but a great deal more tolerable. He was even able to walk around a bit, though it was obvious it would be a while before he had the strength to do more than pace the length of his cell a few times. Spending so much time lying down had made his legs stiff and weak, leaving him tired and aching if he tried to do too much too fast. Rordan had warned him to be careful, that his body needed time to finish recovering, and even though he really didn't want to wait, it certainly wouldn't do him any good to try and escape when he probably wouldn't even make it down the hallway let alone to another floor.

He was just going to have to be patient for now.

As he took a seat on his cot, allowing himself to rest for a moment from his pacing, he tried to come up with some kind of plan. It was inevitable that he would escape again—he had no intention of just sitting back and waiting for Barragh to torture him—and he really wanted to make sure that he wasn't caught this time. Seeing as how he couldn't rely on his magic too much, he needed to think of some other way to get through the castle. Unfortunately, he had already tried pretty much everything he could think of. He had already tried to escape during all manners of the day, even in the middle of the night, but nothing had worked. He was always either caught by someone who wouldn't (or sometimes couldn't) just pretend that he wasn't there, or the pain from using magic would catch up with him and he'd end up passing out.

He needed a plan, although what he really needed was to find a way to get that stupid brace off his arm. If he had full access to his magic, there was no way anyone would be able to stop him. Sure, Barragh had plenty of weapons that could be used against magic, but he had never gone up against someone like him before, of that Merlin was certain. There would be no stopping him, if only it wasn't for that band of metal. It was amazing how something so small and seemingly harmless on its own could cause so much damage.

The warlock heaved a sigh and leant back against the wall, wishing he had something to do. Perhaps the worst part about being locked up was the boredom. He hadn't had any visitors since the day before when Rordan had come to change his bandages for hopefully what would be the last time. After all, he was healing rather well, all things considered. There was no longer any need to worry about possible infection, and the wounds themselves were closed. They were still rather raw, but they wouldn't reopen, which was at least one less thing for him to worry about. It brought him a few steps closer to being able to attempt another escape.

Unfortunately, he had a new problem to worry about. Apparently Barragh had finally seen fit (after seven times) to put guards outside his door. Why the lord hadn't done so earlier was beyond him, but he rather wished the man hadn't bothered. It's not like it would stop him. All he had to do was wait for the people guarding his door to either wander off (something that he wouldn't put past most of them seeing as how they rather hated their master), fall asleep (it could happen), or trade shifts (because sooner or later, he would end up with someone who was actually loyal to Barragh, and therefore he would have no qualms whatsoever about throwing them against the nearest wall).

One way or another, he would still find a way out of his cell. The stationed guards were just a minor setback, although at the very least they would be an occasional cure to his boredom. He was on speaking terms with quite a few of them, so at least he could have some decent conversations while he slowly got his strength back. It was better than sitting alone in the silence with only his thoughts for company, that's for sure.

At the moment, the two guards were talking amongst themselves, discussing some things and complaining about others. They would gossip every once in a while too, and even though he wasn't really paying much attention to their actual conversation, the hum of their words in the background was comforting. He really wasn't a fan of silence. He was able to catch a few bits of what they were saying, something about a rider being sent out a few hours ago (probably to send a message to their king, Barragh's number one buyer), but he wasn't entirely sure what they were talking about, so he let his mind wander to other things.

Much like he usually did, the warlock ended up thinking about Camelot and the people waiting for him there. He couldn't help but wonder what everyone's faces would look like when he eventually came walking through the gates. He was certain that Gaius would embrace him and then yell at him and then probably hug him again. Gwen would likely make a big deal out of his return as well, asking him if he was alright, where he had been, what had happened (though not necessarily in that order), and knowing her, she'd probably hug him too. Some of the knights would probably smile and welcome him home with a pat on the back or a friendly punch to the arm, and some of the servants would likely do the same (but without the punching, of course).

He found that it was the most fun to imagine Arthur's reaction though, because there were just so many possibilities. He got the feeling that he would definitely be yelled at though, perhaps insulted as well once Merlin explained what had happened (omitting the magic, of course). He was also pretty sure that the prince would give him his job back (if he didn't still have it), accompanied by a long list of chores to do, and even though he probably wouldn't say the words, wouldn't admit to being worried or sad or scared, he would smile, clap him on the shoulder, and say "welcome back," and somehow, it would be enough. He didn't need declarations or heartfelt words or even a hug (even though he secretly wanted one). Just being allowed to return to his everyday life, as Arthur's servant, protector, and friend, was more than enough.

The warlock heaved a sigh and pulled himself away from his thoughts, not wanting to get too lost in them, and allowed the voices from outside to filter into his room again. He listened back in for a moment to the guards chatting, but still the conversation didn't really interest him, and he was starting to wonder if it ever would.

…That is until a familiar name caught his attention.

"So, do you think Uther has even noticed yet?"

Merlin quickly sat up straight, focusing his attention on the voices in the hallway, and when he found that he couldn't fully hear the conversation from his perch on the cot, he got up and walked over to the door. He stood just to the side of it, giving the two men and their discussion his full attention, because as much as the guards loved to gossip and talk about news from the surrounding kingdoms, he had rarely heard even a word about Camelot (he got the feeling that part of the reason was because they all knew he was from Camelot, and most of them hadn't wanted to touch upon a potentially sore topic). Therefore, even if what they were talking about proved to be of no use to him at all, he would still take what he could get. He wanted to know what was happening back home, even if it was nothing more than idle gossip or the most mundane of occurrences. He just needed something.

"You would think so, wouldn't you, but I haven't really heard anything yet. Usually by now someone would have mentioned if search parties had been sent out."

Search parties? For what?

"Do you think he'd be crazy enough to send them over the border?"

"Probably. He seems like the type. If he's noticed, that is."

Merlin was starting to get frustrated as they more or less talked in circles, neither one outright saying why Uther would send a search party or what for. Obviously something must have happened. Had someone tried to attack Camelot and now the king was attempting to hunt them down? Somehow he didn't think that was quite it, and what exactly did they mean by "if he's noticed?"

The warlock was tempted to ask, to force his way into the conversation, but he wasn't sure if they would keep talking about it if he did. It all depended on who was on the other side of the door, and he unfortunately didn't know all of the guards by their voices. He couldn't risk them clamming up, so he gathered what little patience he still had and kept listening, praying that they would finally just get to the point.

In the end, he got his wish, but the answer wasn't at all what he had wanted.

"Well, I'm sure someone has noticed by now. I mean, he is the crown prince, after all."

What…?

"Surely his absence would be noticed. I can't imagine there wouldn't be someone out looking for him."

Arthur…

His breath caught, his whole body tensing as he tried to process what he had just heard. He wanted to find some other meaning, something other than the obvious, but all he kept coming back to was one simple question that he unfortunately already knew the answer to, even though he couldn't seem to quite wrap his head around it.

Arthur's not in Camelot?

The prince was gone, had left for some reason, and he had been gone long enough to be noticed, to require being searched for. What had happened? Where had he gone? When? Why? If Arthur wasn't in Camelot, then where was he?

"I'm sure Uther knows. His son is missing, after all."

Missing…

Arthur was missing.

Gone, disappeared, nowhere to be found…

Kidnapped, captured, hurt, lost

There were so many possibilities, so many things that could have gone wrong, and Merlin couldn't stop every possible scenario, every nightmare from pouring in and tearing at his mind, because he was supposed to be there, to protect him, but he hadn't been, and something had happened.

Arthur was missing. He was in danger.

Merlin had to do something. He had to find him!

The warlock could feel his magic roiling, building up even as the brace against his arm forced it down, but he didn't care. It was his destiny, his purpose, to protect Arthur. That's what his magic was for, and it was reacting to that need, the desire to save the prince from whatever was happening to him, to find him and bring him home no matter what the cost. He could feel that inborn power flowing through his veins, reacting to his will.

He had to find Arthur, but first things first. He was getting out of here.


It had been seven days now. Seven days of sitting in a cell, waiting for something to happen that he was starting to doubt ever would. It was the beginning of his eighth day of imprisonment, after all, and yet Barragh had yet to visit him once. No gloating, no insulting, no snide comments or jabs at his station or his general situation. If he didn't know any better, he would have believed that the man had simply forgotten about him, but he already knew that he probably wasn't that lucky. Apparently the man had been serious during that first and only time they had talked when he had claimed that he was in the middle of a project that was far more important than dealing with the prince.

That was a bit insulting, really, but more than his hurt pride, he found himself feeling rather curious about what Barragh was actually doing. He knew a lot more now than he had about the man and what he did for a living. Was he working on some new magical weapon, or was he building something to use against magic, or had he caught himself a sorcerer and was attempting to coerce them into becoming a weapon…or breaking them until they no longer had the will to decide.

It was a bit strange, the thought of feeling sorry for a sorcerer, but the feeling was there nonetheless. He had Owyn to blame for that, putting all those ideas in his head and making him look at magic in a way that was far different from what he had been taught. A part of him had wanted to ignore all of it, to just pretend that none of it was true, but he knew he couldn't, because as soon as the possibility had been presented to him, he had felt the need and the obligation to at least consider it. After all, if past experience was anything to go by, he never had been completely sold by his father's beliefs on magic (and many other things, actually, but that was beside the point…sort of).

It made sense in a way, Owyn's logic. Of course the only magic he had ever really had experience with was dark and destructive, because the ones who would use their gifts for good wouldn't attack Camelot, and they also wouldn't openly use magic to try and help it either, considering the consequences. Surely there were people with magic who were just trying to live ordinary lives, who didn't want to cause any trouble, who were willing to hide to protect themselves and the ones they loved. It made sense.

However, that didn't mean he wasn't still wary of magic. He didn't know enough about it or about the people who practiced it to be able to trust magic just yet, but at the very least he wouldn't senselessly condemn people just for having it. You couldn't choose how you were born, after all.

The prince heaved a sigh and leant back against the wall, his head bumping it lightly. There was just so much he still needed to know, so many questions he wanted to ask, and he had every intention of bothering Owyn with every single one the next time the guard came to visit him. Clearly he had some experience dealing with magic, and therefore he'd be the perfect person to ask (he was also the only person he could ask, but despite his odd personality, he did seem knowledgeable, so that was just fine with him).

With those thoughts in mind, he was more than ready to launch into another conversation about magic when the door to his cell finally opened again and Owyn walked in with his breakfast, but the words died on his lips when he saw the look on the man's face. It was apprehensive, hesitant, and just a little sympathetic, as if he came bearing information that he knew Arthur wasn't going to like but that needed to be said anyway.

A question far different from the one he had been about to ask left his mouth even though he was pretty sure he didn't want to know the answer.

"What's wrong?"

Owyn set the breakfast tray down and then took his regular seat against the wall before answering.

"Barragh sent word to your father. A rider left for Camelot just a few hours ago."

"…Oh."

In most people, news like that would probably invoke relief of some sort, but all Arthur could feel was dread. He swallowed hard and averted his eyes, biting down on a curse as he realized that not only would his father be finding out about his less than dignified capture and containment, but as soon as the ransom was paid (or an attack was launched. Both were plausible), he would be taken back to Camelot whether he wanted to be or not. His search would end.

He wouldn't be able to find Merlin.

"Look," Owyn began with a sigh, cutting right into the prince's darkening thoughts, "I know I sort of teased you before about being embarrassed over getting kidnapped and all, but really, why don't you want him to know? You want to go home, don't you?"

The prince just lowered his head further and kept his eyes fixed firmly on the floor. He didn't really want to explain himself—he wasn't entirely sure if he even could—but he also knew that Owyn wasn't likely to let this go, and the man had proven more than once that he was rather adept at reading people. Arthur was no exception.

"…Don't you?" There was curiosity there and a hint of sympathy, but it was the soft and genuine concern he could hear in those two words that made him answer even though he had to practically force the words past his lips.

"If I go back to Camelot, my father won't let me leave again, not unescorted, and not unless it's necessary." He raised his head and met Owyn's stare, hoping he'd be able to understand what he was and wasn't saying. "I can't go back yet. Not like that."

"But why… Oh." Comprehension dawned on his face, and the guard proved once more that he was much more observant and far wiser than he seemed. "The person you were looking for."

"I have to find him. If I go back now, I never will."

"You can't send someone else?"

"My father would never allow it, and I fear there's no one able enough that I would trust to go behind his back like that."

"Not even your knights?"

"I trust my men with my life and the safety of the kingdom, but I can't trust them with this. I've told you before—I can't order my knights to lie to their king. I know some of them probably would if I asked, but I won't do that to them, not for this." It was too much to ask for something so personal, even though he knew that a few of the knights were rather fond of Merlin and would possibly be willing to take the risk. He also knew that his servant would be more inclined to call them all idiots than show them gratitude for going behind the king's back (though he'd eventually do both, because he was Merlin after all). "He'd probably get mad at me if I tried."

Arthur couldn't help but smile at the thought.

"…Just who are you looking for?"

That question actually surprised the prince, not so much because of its content but because of the way it was asked. Owyn didn't only sound confused and curious but incredulous, as if he couldn't quite understand the reasoning behind what Arthur had told him. For a man who always seemed to have an answer, he seemed a bit gobsmacked by this.

"I mean—look, I know it's none of my business, but you make it sound like your father actually forbid you from searching."

"That's because he did."

"But why? I just don't get it. I know you're the crown prince and all, and that it can be dangerous to go off like that, but that's not a good enough reason on its own." He ran a hand through his hair, a clear sign of frustration, and continued to voice his musings out loud which, sometimes, was the best way to work through them. "I've actually been trying to figure this out since you first mentioned it, but I just can't seem to find the answer. Your father obviously doesn't care about whoever you're looking for, so it's not a knight or a noble, no one from the court or a dignitary from a neighboring kingdom, no one who could be deemed important by political standards…"

He sighed deeply, and Arthur watched in slight fascination as the man forced himself to calm down. This was clearly bothering him a lot more than the prince felt was necessary, but apparently Owyn was the type of person who liked to have all the details, who couldn't fully process something without all the pieces laid out before him. He was trying though.

"Sorry, I just…I guess I'm just having a hard time thinking of someone who would be important enough for a prince but worth nothing to a king."

He knew it was true. He was beyond the need to deny it—there was no point, because he had already admitted that Merlin was important to him. He also knew that his father truly did see Merlin like that, as someone not worth noticing, not worth actually caring about, not worth the effort to save, but to hear it out loud like that was enough to spike his anger a bit. He would answer Owyn's question if only so he could make him understand what his father never would.

"I'm looking for my servant."

Silence. That's what greeted him after his response. He wasn't entirely sure what he had been hoping for, but he probably should have been expecting it. Owyn was looking at him blankly but still with that glint of incredulity.

"…Your servant."

It wasn't a question. It really didn't need to be. The guard knew the answer; he just seemed to be having a hard time believing it—and yes, maybe to most people it sounded ridiculous, the thought of a prince trying to save his servant, but he really no longer cared what anyone had to say about it, and if anyone had a problem with that, well…too bad.

That was just the way he and Merlin worked.

From his position against the wall, Owyn couldn't help but study the young man before him, feeling just a bit caught off guard for once. Usually he was pretty good at figuring people out, but every once in a while he was thrown through a loop, and it had surprisingly happened quite a few times in the last week when talking to Arthur. He supposed that part of the reason had a lot to do with his own dealings with royalty and nobles, his preconceptions on how they acted and how they saw things, but the prince of Camelot was really proving to be far different than he had ever thought possible, shattering just about every assumption he had made about him.

He couldn't help but smile before falling back into a familiar routine with his newest friend.

"Well then, he must be very good at his job."

The prince scoffed at that, but there was an amused half-smile on his face.

"Hardly. He's quite possibly the most incompetent, rude, and clumsy servant that Camelot has ever known. I don't think I've ever met someone as inept and insolent as he is."

The words themselves were insults, but the way he said them was nothing short of fond, and it didn't take long for Owyn to understand. Earlier in the week when he had first asked the prince about the person he was looking for, Arthur had admitted that they were important—not to most, but to him, and now he finally knew why. Even without the words, he could understand, but Arthur chose to say them anyway.

"…But he's a good friend—the best, actually, and so I can't just leave him. I know he'd do the same for me."

Grinning from ear to ear now, the guard casually reclined against the wall, stretching his legs out and making himself comfortable, because he knew for a fact that no one would be bothering them for a long while yet (if at all). They had plenty of time to talk, and he had finally found a subject that wouldn't involve a great deal of discomfort for the prince. Besides, he couldn't help but be curious.

A prince and a servant… It was an unlikely friendship, and that made it all the more interesting.

"Go on then," he said. "Tell me about him. I promise that whatever you have to say will be safe with me. I won't tell a soul."

"Good, because God forbid anyone ever find out I said any of that. I'd probably never live it down."

He could practically see the mask falling away, the walls breaking as Arthur finally relaxed, grinning with his whole face as he fully—finally—dropped his guard.

"…And being the cheeky idiot that he is, I doubt that Merlin would ever let me forget it."

The prince launched into a story (or a list of complaints, really) about the servant who had managed to befriend a prince, unaware as he began picking at his breakfast that Owyn wasn't listening. The words faded into a soft drone in the background as his breath caught and his eyes widened, his heart stopping for a moment before it began to race much like his thoughts, but as frantic as they were, they all led back to the same place, a single name.

Merlin.

It was a coincidence.

Just a coincidence, right? It couldn't be anything else. There was just no way, because the odds of such a thing happening were close to nonexistent. Perhaps he had just heard wrong. Maybe Arthur had said a different name entirely…

Except that he hadn't. He had very clearly said "Merlin," and that name was anything but common.

It has to be a coincidence. It has to be, because there's just no way…

He had to know. He had to be certain, because this wasn't something he could just write off or ignore or pretend he hadn't heard. This was something that could potentially make or break everything he and Rordan had been counting on.

"Arthur," he called, cutting him off in the middle of whatever tale he had been weaving, and he knew that he must look a sight given the sudden concern he could see in the prince's face.

"What is it?"

It's impossible. There's just no way… He couldn't possibly…

He had to know. He opened his mouth to ask…

…And the warning bells went off.


A/N: I said I was going to be mean. I knew exactly how I wanted the chapter to end long before I started writing it :) There were so many ways I could have had that little reveal happen, but this was the one I chose. Fear not. Arthur will be finding things out shortly :)

Anyway, thank you so much for reading, and thanks for all the reviews too. I once again didn't get around to responding (my free time did not pan out the way I intended it too, but it was worth it getting to spend a whole day with my family for a change. I haven't been out to see a movie in a long time), and I'm not sure if I'll be able to this week either since my only day off this time is Thursday, and then it'll be a week before I have another...sigh. I need a new job...or a million dollars. Both would be even better :)

So yeah, please feel free to tell me what you think. I would love to hear from you all, and if you find any mistakes, please let me know, and I shall fix them :)

Until next week!