A/N: Apologies for the delay in this chapter. I had to go into hospital unexpectedly for surgery and that knocked me around for a few days. Now I'm on the mend and have plenty of time on my hands but it's hard to type when you're lying flat on your back! So if this chapter has a lot of mistakes, I'm blaming either the pain or the drugs!

This chapter has a bit of bonding and bromance and then the story should slip into another gear as secrets start to be uncovered. I hope you enjoy it. Please review if you have the time. Cheers.

Chapter 10 Control

Arthur gazed up at the sun. Thick clouds were being drawn across the sky like a blanket and soon the fine weather they had been blessed with would be at an end. He reached up and put both hands behind his head and wriggled to find a more comfortable position on the grass. They'd been working on controlling his magic for most of the day and had only just, by mutual agreement, decided to take a break.

It had not gone as well as they had hoped. It seemed to Arthur that the best he could manage was to control his emotions rather than the magic. His emotions he could feel building. He knew what triggered them and how to use them to his advantage. The magic, on the other hand, was like a stranger to him. It acted through him but almost independently. It was as though it fed on his emotions and then took matters into its own hands.

Merlin had seemed to have had an inordinately good time shouting rude comments at him ("Looking a little tubby there, Arthur! Do you have to work at been such a supercilious prat, or does it come naturally?"). He'd succeeded in provoking Arthur even more than usual and after Merlin had been pelted with branches, grass and mud time after time, Arthur had only noticed any moderation in his magical attacks when he tried to subdue his frustration and anger. Merlin had been right when he suggested it was like going into battle. He couldn't let his fear and anxiety get the better of him then, or he would be dead within minutes. As long as he used the same discipline now as he did in combat, he had some chance of restraining the magic.

That said, his small successes had been barely noticeable and they were both feeling somewhat dejected as they lay back upon the grass.

"Well, you've improved," Merlin said, trying his best to sound hopeful.

"Not enough."

"No," Merlin admitted. "Maybe running away isn't such a bad idea after all. Do you think it would be a problem if the Crown Prince just suddenly disappeared?"

Arthur turned to look at his manservant who lay next to him, covered from head to toe in mud and grass from his many uncontained outbursts. He screwed up his face thoughtfully then looked back up at the sky. "There's a chance someone might notice," he muttered dryly.

Merlin let out a deep sigh and reached out to pick a long stem of grass to chew on. "You might be right."

Silence fell upon them as they both thought over the predicament but, for once, Arthur was the one in a talkative mood.

"I ran away once."

Merlin turned his head to look at Arthur's profile. "You did?" he asked, laughter tickling his words. "How old were you?"

Arthur shrugged. "Eight? Nine, maybe? I'd had an argument with my father. I can't remember what it was about. Probably something I wasn't allowed to do – that was nearly always what we fought over. Anyway, I decided I'd leave and become a mercenary or train to be a knight in some other kingdom."

"At nine?" Merlin asked, before remember who he was talking with. "Of course you did."

"So I packed up a bag of things and left."

"Rebellious little Arthur, heading off alone into the wilderness!"

"Oh, I wasn't alone. I took a couple of servants with me."

Merlin shouted with laughter. "You took servants with you when you were running away from home? Arthur, you're hopeless."

Arthur smiled in reluctant agreement.

"So, how did your escape attempt end?" Merlin asked, propping his head up on one hand as he watched his master.

Arthur's smile grew wider. "My father found out, of course. He sent a group of knights out to find me."

"And you were brought back to him kicking and screaming," Merlin guessed.

"No. My father had ordered the knights to take my servants back to the castle and leave me out there. One of the knights, Sir Eadred, stayed near me but my father had told him not to help me in any way. He was just there to make sure I didn't get hurt and to bring me home when I gave in."

"How long did you last?"

"Two days," Arthur laughed. "It started to rain and I didn't know how to put up my tent."

"Was Uther furious when you got back?"

Arthur shook his head. "We never spoke of it. He'd won and we both knew it. There wasn't any point talking about it."

Silence fell over them again as the first heavy drops of rain began to fall. Without a word being spoken, a shimmering blue dome formed over them, reaching to just below the tops of the trees. As each raindrop fell onto it, it seemed to be drawn into the magic, and the rainwater swirled and twisted with the shining blue energy which made up the dome. Neither young man moved, instead lying perfectly still on their backs in the dry grass, watching the dome move fluidly above them.

"My father once said to me," Arthur began, his voice quiet and almost pained, "that all who practice magic know only evil, that they seek to destroy goodness wherever they find it."

He let the words hang in the air and Merlin could feel them settle heavily upon his chest.

"I know this magic isn't mine and whoever has given it to me is probably doing so to hurt me," he continued. "But however I came by it, I can't look upon it as evil. It's hard to explain and I know you won't understand, but I can feel this magic flow out of me and into the world and it's as natural as breathing."

Merlin closed his eyes as he listened to Arthur speak, biting his lower lip hard. He felt as if the truth would fly out of him if he opened his mouth even the tiniest bit and he had never wanted it to so badly.

"It hasn't changed me at all," Arthur continued. "I'm still exactly who I was. I'm not evil and I'm not an enemy of Camelot. My father would never believe that. He doesn't believe it to be possible. But it is, and if it's true of me, how many others is it true of?"

Merlin breathed slowly and deliberately through his nose. Before they had left Camelot that morning, Gaius had pleaded with him not to tell Arthur that he too had magic. He'd argued that Arthur's reaction could not be predicted and that it would confuse their situation even further. Eventually, Merlin had made a reluctant promise. But now, even with the image of his mentor in his mind's eye and his own words of assurance ringing in his ears, it took all he had not to finally, finally open up.

He wanted to shout out that he knew exactly what Arthur was saying. He wanted to tell Arthur how happy he was that he had learnt how beautiful and honest magic could be. But he stayed silent, his teeth drawing blood from his lower lip as he bit down, using every fibre of his being to hold his secret in. And as the seconds ticked by and his opportunity slipped slowly away from him, Merlin couldn't help but feel sick at the thought that he had betrayed Arthur in his effort to keep his vow to Gaius.

As a treacherous feeling rose in his throat like bile, Merlin realised he couldn't remain totally silent. With his tongue bound, he let his magic speak for him, whispering a few words almost silently, masked by the drumming of the raindrops. He looked up at the dome, his eyes flashed with gold and a sudden light broke through the clouds and hit the magical shield. As the two young men lay beneath and watched, Merlin's light met Arthur's water and splintered into a rainbow of colours which danced across the dome in great swirling strokes.

Merlin braved a quick glance at Arthur and saw his wide eyes gazing up at the dome, his lips curved into a smile. The warlock looked back up at the brilliant colours of their combined magic, his enjoyment of the moment tinged by Arthur's ignorance and the suspicion that one day soon he would regret his silence.

They rode towards Camelot with few words exchanged. Arthur seemed resolute and unnervingly composed. Merlin knew Arthur's meagre ability to control his magic would not be enough to hide his powers from anyone for long and that alone was enough to make him wonder how Arthur was facing their return to Camelot so calmly.

It wasn't until they rounded the corner in the path and saw the turrets of Camelot looming that Arthur spoke.

"When we get back to Camelot I need you to come with me to my chambers and wait there. I'm going to go and see my father and I want you to stay in my rooms until you are called for."

"What are you going to do?" Merlin almost didn't want to know.

"I'm going to tell my father the truth...some of it, anyway," Arthur announced. "I'm going to tell him that I'm under some kind of enchantment and magic is working through me. I am not going to tell him that you, Gaius or Guinevere know anything about it. It's very important that when you and Gaius are questioned about it you both claim to know nothing. I'll make him think this has just come upon me and that I went to him as soon as I knew."

"It's too risky, Arthur," Merlin argued.

"It's our only option. We can't hide it from him any longer so our best option is the illusion of total honestly."

"What do you think he will do?"

Arthur didn't have an answer to his servant's quietly spoken question. "I really don't know."

They continued on and few noticed them as they made their way through the lower town. Those who did waved at Merlin but showed no interest in his hooded companion. All the while, Merlin fought with the feeling of impending doom which wouldn't leave him alone.

It was when they had cleared the town and were approaching the drawbridge that they saw trouble approaching. The sight of Uther standing with a group of knights sent a terrible thrill of excitement through Merlin and he threw Arthur a sidelong glance. The Prince had his head down, the hood of his coarse brown cloak falling well past his face.

When they were stopped by the guards Merlin thought he might vomit.

"We're searching everyone," one muttered, talking the reins of Merlin's horse. "What's your business in the castle?"

"I'm..." Merlin fought to keep the nervousness from his voice. "I'm Prince Arthur's servant."

"And your companion?"

"He's a friend of mine from my village. He's come to look for work," Merlin answered, thinking quickly. "What's going on here?"

"There's been some talk of Cenred sending in spies," the first guard explained. "King Uther's ordered tighter security."

Merlin nodded his understanding. "So, can we go?"

The guard they'd been talking to was in the process of waving them through when his partner, who had been watching Arthur carefully all the while, stepped forward.

"What village is it that you're from?" he asked, his voice low and curious.

"Ealdor," Merlin answered, "It's not far..."

"I was asking your friend here," the guard rumbled. "Hasn't he got a tongue in his head?"

Merlin noticed with horror Uther's eyes turning towards them, his attention drawn by the raised voice of the guard. His voice sounding unnaturally high pitched, Merlin tried to laugh it off.

"He's just shy."

"Shy, hey? What's your name, boy?"

Arthur finally spoke, his voice quiet and rough. "John. I'm just here looking for work."

"Let's see your face, John," the guard challenged, stepping towards Arthur and taking a hold of his arm.

Instinctively, Arthur shrugged it off roughly, causing the guard to stumble backwards, and that was enough for both guards to unsheathe their swords. Keeping his head low, Merlin dared another look towards Uther and saw that the confrontation now had his undivided attention.

"Get down from that horse, boy," the guard barked at Arthur.

All Merlin could do was watch it all go wrong. Arthur was dragged down from his horse at knife point. He fell heavily to the ground and his hood was wrenched back from his head. The guard stepped back, his mouth agape. Uther was upon them.

"Arthur!"

The silence was overpowering. There were too many people in present in the Throne Room for such a heavy stillness. Merlin, standing behind Arthur and to his right, looked around at the gathered company. Sir Leon was standing amid a group of four other knights, the ones who had been with Uther when he and Arthur attempted their disastrous re-entry into the castle, and a number of guards were stationed around the room, looking on impassively. Morgana, however, was a lot more interested, and from her seat she looked over at Arthur and Merlin with a sharp curiosity.

They were all waiting for Uther; waiting for the King, who was standing before them, fury in his eyes, to speak. When he finally did, Merlin was wishing for the silence again.

"What is the meaning of this, Arthur?" Uther demanded, his voice dangerously controlled. "It is quite obvious that you are not ill. So perhaps you can explain to me how my son, the heir to the throne, came to be dressed as a peasant and running around the countryside with his servant."

"Father..."

"No! You do not have the right to address me so," Uther bellowed. "I brought up my son to be honest and loyal. No son of mine would behave in such a childish and self-serving manner. What possessed you to act in this way?"

Merlin watched as Arthur clenched and unclenched his jaw. Silently, he willed him to keep his temper in check.

"It was never my intention to cause conflict with you, Sire," Arthur appeased, tension laced through every syllable.

"You have been playing me for a fool!" Uther shouted, advancing on Arthur until they stood face to face. "You have shown me that you have no loyalty, no sense of duty, to Camelot or to me. I am ashamed of you."

Merlin could feel the energy in the room change as Arthur's control of his emotions slipped, a hum of magic which would go unnoticed by everyone else in the room, with the possible exception of Morgana. He looked across at her and saw her lips twisted into a smile. Merlin's eyes darted back to Arthur. There was no way out.

"I have no sense of duty?" Arthur asked his father quietly. "I have served Camelot and you with all that I have since I became old enough to do so."

"I see no evidence of that now," Uther replied coldly. "You have always been too headstrong, too prone to putting your own judgement ahead of mine. I have been too indulgent. Your recent behaviour has made it clear to me that you cannot be trusted."

That was it. That was all it took.

"I cannot be trusted?" Arthur shouted, making nearly everyone in the room jump. "Who are you to accuse me of that? You have lied to me from the day I was born! It is you who cannot be trusted."

"You will not speak to me in such a way!"

But Arthur could not be stopped now. "For once, I will say whatever I want to say. You've lied to me about my mother and how I came to be born, and you have lied to me about Morgana. You act the great and wise King, the concerned father, but you are nothing but a liar and a fraud!"

Uther's gloved hand struck Arthur's face and, nearly instantaneously, the sound of a dozen swords being unsheathed sliced through the air. Gasps and cries filled the room as Arthur's eyes shone with furious gold and twelve swords hung high in the air, each and every one free of their owner and pointed aggressively at the King below.