The Bonds of Friendship

Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to the BBC, only the storyline is mine

Crimson Puddle

The prince stood next to his father, watching the precise and accurate movements of his knights as they relayed their newly learnt techniques to the judging King. Uther was an image of clear nobility and had a fresh determined face which called the knights to perform at their best to highlight their strengths as well as the strengths of their teacher.

But their teacher was looking far from strong as he surveyed the scene with an unfocused eye; the past days his mind had seemed to always be somewhere else. This along with the pale skin, bagged eyes and half-starved appearance it was assumed from the facts that the disappearance of the prince's friend and shadow had a part to play in his downfall.

Merlin was a well-loved character throughout Camelot for his helpful doings and kind nature, so the glimpses of the poor boy as he ran to do a stream of endless chores for his new master were met with anger. His face was deathly pale, so much that in the nights air he could easily be mistaken for a phantom , also his normal sparkling eyes were hideously blood-shot, his skin was red and course from the torturous clothes that had been forced upon his body and over all the life had gone from his soul.

This unjust treatment had lit the citizens hate for King Cirion; wherever he walked he was met with glares and cold manners but, due to the fact that as the poor there wasn't much they could do to stand against the visiting royal, the citizens had come to make their rise through benefitting actions towards the victimised servant instead.

The people of the lower town would shield Merlin from the King for the few minutes he could hide, coaxing him to eat the little food they had and cleaning him up with wet rags. The one factor that these people had become used to but still didn't understand was that whenever Merlin managed to find a minute of rest in a welcoming house, the prince would be at his side seconds later. No one knew how the prince found his servant each time so quickly without fail, but there were theories that he had guards watching the boy at all times and reporting back, although such guards were never seen by the curious eyes.

Words never passed between the two boys during these visits; the prince would simply kneel by his friend's side gripping his shoulder in support, though support for who was uncertain. It was breaking the people's hearts to see the pain in their prince's eyes; he was deflating alongside his servant, when one cried so did the other, when one flinched the other followed; it was as they were connected in some way.

Arthur could vaguely sense the knights fighting in front of him and felt the nipping thought that he should care about his men's performance for the King; but the only thing the prince could focus on was his friend who was currently in the stables, presumably singularly cleaning out the stalls yet again.

Since Merlin had been torn from his side three days ago Arthur didn't once take his focus off his friend's presence, he might not be able to rescue him from Cirion's clutches but that defiantly didn't mean he was going to leave him alone. Arthur could feel what keeping himself so deeply emerged in the connection was doing to him, all the fear and weakness Merlin was experiencing every second was equally being felt by the prince, and it wasn't doing any good for his health. His friend had fallen with three more of the unexplained fatigue attacks over the past days and Arthur wasn't there to help, it was frightening him to no end; he had considered asking Gaius on the matter but that would mean revealing the connection; although as the minutes ticked by Arthur was considering informing the physician of their situation more and more.

But despite Merlin's weak protests for Arthur to not punish himself also in the brief moments they got to talk, he didn't draw out of the connection at all; he couldn't help feel that Merlin's pain was his fault and he deserved equal punishment, after all Cirion was only hurting his friend to hurt him; Merlin had become a pawn in the revengeful game.

With this thought Arthur glanced at his father in spite; the man was standing disconnected and uninterested in the hardship that was currently unfolding around him and obviously affecting his only son. But he wasn't expecting any sympathy from the man; after all, it was him who had caused Merlin's current situation.

The doors to the throne room burst open and crashed against the walls, their rapid opening blowing various papers on the end of the table across the floor. Uther and the few councillors huddled over him jumped in surprise and looked up in shock to see a fuming prince standing in the doorway with only his night wear trousers covering his body.

Uther stood in rage and slammed his fist onto the table as he opened his mouth to reprimand his son, "Arthur! What do you…" But the prince cut through his father's anger and replaced it with his own.

"Why is Merlin in the hands of that monster?!" Arthur's passionate voice echoed throughout the room and his hand accusingly flung in the direction of where he had unwillingly left his friend.

The King's eyes darkened at his son's choice of topic and he spoke with cold authority, "Leave us!" The still astonished councillors broke to life at their King's demand and quickly scurried out of the room, happy to leave the firing range of the eminent argument that was about to enfold.

As soon as they were alone Uther dropped his controlled expression and his features changed to show his frustration, "Is that a way to speak about your guest?"

Arthur punched the table and spat out in a wild nature, "He's no guest of mine! I didn't want him in 100 yards of Camelot and I certainly don't want him a mere 5 yards from Merlin!"

Uther's emotions grew at his son's words and his tone heightened, "Stop referring to the boy by that name! He is just staff!"

The prince tensed in anger and his voice reflected his physical state, "He may be staff but that still gives him a right to a name! And Merlin," He put emphasis on the name to spite the King, "is in my service, not that despicable man's!"

Uther's face reddened in fury as he shouted at his son, "The boy's a servant Arthur! His job is to serve so I see it to be no business of yours if he assigned to a visiting noble for a temporary period of time!"

Arthur strode towards his father and his tone continued to increase in volume, "Well he's my personal servant and therefore I should have say in his placement, and he is not working for Cirion!"

"I'll think you'll find that as the King I have the final say over all matters! And that boy is being treated too softly by your hands; Cirion's methods will do him good!" Uther moved a few inches from his son's face and firmly pointed his gloved finger in warning at the infuriated boy, "He is a servant Arthur, nothing more."

The prince's expression faltered at the King's accusation but he quickly covered himself and spoke in a neutral tone, "I know that."

Uther frowned at his son and strode away from the boy; flinging his arms to the air in anger and raising his voice once more so that his rage seemed to strike from every corner of the room, "I don't think you do! You spend every waking second with the boy, laugh with him, joke with him, let him eat off your plate!" The King swung back around, his eyes blazing with a heated rage, "For goodness sake you are running around the castle in public indecency on this boy's behalf! People have noticed your fondness for this… servant!" He spat the word as if it was a curse, "You are the crown prince to my kingdom! You do not mingle with the lower classes unless they are serving you or being presented to you at the weekly opening of the court room!" The King finished with a gasping breath, the strength of his anger weakening his aging body, leaving him slumped over the edge of the table for support. He took a second to calm himself, before walking back to the head of the room with the dignity returned to his stride and lowering back into his chair; picking up some letters and reading through them as if the passing situation wasn't occurring.

Uther glanced up to where his son stood shaking and red faced, he ignored this and casually addressed the boy, "The servant will stay in Cirion's services for the remainder of his visit and you will not approach him or threaten his new master in any way." He saw Arthur open his mouth to argue but he raised his hand and caught the boy's gaze, holding it for a few seconds before he threateningly murmured, "And if you do, the boy will pay."

Arthur's eyes flashed in pain at his father's words and he grit his teeth in betrayal and anger; swinging around he made his way out of the room but once again stopped at the door way and left another cold message to the second person to threaten Merlin that day, "And if my friend is hurt in any way; you'll pay." Then with that he slid from the room, leaving the King to furiously overturn the table in a cry of rage at his son's attitude and admittance of friendship with a poor and pitiful servant.

The relationship between father and son had been strained from that moment and Uther had kept Arthur by his side with meaningless tasks and events as much as possible; reducing any chance of him finding his way to the servant; though the King didn't know that this unwanted course had been happening anyway.

"You have been training them well." Uther complimented without turning his head to acknowledge the boy he was addressing. Arthur merely gave a hum of response; this did draw the King's attention and he turned to witness his son's vacant expression and unseeing eyes; the few days lack of focus was beginning to drive the man's patience. "Arthur, are you even listening to me?"

The prince could hear the familiar close-by noise, but he couldn't pick out the individual words from the dull drone, for Merlin's fear had just risen to double its level and Arthur was trying his hardest to calm his own worries and pass on reassurance to his scared friend whilst simultaneously attempting to retain his blank expression so to not draw suspicion from those around him.

Suddenly a tremendous sharp pain stabbed in his left arm and Arthur cried out; breaking any attempt to remain inconspicuous as he clutched at his skin as he felt it slice open. Uther's annoyance towards his son vanished at the sound of the boy's painful scream and he knelt to his side, his eye's flashing with worry, "Arthur? Arthur, what is it? What's wrong?"

The prince ignored his father's frantic questions and bit his lip to suffocate yet enough cry of pain; his arm felt as if it were on fire, the pain that a freshly drawn sword cut produced. He reached for his arm sleeve and carefully slid the material up to see where his sudden injury had come from, but as his flesh came into view through his blurred sight Arthur saw his healthy, undamaged skin sitting before him. At the sight of the unbroken skin the logical part of his mind began to fight for dominance and the pain faltered down to a dull drumming sensation; but as his thoughts cleared from the pain, his friend's own chaotic emotions and upset hit Arthur, Merlin!

The prince's gaze snapped up to the castle and time seemed to slow down as the surrounding scenery melted away; leaving the castle from where the warlock's torturous pain was firing as the only defined landscape. Without another conscious thought, Arthur leapt off the ground and sprinted across the grounds towards the castle; a burning rage on his face that caused the people in his path to fling themselves to the side of the roads in fear.

Uther pushed himself up in a confused anger at his son's unexplained antics, momentarily forgetting his dignified blank façade and shouting after the prince, "Arthur come back here at once! Your duties are not completed! Arthur Pendragon!" But the prince was deaf to all shouts and gasps as his mind stayed fixed on his endangered friend.

Arthur flung himself into Cirion's chambers to see Merlin curled up in the corner of the room clutching at his left arm; he could see blood dripping from between his friend's fingers and a crimson puddle seeping into his diseased tunic .

"Merlin!" Arthur cried in despair and rushed over to the warlock, sliding next to him and tenderly touching his injured arm. What happened? Arthur felt his friend's emotions lower slightly at the familiar sense of the prince's voice inside his head. Then in response to his question a sudden string of images flashed through his mind showing how Merlin had dropped an ornament and during the King's insults had made a comment that compared the man to Arthur, then how that had led to the royal swinging at Merlin in an anger driven retaliation.

Arthur felt a burning hatred consume him as the images flickered through his own mind, but on looking down at his friend's weak pained state, he swallowed his revengeful desire and attempted to push a blanket of serenity onto the injured warlock instead.

What have I said about telling people how much you adore me, the prince signed in exasperation; Merlin chuckled through his pain at Arthur's attempt to lighten the situation.

Well since I'm the only one who does, it figures that I have to highlight you as much as possible, Merlin teasingly replied, but even his thoughts came out weak. Arthur frowned as Merlin hissed when his arm shifted and the prince quickly ripped off the corner of his shirt; wrapping it gently around the boy's cut to try and lower the blood loss. See, I do pay some attention when you treat people.

Merlin faintly smiled; well at least that gives me some hope. The boy could feel his eye lids getting heavier and he tried to keep them open, focusing on the face of his friend above. Arthur felt Merlin's faintness as it grew stronger and gently moved his arms under the fallen boy, now don't get any ideas, he teasingly thought as he manoeuvred his hands under Merlin to get a grip on him.

Merlin felt himself leave the ground in his half-consciousness and he let his head fall to the side, cushioning into his friend's chest, oh you'd be so lucky.

Arthur smiled at his friend's quiet response, a small sense of relief was coming back to him with Merlin's witty answers, if he can still be annoying then he'll be fine.

I heard that, came a soft murmur. Arthur fondly shook his head and turned to make his way out of the chambers but instead, found himself staring at an amused Cirion who was lounging in his chair behind his desk, his legs casually resting on the table and his hands placed behind his head. A still bloodied sword shamelessly lying in front of him.

Arthur clutched Merlin tighter to his chest at the sight of the man and his eyes blazed with untamed aggression; the warlock felt his friend's sudden change in attitude and his thoughts dimly slipped in, oh yeah, Cirion's still here.

Despite Arthur's anger he mentally rolled his eyes at his friend's forgetfulness, thanks for telling me. The King of topic took this moment to interrupt the unknown conversation and he smirked at the prince, speaking in a tone of humour, "Well at least you're clothed this time goldey."

Arthur took a step backwards towards the door and replied in a dangerous pitch, "Well you're lucky that Merlin's currently blocking my path to ripping your head off."

Cirion laughed at the prince's aggression and kicked his legs off the table, swinging them to the floor with a thud and leaning forward, placing his chin in his hands with a mocking expression, "Did I hurt the prince's toy?"

Arthur growled at the King's remark but Merlin's faint voice stroked his mind, please leave him, I just want to go. The prince paused in his forming plan to throw the King out of the open window and glanced down to the weak boy at his chest. His heart weighed out his revengeful nature and he simply spat at the King before quickly leaving the room with his friend cradled in his arms.

Cirion smirked as he watched the prince's back disappear down the corridor, he let him leave with his boy with no complaint; he'd achieved all the damage he could do to the prince over the past days through retaining his servant, and he would go and inform Uther that he wouldn't need the servant anymore later that afternoon. The King now had a bigger plan, one that would stab straight through the prince's undeserving heart.

The night air was cold and sharp; the trees groaned in pain as the wind cut through their branches. The forest itself was silent, not even a rustle of an animal sounded; the only life in the area was a finely dressed man who stood in resemblance of a statue, gazing at the flickering of the torches admitting from within the city walls of the kingdom of Camelot.

A sudden rustle of leaves broke through the eerie silence and a human body stumbled out of a nearby bush. The King didn't move a muscle as the new comer scrabbled around on the floor and eventually picked himself up; the twigs and leaves now hanging from his dark mattered hair that hung wildly down to his shoulders, adding to his savage look. The grubby faced man slowly made his way towards the frozen King and he nervously twisted his frayed top in his black finger-nailed hands, the nerves greatly contrasting his dangerous look.

"Sire," The man's voice was gruff and he bowed his head in a sign of respect or fear for the royal, "I heard the message you sent back to the people of Lorem." He swallowed and his right eye twitched at the King's unresponsive nature, "Um, and…well," The man stuttered as a fear took hold of him.

Rapidly Cirion had spun and grabbed the man by his neck, slamming him against the nearest tree and leaning towards him, his eyes piercing into his cowering gaze, "I don't have all night scrounger," his voice was frighteningly gentle and slid with the venom of a snake, "Tell me what information you know of Arthur Pendragon."

The man flinched at the King's proximity and he spoke quickly, although his voice trembled with each word, "It's not Pendragon who I have information on," Cirion growled and dug his nails into the man's neck causing him to screech his explanation in a scratchy air deprived voice, "But it is about his servant!"

At this remark the King drew his hands from the man's neck so they were just lingering above the skin, "Describe him."

The shaken man licked his dry lips and flicked his eyes to the floor, the King's unnerving gleeful gaze sending a shiver down his spine, "Pale, black scruffy hair, um… he was wearing a brown jacket and he had a blue neckerchief and…" The King cut him off with a manic chuckle; it seemed he had hit the jackpot.

Cirion released the scared man and stepped away, wiping his hands against the hem of his tunic as if worried he would catch an illness from the scruffy bandit, but he spoke with apprehension, "What do you know about the servant?"

The man nervously scratched his arm, the people of Lorem had heard of the King's strange behaviour and violent nature but since the death of the prince and queen their ruler was never seen, so there was never any clarification; the kingdom had to run itself, which was the reason it had turned to a land of bandits and thieves. This bandit certainly was seeing where the rumours about their King had come from; the royal seemed to be an anger ridden lunatic.

"Well it was quite a while ago now, but me and some of the guys were running an attack, on the Pendragon boy no less," The man gave a nervous cough as the King's eyes grew harder, obviously not impressed by the narrative, "Well they all died, only me and another got away…"

Cirion cried in rage and smacked the man across the face; he fell to the floor in agony as the King's ring sliced his cheek, "I know of Pendragon's fighting skills! Do not mock me with such information!" The King moved to strike the bandit again but the bleeding man threw his hands in front of his face and desperately screamed, "It wasn't the prince who killed them!"

The shout stopped the King's on coming attack and for once the man was silenced in surprise, "The boy?" Cirion frowned in confusion, "He has no strength or special skills; you're mistaken!"

The grubby man smirked at having caught out the mighty King and this sent him a stab of confidence; he grabbed the royals arm, drawing him in closer and menacingly whispering, "No; but he has magic."

Cirion quietly chuckled to himself as he took a handkerchief from his pocket and tenderly wiped the magician's blood from his sword; by the end of the week, Arthur would be crushed and his boy dead.

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