11. Torn apart

Arthur chastised himself for wailing in self-pity when he once more failed in distracting himself from his homesickness. The chains that bound his hands clang softly as he angrily wiped his face. His body ached with the desperate wish to leave this damned cell, to be free of the restraints as well as of constant surveillance Yvain's Court Sorcerer kept up.

"Speaking of the devil" the Prince thought sourly at the sound of the door being opened in exactly this moment. "Really Maelfwyn there is no need to trouble yourself again" he said sarcastically. "Neither have I developed wings nor the ability to walk through solid walls since you last checked in on me!"

"That's good to hear, but it's not Maelfwyn you are speaking to!"

At the sound of the unfamiliar voice the Prince darted around as much as his restraints allowed. He straightened his back reflexively when he found himself confronted with the man who had very much occupied his mind but so far had never shown himself.

Albeit his wishes and demands had determined every last shred of Arthur's existence for the last few months the Lord of Tintagel had kept a remote distance from his prisoner. Until now.

Yvain scrutinized his young counterpart. If he had hoped for some signs of anticipation or nervousness he was disappointed. Arthur had overcome his surprise rather quickly. He returned the Duke's gaze impassively, silently refusing to acknowledge his captor's presence and it was Yvain who lost his patience first. "I take it you know who I am?"

"Indeed, Sir." Arthur replied coldly. "Master Maelfwyn has been untiring in his efforts to force the singular greatness of your person on me together with your unwanted hospitality!"

"Has no one taught you to greet a superior properly?" If Yvain was rattled by the derisive repartee he didn't show it.

"You could make me your prisoner, My Lord but not your subject!"

Yvain shrugged. "You have every right to be angry, of course" he stated matter-of-factly. "You were taken prisoner for no fault of your own and to put it bluntly, I will not release you any time soon."

The Prince swallowed painfully at the announcement of his prolonged captivity. "If that was all you wanted to tell me Your Grace shouldn't have humbled yourself by coming here!"

"I see that you haven't been taught not to provoke a lion that has you in his fangs either! You may have your mother's angelic looks but this devilish pride is Uther's inheritance. I'd recognize it anywhere!"

"What is my father's pride to you?"

"Everything!" Yvain said with some emphasis while he walked towards the young man until he effectively cornered his captive against the wall. "I see it would be useless to pester you with empty apologies but I think I owe you an explanation. I could use your father's own words..."

With that he held up a letter which boldly showed the Camelot seal. The Duke smiled with visible satisfaction when he saw Arthur's heartbeat speed up in his throat. But the Prince was too proud to try and wrestle for the parchment. Arthur never lowered his eyes from his captor's gaze.

"I doubt that Your Grace has anything to say about my father that interests me!"

"Either you do as I say and hear me out quietly or I call for the guards to pull your chains tight until I'm through with you." This silenced the captive enough for Yvain to calm down. However, when the Duke began to speak the young man's compliance quickly came to an abrupt end.

"I don't believe one word of this crap!" the Prince shouted at the top of his lungs.

"I have your father's written confirmation for it, signed and sealed!" Yvain stated sternly. "Together with his orders for you. From now on you owe me the same respect and obedience you would show to him if he were here!"

The Duke watched his nephew carefully while Arthur scrolled through his father's letter; then read it again, more carefully.

"It's a fake" the Prince said coldly. "My father never wrote this! Who did it? Maelfwyn? Or do you have other criminals among your men who could do a job like this, My Lord Duke? What else is your Court but a bunch of bandits?"

Yvain met the young man's accusing gaze with a maddening calm. "You, of all people, should know your father's hand and his private seal! Besides, I asked my brother to imply some things in the letter. Things only you and he would know."

Yvain relaxed visibly as a shadow of uncertainty flickered over Arthur's face; valid prove that Uther had really played along with that, too. But the Duke's relief was somewhat premature.

"What did you threaten to do to me to make my father write this...dirt?" Arthur hissed. "Was slandering my mother your price for my life? She died when she gave birth to me and now you are forcing my father to declare me her bastard?"

"Astonishingly enough it's obvious that your father loves you. I would have thought him incapable of such an emotion but obviously I have been mistaken. Nevertheless, in this letter he's merely stating the truth. Lordegrade was and is your father's only wife. It's Uther's fault that he made your mother his whore!"

Arthur forgot his situation, forgot that he was chained and that the guards outside were merely waiting for an opportunity to prove the power they had over their royal prisoner. The blow came quick as lightning and Yvain was unable to block it. Only the short length of the chain saved him from the impact.

The Duke reacted quickly and his eyes flashed golden.

Suddenly Arthur felt his muscles abandoning him. A painful numbness progressed through his limbs, like molasses would slowly cover a struggling insect. His body began to ache as if thousands of ants were crawling under his skin. "No! Let go of me, you bastard!"

The young man's spine went limp under a burning pain and with hopeless recognition Arthur realized that his captor had cast a restraining spell, exactly as Maelfwyn had done every single time his prisoner had tried to fight back on the never ending journey to Tintagel.

The desperate fight was over before it had even begun as Yvain effortlessly pinned his attacker face down to the floor. He felt Arthur fight his grip although he stood no chance. "Be quiet, you damned hothead. If the guards were to see us thus I'd have no other chance but to keep you in this dirty hole to all eternity!"

Yvain pressed his free hand on Arthur's mouth and let go of another painful burst of magic. The magician's hand tensed when he heard his nephew's muffled yelp of pain. The wizard waited for the prisoner's muscles to relax but he was disappointed. Only after a second hit Arthur gave up his struggling.

The Duke waited a moment longer before he rolled the captive over to rest on his back. "What was that about? Heroic suicide or what?"

"If I had taken you with me, it would have been worth it! And you claim to be my father's brother, you filthy sorcerer! Now let go of me!" In vain Arthur tried to free his wrists from Yvain's hand.

"All right, if you want to play this the hard way, who am I to argue with you?" Once more Yvain's eyes changed colour and Arthur's world crumbled around him until he was surrounded by darkness. He lost all feeling of his body. From somewhere out of the dark he heard Yvain's voice. "Sometimes words are not enough, I can see that now. But my memories can't lie to you!"

A split second later the images, thoughts and feelings which had been bottled up in the Duke's mind for decades flooded the captive's mind. In a few moments Arthur relived everything Yvain had thought and felt, down to the taste, the smell and the sound of things. Who had done and said what. To whom. And how it had felt. A mortifying stream of pain, triumph, hatred, love and joy forced its way into the Prince's mind, invading every corner of his soul, fighting his most sacred memories and feelings. And the painful, hot stream of energy didn't stop, no matter what he did, it just didn't stop….

Arthur's anguished screams were smothered when Yvain's hand once more pressed down on his mouth. He kicked and struggled uselessly until he was exhausted enough to just lie still and let it happen. When it was finally over and Yvain released him he instinctively curled up into a ball.

The headache was paralysing. Nausea made his head spin wildly and seemed to last an eternity until the pain ran out of his body like water from a can; leaving emptiness and confusion behind where surety and confidence had been before.

But Yvain hadn't finished yet. He waited until the young man's ragged breathing had calmed down somewhat before he pulled him to his feet. "I give you ten minutes to come back to your senses before I send in the guard. I think it's time for you to meet someone. Someone very special. You'll better be on your best behaviour or you'll live to regret it."

Arthur hardly noticed the guard's entry. He didn't stir when the man freed him from the shackles only to tie his hands once more behind his back. The long climb from the dungeons to the main castle where Yvain was waiting for him was merely a blur of movements and sounds that made no sense. Only when the Duke dismissed the guard and grabbed him by the arm the Prince's mind cleared sufficiently to try to break free. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see soon enough". Yvain forced his captive to go upstairs. The stair seemed endless and after a short while Arthur's weakened leg muscles protested ferociously. "Where are you taking me?" he asked again. Whether it was the exhaustion showing clearly in his voice or something else, Yvain decided to treat his captive to a short pause.

"I thought it might be time that you see the woman whom your father has so cruelly wronged. The woman for whose sake you've been brought here in the first place. Finally, after all these years, I will see justice done to the Lady Lordegrade, no matter what the costs. Only if my brother is willing to declare that your brother was his only legitimate heir and that Lordegrade has always been his lawful wedded wife – nothing less, mind you! – I will acknowledge you as my second nephew and heir to my Dukedom, as if you had been born legitimately."

Still breathing raggedly and with trembling muscles Arthur tried to prolong the absurd conversation as long as possible.

"But don't you see the injustice in this?" he said. "You're sentencing me to years of captivity or even death for something which happened before I was born."

However this proved fatal. With the veins in his face and neck swollen and his face flushed Yvain suddenly yelled at the top of his lungs. "Don't you dare to talk to me about what's just and what is not. For decades I've been waiting for a chance to rectify the wrongs that have been done to the only woman I ever..."

Panting heavily, his usually superior, composed face a contorted grimace of rage, despair and deep hurt he towered over his captive with his hands clenched tightly.

Although he knew it to be hopeless Arthur opened his mouth for another useless protest, another argument which would bounce off the fanatic in front of him; falling to ears that had been deafened decades ago by jealousy, hurt pride and the unbearable pain of love and devotion being shunned and dragged through the mire. It was all as raw and fresh as it had been decades ago and it still bled vengeance and hatred, as untamed by time as it would ever be by mercy or understanding.

Whatever his nephew had wanted to say, Yvain cut him short brusquely. He grabbed the young Prince's collar and dragged him further up the stairs. "I'll show you what real injustice looks like" the Duke hissed through tight jaws. "I'll show you and then you'll kiss my feet in gratitude that I abstained from skinning you alive in front of Uther's very eyes."

The Duke was oblivious to his surroundings, the aghast looks, the brief screams of shock or disgust while he dragged the young man through the corridors and further upwards until they reached the top floor of one of the castle's southern towers.

Yvain's hands still shook and trembled with rage and nervousness while he fumbled with a set of keys. Finally the lock gave way and the door swung open.

Pushed forward by the Duke Arthur entered the perhaps most magnificent suite of rooms he had ever seen. Tapestries, carpets, hangings – the fine silk and brocades were exquisite. Paintings covered the other walls, giving the illusion of trees, birds and spacious terraces under an eternally blue and cloudless sky. The furniture, unmistakably that of a great Lady, easily outshone everything that could be seen in Camelot.

She sat in all this splendour and was utterly forlorn. Lordegrade would never see it, never feel it, never appreciate anything of what Yvain's loving care had provided her with. Her once lush abundance of auburn hair grey, her emerald eyes dull and lifeless and her pale lips curved in a smile only she would know the reason for, she was staring into nothingness.

Yvain went to her and knelt at her side. With utmost tenderness he took her hand and kissed it gently. "My love, you have a visitor" he whispered. "Look who has come to pay his respect. It's Uther's younger son, my darling. I promised to bring him to you one day, don't you remember?"

The older Pendragon's hand caressed her cheek, then her neck and still she didn't react to anything he did. "Now he's here we can bring you back to where you belong, my sweetheart. To your rightful place. It's what you always wanted. Your dream will come true now!"

Finally her eyes turned towards him, slowly, ever so slowly coming back from realms invisible to anyone but her. She smiled and raised her hand to stroke his head before her eyes wandered to Arthur.

Ignoring Yvain's angry glare the Prince stood frozen in place by the door. The Duke growled impatiently and forced his prisoner to go to her and kneel by her side.

Gradually, bit by bit, her eyes focused on the young man. She reached for Arthur's cheek. He flinched violently when she caressed it softly and only Yvain's hand kept him from pulling away. Her smile became broader but then it suddenly faded. Anxiety, then some kind of despair and anguish came to her face. "Endred?" she whispered. "Are you finally back, my son? Where have you been?"

Arthur looked into her anxious eyes, felt her soft touch on his face and his disgust and rejection melted away. "I am so sorry" he muttered. And suddenly, necessitated by some inner urge he himself would have been at a loss to explain he added "I am so sorry, mother; I should have come much earlier. Please forgive me."

Yvain's hand let go of him. For a moment no one spoke while the sick woman just continued to caress the young man's face. Then, all of a sudden, Arthur felt Yvain's hand again, dragging him away from her side with all his strength.

The first high pitched scream rang out in Arthur's ears. The screaming went on and on even though Yvain shoved him back and once more rushed to her side, making desperate attempts to calm her. She wriggled in her chair as he tried to keep her down. With astonishing strength she shook him off and only a second later her hands became claws.

Pulling back was all Yvain could do to protect his eyes when she came for him with all the power her madness gave her.

Seemingly out of nowhere a woman came running. "Now, now my love, what have they done to you, hush, dear, hush, it's all right, it's all for the best. I'm here with you, I'm here." Cradling Loredegrade in her arms, dandling her to and fro the woman never ceased to repeat her soothing sing-sang until her patient actually calmed down and began to cry.

The pitiful wailing followed the two men to the staircase and down the stairs, long after the door had once more been locked.

Arthur fought another spell of nausea after they had left the tower for good. If it was for his former ordeal or for what he had seen in the tower he didn't know but even after they had reached Yvain's study his hands were ice cold and he trembled slightly.

"Satisfied by what you saw?" Yvain said coldly and the Prince shuddered at the embitterment and hatred these few words revealed. "This is Uther's doing. His and that of his good friend Gorlois. They brought her to this."

All of a sudden Yvain slumped down in a chair and buried his face in his hands. "You should have known her before your father was through with her" he said softly. "You should have known what she was and what she could do and now... Look at her and then tell me again that I have any reason, any at all to spare my brother."

With an effort he straightened his body and inhaled deeply before he directly looked at his captive for the first time since he had left him in the dungeons. "It was a kind thing to do, though, to be responsive to her as you were. I didn't expect that from you."

From somewhere in Arthur's mind the unfamiliar picture of an unbelievably beautiful woman rose, laughing, dancing in the sun, showering herself and the young sorcerer she embraced with a cloud of butterflies her magic had conjured into existence…. Suddenly the picture was gone; leaving a feeling of emptiness and loss that was hard to endure. "She was glorious once, wasn't she?" he whispered.

Yvain bit his lip as if he suddenly felt unsure of himself. Or guilty. "I am sorry if I hurt you earlier" he said gruffly. "If it hadn't been for your stubbornness it hadn't been necessary. Let that be a lesson to you. If you cross me, you'll regret it."

He rang for the guard. "Any way, I think it's no longer necessary to keep you in the dungeons now that your father has given in to my demands."

Roughly he untied Arthur's hands. "The guard will escort you to some decent quarters. I trust you will heed your father's orders enough not to force me to have you incarcerated again. If you don't force my hand, I'm perfectly willing to treat you with all the decorum that's due to my nephew."

With his mind being in a complete chaos Arthur didn't know what to think anymore, whom to believe and whom to mistrust. He just wanted to be left alone, to have some time to sort things out and he gave a damn whether this would be in a dungeon or in a palace. His knees buckled with relief at the guard's entrance. All he wanted to do right now was leave this room for good.

The guard panted while he bowed to his Lord. "Your Grace, when the messenger brought back the King's reply he ordered the arrest of a Camelot spy he had brought with him. The spy ran into the seals while attempting to escape. We wanted to execute him but Lord Maelfwyn thought it'd better if the prisoner were to identify him!"

His stomach a tight knot of fear Arthur was already half way out of the room when the guard, at a short order of the Duke, joined him. Outside the soldier led the way until the three of them reached the outer fortification ring and the group of people who surrounded a bundle of clothes that lay on the ground.

While he approached the unmoving bundle Arthur's heart began to race painfully in his chest. These clothes, this form – it couldn't be. Oh for Gods' sake it mustn't be.

Unaware of Yvain's sharp orders that gave him space to move he knelt by the bundle's side and carefully turned the man – it was a man as he now saw – on his back. The jet black hair, the pale skin now covered in blood and the lanky frame were unmistakable. They made Arthur wanting to throw up then and there.

"Do you know him?" Yvain's sharp, unforgiving voice. "Answer me, if you please!"

"Yes, I do know him" Arthur said "He's my servant. He must have come for me. His name is Merlin!"

He looked up at the Duke. "Please, you must help him" he pleaded desperately. "He's badly hurt. Please!" In this moment he didn't think what he was doing or what the consequences of his imprudent behaviour might be. He only saw the blood stream from the young servant's head and the pulse flutter unevenly in his throat.

The blood kept coming, streaming, streaming…...…

"Arthur, wake up. Wake up, please. It's only a dream, a nightmare."

With a jerk the Prince bolted up, almost knocking over the young man who anxiously tried to wake him.

"Good heavens I thought you'd never stop screaming" Merlin said "must have been quite a dream!"

For a second Arthur's disorientation was nauseating. He stared at his surroundings for a whole minute before realization of where and what he was kicked back in. With it came an all too familiar apprehension and he strained his ears for some sounds from the doors. The last thing he needed now was some sneaky guard checking up on him because he had screamed his head off during a nightmare. Or Maelfwyn; for heaven's sake. As everything kept silent he let his head fall back down in utter relief.

"Arthur? Are you sick?" This tentative, hesitating voice couldn't possibly be Merlin's, could it? The Prince looked at the other man quizzically. "What are you doing up?" he asked. "Shouldn't you be in bed, master sorcerer, 'sleeping it off' as they say whatever that means?"

Not even the dim light that filtered through the windows could hide that Merlin paled at the words 'master sorcerer'. Silently he crawled from the divan Arthur lay on and made haste to go back to the other room.

"Hey, wait. What does this mean? First you run into this trap only to see me then you can't stand the sight of me? What's up?"

"You've seen me" Merlin whispered almost inaudibly. "You know what I am!"

"And what are you then?"

"A sorcerer! An evil being. A filthy magician. Call me what you like!"

The Prince winced slightly at the bitterness that showed itself in these few words. "The way I felt when you send this damned Maelfwyn and his helpmates to the ground, I'd be hard put to find something evil in what you did." he chuckled softly. "Really, I haven't felt that great since these rascals grabbed me in the woods."

He jumped to his feet the way Merlin knew so well and walked to his friend casually. "Although I'd rather had you'd stay at home where you belong. I can't exactly recommend this as a vacation spot."

The warlock turned around, his wide eyes shimmering in the limy moonlight. "You aren't angry?" he asked haltingly. "I thought you must be angry when you find out what I am!" As he raised one hand to brush his hair out of his face the light shone on the silver bracelet round his wrist and Arthur's heart missed a beat. "Does this hurt?" he asked, pointing at the thing. "They said it wouldn't, but…"

Merlin seemed to notice the bracelets only now. He frowned in confusion and tried to rip the bracelet off his left arm but it wouldn't budge. He ripped at it stronger, impatiently. "Merlin, maybe you shouldn't…." but it was already too late.

It was all Arthur could do to catch him when the warlock fell to his knees, whimpering. "Let go of the thing. Don't touch it!" With one hand he tried to loosen Merlin's grip on the bracelet. The warlock's head fell to the Prince's shoulder when his fingers finally lost contact with the metal.

"So much for this wouldn't hurt" Arthur said acidly. "Bloody bastards!"

"What happened?" Merlin asked, gasping with the pain in his arm.

"They said the things hamper your magic abilities. That you can't, you know, do any sorcery as long as you're wearing them." Arthur blushed when he noticed that he was secretly relieved to have more time to adjust to the fact that his innocent-looking servant was a sorcerer. But this didn't mean he liked the mortifying things themselves. "Apparently they also made sure that you can't take the buggers off!"

"Who are 'they'?"

Arthur let his shoulders fall. "And that much for your memory coming back automatically! 'They' are the most illustrious Maelfwyn, who happens to be my beloved uncle's Court Sorcerer and, as a side-line, kidnapper and head jailer if the occasion arises. Together with his puffed-up bunch of confederates he tries his very best to make my stay here an unforgettable one. Does this ring a bell with you?"

For a moment Merlin kept silent. "So you know that Yvain is your father's brother?" he then asked. "Gaius said that they had told you nothing at all."

"They didn't. Only when my father's surrender arrived His Grace decided to enlighten me!" As he remembered his dream an involuntary shudder ran through Arthur's body and betrayed his feigned light-heartedness. At once Merlin looked at him with this inquisitive gaze he kept special for such occasions and the Prince needed a quick distraction. "Come on now. Back to your feet" he said and pulled the warlock upwards.

Naturally this didn't work. "What did Yvain tell you then?" Merlin demanded to know.

"You better take care that nobody hears you calling him by his first name, it could cost you dearly!" Arthur replied in another futile attempt to change the subject.

"It's just that..." uncharacteristically Merlin interrupted himself.

"Look, we better get some sleep while we can, who knows what my dear long lost relatives have in mind for us tomorrow" the Prince said, extremely grateful for the other's unexpected willingness to drop the subject. "Would you mind taking the divan? It's rather comfortable, really!" Arthur knew he sounded like a spoilt brat but he had no intention of explaining that Yvain might take even Merlin's preliminary use of the bed for an excuse to expel him from the room altogether.

"Relative!" Merlin said stubbornly.

"What?"

"Relative. Singular, not plural! Remember? You once explained these words to me!"

"Merlin, what on earth are you talking about?"

"There's only one relative here. Yvain is your uncle, this madwoman Lordegrade has nothing to do with you and Endred is dead!"

From somewhere inside him an alien feeling of rage and defiance rose and only in the very last moment Arthur refrained from hitting his friend then and there. "What would you know about it? You have no right to insult her!" he yelled, only to bite his lip immediately afterwards. Shaking with terror at his own reaction he hid his clenched fists behind his back. However it was too late for that.

At the sight of the hands ready to attack Merlin had recoiled a few steps. He kept his distance even after the Prince apparently had regained his self-control. "I know what Gaius has told me" he said tentatively. "Maybe it wasn't right but we were so worried that this damned monster might tell you a bunch of lies, to bring you under his heel."

"I wasn't aware that my and my father's private affairs are subject of common gossip in the Court Physician's quarters!"

Merlin winced at the acid tone of this remark. "Arthur, please" he tried again. "At worst he has told you some atrocious lies about your father. At best he has told you only his side of the story. Are you really telling me you're not interested in hearing what Gaius knows about this? He witnessed it all and you know he wouldn't lie to me nor I to you!"

Arthur still battled the inexplicable rage and the urge to strike, and to strike hard, this rage created against his will. At Merlin's words he suddenly knew that this rage was not his own. That he was reliving another man's feelings the way he had been forced to do before. However, there was one memory at the forefront of his mind that couldn't be Yvain's.

"You've lied to me before" he said, dangerously low and calm.

"Look, Arthur, I always wanted to tell you about my magic but..."

"I don't mean that, although keeping it from me for all this time was atrocious in itself. I'm talking about the day you swore to me that Morgause hadn't told me the truth. That my father hadn't used magic to bring me into this world. And that he had not sacrificed my mother's life to get an heir!"

Merlin's outstretched hand sank down. Of all the things he had expected to hear this was the one he hadn't thought of. But it seemed so obvious now. Naturally Yvain would explore this vulnerable spot in Arthur's soul. Naturally he would …... but come to think of it, this had been a very, very private affair. Except father and son only Merlin himself, Gaius and Leon had been involved. How was Yvain to know? A half-forgotten memory came to his mind, something he had read and quickly cast aside, sick to his heart by the mere thought of what magic could be used for.

"What has the monster done to you?" he said hoarsely. "How has he...?"

To Arthur it sounded like another evasion and he was provoked beyond endurance by it. Virtually snarling he pushed the warlock against the nearest wall. "Answer. My. Question! Did you or did you not lie to me that day!"

"I did not" Merlin said softly. "Your father never intended your mother's death. He was devastated by it. He had loved her so much, Gaius was sure he wouldn't survive her death. But..."

"But what? Spit it out!"

"But it is true that you have been born by magical means. Nimueh, the woman you saw by the cave where you found the Morteus flower? She promised your father that she could cure your mother's barrenness but something went horribly wrong. It was nobody's fault, it was an accident. Maybe Nimueh overrated her abilities or maybe Gaius should have insisted on even more precautions but nobody was guilty of your mother's death!"

"But my father blamed all sorcerers for it because he felt guilty" Arthur said, completely sobered. His former rage and hurt were drowned by what he had heard. "He killed hundreds, maybe thousands of people because he wasn't able to live with his own conscience."

Very furtively Merlin laid his hand on Arthur's shoulder. "It wasn't only that. After what his own brother had done to him, after what this madwoman had done to him" Merlin decided to leave out the part with the forced divorce right now "he had every right to be distrustful of sorcerers."

Inwardly the warlock shook his head at himself. "Listen to me" he thought "here I am, defending Uther the mass murderer. Again!"

"When Nimueh let him down he thought she had betrayed him too!" he continued.

"You know that he would kill you on the spot if he knew what you are!" Arthur said.

"I don't care right now" Merlin replied hotly. "Uther is far away right now but you are here. I may have blundered the whole 'rescue and escape' part of the plan but that doesn't mean that I will stand by idly while your own uncle tries to tear you apart with his lies!"

"How often have you done this?"

"Done what?"

"Felt obliged to save my arse by risking your own!"

"I don't know. I must have lost count a year ago!"

"That bad, eh?" Arthur briefly covered his face with both hands but Merlin heard him softly chuckle. He decided to strike the iron while it was hot. "Would you tell me what Yvain did?" the warlock asked again. "Maybe I could set things straight a bit. These emotions you seem to have … he could have forced them on you!"

A whole blend of emotions battled inside the Prince until one thought emerged from of the turmoil. "You already know what he did, don't you!" he stated. "Could you... I mean have you ever done...something like that...to anybody?"

To Merlin the question was like a slap to his face. "No" he stammered. "No, of course not.. I wouldn't... I'd never. How dare you even think that of me!"

"Well, it was magic, you are a magician after all, so what's so absurd about this question? You seem to know perfectly well what we are talking about!"

"And what does that prove?"

"Well, it's what magicians do, isn't it. Use their powers on other people to get what they want."

Merlin's throat was narrowed by an ice cold rage of his own now. "I didn't know you've ever forced yourself on Guinivere!" he said.

"I did not!" Arthur shouted, deeply offended. "You know I wouldn't do such a thing!"

"Well, it would need strength, you are stronger than her after all and it seems you know perfectly well what we are talking about!"

This definitely took the wind out of Arthur's sails. It occurred to him that an apology might be in order but he couldn't bring himself to actually saying it. "We shouldn't have this conversation!" he muttered instead. "Come to think of it you shouldn't even be here! You only made things worse by running after me like an idiot."

It took the warlock a moment to find his voice again. "I'm sorry" he finally said, very stiffly. "It wasn't my intention to inconvenience you, Sire!" It was all he could do not to snivel. "Maybe I should go back, then. As you are doing so fine here, all on your own!"

Arthur couldn't help himself, he burst into desperate laughter. "Yes, Merlin, you do that. Ask the next best guard for a horse and a safe passage and they'll be overjoyed to oblige, I'm sure of it. Especially after my beloved uncle told me how glad he is that you could come!"

"What does he care whether I'm here or not?" Merlin asked in utter confusion. "It's not as if I were one of your knights, or your brother or such." He even regained some of his original goofy mood. "Your father always says how very expendable I am!"

The Prince let his head fall in utter exasperation. There was nothing for it than to sail plain in this. "To my father, maybe" he said. "To me, that's another matter. And unfortunately my loving uncle in his tender mercy is, for once! more interested in what I feel than in my father's opinions. Do you follow my drift or shall I spell it out for you more slowly?"

Merlin felt his cheeks grow hot as understanding slowly dawned on him. Horribly embarrassed he avoided his friend's gaze and scraped the tip of his foot over the floor. "I hadn't thought of that" he said miserably. "I thought..."

"Yes, I'm beginning to understand what you thought, my dear master sorcerer" Arthur said in the same exasperated manner. "You thought you could come here, yield your magic abilities and watch my dear uncle and his confederates fall to their knees while the two of us merrily ride away into the glowing sunset without anybody being the wiser of how you achieved this, especially without me being the wiser! But it didn't work out quite like this, did it. You ended up with your magical hands being bound, quite literally, and without them you're only a skinny boy who doesn't know how to hold a sword. You're as much a prisoner as I am. Even more so because Yvain needs me alive, at least for a while longer, but he doesn't need you. Actually nobody would care whether you live or die, except me and the effect of all this is that my dear uncle could leave this door unlocked, if he wanted to, together with all of Tintagel's gates; he could even shove a horse under my backside. As long as he holds a knife to your throat I could as well be chained to the wall with both hands."

Arthur's outburst had come as somewhat of a surprise to both of them. It left the Prince breathless while Merlin only stared at him.

"Do I mean that much to you?" the warlock finally said, very awkwardly.

"Merlin, stop it, please, I beg of you. Just leave me alone!"

A moment later Arthur swallowed hard at the sound of furtive feet softly padding away from him as far as they possibly could. Damn the clumsy idiot, damn him to hell!

While Merlin curled himself up on the forsaken divan, Arthur did the same in a window sill and for a while they both sulked silently in their respective misery. However it was Merlin, in his physical exhaustion, who finally dozed off to a light and fitful sleep. His royal friend did nothing of the kind. Instead he tried his best to sort things out, to differentiate between what Yvain had forced into his mind and what he himself thought and remembered, but he failed miserably.

Where once had been a genuine affection for his father was now only anger, spite and repugnance. And worst of all he had no idea whether these feelings were his or whether they were Yvain's. After hours of silent, fruitless self-torment he would have given almost anything for only a few minutes with Gaius. He remembered his childhood in which the old healer had been his bastion of calm whenever things between him and Uther had become awkward or turbulent.

Finally he offered total, unconditional surrender to himself. There was no other way. He hated himself for it, but there was no other way if he wanted the surety he craved so urgently. Anything, virtually anything would be better than this torturing, never-ending brooding.

He slipped out off the corner and made his way towards the other room. Brusquely he shook the warlock out of his sleep. "Okay, maybe you're not completely wrong" he said coarsely. "If you show me yours I will show you mine!"

"What?" Merlin bolted upwards to a sitting position.

"I mean, Merlin, I am going to tell you what my uncle wants me to believe and you, with all your superior wisdom from your gossiping with Camelot's Court Physician, can tell me whether it's true or not! Got it? And afterwards we need to have a little more detailed conversation about this magic of yours!"

The latter part drove the goofy smile which had begun to appear on the warlock's face away in the blink of an eye. In a vain attempt to stall he rubbed his eyes. "Do we have to?" he moaned.

"Yes, Merlin. We have to!" was Arthur's stern reply.