Author's Note: Finally a darkish chapter. I'm pretty well pleased with this one overall. Hope you enjoy!

Credit and thanks goes to chibikaty, as always.

I can't remember if this was inspired by any one thing. I think I just wanted a darker scene to write. Though, the way people are always escaping the dungeons in the show may have had something to do with it too.

Marble

It was one of those rare occasions when they had nothing to say to each other.

Almost always, these moments occurred in the dead of night. Prince Merlin would be placed against the wall near the window, his countenance both gloomy and thoughtful, posture guarding him from the interruption of others. Arthur would be somewhere near the bed, pretending to be of service if the prince should decide to retire but in reality acting as a guardian making sure Merlin could have the peace of mind to think and was distracted by nothing else. Just like the stargazing nights Arthur used to spend with his mother, these nights were mellow and undisturbed.

But on this night – colder, heavier, more tightly wound than the rest – Arthur was positioned behind the table rather than beside the bed. He was no sentry tonight. He was a mouse stuck in a corner and all too aware of the cat nearby who hadn't caught sight of him yet. What Arthur didn't know was that this particular cat was more worried about being found out for causing the mess in the other room than he was about mice lurking by the walls. Merlin remained by the window but was too stiff in his spine, too sharp in his shoulders and it was nothing like the heavy slouch he usually preferred.

This was a night of trepidation and terror for the unwritten future. For both cat and mouse.

A distant wolf's howl sang through the night and Arthur had the crazy thought that if he and Merlin were on the moon – fat and full and in clear sights from the prince's window – they couldn't have been more still or more silent. Arthur wasn't even sure he was breathing and he couldn't feel the heartbeat in his chest that should be there.

Merlin was similarly imitating a statue; frozen uncomfortably like marble as he bore his heavy gaze down towards Camelot's lower town. He barely moved but for his eyes. Those royal blue orbs were busy carefully scanning the kingdom below the castle, as though looking for a trace of suspicious activity. Arthur fought his usual nervous fidgets, worried that somehow, this time, his friend was lost somewhere beyond where Arthur could reach him. And call him a coward, but he wasn't willing to face a Merlin who'd look at him with such cold, piercing eyes.

But then Merlin closed his eyes and breathed in deep, and Arthur could blink and breathe for himself again.

"You didn't have to do that," Arthur muttered bravely but cowardly letting the 'thank you' (thankyouthankyouthankyouyoudontknowwhatthismeanstome) go unsaid.

Merlin didn't open his eyes but his voice was as cold as they had been. "You think I'd stand by and watch my father murder abandoned children?"

Arthur fought his flinch and shrugged helplessly, "Lots of people do."

"Well maybe lots of people need to change," the prince snapped, his words cracking over his manservant like a whip to his back and Arthur stopped being sure he was awake.

The prince, the crown prince of Camelot, surely couldn't be talking of… treason. Not Merlin. Not Prince Merlin. The most powerful warlock within the Five Kingdoms, the one prophesized to be Emrys who would be the bringer of a greater magic than had ever been seen before (butalsoaheroforthenonmagiciansrememberthestories). And it certainly was treason to publicly or privately question a king's ruling, never mind one as dangerous and merciless as King Gaius.

Thinking Arthur's silence (shock) odd, Merlin turned to study him, less angry about his kingdom's – and his father's – tyranny and more frightened that he had misread his servant's loyalty and confidentiality.

"You think differently?" The prince murmured, scared to know the answer and worried about what it might mean.

Stupidly, Arthur opened his mouth to deny Merlin's suspicion, least wanting his friend to doubt or regret the great amount of trust he had just placed in him. But a part of Arthur held back his words – the frightened part who lived his daily life in all the shadows and corners he could find, trembling like a leaf and looking over his shoulder every other second. Why did Merlin think he sympathized with non-magic folk? What if he agreed with the position and sounded too supportive? Was this a genuine question or was it all a trap to expose Arthur's secret? Frightened-Arthur couldn't tell so he clammed up and choked back his voice entirely, leaving the rest of Arthur feeling both terrified and ashamed.

Merlin glared daggers when Arthur remained silent. "I'd've never thought you would be a coward when it came to standing for what you believe in." He glared some more but it wasn't enough to free Arthur from his fear. His voice spat like venom, stinging the wounds left from the blades, "I thought you were an absolute fool when we first met but I also thought you to be brave. And now, when I've given you my trust freely and completely, you freeze like a cornered hatchling."

Arthur breathed hard for a moment, loosening his neckerchief and trying to calm himself down enough to relax his white-knuckled fists. How could he honestly deny any of what Merlin had just said?

"It's good to finally know exactly what kind of person you are. A worthless Pendragon raised on mud and dirt, just like your word. Your honour."

Everything that he and Merlin had been building together was crumbling apart in front of his eyes and he was letting it all happen without uttering a sound. Merlin was still glaring blue fire at him, challenging him to fight and trying to push him past his fears.

And this time, it began to work.

"I agree with everything you've said," the servant blurted, quickly before he could think it over or keep it back. His fear loosened ever so slightly, the honesty of his words bringing him a little shine of courage.

Stubborn with his expression, Merlin drove, "Everything?"

Arthur nodded, feeling very much like the worthless naked hatchling he had been accused of impersonating. Especially when he knew it was already too late – their relationship had been damaged beyond what a few words could repair. "Absolutely everything," he repeated, trying to amend anyway and rubbing his regret into the gifted neckerchief. "And I'm sorry for failing you."

After a long moment of study, Merlin nodded too, his eyes no less intense but ceasing their attack on Arthur. Instead, they fell to the floor where the prince's shadow lingered in the light of the moon but Arthur's stayed far out of sight.

Author's Note: Ah! Well pleased by that last line! It's funny to me how it's the smallest pieces of writing that fill me up with the most pride. They're like precious gems, those one-liners. Anyway, hope Arthur wasn't too much of a wimp here. It's just really hard for him to have to pretend to be something he's really not because he's got to keep a tight watch on how he acts, things he says, who he's seen with, etc. It's more challenging for him in this verse than Merlin had in the show, really. Denying a part of who you are seems doable in comparison to creating a false persona.