Swords. He could hear a scuffle abounding in the early morning. Merlin leaned against the wall on tiptoe, his nose stretching towards the grate in the wall even though his entire body rebelled. A woman screamed. He didn't hear any bears.

Merlin peaked over his shoulder again. The guards hadn't arrived yet. Maybe he could … Merlin let the magic push him up through the air until his face was level with the grate and he was looking on the outside world once more. The familiar sights of the castle and the sun warmed his heart a cheery fire. He grimly noted the pyre being prepared. It would be ready in another day.

Merlin peered towards the end of the courtyard. His field of vision was obscured by the angle of the grate, but a few of Camelot's guards were swarming around a cloaked man Merlin had never seen before. The woman screamed again and Merlin directed his attention to her.

Petite, dark skinned, and in obvious distress - it was Gwen. Merlin ground his teeth together, making his jaw ache. Someone had been attacking her! Merlin cursed Morgana under his breath for targeting her handmaiden again. That witch was never satisfied, was she?

A small blast of light erupted from the circle of guards, forcing them back for a moment. Merlin squinted, trying to get a better view. He felt the magic again, stronger this time. It was definitely something he should recognize, he thought.

A fair skinned, red haired man was paraded past him towards the side entrance to the castle. The king was not to be troubled at this hour with cases of rapists and sorcerers. Merlin maintained the spell a bit longer, tempted to call out to Gwen through mind speech to check on her welfare. But he remained silent, wishing his secret were a lighter burden to bear. She stared after the sorcerer with an odd expression, Merlin thought, for someone who had apparently been molested moments before. He hoped against hope that she had not been enchanted, yet somehow he knew that she had not. The magic he had sensed held no malice, nor did it seem particularly powerful. In fact, Merlin sniffed the air, the magic had been an external source. The sorcerer himself did not appear to have much knowledge.

He's foolish, Merlin thought bitterly, if he thinks he can waltz into Camelot and do magic.

Merlin tactfully ignored the fact that he had done just that on his first day in Uther's city. The now familiar din of armor alerted him to the guard rotation and he relinquished the levitation spell, sinking slowly to the floor. The warlock crawled into the corner and sat down in the musty hay. He tried to keep his mind off his stomach, but his torso had shrunk considerably during his days of imprisonment. He was thin enough to begin with and now he could easily count his ribs. A feeble grumbling erupted beneath his hand and he let out a loud sigh, wishing for some of Gaius's terrible porridge.

Visions of stiff oatmeal shattered with the rattling of the keys. His cell door was being unlocked. Merlin sat up a bit, instantly wary of the intrusion, but was struck dumb with surprise as a brown blur hurtled through the doorway. The lump skidded ungracefully to a stop near the wall, carving out a track in the rushes. The door slammed shut, the keys twisting in the lock once more and the guards left.

Merlin waited patiently for the heap of brown cloth to sort itself out. When it finally did, and a red haired head poked up like a mushroom from the robe; Merlin recognized the sorcerer in the square who had attacked Gwen. He instantly scooted backwards, putting as much space as he could between himself and this vile man.

The red haired man looked up, and upon spotting Merlin, gave a whoop of delight. Merlin scrunched his eyebrows in bewilderment and edged further away.

"Merlin!" Ginger exclaimed. Merlin frowned. He didn't like ginger people overmuch.

"Who the hell are you?" Merlin asked, a bit savagely. He folded his arms across his chest to show he wasn't intimidated by the fiery crown of red atop the head of this revolting man.

"That's a fine way to talk to your friend. Do you know just how much work I put in to getting myself arrested?" Ginger lowered his voice a notch, remembering that the guards were still in the general vicinity.

Merlin's eyebrows shot up. Strange fellow indeed. He shifted on the rushes and regarded the ginger warily as though he expected the other man to spontaneously combust due to a mispronounced incantation.

Ginger shut his mouth; he had forgotten he looked like a red-haired charlatan. Merlin didn't even know who he really was. He ought to tell him.

Ginger smiled. Nah, he'd have a bit of fun first.

"Heh," he laughed nervously. "Sorry. I get a bit crazy when my trousers rip."

Merlin arched an eyebrow again and said, "Oh? Do you rip your trousers often then, because you seem like the type to be—."

"Shut up," Ginger said familiarly. Merlin narrowed his eyes. "The guards tore my trousers right through my robe," he lifted a rent piece of fabric to show the damage done to his garments. Shaking his head in disapproval, he gave Merlin a lopsided smile and settled more comfortably on the stone floor. "I'll have to find someone to mend them for me," he shot a glance at his cellmate, but Merlin wasn't watching.

"You attacked my friend."

"What?"

"It was you," Merlin said. Suddenly feeling extremely exhausted, Merlin let out a faint groan and flopped onto the filthy floor, closing his eyes. Ginger hadn't taken much notice of Merlin's appearance, but as his eyes drifted over the tired warlock, he felt the heat rising on his neck.

Merlin's face was swollen an angry red, pus leaked out of a nasty wound and the fringe of his hair was caked with dried blood. The shirt he wore was stiff with something Ginger had no desire to name and lips were broken and cracked. Ginger had a feeling that if he were to undress the manservant, he would find the rest of his body marked up with signs of abuse. Ginger fumed at what his father had done.

His face softened again as he gazed, fixated with Merlin's dark lashes, the only unblemished bit on his face. He hadn't really paid much attention to Merlin's strange beauty, but his friend had a delicate air of otherworldly grace to him that vanished during the waking hours. In repose, those it wasn't entirely restful Ginger gathered, Merlin appeared vulnerable and fragile. Ginger sighed and swallowed his pride. He needed to give his friend some peace of mind; who knew how much longer they had?

Gently shaking him awake, Ginger peered into Merlin's pallid face. Merlin opened his eyes suddenly, sitting bolt upright and bashing his forehead into the ginger man's nose.

"Ow!" Ginger sat back, gripping his nose in pain. "Bloody—ow! That hurt."

Merlin rubbed his own bruised appendage and glared at the ginger man. His expression silently telling the ginger just what he thought of him: a cruel, foolish, and arrogant prat. Ginger relented, and had the grace to look somewhat sheepish when he caught sight of the side of Merlin's ruined face.

Merlin kept watching him, waiting for him to say something or for him to vanish, he wasn't sure.

Ginger took a deep breath, "Merlin." Merlin's eyes flickered over his own for a moment before the warlock's gaze skittered away. "I know you have magic."

"So do you, apparently." Merlin snapped. How did this man even know him? Was he a druid then? Ginger's eyes widened a fraction. There it was – the admission. He hadn't been expecting it to hurt, but to know that Merlin freely disclosed this information to someone he didn't believe to be Arthur did.

"Merlin," he began again. "It's me. Arthur. I've come to help get you out."

Merlin gaped for a moment before he burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Arthur demanded.

"You're not the prince," Merlin said. "He sounds nothing like you – and he's certainly not a ginger."

"What, have you got something against ginger people, then?"

"No, I—yes, I suppose so," Merlin mumbled, his mirth barely contained. "I'm not that much of an idiot. I think I know Arthur when I see him. And besides," he said, his voice darkening a bit, "Arthur would never hurt Gwen."

Arthur dipped his head, not wanting to meet Merlin's accusing eyes.

"When Guinevere brings the antidote, you'll see it's me, Merlin." He spoke with such conviction that Merlin was almost inclined to believe him. Almost.

Merlin shook his head slightly. "You can't be Arthur because Arthur can't do magic."

"Of course I can't do magic! Did you not hear me? I can barely pronounce that one word! Gaius said you do that one all the time, that's why he was able to make up a charm for me that responded to the spell." He was whispering though it was clear he wanted to shout.

"Gaius said…?"

"Four bears or for bar none, I don't know!" Arthur sputtered. "I got it once, and that was it. I don't think it'll work again." He held up the little charm wrapped up in white cloth. Merlin took it from him, turning it over in his hands. The magic was fading in it, but he could detect that familiarity that had called out to him before. Gaius. "Gaius and Gwen found a spell to change my looks and my voice."

"I just … I can't," Merlin murmured. This was made by Gaius; he could feel it. But Gaius would never tell his secret to anyone, least of all to Arthur or this unknown ginger sorcerer. "He wouldn't betray me like that."

Merlin shuffled into the corner and drew his knees up around his chest. "I don't know what to do anymore," he whispered to the wall. He looked back up to the ginger sorcerer. "Do you know how hard it is for me?"

Arthur blinked owlishly.

"Are you really Arthur?" he asked quietly. Arthur nodded. "How do I know that? I just saw you attacking my friend out there."

"It was a set up," Arthur answered, matching Merlin's volume so the guards wouldn't overhear. "We tried to let you know we were going to help you a few days ago, and then she and Gaius came up with another plan."

"The grate?" Merlin asked, remembering that strange conversation he had heard, so out of character for both Arthur and Gwen. Arthur nodded again.

"We thought if I got arrested for sorcery, I would be able to speak with you. Merlin, when," he cleared his throat self-consciously, "when the guards took you away and Morgana told me you'd threatened to kill her I didn't know what to think."

Merlin's heart leapt in his throat. "You didn't seriously think she was telling the truth?"

Arthur shot him a look. He believed his story then? "I couldn't until I had a chance to speak with you. But what I want to know is why she would lie? I know about your magic; I know you aren't evil."

Merlin's face drained of color if that was even possible at this point. Arthur knew. He knew! No more secrets, no more skulking about in the shadows, no more lies. This was what he had always wanted, for Arthur to know and to accept him for who he was. The shock of it all was enough to blow Merlin over like a feather and he hit the floor of the cell again with a dull thud.

Arthur waved the end of his robe over Merlin's face. The warlock didn't stir.

"Oh come on, Merlin, you are such a girl!" Arthur said affectionately over Merlin's passed out form.