Sorry about the wait! First there was homework, then writer's block, then more homework, then laziness, then a broken computer. Punch me, I deserve it. This is a really bad chapter too, nothing much happens in it, but I THINK things will start to pick up again next time. We'll see.

When the previous chapter first appeared, there was some Perwaine in there that I have now edited out due to popular demand (sorry to anyone who liked it, I am NOT bringing it back). In case you were wondering, I agree with you completely, it was awful, and though there may be closeness and hints in future, I do not intend to do anything else that…sudden.

This chapter is dedicated to Stormaggedon, an awesome beta, and ARTmeg (why do you keep changing your name!?) and Lady-Sharif, who both left reviews that brought me close to tears. (You are all far too lovely to me!)

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Chapter 14: Loopholes

Arthur had long ago been taught to wake up silently. You were at your most vulnerable when asleep, and the same stood for waking up – the slightest noise might alert an enemy to your presence at the cost of your life. But even Arthur could not help groaning as the fog cleared from his mind, and he started to move his aching muscles, eyes still bleary from sleep, and blinded by the light assaulting them.

Somehow, he had fallen asleep sitting up, only upright because his legs were drawn so high against his chest. His arms were deadweights at his sides, and his neck clicked worryingly as he tried to move it, slumped as he was over the top of his knees. Shifting his weight, Arthur tried to straighten his legs. It was a difficult task, and he groaned again in pain as his joints creaked, but once that was done he was a lot more comfortable for it – it had been inordinately difficult to breathe in that position.

It wasn't until he tried to move his arms, and heard the chain links scraping and clanking, that he started to remember.

Suddenly, Arthur found that breathing was getting a little harder than normal. Ignoring the rattling sounds that followed, Arthur raised his palms to his face and pressed down on his eyes hard with the heels of his hands, heart thudding and not taking them away until he was sure any trace of the sleepy-eyed mist had vanished. When he did remove his palms, he could see clearly; too clearly. He saw bars from floor to ceiling on two sides, and golden, evening light pouring in from a window over his head, and a moth ridden blanket on the floor beside him, and shackles, shackles on his wrists, attached to chains that hung, trailed all the way to the wall he was leaning against…

Arthur scrambled to his feet, his weakly-protesting joints forgotten. Spinning round so that both chains were on one side of him, he backed away from the wall, hardly aware of what he was doing, but didn't get more than a few steps before one of the chains went taught, tugging on his arm as it tried to make him face forward again. Arthur hated that feeling; that…restriction. He could usually cope with just being in a cell, but his father had learnt long ago that chaining him in was a really bad idea…

"Oh, look, His Royal Highness is awake! Told you he was asleep, didn't I?"

Arthur turned. On one side of the pillared area in front of his cell two guards dressed in black sat, cups and dice on the table in front of them, watching him.

The smaller one had a furtive, disgruntled look on his face. "Well, how was I supposed to know? It wasn't exactly a normal position he was sitting in, was it?"

"You mean that he was sleeping in."

"Fine, sleeping in! Don't see why it matters, anyway." Embittered, the small man picked up the dice and threw them angrily onto the table.

"Let me out of here now." Arthur growled.

There was a moment of silence before both men sniggered.

The small one stifled his chuckles behind his hand. "Your right. He was asleep. I don't think he's quite woken up yet either. Still in dreamland, Sire?"

Arthur just glared at them, hands clenched to fists.

The larger of the two men stood, picked up a bowl, and came over to the cell, still grinning absentmindedly. Arthur's heart jumped as he saw the guard pull a set of keys from his belt, but once the door had been unlocked they were placed on a hook on the wall outside, and Arthur's heart slowed as the guard slipped into the cell without them; there was no point trying to escape unless he could get the accursed shackles off, and there was no way he could do that without the keys. Besides, the other guard could sound the warning bell in a flash if necessary.

The guard now in front of Arthur extended his hand nonchalantly, proffering the bowl, which was filled with a substance of dubious nature, towards him. Arthur didn't move.

The man raised an eyebrow questioningly "Intending to starve yourself, are you? Or worried that the Queen is going to try and poison you whilst you're sitting in her dungeons, completely at her mercy?"

It took a moment for Arthur to realise who he meant by 'the Queen', and he desperately wanted to say that they were his dungeons, actually, before realising that that would make him look even less like he was in control. Moving as little as possible to avoid the hellish jangling whenever he moved his hands, he took the bowl from the man, who sighed and walked out, locking the door. Only when he had sat down at the table again and was engaged in his game of dice did Arthur turn and seat himself against the wall once more.

Arthur put the bowl down next to him on the ground, choosing instead to fiddle with the clasp on the cuff. He didn't know when – or if – he would be getting more food, so it would be best to wait until he was actually hungry for something. And you would have to be pretty hungry to eat the foul mess that was sitting in that bowl. Someone had put the spoon in at a slight angle, and it was now inching its way, millimetre by millimetre, from vaguely vertical, to a slightly more horizontal stance. Arthur was certain that not even some of the awful food that Merlin used to make would–

Merlin.

It had slipped his mind; everything he'd learned about his closest friend the day before. He had forgotten about the magic, and the secrets, and the people Merlin had lost and never known because of him, because of Arthur; the stories never told and the suffering in silence, and the fear, fear of his father, fear of him for all those years.

Merlin was his friend. He could always tell when Arthur was hurting, or struggling with something, he always tried to help, and usually succeeded too. So what did that make Arthur? How many times had Merlin been in pain or in trouble, and watched as Arthur brushed it off as being nothing more than an off day?

Then Arthur thought of those times; those times when Merlin had been the quiet, serious, wise man that Arthur turned to for advice in times of need, who's judgement Arthur trusted beyond anyone's, even Gwen's. The Merlin who almost looked like some kind of…nobility. He knew without a doubt that that was the real Merlin, as he might have been if he had been free – the great sorcerer who had pledged his life to Arthur's. Emrys, the most powerful warlock to have ever lived, worshipped by the Druids, and nothing more than a serving boy to the King.

Arthur vowed, then and there, that if he ever became King again he would give Merlin a position that he deserved. He'd never been a very good servant anyway.

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"Y'know, if me and Gwen swapped over, we'd have the old team back together, wouldn't we?" Gwaine said thoughtfully, leaning his head back against the wall and staring at the ceiling.

The knights, Gwen, and Gaius had been moved from the big cell a short while after Arthur, but other than that, not much had changed. They were in two cells now, which were directly opposite each other – Leon, Percival, Lancelot and Gwaine in one, Gwen, Elyan and Gaius in the other. It was these last two that Gwaine was addressing.

"Remember that?" he said morosely. "Four, five years and we're back in the same place. I bet that ugly brute Morgana kept trying to make me fight is still alive. That blow to the head I gave him probably made his face even worse."

"Gwaine?"

"What?"

"Shut up." Elyan hissed.

Blissful silence reigned for one second, two seconds, three seconds…

"I could do with some ale."

A collective groan rose up as he spoke. Leon started to bang his head against the wall.

"How can he talk this much?" Lancelot whimpered, head in his hands

Gwaine just gave a thin-lipped smile.

From the other cell, Elyan called out to him. "Thanks for the offer, Gwaine, but I think we'll keep Gwen. Once stuck in a cell with you was enough to last me a life time."

"I'll second that…" Gaius murmured quietly.

Percival chuckled. "Come on, give him a break! He's not that bad." His voice became thoughtful. "I think talking is Gwaine's way of coping. Coping with a stressful situation, I mean."

They all fell silent at the unintentional reminder of their predicament.

"D'you know what you need, Gwaine?" Gwen's voice drifted in, attempting to lighten the precipitously leaden mood, though they could all hear the slight wobble that it had had ever since Arthur had been taken away. "You need someone quiet in your life, someone who can put up with your endless chatter. Who knows? Some of their quietness might even rub off on you!"

Any chuckles that they might have tried to force out were cut off as a young Saxon boy ran past their cells, panting heavily, and whispered something into the ear of the guard who sat nearby. The prisoners stepped up to the bars and watched warily as the guard handed the keys from his belt to the boy.

"What's going on?" Lancelot called.

The guard drew his sword and the boy walked over to Gaius, Gwen and Elyan's cell, leering nastily. "The Lady Morgana wishes to see the old toad."

It was a few seconds before they realised who he was talking about – no-one in Camelot would dare speak of the physician so disrespectfully, for fear of Gaius as much as anyone else – but when they did, Elyan and Gwen immediately stepped in front of him.

"Shame you're not taking him, then, isn't it?" Gwaine growled and pressed his face between the bars from his position in the other cell.

The boy looked suitably intimidated, but the guard carried on regardless. "And what are you going to do about it, scum?"

The atmosphere became like ice – the stony, stubborn faces of the prisoners against the red faced guard, who was growing angrier by the second.

"If Morgana has something to say to Gaius," interjected Percival coldly, drawing himself to his full height and letting the light from the torch flicker over his stony features. "then maybe she can come here and say it?"

The guard lifted his sword. "And maybe I should run you through?" he hissed heatedly.

Stepping in front of Percival, Gwaine fixed a glower on the black-clad guard fit to wake the dead. "And maybe I should take that sword and ram its pointy-end up your–"

"Stop this now!"

Everyone turned to look at the speaker.

"This petty squabbling accomplishes nothing!"

Gaius had stepped past Gwen and Elyan, and was standing at the bars. "I will go."

Gwaine would have killed that guard purely to wipe the smug grin off his face.

"Gaius, you're not going anywhere!" snarled Leon

"They'll only make me go if you fight it – and I'm a physician; there could be no greater insult to my vocation than to have someone getting hurt for me."

Once the door was unlocked, Gaius stepped out. The young Saxon boy reached, as if to grab the old physician's arm, but Gaius turned on him with a smouldering glare. "I may be an old toad, but I am perfectly capable of walking by myself, without help from any insolent whipper-snappers like you, thank you very much!"

The boy nodded, shrinking even more under Gaius' vindictive gaze, and they marched off, the boy trudging meekly behind the straight-backed physician, and leaving behind five very proud knights, and an even prouder Queen.

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Merlin…

…His name. That was his name.

Merlin, wake up…

What a stupid thing to say. If he could understand what was being said, then he'd be awake already; they could say "Merlin, dance a jig" and it would still wake him up – telling him to do it was stupid. But if he could hear the voice, that would mean he was already awake, wouldn't it? Am I awake, then? Or am I just babbling? Or both? Merlin thought absently. Can you babble without talking? Can you babble with your thoughts?

You need to get up, Merlin!

That voice; he didn't recognise it, but there was something…familiar about it. It was young, yet old, and he could have sworn it was female, but no girl or woman he knew. At its sound he felt his magic, crushed and distant, stirring within him, like she was calling to it. Who are you?

I am a friend, Merlin, and I am trying to help you. But first you must wake up!

Do I have to? Merlin thought-whimpered. He was warm and comfortable, and could not feel that pain, that god-awful pain that he felt in the waking world.

Merlin Emrys Balinorson, you must wake up NOW!

Oh, all right then, if you're going to be like that. Merlin thought irritably, grumpiness being his natural state whenever anyone ordered him to do anything.

He cracked his eyes open a little, trying to ignore the way the light burned them, and shifted a little. A rush of pain sparked through him like lightning at the movement, and he barely noticed as the presence left his mind.

Groaning, Merlin tensed his muscles at the ache. "Owww." he mumbled

"Indeed." muttered a pensive voice.

Merlin's eyes flashed open as he recognised the unmistakeable tones of Camelot's court physician. Sure enough, Gaius' face hovered over him, lined with concern. It was only when he felt the old man's hand on his shoulder that Merlin realised he had tried to sit up.

They were in the council chambers, Merlin splayed on the ground and Gaius kneeling at his side. The light – stained-glass-red and evening-gold – was spread-eagled across the stone floor, making the throne behind them little more than a silhouette; a shadow, a gap in the whirling dust-motes.

Gaius took another glance at his injuries, or rather, his lack of them. "Getemian?" he queried

Merlin nodded, trying not to flinch at the memory of the spell.

"How long ago did it wear off?"

Merlin opened his mouth to tell Gaius that he couldn't be sure, but he never got that far.

"Oh, it was two, maybe three hours ago…"

They both twisted sharply. Leaning with her back against a pillar on the other side of the room stood Morgana, smirking complacently.

Now sitting upright, Merlin glared at Morgana venomously, hoping to god that Gaius hadn't noticed him flinch upon sight of her. "What do you want now?" he croaked.

"Oh come now, is that any way to speak to your Queen?" Pushing away from the stone column, she walked over to them.

This time Merlin couldn't help it; he drew back.

Morgana smiled and halted. "Don't worry Emrys, it's not you I'm interested in." and so saying, she fixed her grey-eyed gaze on Gaius.

"Me?" Gaius' eyebrow rose slowly as he looked between the two powerful magic users.

After the initial surprise at her statement, Merlin leant forward slightly, his upper lip curling in an almost-snarl. "No, Morgana. We made a deal; you can't go near any of them, I won't let you." Gaius let loose an exasperated sigh, which Merlin choicely ignored.

"Actually," Morgana corrected, "you said I couldn't harm them. I have no intention of harming Gaius."

She was now staring intently at Merlin once more, and at her words raised a slow, lazy finger to her head and tapped her finger against her temple. Merlin sagged.

"Isn't my mind enough for you?" Merlin muttered wearily, staring at the floor.

She shook her head even as Gaius' lips parted in astonishment at the implications of Merlin's words.

Merlin looked up once more, biting his lower lip and flicking his eyes to Morgana's face and away sporadically, the way he always did when he was desperate. "I'll let you take them all, all of my memories. I won't hold anything back, I swear."

With a high, manic laugh, Morgana walked the last couple of metres and knelt down beside the still-stunned Gaius. "Merlin, I can already do that! How long will it take you to realise you have no hold over me? You have sold me your mind in return for your friend's safety, and that is the end of it! Besides," Morgana smiled as Merlin slumped in defeat. "there's something specific I want from Gaius. What do you say, old man? Care to share?"

It took only a quick glance at Merlin before he said defiantly "I'm not giving you anything, Morgana."

Morgana cocked her head to one side. "No, I didn't think you would – you won't make the same mistakes twice. So for what we once had, I'm sorry about this…Getemian."

Clamping his eyes shut jadedly, Merlin abandoned all attempt at following the events unfolding around him as his limbs juddered and he fell to the floor. He was barely aware of Gaius' hands gripping his wrists, of Gaius' voice calling his name as the wave upon wave of stabbing, burning, breaking sensations ripped through his frame.

"What's your answer now, Gaius?" Morgana grinned.

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"Iseldir?"

The sound of his name drew the grey-haired Druid from his thoughts, and he opened his eyes, taking in the frantic exterior of Elisedd, his brother and closest friend. It was not so much his appearance that suggested he was worried; Elisedd's hair, chocolate brown as Iseldir's used to be, was immaculate, and even his robes did not look the slightest bit ruffled. But his eyes seemed incapable of remaining fixed on one spot, and his lined face was even more creased than usual. Iseldir had always had a knack for judging people's emotions, and Elisedd's did not bode well.

"There is news?" Iseldir queried simply.

Elisedd bowed his head. "Camelot has fallen. The last of the army has been taken, Morgana is fully in control."

There were gasps from around the circle of Druids. Despair raised its ugly head in Iseldir's chest, but he quelled it; it would not do to make others more frightened than they already were. "Emrys? The King?"

Elisedd fiddled with a stray thread on the sleeve of his robe. "Of them there is no sign. They have not been executed publically, but nor have either of them been seen since the attack began."

Iseldir nodded and closed his eyes. For several long seconds, silence reigned, and Elisedd feared to break it; he knew his brother better than anyone, and could tell that behind those closed lids a battle was raging. Fight or flight? They could not, would not, renounce Emrys, and Morgana would drive them away for it. Suddenly, they were faced with a decision much like the one that they had been faced with thirty years ago, at the beginning of the Great Purge when Elisedd had been just a boy. Their fathers had chosen flight, and now the sons were faced with the same choice.

He could not put it off any longer. Nodding at the assembled Druids, he waited until he was alone with his brother then leaned closer to the statue-like man and whispered "What do we do?"

Iseldir's eyes flickered open and his watery-grey iris' looked into Elisedd's face without seeing it. "We get help." he said simply

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Okay, finally got that finished! The Druids are going to have a much more central role to the story now, and I am really looking forward to it. This one wasn't beta'd so please forgive me for any errors or general rubbishness.

Oh, and you know Stormaggedon? My Beta? She is amazing. Hey, Stormaggedon? You're AMAZING!

Please review! It really does help me write faster! (particularly if they're nice *hopeful smile*)