They waited as the guards - Merlin counted at least seven - disappeared into one of the rooms in the left corridor. That must be where the garrison quarters are, he guessed. Which meant that the other doors most likely led to the servant quarters.

If, he groaned internally, the layout was the same as Camelot's castle.

Which so far it hadn't been. But...did he have any other options? Would it be faster to take the route he knew and hope it was the same? Or should he just choose a direction at random and hope for the best?

It was a difficult choice; no, he corrected himself, it was an impossible choice.

But maybe….

If he could use his magic then they might have a chance.

He couldn't say the spells out loud, not with Arthur so close, but maybe he could cast silently. He'd done it before - like when he saved Gaius from falling or when he fought Arthur in the square - but it had been instinctive. And he'd been in distress; it had never worked when he wasn't under duress.

He was definitely under duress now. But he didn't know if this duress counted. It wasn't as time-sensitive as before.

"Bord, wiþ stende hine !" He thought. Willing the door closed and locked. It swung shut with a bang. Startled shouts immediately spilling from the other side.

Time to go.

Merlin grabbed Arthur's arm, running down the hallway as best he could, forgetting to be gentle in his heightened state of emotion, "Come on!"

The walls flew by in a blur as they rushed down the hallway to what Merlin hopes is the servant's exit.

Arthur stumbled. Merlin dragged him along before with a heave, he righted him.

Behind them, he heard a deafening crunch of a wooden door splintering. Shouts echoed down the corridor accompanied by the sound of pounding feet as the guards began to chase after them.

He cursed.

Skidding around a corner at full speed. Nearly sending them colliding with a hall as they slid along the polished floor.

A serving girl shrieked when she saw them, dropping the basket she was carrying, its contents rolling across the floor. Merlin pushed her out of the way, heart-clenching at the fear on her face and knowing that he was the reason it was there.

He hated himself for it but he had no choice.

He couldn't let them get caught again.

Neither of them were in great shape.

His back burned like fire every time he so much as breathed. The movement stretching the shallow wounds painfully. He could still feel blood trickling down his back; it made his shirt cling like a second skin before trailing hot and sticky down the back of his thighs.

Both of Arthur's arms were dislocated and needed to be set. To make matters worse, he obviously had a terrible concussion that was already affecting his vision.

Merlin considered their options.

They couldn't fight.

They obviously couldn't run forever. He could already feel his lungs tightening as he ran, the growing stitch in his side telling him he wouldn't be able to run for much longer.

Above them, the alarm bell began to toll.

Each ring sounded like a death toll.

Arthur grimaced, "We're running out of time. Have you found the way out yet?"

Merlin didn't respond, too out of breath and too rundown to answer. "Oh," Arthur breathed, frown deepening, understanding what Merlin wasn't saying. He could hear the footsteps of the guards following close behind them. "I see how it is. If we're going down, we're going down together and, Merlin," Arthur hesitated and Merlin grimaced at how solemn he sounded, "It was an honor knowing you. I couldn't ask for a better man to die beside."

"Ha, I'm not done yet. Save your compliments for after I've rescued us."

Arthur snorted, wetly and didn't reply; grim acceptance lined his face. He knew as well as Merlin that the odds of escape were next to none. But he was a Pendragon and when the time came to meet death, he would meet him with honor - head held high and the knowledge that he hadn't surrendered. Not even for a second.

And for once Merlin was in complete unspoken agreement with him. He wasn't about to go down without a fight.

His eyes flashed gold and the ceiling gave way behind them.

Their pursuers shouted in alarm.

Surprise flit like lightning across Arthur's face, "What was that?"

"The ceiling just collapsed! What shoddy workmanship, huh? It's a wonder the castle's even still standing, shape it's in!"

"It's a miracle it didn't squish us."

"Oh, you know how we are. Nothing but good luck and fortune ever happens to us." He panted, breathing ragged. His face burned and he was sure if he looked in a mirror it would be bright red and sweat dripped down his face and neck. The salt of it stinging the lacerations on his back. But it was a grounding pain. He let himself focus on it rather than the pain in his lungs. Eventually, though, he had to stop.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, knees shaking uncontrollably, forcing him to brace himself against the wall as he caught his breath. "I can't, I can't run anymore…"

Beside him, he could hear Arthur panting - though not as hard - he tugged on his arm, setting a sedate pace down the hallway.

"Walk then but don't stop. It's a miracle we managed to lose the guards as it is."

"Yeah...a real miracle."

Merlin grunted. Stumbling as he tried to walk on legs that felt like they could collapse underneath him at any moment. He swallowed and pushed past his exhaustion, vision flaring white as with a flick of his wrist all the doors in the corridor swung open simultaneously. Most of them looked to be servant quarters but there was one that opened into a courtyard. He staggered towards it gratefully.

"MERLIN!"

Morgause's furious gaze was pinned on him; her eyes flashed gold, cracking the archway. The rock splintered and it sagged. Pieces of rock and dust rained down on them. Merlin shouted in alarm and tackled Arthur through the doorway right as the keystone gave a mighty groan and fell, the rest of the arch following. A cloud of dust rose from the rubble.

Arthur made an alarmed sound. Merlin looked up, eyes widening before immediately dropping back to the ground. Covering Arthur with his body as the wall behind them exploded. Showering them with pieces of stone and wood. Merlin shouted as a particularly large piece slammed into the small of his back.

He rolled over, dazedly taking in the rubble covering the grass. Stumbling to his knees and then to his feet, he grabbed a dazed Arthur and dragged him to a safe spot. Laying him down behind another piece of arch support and rubble from the wall.

"Merlin-"

"Shhh," Merlin interrupted, glancing nervously over his shoulder, "Just stay here. I've gotta, gotta go deal with Morgause."

"It's too dangerous! You can't seriously be thinking of fighting her by yourself!"

"I have to."

"No! Absolutely not. I, I forbid it! I can't believe I'm saying this but… Let's just run. It's our best option! I'm sure that-"

"Arthur," Merlin said firmly. "I have to. I have to do this. I know you don't understand and to be honest neither do I but I do know it's something that I must face alone."

The crown prince's face tightened with anguish that he would never admit to feeling. Merlin watched as the five stages of grief played across his face before finally Arthur sighed and reluctantly let him go. "I sure hope you know what you're doing."

He stood on unsteady legs and watched as Morgause calmly walked down the pile of rubble. Predator's eyes fixed on him with all the focus and concentration of a she-wolf stalking her prey.

"I don't want to fight you," he tried. Maybe he could make her see sense. The possibility was small. Even smaller than escaping without a fight but he had to try.

Morgause laughed, "But I do. I'm not done with you yet. You have not suffered enough for the pain, the agony you put Morgana through." Her face darkened. Merlin shielded his face as her eyes flashed gold and the pieces of rubble around him exploded. She bared her teeth, snared, "My sister!"

Merlin put his hands up placatingly, "Morgause, listen to me-"

"No! You listen to me !" Another piece of rubble exploded. The bits of rubble biting into his exposed skin, leaving stinging marks behind. "She trusted you and you stabbed her in the back! You betrayed her! She trusted you and you poisoned her. Your word means nothing ."

"I didn't want to hurt her! It was you who forced my hand. You who made her the heart of the spell without telling her! I know my mistakes. Do you know yours?"

"Do not presume you can patronize me! Don't talk to me about matters that you'd never understand. Uther nearly drove my people to the brink of extinction. Those of us that remain live like rats. We know no peace. Why should Uther? Why should any of you, you who know nothing about living with such persecution."

Merlin felt like his insides were being torn apart. He wanted to shout and rage, 'You think I know nothing of how you feel! How dare you patronize me ! I live in fear every day that this is the day someone will discover I'm magic and be burned at the stake or hanged. No persecution! Ha! You don't have to listen to their propaganda every day and hold your tongue.' But all he could say was, "I'm sorry."

"No. Not yet. But you will be." She stalked forward a few feet, heedless of the small stones she ground under her heel. She only had eyes for Merlin. He watched as they flicked up, an expression of self-satisfaction lighting her eyes with a horrifying light. "As soon as I get the cup that I seek, Camelot will fall and Morgana will be crowned the rightful queen."

"What's so special about this cup anyway? Why do you want it so bad? Is all this," he raised his arms, gesturing vaguely around him, "Really worth it?"

"You wouldn't understand. You're just Arthur's pet servant," she spat. "It is a cup more powerful than the likes of you could comprehend. It can conquer even death itself. With the Cup in our possession, Morgana and I would easily have Camelot at our mercy."

Something clicked in Merlin's mind.

"The cup of life. That's what you're looking for, isn't it?" Merlin laughed, high and crazed. "Well, you'll never find it. The cup is gone. It was destroyed along with the high priestess Nimueh."

Morgause paused. "Destroyed?" Her expression shifts between confusion, intrigue, and, finally, eagerness. She laughs. "Well, then, you are no longer of any use to me. Flíe fǽgð ."

Time seemed to slow as he turned, eyes widening as he watched a sharp rock fly towards Arthur's hiding place as though in slow motion; the blind prince completely oblivious to the danger he was in. Then time returned. Slamming into him with all the force of a rampaging questing beast and he screamed. Magic exploded from his body as he instinctively moved to save Arthur. No thought in his mind other than the steady mantra of save him, save him, save him. Another wayward burst of magic flung Morgause across the courtyard. She hit the ground with a crunch, rolling a few times before sliding to a stop, limbs spread like that of a broken marionette. She didn't move.

Arthur startled, peeking around the debris like a startled stoat.

Taking the chance, Merlin dashed across the courtyard. Snatching him from his hiding place - which had failed in its one job of hiding him - and sprinted towards the gate at the end of the courtyard.

"What was that?!" Arthur looked panicked, definitely out of sorts with the increasing anxiety of not being able to see, paired with the pain of his concussion catching up with him. "What happened to Morgause?"

"A random old guy just showed up out of nowhere and threw her across the courtyard!"

"An old man? What kind of old man is strong enough to take on a sorceress?"

Merlin wheezed, "I don't know. Maybe an old man that can do magic . And old men get underestimated all the time. And servants." he mumbled under his breath.

"And what did this old man who can do magic look like?"

"He had a hideous white beard and wore a long red robe."

"Oh. I think I know who you're talking about. I've met him before; the man is obviously a sorcerer."

"Can we talk about this at a better time, maybe," Merlin shouted. Heart in his throat as the guards on the gate wall shot spears and arrows at them. Luckily, Merlin's magic is still running - instinctively - high and they bounce off his magic shields harmlessly, clattering to the cobblestones.

They make it through the gate with no further trouble. Merlin beelines for the stables he can see just beyond the gate.

In the stable, there are a handful of horses. A destrier [1] and a few coursers and rounceys. He hauled Arthur to the charger, as it was the biggest. It would hold both of them and hopefully not be slowed down as much. He guided Arthur to the horse. And then lifted Arthur by one of his legs. "Arthur wrap your hands around its neck, then I'll give you a boost."

Arthur fumbled, feeling around for the horse's neck, without much success. Merlin grunted, 'this would be so much easier with a saddle.'

"Its neck is like two inches from your left hand. Just grab it and lift your leg up more," he advised. "I don't want to deal with an angry horse."

"I'm trying. It's a lot harder to mount a horse blind than you'd think."

Sweat beaded Merlin's brow from the physical exertion and the fact that he could hear clanking and shouting coming towards them.

The guards were coming.

Panicking, he used magic to finish lifting Arthur onto the horse. The horse snorted and shifted back and forth as his weight hit its back. Fueled by adrenaline, he unlatched the gate before quickly jumping up behind Arthur. Biting back a mortifying sound, as the raw wound on his leg rubbed against the horse's side, he wrapped his arms tightly around him, "Hold on," he cautioned, then dug his heels into the horse's sides.

The horse was well-trained. Immediately, it charged out of the stable - knocking over a few guards in its path - and disappeared into the woods.

"I can't believe we made it out alive."

"Well, I can't believe that I rode a horse with no pants. That is not an experience I want to ever have again."

Arthur grinned at him from the comfort of his luxurious down bed. He still couldn't see properly but Gaius assured him that his vision was getting better each day. He could see shapes now; just blurs of color and the vague outline of what he knew he was seeing but it was miles better than the total darkness he had experienced in Cenred's dungeon. Merlin lay on a simple padded bedroll - which is actually more comfortable than the bed in his room - on the floor beside his bed.

Gaius had insisted that they be kept in the same room for the time being; for the ease of having both his patients in one place. Said patients didn't mind one bit; though, sometimes, Arthur wished that his roommate wasn't quite so chatty.

Or so worrying.

Arthur didn't think he'd ever forget how his servant's skin had burned with fever. Infection running rampant through his many wounds. He'd been incoherent for nearly a week before his fever had finally burned itself out. Leaving Merlin even frailer than he had been before. Arthur's heart squeezed every time he looked at his too prominent collarbones, at the sharpness of his delicate wrist bones and jaw, at the sheer deprivation he could see in Merlin's body.

But he was also getting better. His wounds were healing and soon there would be nothing to tell of the trauma he had undergone.

"Hmm, I'd forgotten about that. Maybe I should throw you in the dungeon for public indecency," he teased lightly. "A few hours in the stocks would perk you right up."

"Ha, ha, you're such a comedian. I forgot how funny you are. No, wait," Merlin feigned thinking deeply, "You can't forget what you never knew."

Arthur threw a pillow at him. His shoulders hardly pained him at all anymore. Gaius had told him that it was important to get the muscles used to working again and had prescribed him 'to throw lots of things at Merlin'.

Well, he hadn't phrased it quite like that but it was all basically the same thing in Arthur's mind.

Merlin snorted and before he knew it, he'd joined in. Feeling lighter than he had in ages as he just...laughed with someone he could call his dearest friend.

Eventually, they settled down.

The only sound in the room was the general clamor of the villagers going about their lives in the lower town and the chirping of birds as they flew past the window. One small bird - a canary [2] - alighted on the windowsill. It fluffed its wings and tweaked its sweet song, pecking curiously at the stone ledge before taking flight once more. It was completely and irrevocably free, unbound by any of the chains that weighed Arthur down, and just for a moment, he envied that little bird.

His hands had been tied from the day he'd been born. With his first breath, it had been known that one day he would take on the responsibility of being king. It was his destiny and yet - in his dreams - he couldn't help wishing for a simpler life.

Even Cenred, Morgause and so many others had tried to bind him, to break his spirit and drag him down. But he had not broken.

He couldn't not when there were still so many loyal to him.

Like Merlin, like….

"I hate to say it but it's a good thing that that old sorcerer showed up," the sound of his voice surprised him. He hadn't meant to say the thought out loud but he forged ahead regardless because he was no quitter. "No way were we going to escape with just you fighting off all those guards."

"Oh ye of little faith," Merlin stuck his tongue out. Blue eyes tracing patterns on the ceiling. "Do you think we have to worry about Morgause? What if she comes for that...whatever it was she was talking about. I don't really remember what she wanted, to be honest. My fever kind of...blurred everything."

"Some sort of cup," Arthur waved a hand dismissively, "I don't think we have anything to worry about. No mere cup can overthrow Camelot."

He was wrong, of course, but that's a story for another day. For now, here in these nice beds, wounds all wrapped, impossibly comfortable they felt like the story had come to a satisfying close. They had been tortured, used against each other but had come through the other side with their friendship and their lives intact.

Their hands had been tied; they'd been pushed to the breaking point but somehow, someway they'd rewritten the stars and charted their own course.

Footnotes:

[1] The most well-known horse of the medieval era of Europe is the destrier, known for carrying knights into war. However, most knights and mounted men-at-arms rode smaller horses known as coursers and rounceys. (A common generic name for medieval warhorses was charger, which was interchangeable with the other terms).

[2] The canary is a bird that represents freedom. The canary is viewed as a happy bird, who is not bound to the egoic self. Therefore; the canary symbolizes freedom, joy, well-being, and selflessness. The canary is truly free from itself or any of the typical bothers.