A/N - This was...longer than intended. If you like this opening, I might write another part to it - there's another word coming up that seems appropriate for it.

This is set towards the end of series 2, but before Morgana goes with Morgause and Merlin releases Kilgharrah.

(And I know it makes no sense for someone in medieval England to use a modern North American legal term, but I did look it up and found out that the etymology can be traced from 'indicere', the Latin for 'to proclaim, appoint' and through Anglo-Norman French and Middle English variations, so it sort of works?)

I hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

-JKelly

Indict:

v. - formally accuse of or charge with a crime (North American)

It was all over. Merlin knew that much.

It wasn't exactly his fault. Morgana had been sick, after all, and no matter what the dragon said, he couldn't just leave her like that.

If only she hadn't been ill. If only his healing magic had worked better and she had woken up. If only Uther hadn't been standing just outside the door as he whispered his spell.

He could escape the dungeons, of course. After spending almost two years with Arthur, it was a skill he'd had more than enough opportunities to develop. But he wouldn't. After the look of betrayal Arthur had given him, he felt sure that he deserved everything he got.

So it was all over. Perhaps Arthur would still survive to become king, and he would be a better king than his father, of that Merlin had no doubt. But magic would never be free, and the Golden Age of Albion that the dragon had seemed so enthusiastic about would never come to exist.

Merlin slumped in his chains and took solace in the thought that at least Arthur was alright.

"Father, I…"

"Not a word Arthur. Not a word." The scene in the throne room was tense. Arthur knelt before his father, head bowed and heart beating rapidly beneath his blank expression.

Merlin was a sorcerer. A sorcerer! Arthur could scarcely believe it - Merlin, a sorcerer? And yet his father obviously believed it to be true, and that he had infiltrated the castle (by maliciously saving his life, apparently) in order to kill the king's ward.

Arthur liked to think that he knew his manservant and friend well enough to know that despite what he might call him, Merlin wasn't an idiot (or at least, not all of the time, not when it mattered), and that if he had wanted to kill Morgana, he could have come up with a much better way of doing it - a way that didn't involve being manservant for nearly two years to an arrogant, pompous clotpole of a prince. Then again, if what his father said was true, maybe he didn't really know Merlin at all.

"Do you hate Camelot, Arthur?" Uther's voice was steady and calm, which did nothing at all to put Arthur at ease.

"What? Of course not, I love Camelot."

"Why is it then that you've been working to bring this kingdom down from its very heart?"

"Father, I haven't, I would do anything for Camelot, you know that." Arthur protested, finally looking up at his father and instantly shrinking back at the look of fury on his face.

"Do I? Need I remind you that you have had a sorcerer for a manservant for almost two years now? A manservant who, if memory serves, you have become rather close to. A manservant who accompanies you on hunting and scouting trips. A manservant who you insist stands in on council meetings and feasts. A manservant who you even put yourself in great danger for, against my express permission, when he drank poisoned wine!" With every word, the king's voice got louder and louder, and he ended his speech by standing to look down on Arthur, his face red with anger.

"Father-" Arthur began, before his father interrupted.

"And perhaps, if he were half competent, I could understand. I know all too well how difficult it is to find a decent manservant. But this...Merlin...I've never seen a more inept serving boy in all my life! So I can't believe that you didn't know of his magic, because you're smart enough to know when someone is hiding something, and the day that that imbecile is able to pull the wool over your eyes is the day that Camelot falls."

This was, Arthur felt, a fairly harsh description of Merlin's abilities as a manservant. It was true that he had the worst memory of anyone he'd ever met, and his cleaning left a little (okay, a lot) to be desired, but he was loyal, and more honest to him than anyone else, and brave enough to follow him into battle unarmed, and these things counted for more in Arthur's mind than his ability to mop a floor. Unless all of these things were simply an attempt to gain his trust? More pressing than his father's appraisal of Merlin's housekeeping skills, however, was his assertion that Arthur himself must be a traitor to the crown. Taking a deep breath, Arthur prepared himself to plead his case - calmly and rationally, despite the anger that he felt at his father's accusation.

"I'm not necessarily convinced that Merlin is in fact a sorcerer-"

"Do you doubt me?!"

"-but even if that were to be the case, I assure you that I had no idea, father. If Merlin truly is a sorcerer, then he has fooled us all."

"No. No, Arthur, you knew. I can see it in your eyes. You have the filthy stench of magic all over you."

"Look, father-"

"Silence! Don't call me that! You are no son of mine, Arthur. You are a traitor."

Arthur looked up at the king, shocked and saddened. He had always been firm where magic was concerned, and Arthur had long suspected that his vendetta against it was more forceful than strictly necessary. But only now was he beginning to think that his father might not be entirely sane.

"The penalty for aiding and abetting a sorcerer is death." Said Uther, apparently calmer now as he sat back on his throne. "There can be no exception made simply because you are a prince."

"You're going to have me executed?" In contrast to his father, Arthur stood and instinctively placed a hand on his sword.

"No. I'm not a fool, I know how that would look. Camelot can't afford to look weak to either her enemies or her allies."

"So…if you can't execute me, then what do you intend to do?" Asked Arthur, confusion momentarily displacing his anger and fear.

"I might not be able to publicly indict you, but you are just young enough and noble enough and...hot-headed enough that you might rush off to save a distant village under some sort of threat without waiting for a patrol to join you. It would hardly be the first time."

"So I die a hero and you keep your reputation intact."

"Precisely."

"And if I refuse to go on this suicide mission?"

"...I didn't say that the threat wouldn't be legitimate. Some out-of-the-way village is sure to find itself being attacked by a creature or army or group of bandits soon enough, and I don't think that you would leave them to die when you believe there's a chance you could help them. In the meantime, you will stay in the dungeons where you belong."

"But father - my Lord - I would never betray Camelot!"

"Guards!"

"If Merlin is a sorcerer, I didn't know! And I'm almost certain that he isn't. This is always the way with you - you hear the word 'magic' and you stop thinking properly. I'm not a traitor!" Arthur's cries fell on deaf ears as Uther directed the guards to grab him.

"Take Prince Arthur to the dungeon, where he will remain until his...enchantment...wears off."

The guards gave a nod and dragged Arthur, still alternating between protesting his innocence, Merlin's innocence, and his father's short-sightedness, to the dungeons.

By the time he reached the dungeons, Arthur was silent. The guards, under the impression that he had been enchanted somehow, ignored his pleas of innocence and only gave him pitying looks as they tossed him into the cell next to Merlin's.

"Arthur?" He looked across to see Merlin. While Arthur was relatively free (as free as one can be in a cell the size of his bed at least), Merlin's arms were chained to the wall behind him, and he could barely take one step in any direction. As it was, he was sitting in the corner of the cell where there might have been a little more straw between him and the cold stone floor, with a dejected look on his face, tempered only by the panic in his eyes at seeing Arthur in his own cell.

"Is it true?"

"Arthur, I…"

"Tell me, Merlin. Is it true? Are you a sorcerer, and were you trying to kill Morgana?"

"I…" Merlin sighed. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm...I have magic. I'm not a sorcerer, I'm a warlock, but I do have magic. I promise you though, I wasn't trying to kill Morgana. She's my friend! I was only trying to heal her."

"You...promise me?" Repeated Arthur indignantly. "Merlin, you're a sorcerer, warlock, whatever. Why should I take your word for anything?"

So it was true. Merlin, his bumbling, happy, friendly manservant, the man who had become his closest advisor and his best friend...was a sorcerer. Or rather, a warlock, whatever that was. And now Arthur was going to be killed for it as well.

From then on, he sat in silence, despite Merlin's best efforts to get him to talk, or even just look at him. Arthur wasn't listening. It was all over.

It had been several tense hours of silence when Gaius entered the dungeons. Unlike both Merlin and Arthur, he was there of his own volition, if unhappy that his presence was necessary at all.

"Merlin, my boy," he said, paling visibly in the flickering light at the sight of Merlin's chained wrists, "what have you done?"

"I had to try and help her Gaius," he replied, his voice horse from dehydration, prompting Gaius to pass a waterskin through the bars of the cell, "she was so...alone. She's my friend. I had to try and help her."

"You did help her, Merlin. She's still not woken up, but her temperature has come down significantly and she seems to be resting much more peacefully now."

"So you think she'll be okay?"

"I think that you'd do better to worry about you and Arthur than Morgana."

Merlin looked over at Arthur, who was sitting straight-backed as far away from him as he could possibly get within his cell, and pointedly looking at the floor.

"Why is Arthur here? He didn't have anything to do with this." Merlin was sure he heard a quiet 'harumph' from where Arthur was sitting, but he couldn't be sure.

"He didn't tell you?" Merlin shook his head. "Uther has decided that he must have known that you had magic. He's spreading the word that he's here until the enchantment you put him under has worn off."

"But...I didn't put him under any enchantment." Perhaps Uther just wanted to be sure, but Merlin had a feeling that there was more to it.

"I know, Merlin. I fear that the king no longer trusts Arthur. With his hatred for magic...I worry what he might do."

"Oh don't worry Gaius, my father has already informed me that he has no intention of executing me for my crimes," Arthur said in a voice that was eerily calm, almost cheerful, "he has a reputation to uphold after all."

"So then...what does he intend to do?" Gaius' face crinkled with concern as he moved in front of the Prince's cell and offered him a waterskin of his own.

"He doesn't intend to do anything. I, on the other hand, will be going on a reckless journey to single-handedly defeat some kind of threat, and will die heroically saving innocents." Arthur sagged a little, the long day finally catching up to him. "Or failing to save innocents, seems more likely."

Just then, a guard walked down the narrow stairway to the dungeons.

"Time's up." He said, looking at Gaius, who looked sadly between the two occupied cells.

"I'll come back tomorrow. I'll talk to the king, maybe he'll listen to me. And Merlin," he looked directly at his ward, "be strong, my boy. And don't do anything foolish!"

"I won't Gaius. I promise."

The guard led Gaius away, and silence ruled once more.

Merlin's role in life - his literal destiny - was to protect Arthur. He knew that. How, then, could he be responsible for his death? Perhaps if Uther reconsidered...but Merlin knew how stubborn the king could be once he'd made his mind up about something, particularly where magic was concerned. There was only one solution that he could see, and he had a feeling that Arthur wasn't going to like it.

"Arthur...you can't die like this."

"I think you'll find that I can, and if you weren't about to be executed you would see for yourself."

"Arthur, just listen. I have magic, yes, but I only use it for good - for you, Arthur. I was born with this magic and it is my destiny to use it to protect you. And that includes not letting you die because of me."

Arthur was silent for a moment, apparently considering Merlin's words.

"Morgana...you were really trying to save her?"

"Yes."

"Why? She's the ward of the king of Camelot, the greatest enemy of magic there is."

"She is. But she's also my friend. I couldn't just stand by and watch her die knowing that I could do something about it."

"You could have."

"What?"

"You could have left her to die, rather than risk being caught using magic. Merlin...if you really have saved her...then thank you." Finally, Arthur lifted his head and looked at Merlin. For a moment, they just stared at one another in silent understanding. And then Merlin's eyes flashed gold.

"Tospringe!"

Arthur stood in surprise as his cell door sprung open.

"Merlin…"

"Go, Arthur, I'll distract the guards. You still have to fulfil your destiny. You'll be a great king one day, but only if you go, now!"

Arthur stepped through the cell door and towards the dungeon exit, before stopping. He turned back around to face Merlin.

"Arthur?"