Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, his property, his friends or his enemies. If you recognise something, it's probably not mine.
Later, Arthur will swear blind to Merlin that he wasn't worried. But as the guard's word ring out through the throne room, dancing in and out of the columns before falling, silent and ominous, to the floor, Merlin realises their time has run out. He's always wondered about Arthur's reaction to his magic but he'd hoped it would be a good few years yet before he had to reveal himself.
He frantically glances around the hall, gauging the distance between himself and the doors, himself and Cenred and, most importantly himself and the prince. Who doesn't seem to be taking the news of his escape too well.
Arthur has regained his balance, albeit on his knees, and he's turning his head, first to the left, then to the right, then back to the left. Merlin presses himself back against the pillar trying to make himself as small as he possibly can. Rationally he knows Cenred won't suspect him of being in the throne room but now the cat is out of the bag he needs to be extra careful.
Cenred is on his feet immediately. "Search the castle," he orders. "Nobody is to leave or enter until we find him. How did he get out?"
The guard almost quivers as he shakes his head. "I don't know, Sire," he admits and Merlin reckons that's the hardest thing the man has ever had to say. Cenred doesn't suffer fools gladly and Merlin wonders whether the guards drew straws to see who would be the bearer of such bad news.
"Find out!" Cenred hisses, moving forward and past the guard. "Find out fast." He stops when he gets to where Arthur is still turning his head from side to side and bends down to the prince. "Where is he?" he demands of his prisoner. "Where is your servant? How did he get out?"
"Do you really think I would tell you?" Arthur mocks, although Merlin can hear the confusion and alarm behind his words. "He's long gone. He'll be in Camelot by now I would imagine, spilling all your secrets to my father's army." He laughs and looks up at Cenred. "Are you scared yet?" he taunts.
Merlin shakes his head, wishing Arthur would just learn when to talk and when to just shut up. Cenred isn't in the mood to be toyed with right now and the fist careening towards Arthur's jaw is testament to the fact. The impact of the blow knocks Arthur to the ground, spinning him round at the same time so that Merlin can finally see his face properly.
What he sees doesn't come as a surprise although he is shocked. The sight of his prince, bruised and bloodied far more than when Merlin had last seen him is all it takes for the warlock to tune out Cenred's bellowed orders to the remaining guards in the room. He doesn't hear the king commanding his servants to ready the horses, prepare a search party. He doesn't hear Rience snapping at Drudwyn to return to his rooms and wait there for his next instructions. He doesn't hear the guards scraping open the doors and he doesn't hear the knight who drops a heavy hand on his shoulder before shoving the unfortunate warlock from his hiding place with enough force to send him sprawling alongside Arthur on the cold stone floor.
When Merlin gathers his senses to him enough to open his eyes the first thing he sees is Arthur's clear blue eyes staring back at him, bemusement and bewilderment vying for top position. The prince's eyebrows seem to have gone on a hiking holiday of their own and his mouth is slightly open, allowing Merlin to see that although all his teeth seem to have survived his time with Cenred, his lower lip has been split open at some point during the interrogation.
"Merlin?" Arthur whispers, somewhat stupidly, ignoring the crashing silence that Merlin's appearance has caused. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Merlin marvels at the fact that Arthur can sometimes ask the most obvious questions to which there are no easy answers. He flounders for a few minutes, trying to come up with something that sounds plausible both to Arthur and the surrounding knights, guards and Cenred. He opens his mouth, thinks hard and then closes it again. Frowns and repeats the whole process.
He's on his third or fourth repetition when he feels hands hooking under his arms and he's hauled to his feet, facing Cenred and, just behind him, Rience. To his side he feels more than sees Arthur receiving the same treatment.
"Answer the question," Cenred demands and Merlin is painfully aware of all eyes on him, waiting with bated breath for his explanation.
He turns slightly so Arthur is in his line of vision. "Well," he begins hesitantly, "there was this…I could see…the guards were…I couldn't really…"
Arthur sighs, the sound of a long-suffering master tolerating his useless servant. "Merlin," he growls, "is there a good explanation for how you got here or not? If you hadn't noticed, I'm a little busy here."
"Ah, well," Merlin stutters, wondering how long he can keep up this pretence of foolishness before someone figures out what he's doing. "The thing is…and I don't really know how to put this…" he trails off, casting a nervous glance at Cenred and his cohort of knights and assorted noblemen.
Unable and unwilling to put words to his thoughts he flaps his hands around aimlessly, buying time to come up with something – anything – that will convince Arthur and their hostile audience his escape was the result purely of someone's innocent error. He wonders if sounding terrified will help and puts a little more fear into his voice.
"I suggest you try," Cenred snarls. "Try really hard."
The menace in the king's voice is almost enough to make Merlin confess all but one glance at Arthur and he knows he can't do that. This isn't the time. Instead he pulls a quizzical face, bites his lip in thought and shifts nervously from foot to foot. He flaps his hands about uselessly for added effect and shakes his head somewhat pathetically.
From his right, Arthur releases a deep sigh, probably of frustration Merlin acknowledges, and turns to gaze at the vaulted ceiling. "The things I put up with," he mutters softly, just as a commotion from outside detracts from his situation.
The guard has returned and Merlin feels dread creeping over him from his toes up to the roots of his hair. The man bows deeply and casts an anxious look at the warlock.
"Sire," he begins, hesitantly, waiting for a nod from Cenred before continuing. "The cell lock has been destroyed," he reports. "The guards were unconscious, my Lord."
The king takes the news calmly, considering. He turns to Merlin and raises an enquiring eyebrow. "Would you care to elaborate?" he questions.
The warlock shrugs. "Not really," he replies, honestly, and ignores the huff of breath from his right. Arthur might be amused or he might be really, really annoyed with his servant right now but Merlin doesn't really care.
"Not really?" the king replies and strokes his chin thoughtfully. "It just happened, did it?" He turns to the messenger. "Who were the guards?" he queries.
"Keridak and Ancelot," answers the man, keeping his head bowed and eyes averted from Cenred.
"Not the finest guards I've ever come across," muses the king. "Never mind, I shall deal with them later. In the meantime, I'm still wondering just how you managed to get out of the cells and into my throne room with nobody noticing." He directs a hard, cold glare at Merlin who shrugs again in a hopeless fashion. Cenred releases a frustrated 'tut' and turns to Arthur. "Maybe you know more than your servant," he suggests.
"It wouldn't be hard," the prince retorts, glaring at Merlin. "I sometimes wonder if he knows anything at all."
Merlin hopes the scathing tone in Arthur's voice is deliberate, an attempt to pull Cenred's attention away from Merlin and on to the prince himself. It is, the warlock believes, something Arthur would do, a noble, heroic, stupid act.
The king laughs at Arthur's remark and nods a knowing nod, circling Merlin altogether too closely for the sorcerer's liking. He feels Arthur shift, registers the subtle change in tension in Arthur's posture and wonders if this stand off is going to last much longer. Cenred has stopped pacing and Merlin can feel his hot breath on his cheek, glancing off an ear as he sighs.
"You do realise," he murmurs softly enough for Merlin to have no doubt about his intentions, "that if you don't tell me your little secret," and Merlin really doesn't like the emphasis he puts on the word secret "that I shall have to find ways to persuade you that honesty really is the best policy in my court," and he raises his eyebrows in an ominous fashion, inclining his head very slightly in Arthur's direction.
Merlin knows what he means. Of course he knows. He's been part of Uther's court long enough to recognise a veiled threat when he hears one. Although, he supposes, Uther isn't really one for subtlety when it comes to threats. Cenred's meaning, however, is as clear as day to the servant. If Merlin keeps his counsel, then Cenred will use Arthur to persuade Merlin to talk.
And therein lies Merlin's dilemma. If he talks, Arthur will know everything. Merlin may as well sign his own death sentence. But, he would be free to break Cenred's hold on them, at liberty to use spells, sorcery, any magic at his disposal, in order to get Arthur home to the safety of Camelot.
If he keeps quiet, though, Cenred will use his devotion to Arthur to his own advantage. Arthur will be the one to pay for Merlin's silence and while Arthur is the strongest man Merlin knows, he's not sure his prince is in the right place, mentally or physically, to take it right now.
He turns his head and glances at Arthur over the king's shoulder noting the smouldering anger in the prince's eyes melding with confusion and maybe, just maybe, a little bemusement. A blink, a slight twitch from Arthur and Merlin's decision is made.
The warlock holds his head high and looks Cenred in the eye. He takes a deep breath, formulates his reply in his head and opens his mouth.