Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, his property, his friends or his enemies. If you recognise something, it's probably not mine.
Merlin feels old. So old. His body may well be that of a man hardly into adulthood but in his bones he feels a thousand years old. Seeing Arthur fall at Rience's feet has put a decade on him at least. Seeing the prince's hair falling softly into his face, covering his eyes like a blanket at bedtime, has burned its way into Merlin's very soul.
He tries to block out the sound of laughter from Escetia's assembled crowd. He wasn't aware before today that the humiliation of neighbouring royalty was a spectator sport although, he supposes, if the shoe were on the other foot and Uther were standing where Cenred is, then Camelot's finest would surely be invited to the show as well.
But it's not a show. It's a debacle. It's cruelty in its simplest form. Merlin doubts even whether much imagination has gone into the execution of Arthur's ruin. He wouldn't dignify Cenred with that much intelligence although Rience is an unknown force. He thinks the nobleman is probably the power behind this particular side of the king.
Merlin starts forward, desperate to get to his prince, to see with his own eyes, feel with his own hands, that Arthur is going to get up from this one. But the guards seem to have anticipated his every move and their hands tighten round his arms so tightly he thinks they're about to cut off the blood flow to his fingers.
"Let me go to him," he begs Cenred, putting a little more pathos into his voice than necessary. While they leave Arthur on the cold floor, which could in itself lead to problems, they are at least ignoring the prince and Merlin need not worry about further torture.
"So you are concerned for him then?" Cenred teases. "I was beginning to wonder. Rience will be most disappointed." He looks to the nobleman in question who is standing victorious over Arthur's still, too still, body.
"Fear not, my lord," Rience smiles. "The prince lives on. We will have time to question the servant yet," and he gives Cenred a miniscule bow, so small Merlin wonders if anyone else sees it.
"Well," the king exclaims, slapping his thighs in joy, "there is good news for us all." He turns back to Merlin, a wicked glint in his eye. "Unless you give me a reason not to, of course."
This is his chance, Merlin realises. Arthur is oblivious to anything at the moment and Merlin really doesn't care about anyone else at the moment. There may well be some awkward explaining to do at some point in the future but as long as there is a future Merlin thinks he can work round that.
"Oh, I can give you many reasons," Merlin mutters, glaring at Cenred through blazing eyes. "I could give you so many reasons you'd run out of fingers to count them on even if you used every finger in court. You'd need every scribe in your kingdom to write them all down and you'd still run out of parchment." Merlin's on a roll now and doesn't notice Cenred's face darkening with every exaggerated statement he makes. "You probably don't know all the numbers that go high enough to count the reasons I could give you. Your knights could fight a thousand battles in the time it will take me to tell you all the reasons. You…"
"Enough!" Cenred snaps, closer to Merlin than the warlock had realised. "You taunt me once too often, boy. You will pay for this with your master's blood."
"No!" Merlin snaps back. "You will pay for this with your own blood. Yours and that of your men." He leans forward as far as the guards still holding him allow. "You will never know what hit you," he promises.
Cenred spins round to Rience and nods once, a curt, sharp movement but it's all Rience needs. He stoops down, grasps Arthur's hair with one hand, brutally lifting the prince's head from the ground, while the with the other he wields his sword, the metal glinting in the glow of the torches scattered around the dungeon.
As he brings the blade down to bear on Arthur's throat, Merlin feels the world slow, feels every pulse of blood through his vein, hears every heartbeat pounding against his skull, senses every breath leaving his lungs. With a strength that his scrawny frame belies he pulls his arms free of his captors and throws one hand out towards Arthur and Rience. The air crackles around the warlock and he feels the magic flowing through his sinews, surging to his extremities.
He needs no words of sorcery for this. This is pure emotional alchemy. With a single thought, a feeling, his fingers splay and Rience and his sword are flying backwards across the dungeon and Arthur drops the short distance back to the floor which, Merlin realises rather belatedly, must hurt.
Merlin returns his attention to Cenred who is staring at him rather stupidly. Merlin can't quite work out whether the king is trying to work out what just happened or whether he's trying to reconcile the act with the person. Either way, he decides, he doesn't really care. He simply stands there, holding Cenred's slightly panicked eye with a small, knowing smile.
"Now then," the warlock says, "about those reasons…"
"You?" Cenred splutters, holding a hand up to his guards who seem to be as uncertain as the king as to what the next move should be. "You have magic?"
Merlin nods slowly. "That would be one reason," he confirms.
Cenred drops his arm and a sly smile crosses his face as he glances at the fallen prince. "Does Arthur know?" he questions.
"What do you think?" Merlin replies, wondering if the king really is stupid enough to have to ask or whether there is some subtext to the question he can't really be bothered to seek out.
"I think not," the king concludes. "Else you would not be here. You would not be allowed to live if Uther knew. Which he would do if the prince knew."
"Who does or doesn't know is none of your concern," Merlin replies. "All you need to know is that I am taking Prince Arthur and we are leaving. Now. If you know what's good for you, you won't try to stop me."
He steps over to where Arthur is lying, aware of all eyes on him. He doesn't know how long he has. He's not sure how he's managed to keep up the bravado for so long and he thinks Cenred will see through him any minute now. He's never killed a man in cold blood before and he's not sure if he could bring himself to do it. Arthur has told him many times how the first time stays with you forever and he makes a mental note to pay more attention to the prince next time he tells the story of his first kill.
The warlock circles round Arthur, making sure he can see Cenred at all times. It seems some of Arthur is rubbing off on him after all, he muses. The king is watching him warily but Merlin reckons he has the upper hand still. Cenred doesn't seem to know what to make of Merlin's magic. He could be scared but Merlin has the feeling the king is no stranger to sorcery and witchcraft. The warlock isn't sure if that's a good thing or not.
He can't waste time wondering about that now though. Arthur is stirring, moaning and twisting his head from side to side although consciousness seems to be some way off yet. Merlin drops to his knees by Arthur's head and rests a hand on the prince's forehead. Arthur twitches, tries to shake off the touch but Merlin won't have it. The skin beneath his fingers is cold and clammy. He gently brushes the prince's hair to one side and Arthur seems soothed by the gesture.
"Where will you go, boy?" Cenred suddenly demands. "How do you propose to leave here? I doubt you can carry the prince and run. You wouldn't get very far." He shakes his head and casts what Merlin thinks is probably a meaningful look to Rience. "I have a suggestion." He flicks an imaginary speck of dirt off his shoulder and brings his hand down to rest on the hilt of his sword. "Leave him where he is, we'll take good care of him, and join me. Uther is a well known enemy to both magic and Escetia. The second he finds out about you, and he will, he will hunt you down like an animal and end you. Together we can put a stop to that, a stop to Uther"
Merlin can't quite believe what he's hearing but on reflection it doesn't really surprise him. He always thought Uther to be unreasonable in his quest against sorcery and magic, but always knew deep down Camelot's king's views couldn't be shared by everyone.
Merlin pauses and looks down at Arthur. Cenred has a point about his limited escape plan. He hasn't really thought it through. The prince is not a child to be thrown over his shoulder and hauled around at will. Carrying him will take all his energy and concentration and an attack from Escetia's guards wouldn't take long to put an end to his bid for freedom.
He looks up at Cenred, sees the cold, calculating eyes assessing him, and looks down at Arthur once more.
"You promise not to hurt him?" he asks.
"On my life," Cenred promises, although the promise rings hollow to the warlock.
Merlin stands slowly. "I will kill you if he comes to harm."
"Prince Arthur will be well cared for."
Merlin sighs, his decision made.
"Alright," he says. "I'll join you."