Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Warnings: SLASH, sexitimes, language
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin
A/N Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews last chapter, I'm glad people are enjoying the story! This chapter is full of fail, because I haven't checked/edited properly, so sorry about that!
There are just some things I'd like to clear up, because a few people have asked me certain questions.
1# There is no magic in this story. It's a completely normal modern!AU, so neither Merlin or Mordred possess any magical ability ;)
2# Someone asked what GBH was last chapter (what Arthur got charged with), and it didn't really occur to me that most people wouldn't know it. It stands for Grievous Bodily Harm, a type of assault by English law that means the victim suffers serious physical damage. The fic is set in England (because that's where I am, and the characters are supposed to be English) and so a lot of things like this might crop up in the future.
Cellmate
An Uneasy Understanding (3/14)
After what seemed like an endless first week in prison, Merlin felt as though he was in a weird sort of limbo, waiting for something - anything - to happen.
His days always consisted of the same routine: he got up, had breakfast, had a shower, went to work, had lunch, went back to work, spent a couple of hours in the communal area (when Will insisted), had dinner and went to bed. Nothing had changed and every day seemed the same as the first, both uncomfortable and never-ending.
To make matters worse, his relationship with Arthur - if he could even call it that - had not progressed either. They remained unexplainably tense around each other, Merlin out of fear and Arthur seemingly out of suspicion. Evenings in their cell were strained and silent, Merlin not daring to start another conversation (in fear of his life), and Arthur determinedly ignoring him.
But despite the atmosphere, the cold calculating looks still remained - usually from across the cafeteria where Merlin could not protest. He merely sat stiff and unnerved, not looking in his cellmate's direction and pretending to be engrossed in his breakfast.
There was also the small matter of Arthur's extra-curricular activities, which drove Merlin absolutely insane. He wasn't necessarily jealous of the blond having sex with other people - apart from the fact that Arthur was getting laid, and he wasn't - but he was growing increasingly offended. It seemed that everyone (with the possible exceptions of Merlin and the slightly creepy druid gang) had been sexually involved with Arthur over the course of his time there. Including a bald ex-bouncer, who appeared to be as tall as he was wide.
It did nothing for Merlin's self-esteem.
And even more annoyingly, he had to witness the aftermath of Arthur's many conquests first hand. It was one of the unfortunate aspects of being roommates with him. The blond would sometimes stumble back into the cell just before lockdown, hair mussed, cheeks flushed, shirt untucked and lips bruised, looking horribly pleased with himself. It was rude, disgusting, and absolutely maddening.
Merlin never said anything though, too afraid to break their uneasy truce, figuring he would just have to spend the next three years trying not to throw something very heavy at Arthur's big, blond head. He supposed it was a small sacrifice, in order to keep himself alive.
It was at the beginning of his second week, however, that things began to change.
It started with Arthur's sudden (and somewhat suspicious) absence, which effected Merlin far more than he ever cared to admit.
Having finished work on the Monday, Merlin entered the cafeteria and collapsed on his seat next to Will, fully expecting to be met with Arthur's usual glare. But instead of feeling the usual tingle of someone watching him, he felt nothing at all, causing him to swivel around in his chair and scan the room suspiciously.
Will raised his eyebrows at Merlin's sudden movement, and asked, as tactful as ever, "What the hell are you doing?"
Merlin ignored him, eyes finding Lancelot sat at Arthur's usual table, the seat beside him empty, with the blond nowhere in sight. That in itself was strange, as Arthur and Lancelot spent most of their time together - much to Merlin's growing annoyance.
"Where's Arthur?" he asked. He tried to appear unconcerned, his voice impressively level and calm, if he did say so himself, but it was too late - Will had already begun to grin knowingly, eyes gleaming in amusement. The smug look very much reminded Merlin of Arthur, who seemed to have perfected his own smirking and superior expressions.
"In isolation," his friend replied, voice deceptively innocent. "Why? Are you missing him?"
Merlin chose to not dignify Will's gleeful questions with a response, focusing instead on the reasons behind Arthur's absence. "Isolation?"
"Yeah," Will said, munching loudly. "Lockdown cells. Where he can't come out. Hence 'isolation'." He made quotation marks with his fingers.
Merlin's forehead creased in confusion, curious despite himself. "Why?" he croaked, hoping and praying it was for something insignificant - and not violent.
"Fighting with Mordred, apparently."
Merlin blinked, slightly thrown by the admission. Arthur was certainly rude and threatening, but from what he'd seen so far, he didn't tend to pick physical fights. Not even with Merlin, and the blond had all but admitted he found him to be the most irritating person he'd ever met.
"Who's Mordred?" he asked, curiosity piqued. Who on earth had managed to irritate Arthur enough to cause a physical fight? Whoever it was, he was obviously a far braver man than Merlin. Well, that or completely idiotic.
Will turned and surveyed the cafeteria, eyes finding a small group at the back, huddled in a circle, all sat silent and still. Merlin vaguely identified them as the druid gang, who all had the strange tattoos on their bodies that he had spotted in the showers.
"Him," Will said eventually, raising a hand and pointing towards a slender figure at the centre of the huddle.
Merlin squinted, shifting sideways in his seat, attempting to get a better look of the mysterious Mordred.
"Oh!" he cried, something tugging at his memory. "I've seen him before!"
Mordred was thin and lithe, dark floppy hair framing a fair round face. His eyes were an alarming shade of blue, positively gleaming, particularly noticeable against his smooth, pale face. Merlin recognized him from his first day, when he'd unceremoniously bumped into him in the showers.
"I walked into him," he said aloud, causing Will to raise his eyebrows.
"I know," his friend replied, evidently remembering the whole incident as well. "You're lucky he didn't annihilate you."
Merlin's eyes almost popped out of his head. "Was that likely?" he cried, throwing Modred an uncertain glance - feeling distinctly uneasy that he'd almost managed to get himself killed, without even knowing it.
"Took on Arthur, didn't he?" Will said, shrugging, "And he looks fine."
Merlin assessed Mordred again, noticing a faint purple shadow across the other man's cheek, just beginning to bruise. Other than that, however, he looked completely unscathed, something that caused Merlin to recoil in his seat and suppress a shudder - for this man had fought Arthur, and won? The thought seemed alien to him.
"Why isn't he in isolation as well?" he asked, shaking his head and frowning slightly. It didn't make sense that Arthur was in isolation for fighting and Modred was not.
"You know the guard called Morgana?" Will questioned, throwing Merlin completely, because how did she have anything to do with anything? "Pretty, with long curly hair?"
Merlin nodded, recalling the guard from his first day, tall and intimidating, striking in almost every way. She had been the one to escort him to his cell.
"Well, she favours Mordred," Will explained, shrugging his shoulders in a careless manner. "Nobody really knows why, but she keeps him out of trouble. No doubt said the fight was Arthur's fault and put him in isolation."
"But -" Merlin spluttered, eyes wide in shock, "That's not fair!"
Will gave a dry chuckle and flicked his gaze in Mordred's direction, his eyes dark and hooded. "Merlin, nothing about this place is fair."
Merlin could say nothing in return. He was quickly beginning to learn that that was very much the case.
Arthur didn't return to the cell that night. Nor did he the next morning.
Merlin, as much as he hated to admit it, was beginning to miss his cellmate's presence. Not because he particularly enjoyed Arthur's icy (not to mention intimidating) company, but because he'd been one of the only constant aspects of Merlin's prison life so far. The cell felt dark and cold without the blond there, and for the first time since his arrival, Merlin was truly alone. He didn't like the emptiness and the time he had with his thoughts. It caused him to remember things he tried hard to forget, and he often found himself wishing for Arthur's snide comments to distract him.
It was stifling in the darkness, to gaze up at the ceiling, and think of nothing but his past mistakes - what he did, what he could have done better, and how he might have changed things. It was something he had avoided before, choosing instead to panic over Arthur, which had been safer, less depressing, and generally more pleasant. But with the blond gone, there was nothing but him and regret, stewing and building, until he wanted to do nothing more than curl up in a ball and go home to his mother.
So when Arthur reappeared in the cell the next evening, after Merlin had spent the night gazing solumly into nothingness, he felt nothing but enormous relief, embarrassingly thankful for the distraction.
"Oh," the blond said as he entered, spotting Merlin sitting cross-legged on the floor, where he'd spent the last couple of hours brooding. "Here I was hoping you'd flushed yourself down the toilet in my absence."
"No such luck," the dark-haired man grinned, unable to restrain a grin - the sight of someone else in their small, dark cell flooding him with happiness. Arthur could consume his thoughts now, as he always did when he was in the nearby vicinity, and Merlin wouldn't have to worry about his past again.
Seemingly confused by the warm welcome, however, the blond narrowed his eyes, and replied with a simple, "Shame."
He moved to his bed and sat down slowly, wincing as his ribs screamed in protest, and clutched swiftly at his side.
"Are you okay?" Merlin asked immediately, getting to his feet and moving towards him - his usual hesitance squashed by the pained look on the other man's face.
"Fine!" Arthur hissed, smacking his cellmate's hand away as it reached for him, like an injured animal lashing out at anyone who dared approach it.
Merlin frowned, pausing at the slap but remaining unperturbed, surveying the blond thoroughly through squinting eyes. His face bore no signs of any fight, skin as smooth and flawless as ever - but just under the short sleeves of Arthur's shirt, Merlin could see purple bruises blossoming on his skin, some sharp and some spreading, causing him to flinch backwards in surprise.
Will had told him that Arthur was the best fighter in the prison, yet he appeared more injured than Mordred, who was small and slight by comparison. Was Mordred some sort of secret ninja?
"So…you were in a fight?" Merlin asked, unable to suppress his curiosity, despite his common sense screaming at him to remain silent.
Arthur's eyes flicked up to his face, expression pinched, seemingly too injured to deal with Merlin's pointless rambling. "Well, aren't you observant," he said sarcastically, turning his head away, as though hoping to end the conversation at that.
But Merlin merely ignored him. "With Mordred." He did not phrase his words as a question.
"Yes…" the blond replied, looking hesitant now, his voice lacking its previous bite.
"Did you lose?" Merlin asked, the words slipping from his mouth before he realised he'd made a very big mistake. Arthur's face grew stony - more so than it had been before - and a flush of anger coloured his cheeks.
"No!" he cried, looking quite offended. "The little fucker hit me with his hammer during workshop!"
There was a surprised pause, before Merlin spluttered out a laugh at the mental images, until seeing the rather dangerous glare Arthur was shooting him.
He quickly fell silent, and attempted to rearrange his face into something slightly more sympathetic. "Why did he hit you with a hammer?" he asked sensibly, wondering whether the blond would continue to answer him, or simply chose to silence him instead. Although injured, Merlin didn't doubt that the blond would still be able to crush him without a whole lot of effort.
But to his surprise, Arthur replied, sounding incredibly nonchalant. "Because I punched him."
"You punched someone carrying a hammer?" Merlin yelped in his most incredulous voice, eyes widening. He wasn't quite sure who was more unhinged: Arthur, who attacked someone carrying a heavy weapon, or Modred, who decided to beat someone with it. His time in workshop was beginning to look positively boring by comparison.
The blond nodded, and said, "Stupid, wasn't it?"
Merlin didn't answer, feeling sure it was a rhetorical question.
"I should have used a weapon as well," Arthur continued, looking thoughtful and either not noticing - or simply ignoring - the aghast expression on Merlin's face.
"Of course," he replied faintly, moving away on instinct. Shaking his head, he paused for a moment, gathering his jumbled thoughts, before he tried to restore some normalcy to the conversation. "So…why did you punch him?"
Arthur's face clouded over and he stiffened, avoiding Merlin's gaze. "None of your business," he snapped, his voice warning that it would be very stupid to try and argue with him.
"Right," Merlin said, twiddling his thumbs self-consciously. Now that the conversation had dwindled, they were left in their normal strained silence, purposely looking away from each other. Merlin took in a deep breath, desperately wanting to return to the easy banter they had been exchanging minutes before, and offered, "You should go see someone about your injuries."
To Merlin's great surprise, Arthur laughed, the tension momentarily forgotten. The grin lit up his face and caused his eyes to crinkle at the corners, leaving Merlin slightly breathless at the sight. He was suddenly glad the blond rarely genuinely smiled, as he honestly didn't think he'd be able to handle it on a regular basis; it was shockingly disarming.
"Way ahead of you Merlin," his mocking voice replied, interrupting his cellmate's glazed staring. "I saw Gwen yesterday, and she said it's just bruising."
"Shame," Merlin choked, blinking rapidly and attempting to pull himself back together.
Arthur glared in response, but it was nowhere near as evil as usual. He got to his feet and moved past Merlin, pulling new clothes out of their small set of drawers.
Facing the wall, he pulled of his shirt, causing Merlin to inhale a lungful of air behind him. It wasn't the first time Merlin had seen Arthur naked from the waist up, having showered with him regularly, but it still left him gaping like an idiot. It really wasn't fair. Why were the good-looking ones always complete prats?
Attempting to distract himself from the rather tempting sight of Arthur's bare back (swollen with bruises), Merlin decided to question him again, feeling rather pleased that they'd just managed a somewhat successful conversation. A lot of things had been bothering him recently, and with the blond more vulnerable than he'd ever seen him, he knew now was the time to unload. He knew an opportunity when he saw one.
Fiddling with his sleeve, his took in a deep breath, preparing himself, before blurting, in a very high pitched voice, "Why haven't you punched me yet?"
The question sounded so rushed and out of the blue that Merlin mentally smacked himself, but after seeing what Arthur had done to Mordred, he felt it was important to know.
"Excuse me?" Arthur replied, turning back around to stare at him, now fully clothed.
Merlin wilted under the stare, but realising it was too late to back out, rambled, "You punched Mordred because for some reason, you don't like him. But you dislike me, and you haven't punched me."
"I've come close," the blond said, crossing his arms, and looking as though he very much wanted to hit him now.
"But you haven't…" Merlin dribbled off after a moment, wanting to press further, but fearing the reaction if he did. He didn't want to push his luck, but he had to know. Why was Mordred different? And why wasn't Arthur silencing him already? He chose to ignore the shuttered the expression on his cellmate's face, and in a moment of brief courage, plowed onwards, asking, "Why not?"
Arthur paused, surveying Merlin with the same calculating look he'd been using all week, shifting for a second, as though debating whether to answer. "In case you really are as nice as you seem," he replied eventually, shrugging a shoulder, "Albeit completely useless and very irritating."
Merlin's mouth opened in surprise, things finally slipping into place. "You don't like me because you don't think I'm being genuine?" he summarized.
The blond watched him coolly, the almost pleasant atmosphere fading away. "Don't trust you, more like," he explained, his eyes sharp and searching. "I've seen the wide-eyed innocent routine numerous times before, Merlin - it's used to catch people off guard. I just can't believe that you really are so annoyingly naive."
"It's - it's not a routine!" Merlin cried, feeling completely disconcerted, because that was not what he had been expecting. What was he even supposed to say to defend himself? It didn't sound as though Arthur would believe him, either way.
"So you're saying you really are just naturally useless and irritating?" Arthur replied, eyes gleaming. He looked less stony now, more amused, evidently enjoying riling his roommate.
"I'm not useless!" Merlin shrieked, offended and frustrated by the accusations. "Better irritating than a pompous, arrogant PRAT!"
For a moment there was complete silence, with both cellmates staring at each other in surprise. Then Arthur grinned - a sharp, ferocious grin - flashing Merlin rows of pearly, white teeth.
"Do you want me to punch you?" he laughed, looking positively delighted by the prospect, moving forwards, like a cat cornering a mouse. "Because I'm pretty sure I can take you apart with one blow."
Merlin scowled, for once feeling too insulted to be either amused or terrified by Arthur's words. "Then I better get a hammer to defend myself with," he snapped, his heart hammering through his chest at his own stupidity.
"Not so wide-eyed and innocent after all," the blond commented, lips still curling into an amused little smile. "But still irritating."
Merlin decided to try and take the higher ground, mostly because he knew a fight with Arthur was a battle he could not win, and so chose to ignore the jibe. "I'm sorry if you don't think I'm genuine," he said, attempting to sound calm and collected - but mostly sounding incredulous that his character was being called into question by a criminal. "But I can't be anything other than myself. And my self is apparently naturally irritating."
Arthur smiled. It was neither a smirk nor a grin, but a genuinely pleased smile.
Merlin blinked, taken aback, because he'd half been expecting a punch. Honestly, it would have been less disconcerting if Arthur had whacked him.
"Better irritating than fake," the blond replied, tilting his head and eyeing Merlin thoughtfully - a look entirely different from his previous suspicion. "I can handle irritating…I suppose."
Merlin let out a breath and hesitated, unsure of what else to do or say. "So, you believe me?" he ventured, feeling as though he'd lost all handle of the conversation, and attempting to pick up the general gist.
Arthur paused for a moment, and his smile faded. When he spoke his words were calm and even, although they held a dark undertone that sent shivers down Merlin's spine. "For now," he said.
Merlin could barely hold back a gulp, stepping back and away on instinct. Although Arthur had often spoke to him with anger, distain and annoyance, he had never sounded more dangerous.
"Good," Merlin muttered at last, attempting what he knew was a very weak smile.
"Good," the blond repeated, and his expression flashed again, the darkness gone, dispelled by a small quirk of his lips.
He watched Merlin for several moments, seemingly amused that the other man could not look him in the eye, and shuffled forwards, until he was inches from Merlin's face, totally unavoidable. His head was cocked and he was considering the dark-haired man closely, suddenly looking at Merlin like he'd never seen him before - his eyes bright and almost interested.
Merlin blinked in surprise, thrown by the sudden change in atmosphere, feeling as though the tables had just turned on him without his knowledge. Arthur's constant change in moods was leaving him reeling, mind foggy as he attempted to try and process his cellmate's increasingly impossible mental gymnastics.
He gulped, immediately realising he could feel Arthur's faint breath on his lips and the heat of his very muscled body.
"So…" the blond grinned, giving Merlin a very close view of his pearly, sharp teeth. "Now they we've reached a very uneasy understanding, what do you say to getting rid of some of this tension?"
Somewhat distracted by Arthur's very close proximity, Merlin merely blinked, the words not really registering in his increasingly foggy mind. "Huh?" he mouthed.
Arthur stared at him for a long moment, as though he was mentally deficient, before giving a loud sigh and rolling his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest, and realising he was going to have to spell it out, asked bluntly, "Do you want to fuck?"
Arthur's words were so not what Merlin had been expecting, he stumbled backwards, eyes wide and mouth gaping.
"NO!" he squawked, his voice dangerously high. He'd gotten so used to Arthur's indifference and disinterest that he'd come to the conclusion that nothing would ever happen between them - so now that it was actually happening, his reply was shocked and instinctive. It was just typical that he'd been preparing for it for over a week, and yet when it finally happened, he was caught completely off guard.
Despite the immediate rejection, however, Arthur looked neither upset nor disappointed, something that hurt Merlin's ego slightly more than he'd ever care to admit. "You not gay?" the blond asked, backing away slightly and looking strangely sympathetic.
Merlin merely let out a straggled cry - unable to say anything more.
"Don't worry," Arthur said, evidently interpreting his groan as a 'no'. "You soon will be." He gave Merlin a condescending pat on the back and moved towards the cell door, casually letting himself back out.
Merlin watched him for a moment, in a strange sort of daze, before he realised Arthur was actually about to leave. "Where are you going?" he cried, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he was able to stop himself.
Arthur stopped and raised an eyebrow, looking distinctly unimpressed with Merlin's questioning. "What are you? My mother?" he said sarcastically, crossing his arms. "I'm going to see Lancelot."
Merlin's stomach dropped through the floor so quickly it made him feel slightly nauseous."Why?" he asked, although he had a feeling he already knew the answer, and did not like it.
The blond rolled his eyes. "We're going to go to our cross-stitching class. Why do you think, idiot?"
Throwing Merlin one last distasteful look (although on the bright side, it was no longer calculating), Arthur stalked out, leaving his cellmate wondering what on earth had just happened.
"So, the good news is, I don't think Arthur's actually plotting my murder," Merlin explained in workshop the next day, in his most cheerful voice.
After spending the night blinking up at the ceiling, he was now just choosing to ignore Arthur's impromptu exit the night before, because the prospect of Arthur going off to shag Lancelot after Merlin had refused him was downright sickening. When the blond had come back minutes before lockdown, shirt unbuttoned and hair damp, looking disgustingly blissed-out, it had taken all of Merlin's self-restraint not to throw something at him.
"Not planning your murder?" Will repeated, nodding his head in a thoughtful manner. "Well, that's progress…I guess."
"He's loosened up - sort of. He's slightly less wary," Merlin continued, thinking back to that very morning, where Arthur had actually bid him 'goodbye' as he left. Well, less 'goodbye' and more 'later idiot', but it was progress nevertheless. "And he finally propositioned me."
This got Will's attention.
"What?" he cried, waving his file in Merlin's face.
"Yeah, and I said no," Merlin explained, in a tone of faux disinterest. He looked down at his woodwork and pretended to look as though he knew what he was doing, adding casually, "So he went and fucked Lancelot."
"What?" Will yelped, abandoning his tools completely - the excitement obviously too much for him. "I thought fucking him was what you wanted!"
"No! I just wanted to get it over with, because you made out it was unavoidable!" Merlin exclaimed, voice rising. Several members of the workshop group turned to stare at the couple, looking increasingly baffled by the exchange. "But I said no, and he went off to shag Lancelot!"
"So you've said," Will replied, sounding annoyingly calm in comparison Merlin's own mounting hysteria. "Oh, this is so messed up." He shook his head in exasperation. "It doesn't even make sense anymore."
"It never made sense in the first place! I was just going by your warped logic," Merlin said, pointing an accusing finger at his new friend.
"Hey, don't blame the situation on me," Will muttered, holding up his hands and giving the other man a pointed look. "It's not my fault he shagged Lancelot!"
"That is not what this is about."
Will rolled his eyes. "Of course it is. You said no, he went off with Pretty-boy, now you're upset."
"I'm not upset!" Merlin insisted, filing his block of wood into non-existence. "It's just…people are not supposed to proposition one person and then go fuck someone else five minutes later. It's rude."
"Yes, because Arthur has always been known for his compassion and kindness," Will said sarcastically. "I'm just surprised you made it through the whole conversation with your limbs still intact."
Merlin gave out a short laugh, catching a nail on his file and causing him to drop it on the floor. It fell with a loud clack, and everyone in the nearby vicinity turned around to glare at him. Shrugging his shoulders and smiling apologetically, Merlin went to retrieve it, listening with half an ear as Will waffled on behind him.
"Especially after you called him a 'pompous, arrogant prat,'" he continued, giving a loud chuckle and proping his arms up on the table.
"Yeah, I was quite proud of that," Merlin grinned, feeling lighter than he had all day, cheered by Will's boundless enthusiasm.
He threw his friend a grateful look over his shoulder, and bent down to pick up his file, only for a long lithe hand to dart out in front of him, snatching it away.
"Wha - ?" he began, before his words died in his throat.
Mordred was stood in front of him, straight-backed and silent, clasping Merlin's file loosely in his palm. His face was translucently pale up close, but for the first time, Merlin saw something other than complete indifference in the man's expression. His lips were curved into a faint smile, which looked more sinister than either happy or pleased - it was downright creepy.
He extended his hand slowly, holding out Merlin's file for the taking.
Merlin took it hesitantly, and gave the other man what he hoped was a grateful smile, trying to calm the panicked and paranoid stuttering of his heart. "Uh, thanks."
Mordred said nothing in return, assessing Merlin closely, eyes positively alight with curiosity. After a moment, evidently seeing nothing of importance, he turned and glided silently away, movements unnervingly smooth and graceful - like his feet were not even touching the floor.
Merlin blinked.
"Okkk," he croaked, looking back at Will, who had watched the whole exchange with raised eyebrows. "How long was he stood there?" He shook his head, attempting to clear the strange fog Mordred presence had cast over him. "That was really creepy - did he even blink?"
"That is the gaze of a cold-blooded killer," Will commented, nodding his head and resuming his filing, as though he'd said nothing out of the ordinary.
"He's a murderer?" Merlin cried, watching Modred sit down on the other side of the room, unable to shake off his body's chill.
Will blew sawdust off his file's surface, and replied with a very casual, "So the rumours say."
"What's he doing in this workshop?" Merlin asked, feeling certain he hadn't seen the creepy druid in their group before; he was sure he'd remember him.
"He had to move groups after the fight with Arthur," his friend explained, shrugging his shoulders. "They can't be trusted to not attack each other, apparently."
Merlin's mouth opened in a silent 'oh', but he said nothing, gaze unexplainably drawn to the peculiar Mordred, despite his instincts screaming at him to look far, far away.
To his surprise, Mordred was looking straight back, although his expression revealed nothing. It was decidedly more scary than Arthur's stares, because at least with the blond, Merlin knew exactly what the looks meant. Glares of contempt and disgust were quite hard to misread. With Mordred however, Merlin could only guess at what the empty expression was hiding.
Suppressing a shiver, he turned back to Will, suddenly eager to engage him in conversation. Anything to distract him from the piercing stare, burning into the back of his head.
After workshop was finally over, Merlin bid Will goodbye, choosing to return to his cell, rather than proceed to the communal area. Not only was the communal area filled with men twice Merlin's size and twice as beastly, it was also a hang out for the druids, who Merlin wanted to give a wide berth after the strange events of the day.
If he was being honest with himself, he wanted to be as far away from Mordred as possible, after their rather unnerving exchange over his filing tool - and not to mention the blatant staring that followed.
Merlin was beginning to wonder whether he had some obscene phrase tattooed on his forehead he had not yet noticed, as a disturbing number of people seemed to spend their time staring at him. First Arthur, and now Mordred. He'd never been so fascinating in his entire life, and he wasn't quite used to the attention.
Running his hands over his face and hair to check everything was still in the right place, he stepped through a barred door, nodding to the guards who had opened it for him.
Continuing down the corridor, he rounded a corner, anxious to get back to his cell. Despite the stalemate he had finally reached with Arthur, he still couldn't shake off his feelings of paranoia, which Mordred had successfully managed to magnify - like something was something to happen, and it was going to happen soon.
And with good reason, because stood at the end of the corridor was Mordred himself, flanked by two members of the druid gang.
They stood silent and waiting, and Merlin vaguely wondered how they had managed to beat him here - they had been in the same workshop, after all.
His heart accelerated and he froze, looking for any sign of the guards.
Unfortunately, the current stretch of corridor was empty, and the guards Merlin had passed earlier were out of sight. Gulping slightly, he turned to watch Mordred float towards him, lips curling into a haunted smile.
"Um, hi," Merlin said, attempting to break the tension with a rather nervous laugh - hoping and praying that it was all just a figment of his overactive imagination.
To his complete astonishment, Mordred actually replied, voice hollow and empty in the stillness of the corridor. "Hello."
"I'm just going to my cell," Merlin stated, voice considerably stronger than he expected it to be. He attempted to move around them, only to be stopped by the two druid members at Mordred's side, and any hope that remained fell quickly away.
"I heard you talking in workshop," Mordred said, as though Merlin had not spoken. "About Arthur."
"Um, so?" he replied, instinctively moving backwards as Modred quietly advanced on him, figuring that talking was a preferred alternative to what else the druids could do to him.
"You have a very strange relationship," the druid stated, eyes glazed in thought, the concept seemingly fascinating to him.
"Relationship?" Merlin laughed shakily, Will's words concerning Mordred and Arthur ringing clearly in his mind. To the druids any association with Arthur was obviously bad, bad news. And so, swallowing loudly, he croaked, "We have no relationship."
Mordred paused, inches away from his face. He leant forward, icy breath ghosting over Merlin's lips, and breathed, "Liar."
Merlin staggered backwards, causing Mordred's face to break out into a malicious smile, far more terrifying than Merlin had seen before, completely contorting his features. He no longer looked calm and passive, but frighteningly amused, eyes gleaming brighter than the other man had ever seen them.
Letting out a small groan when he realised he'd literally just backed himself into a corner, Merlin began to assess his options, quickly deciding his escape. He could do one of two things: run and hope to be faster than Mordred's henchmen, or scream like a little girl and pray for rescue.
He chose to do both.
TBC...
A/N I don't know whether I explained Arthur's wariness of Merlin very well this chapter, or Merlin's conflicted feelings, but it initially made sense in my head. I hope it makes sense here, but things that initially make sense in my head don't often pan out quite the way I picture them XD I didn't check this chapter very well either, so please forgive any errors! I figured I should post it sooner rather than later!
And to all those to say it was very convenient that Merlin was in an empty hallway with no guards, it will become apparent why later in the story - there is a reason!
Takes hours to write, and only minutes to review, so please R&R! (Yes, this is my new catchphrase!)