Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Warnings: Language, SLASH, sexual situations...you know, all the good stuff. XD
A/N Again thank you so much for the reviews for this story! It makes me so happy that people are enjoying it! Now this is the chapter the PLOT actually begins. Yay! It's time for Arthur's backstory, people...
Cellmate
Chapter Four - A Pain in the Past
Merlin's cry echoed down the corridor, temporarily surprising Mordred's henchmen, who flinched backwards in surprise, evidently not expecting quite such a loud response.
Seizing the opportunity, Merlin flung himself forwards, attempting to propel himself down the corridor and towards the safety of the guards.
But unlike his fellow druid members, Mordred was ready for him, moving faster than Merlin thought possible. Before he had moved more than a foot, a cold vice-like hand had secured itself around his arm, and yanked him backwards, rooting him to the spot. Merlin let out a moan of horror, struggling against the stony grip, and reeling from the momentum of Mordred's grasp.
A second later he was backed up against the wall, translucent blue eyes only inches away from his face. Breathing heavily, he tried to squirm away, only for Mordred's grip to tighten - pointed and threatening.
"What do you want?" he gasped, meeting the druid's piercing gaze and attempting to shrink away.
"From you? Nothing," Mordred answered, his voice silky smooth compared to Merlin's own wavering stutter.
"Then what - ?" Merlin broke off, letting out a cry of pain as the druid twisted his arm back on itself, effectively silencing him. His arm screamed its protest, and he went limp, like a rag-doll in Mordred's embrace.
The druid then brought his other hand up to Merlin's face, cradling his jaw with sharp, icy fingers. He seemed to be analysing him, eyes roaming his features with a look of careful interest.
Merlin was frozen, breathing heavily through his nose, desperately trying not to make a move that would cause Mordred's grip on his already throbbing arm to tighten further.
But before the druid could say or do anything else, another voice broke through the deafening silence - a voice so fantastically familiar, Merlin almost burst into happy tears at the sound. "Well, isn't this romantic?" Arthur said sarcastically, his words echoing loudly down the otherwise quiet corridor.
Both Merlin and Mordred started, looking away from each other and towards the source of the noise, faces still inches apart.
Mordred paused for a moment and closed his eyes, looking irritated and strangely long-suffering.
Merlin let out a sigh of relief, having never been so happy anybody in his entire life. He used the distraction to twist out of the druid's slackening grip, stumbling towards the blond as fast as his trembling legs would carry him. Mordred made no move to prevent his escape, but his eyes were narrowed now, looking from the blond to Merlin with thinly-veiled dislike.
Arthur (typically) took no notice of Merlin's approach and advanced, until he was inches away from Mordred's face - the looks between them so intense, Merlin felt like he was intruding on something private.
The two other druid's tensed in anticipation, fists curling and shoulders straightening, as though preparing themselves for a fight. They stood at Mordred's back, scowling threateningly at the smirking blond, who seemed to be embarking on a silent staring contest with his opponent.
Then, without warning, Arthur raised a fist and drove it directly into Mordred's face, connecting with his nose in a sickening crunch. The druid reeled backwards, but somehow managed to remain standing, blood splattering over his pale, and momentarily stricken, face.
Everyone flinched in shock, and Merlin's mouth dropped open in utter disbelief - but before anyone could do anything further, another voice joined the fray.
"PENDRAGON!" The screech was high and piercing, followed by the unmistakable sound of heavy shoes clacking against the tiled floor.
Arthur sighed but drew back, inspecting the scarlet blood dripping off his knuckles with a look of careful interest. "Morgana," he acknowledged, sounding bored and disarmingly casual - as though he was often caught with his hands full of blood by prison guards.
Morgana advanced on the group of prisoners, face thunderous and her dark hair streaming behind her. "Well, why am I not surprised?" she said icily, stopping in front of them and immediately rounding on Arthur. "Arthur Pendragon, fighting again."
The blond rolled his eyes and shrugged, not looking the least bit guilty about the stream of blood trickling down Mordred's face. It seemed to be falling steadily - dripping from his nose, dying his teeth and staining his lips.
"Attacking people again means isolation, Pendragon," Morgana said, giving him a dark and somewhat triumphant smile.
"I know," the blond replied, wiping Mordred's blood off his hand and onto his shirt.
He said nothing further, however, and Merlin looked at him in surprise, expecting a fight, or an argument, or something, at least. "Um, it wasn't Arthur's fault," he announced after a pause, as the blond didn't seem very inclined to say anything in his own defence. He shrank back slightly as everyone turned to stare at him, but continued, wanting to repay Arthur's rescue somehow. "Mordred attacked me and twisted my arm, but Arthur came and stopped him."
Blinking in poorly disguised surprise, Morgana raised her eyebrows and turned to Arthur, apparently unconvinced by Merlin's explanation. "You," she said, pointing a steely finger from one man to the other, "Defended him?"
"Yeah. Weird, right?" Arthur replied, giving her a rather bemused smile. It looked strangely out of place on his face. "I don't know why, either."
Merlin scowled and crossed his arms, somewhat annoyed that his kind gesture had been rebutted, only to receive a glittering grin in return. He really wished the blond didn't look so disarmingly gorgeous when he did things like that, as Merlin was afraid his irritated scowl had turned into a rather love-struck stare.
"Right," Morgana said, still sounding uncharacteristically confused. She turned back to Mordred and Merlin, eyes probingly assessing their injuries. "Mordred, Emrys, you better go get checked out by Gwen."
"No," Mordred stated immediately, voice ice cold and expression impassive, even as scarlet blood trickled down his chin and onto the floor. He still made no move to prevent it, ignoring the injury like it insignificant - completely beneath his notice.
Merlin assumed that Morgana would protest, but she merely nodded, accepting his decision without question.
"Very well," she said, causing Merlin to blink in surprise. "Off you go then. You three go back to your cells."
Mordred and his two henchmen turned without a word, gliding back down the corridor and out of sight. Merlin could see the trail of blood drops that Mordred left in his wake, vivid red against the white tiles of the floor, just as they had been against the druid's pale, round face.
Unable to believe that Morgana had let Mordred go without punishment, Merlin turned to Arthur, who looked irritated, but wholly unsurprised.
"Pendragon, escort Emrys to the medical bay," Morgana ordered, ignoring the annoyed looks the two prisoners were exchanging. "Then go back to your cell and stay there."
Despite his irritation, Arthur nodded and said nothing, evidently eager to close the conversation with Morgana as quickly as possible.
But before Merlin had even had the chance to say anything, the blond had grabbed his arm and yanked him backwards, steering him down the corridor and away from the frowning guard.
"Hey!" Merlin cried, uncomfortable - and maybe a bit turned on - with the way Arthur was manhandling him.
"Shut up, will you? I just saved your ass," the blond hissed, glaring at his companion out the corner of his eye and frog-marching them through a gate.
"And I just stopped you from getting in trouble," Merlin countered, scrambling to keep with Arthur's long and purposeful strides, already starting to feel a little bit winded.
The blond rolled his eyes, seemingly unimpressed with Merlin's defence of him, and pointed out, "And I wouldn't have been in trouble if I hadn't of helped you."
Merlin inhaled a lungful of air, and glared at his cellmate through the corner of his eye, insulted and a little bit hurt that his help had gone unappreciated! "Mordred attacked me because of you!" he cried, regretting the words immediately, faltering as the blond to ground to a halt beside him.
He was looking at Merlin in complete astonishment, eyes wide and very round. "What?" he croaked, bringing up a hand to run through his hair - a gesture that looked uncomfortable, almost nervous.
"At least I think he did," Merlin explained, wanting to back-peddle but realising it was too late. He gave a helpless shrug. "He spoke about our 'relationship.'"
Arthur raised his eyebrows, and cocked his head to the side. "We don't have a relationship," he pointed out, as though Merlin didn't already know. "But it does seem like something Mordred would do: attack someone he thinks is close to me."
"But I barely know you! I've not even been here two weeks!" Merlin yelped, mentally cursing the unfairness of the whole situation. It was just his luck that a dangerous gang would think he'd allied himself with their enemy, despite the fact that he and Arthur barely tolerated each other.
The blond shrugged. "But you share a cell with me - close quarters and all that."
Merlin groaned and tried to suppress the urge to hit his head against a brick wall, folding his arms crossly. "Does that mean he'll target me again?"
Arthur gave a lazy shrug and started walking again, causing Merlin to jog up behind him. "No idea," he replied, sounding irritatingly unconcerned.
"Well, thanks - now I feel really reassured," Merlin muttered, ignoring the bark of laughter Arthur let out in response. He glanced at the blond through the corner of his eye, and feeling generous - not to mention wanting to prevent a fight - added, "I'll forgive you though, considering you saved me."
The grin faded from Arthur's face and his eyebrows knitted together, giving him an expression of strange discomfit. He seemed thrown whenever Merlin showed him understanding or kindness, as though he wasn't sure what to make of it.
"I…don't understand," the blond said carefully, after an increasingly uncomfortable pause. He seemed to be weighing his words, turning them over in his mind. "You're always nice to me, you defended me to Morgana, but you turned me down when I offered to sleep with you? What is it that you want?"
Merlin frowned, and replied, "I don't want anything. Is that so hard to believe?"
Arthur's reply came quickly this time, without a single second's hesitation. "Yes," he said simply.
"You really think that?" Merlin asked, genuinely surprised that anyone could have such a cynical outlook on life. No wonder Arthur was so mistrusting, if he truly believed people only ever acted kindly in order to get things in return.
"I have no reason to believe otherwise." The blond sounded surprised too, as though he couldn't believe that Merlin didn't share the same opinion as him. His voice was still cold and impersonal, but he seemed to be working harder to keep it that way, obviously unnerved by the direction the conversation was taking.
"Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?" Merlin asked, following his companion down an unfamiliar white corridor, unnervingly silent away from the bustle of ordinary prison life. They passed a couple more guards, who parted to allow them access with surprisingly little interrogation.
"You haven't given me a reason to make me trust you, either," Arthur replied, sounding stubborn now, rather than aloof and detached.
"Has Lancelot?" Merlin countered, before he could stop himself.
He was mentally kicking himself as Arthur paused, turning in the corridor to face him.
"What's that supposed to mean?" the blond wondered, eyes narrowing dangerously. He folded his arms across his chest and draw himself up to his full height, although he was still just eye-level with Merlin. "What's Lancelot got to do with anything?"
"You just seem to trust him, that's all," Merlin explained, attempting to sound casual. The last thing he wanted to do was admit that he had been spying on Arthur and Lancelot, as it would probably cost him his life - or worse, his dignity.
"Why I trust Lancelot is none of your business," Arthur replied, his voice colder and more threatening than Merlin had heard it in days.
"I was just asking."
"Why?" the blond cried, flinging up his arms. He finally seemed to have lost his cool and collected façade, voice hoarse and face crinkled in frustration. "Why do you keep asking me all these questions? Why do you even care?"
Merlin opened his mouth and shut it again, unable to think of an appropriate response. He settled for shrugging instead, because well, there seemed to be less chance of getting a punch that way.
Arthur groaned in frustration, running his hands over his face before attempting to collect himself. Taking in three long breaths (Merlin counted), he lifted an arm and pointed to a door down the end of the corridor.
"That's Gwen's office," the blond stated, sounding tired. "She's the prison doctor."
"Oh," Merlin said, surprised that they'd made it to the medical bay. He'd been so engrossed in the conversation he'd barely been paying attention to where they were going. "Thanks."
"Hmm," Arthur grumbled, throwing Merlin an exasperated glance. "Go and see whether she's got some pills for your obvious mental affliction."
Merlin scowled. "I don't -"
"Please, for the love of god, don't start," Arthur muttered, looking very much like he wanted to take a gun and shoot himself with it.
Merlin didn't know whether to be proud or insulted that he'd managed to invoke such a reaction in the blond, but he quietened nevertheless, giving Arthur an irriated glare. "But you just insulted me," he pointed out, shifting from foot to foot.
Arthur raised his eyes to the heavens but contained a scathing reply, choosing instead to indicate to the door once again. "Well…are you going to go, or not?"
"Oh. Yes, I am."
"Go on then," Arthur prompted, after Merlin didn't move.
Merlin shuffled in hesitation, and wrung his hands nervously. He had something that he wanted - no, needed - to say, and now that he and Arthur had reached somewhat of an understanding, he finally felt comfortable enough to try and say it. "Thanks for bringing me," he said, giving a small smile.
"I didn't have much of a choice," the blond muttered, looking quite disarmed by the thanks.
"And thanks for saving me," Merlin continued, despite the increasingly uncomfortable expression on his cellmate's face.
"I got to punch Mordred - it was my pleasure," Arthur replied after a moment, his face contorting into a smirk, apparently unable to contain his glee.
Merlin watched him closely, frowning in confusion, and deciding now was his time to push. "What's going on with you and Mordred?" he asked hesitantly, causing Arthur's gaze to flicker away. "Why do you hate each other so much?"
Arthur's face smoothed into an expression of indifference, but his voice was threatening as he said, "It's none of you're business."
Merlin threw up his arms. "It is my business!" he cried, mouth gaping. "I was the one that got attacked because of it!"
Arthur sighed and looked away, anger temporarily dissipated. He took a long pause as Merlin breathed loudly and deeply, attempting to get his hammering heart back under control. He seemed to be debating with himself, but his expression was resigned, like he knew he had no choice but to explain.
"My father got Mordred and his friends arrested, because he thinks they killed my mother," he explained dully, eyes focused on a dark patch on the opposite wall.
Merlin gasped, unable to stop himself. He assessed the blond with wide eyes, thrown, and utterly unsure of what to say. "Was it them?" he asked after a pause, resisting the urge to reach out and run a hand through his cellmate's hair soothingly.
"It was never proven," was all Arthur said, neither confirming nor denying it.
Merlin couldn't bring himself to say anything else, so just nodded and looked at the floor, glancing at Arthur from under his eyelashes. He needed to change the subject and fast, because he couldn't stand to see Arthur looking so saddened. "Well, again I say, thanks for saving me," he ventured.
The blond said nothing, staring at Merlin with a searching expression and giving a small shrug. After a moment's silence he spoke again, lips curling slightly at the sides. "Well, that was my good deed for the year," he said, breaking the uneasy atmosphere and returning them to more stable ground, looking quite proud of himself.
"Well done," Merlin replied, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
Arthur smile faded and he scowled, looking decidedly disgruntled. He shooed Merlin away. "You can go now."
"I don't need your permission!" Merlin yelped, folding his arms stubbornly and barely suppressing the urge to stamp his foot in a tantrum.
"Oh, god give me strength," Arthur cried, closing his eyes for a moment in an attempt not to strangle his cellmate. "I'll go then!"
Throwing Merlin another withering look, he spun on a heel and walked away, straight-backed and silent.
"I'll see you later then!" Merlin called after him, only to receive the finger in response.
Secretly quite pleased that the rollercoaster conversation had ended with such a playful exchange, Merlin glided to the doctor's door in a daze, feeling as though he was finally making progress. Arthur had told him something personal of his own free will, showing that he was beginning to open up, if only slightly.
Only just managing to prevent a grin, Merlin gave the door two sharp knocks, waiting for a signal to enter.
His arm screamed in protest at the action and he winced, hissing in pain. He clutched it gingerly and cursed, just as a high female voice floated through the door.
"Come in," it said, distracting him from the pain.
He used his uninjured arm to push open the door, entering a small white room. It had a desk pushed up against the far wall, a steel cabinet above it, and an observation table by the door. Behind the desk sat a smiling woman, who Merlin guessed was Gwen. She was small and thin, with black curly hair and dark skin, bright against the blankness of the room.
"What can I do for you?" she asked, climbing to her feet and approaching him.
"Hi, I'm Merlin Emrys. I'm here because I've injured my arm," he explained, unable to stop himself from returning her warm, kind smile. She seemed friendly enough, and that was something severely lacking in prison - he missed receiving a genuinely nice welcome.
"Ok. Well, sit down while I have a look at you," she said, pointing to the observation table.
Merlin sat down and allowed her to roll up his sleeve, wincing as her hands travelled lightly up his arm. She pressed her gentle fingers against the blossoming bruising, apologising every time she hurt him. She took down notes on numerous papers, asking him questions and filling in his personal information.
He was beginning to feel comfortable and relaxed in her presence - her gaze warm and friendly, and her touch careful and sure.
"So, you're Arthur Pendragon's roommate, yes?" Gwen asked suddenly, choosing to initiate conversation as she finished her notes. She glanced up at him through curious eyes, practically alight with interest. "He brought you here?"
Merlin looked up, and frowned in confusion. "Yeah. How'd you know that?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders
"I could hear you both down the corridor," Gwen said, giving him a small smile. "It wasn't as though you were whispering."
Merlin blushed, but said nothing, realising she had a point.
"He told you about the feud between himself and Mordred," she commented, taking down brief notes on a chart and looking away from him. It looked purposely casual, as though she was interested, but was reluctant to admit as much.
"You know about it?" Merlin asked, surprised. "How come? Nobody else around here seems to." And by nobody else, he meant Will, who had mentioned nothing about Arthur's father being responsible for Mordred's imprisonment, despite the numerous conversations they'd had regarding his blond cellmate.
"Arthur likes to keep quiet about it, so nobody really knows what actually happened," Gwen explained, taking his arm once again and massaging it with gentle fingers. "There are rumours, of course, but nobody knows for sure. I'm surprised he told you as much as he did."
Merlin's eyebrows rocketed up his forehead. "There's more?"
"Oh, yes." Gwen smiled sadly, and there was something knowing in his gaze.
"How do you know?" he asked, confused that the doctor seemed to know more about it than the prisoners themselves.
Seemingly sensing Merlin's unblinking gaze, Gwen busied herself with her papers, looking increasingly uncomfortable under his scrutiny. "Lancelot told me," she replied, in a soft voice, "And Arthur told him."
Merlin paused, taking a minute to process her words, before asking, "Can you tell me?"
"It's not my story to tell," she muttered, with a small jerk of her head - but her eyes were creased, and she looked unsure.
"Nor was it Lancelot's," Merlin responded, expression earnest. He didn't want to push her into telling him details of Arthur's personal life (ideally he wanted to hear it from Arthur himself), but he was involved now, and he had to know. His safety could depend on it.
Gwen considered him for a moment, obviously dithering. She licked her lips and looked away, hands fumbling with her paperwork. "Arthur does seem to trust you…" she murmured, more to herself than the room at large.
Merlin decided not to contradict her, no matter how blatantly untrue the statement was, realising she was close to cracking.
"Please," he insisted, in his most sincere voice, "I'm not going to tell anyone."
Gwen's brown eyes locked with his own. "For some reason, I believe that," she replied, letting out a defeated sigh. "Oh, alright then, but you can't let Arthur know I told you. It's a sensitive subject."
Merlin nodded eagerly, and gestured for her to continue, hoping that he was coming one step closer to understanding his cellmate, and why he acted the way that he did.
"Do you know what Arthur's in here for?" Gwen asked, sitting down on the observation table to talk to him.
A previous conversation with Will tugged at his memory. "Um, GBH?"
"Well, that's close enough, I suppose," Gwen said, taking in a long, deep breath, as though preparing herself for a story. "Arthur's father, Uther Pendragon, is the leader of a quite a powerful gang - sort of like the druids. Whether Arthur was part of the gang before his arrest is unclear, but he certainly grew up in that sort of environment."
Merlin suppressed a groan, slowly realising that Arthur was much more dangerous than he'd originally given him credit for. Although he'd always known that the blond was considered powerful and sometimes frightening, apart from his blatant rudeness and maddening arrogance, Merlin hadn't found anything truly terrifying about his cellmate. But that may of been because of his own complete obliviousness, and as Arthur had pointed out, his complete lack of self-preservation instincts.
"Although the druids and the Pendragons weren't exactly bitter enemies, they were opposing gangs," Gwen explained. "I suppose some rivalry was to be expected. But a few years ago, it all came to head when Uther's wife and Arthur's mother was murdered. Her name was Igraine."
Merlin was unable to prevent a shiver, remembering his cellmate's dull voice when he'd spoken about it in the corridor. He suddenly wasn't sure whether he wanted to know the details.
"She and Arthur were out together, only a couple of blocks away from their home, when they were ambushed," Gwen continued, looking at the floor. "I'm not sure what happened exactly, as Arthur has never told Lancelot the details, but Igraine was stabbed in the fray. Her injuries were fatal, and she died later in hospital. Arthur however, fought the attackers off. Although with Igraine injured, he was alone and outnumbered, he still managed to come out of the fight relatively unscathed."
Merlin was fairly sure that his mouth was hanging open, but he couldn't bring himself to shut it. He was imagining Igraine, fragile and defenceless, lying curled and bleeding upon the floor. Images of Arthur, desperate and crazed, flashed through his mind, as well as the sickening slash of a bloody knife.
He pressed a hand against his forehead, beginning to feel vaguely ill; Gwen smiled at him sympathetically, giving him a small pat on the arm.
"But in his fight with the attackers, Arthur managed to stab two of his opponents," she said, shaking her head. "Although they both survived - unlike Igraine - one ended up partially paralysed for a number of months, and the other was brought to the hospital in critical condition."
There was a painful silence, where both could think of absolutely nothing to say.
Merlin finally gathered his wits and attempted speech, face ghostly pale and feeling almost dizzy with confusion. "So, that's what Arthur was charged with?" he muttered faintly, unable to summon up any sort of emotion beyond shock and sympathy. Was it a good thing Arthur had stabbed two people in self-defense? He wasn't even sure.
"Yes," Gwen replied simply.
For some reason Merlin felt a spark of something in his chest - was it anger? "But it was self-defence! They attacked him first!" Merlin cried, unsure of why he was coming to Arthur's defence, but feeling strangely outraged on his behalf.
"I don't think that mattered to the court," she explained. "Arthur's a Pendragon. The police have been waiting a very long time to charge one of them with something, and the fact that it was Uther's son was even more of a bonus."
Merlin rested his head against his hands and let out a sigh.
"Of course, there was no proof that the people behind the attack were the druids," Gwen said, gazing at the wall and lifting a shoulder. "But Uther's a powerful man. He managed to get Mordred - as well as a few others - sent down for different crimes."
"Which is why Mordred and Arthur hate each other," Merlin confirmed, shaking his head, and attempting to work it all out in his mind. From what he could gather, it did sort of make sense - in a horrific, messed up kind of way. "Arthur thinks Mordred killed his mother, and Mordred sees Arthur as the one responsible for his sentence."
Gwen nodded, letting out a long breath, and said, "That's about it, yes."
"Oh my god," he groaned, wondering what on earth he'd managed to get himself involved in, and dismaying at how this had managed to become his life. He was living in a nightmare, he was sure of it.
They both sat in contemplative silence for a few minutes, unsure of how to break the tension. Gwen picked back up her chart and continued filling in his information, head bent and hair shielding her face.
It was only when a shill beep shattered the silence, that either of them dared speak again.
"That's my pager," Gwen explained, getting to her feet and walking to a steel cabinet behind her desk. "I'm needed elsewhere."
Merlin nodded, following her movements with glazed eyes, and vaguely realising that his arm was still throbbing in pain.
"Your arm isn't broken or fractured, just severely bruised," she continued, voice taking on a more aloof air of professionalism. She pulled a small bottle of white pills from the cabinet and passed them to him. "Take two of those painkillers."
"Now?"
"Yes," Gwen nodded, giving him a smile. "I can't allow you to take painkillers back into the prison. They have to be administered here."
Merlin deposited two small white pills into his hand, before tilting back his head and swallowing them.
"If you need anymore, you'll have to come back."
Merlin nodded, sliding off the table and giving her a rather wan smile. "Well, thanks for the help," he said, in what he hoped was a cheery voice - in reality, he just sounded slightly pained. "And thanks for setting the record straight."
She gave him a genuine smile, eyes glittering. "It was nice meeting you, Merlin."
"You too." He turned and let himself back out, stepping into the corridor and moving towards his cell.
His mind was whirling painfully, mostly with flashing bloody images, rather than actual coherent thoughts. He wondered how he was going to sleep with his mind in imagination overdrive, then wondered how Arthur slept at all. The events of that night were too horrific to even comprehend.
He shook his head and gritted his teeth, attempting to regain control of himself before he dared face Arthur again.
By the time he had got back to their cell, he was in a far calmer state, determined for Arthur to notice nothing different about his appearance or behaviour.
When he let himself in, however, he was still unexplainably nervous, as though worried his cellmate would see straight through him within seconds. It wouldn't even surprise him if Arthur was in fact a mindreader.
Fortunately, the blond seemed otherwise distracted.
He was sat on the edge of his bed, rocking slightly and wringing his hands. The anxious and edgy gestures unnerved Merlin slightly, as he'd never seen Arthur anything but calm and collected. His heart sunk, because even from the atmosphere in the room, he could just feel that something really wasn't right.
But before he had the chance to verbally question his cellmate's behaviour, the blond looked up and spotted him - his expression desperate and strangely earnest.
"Did you see Lancelot?" Arthur cried, leaping to his feet and startling Merlin so much he almost fell back out the door again. His face was unusually pale behind his blond bangs, his hair was ruffled, and he looked strangely jittery, as though he'd seen a ghost.
Merlin stared for a second, briefly wondering whether he'd just walked in on a very strange prearranged booty-call between Arthur and Lancelot, and barely repressed a groan. "What?" he asked, shaking his head confusedly - his brain too mushed to think of a more coherent reply.
"In the medical bay - did you see Lancelot?" Arthur's voice was hoarse and clipped, barely containing what Merlin guessed was anger and impatience.
"Um, no," he replied. "What do you mean? Why would Lancelot be in the medical bay?"
Arthur let out a long breath, hands curling in white-knuckled fists and teeth grinding into a fierce snarl. He looked so threatening, that for one brief moment, Merlin was afraid.
"Because," Arthur snipped, "He's been attacked."
Merlin's mouth dropped open, his expression strangely blank compared to Arthur's barely concealed rage. He'd never met Lancelot personally, but it was surprising that somebody so powerful and popular within the prison had been targeted. "By who?" he gasped.
Arthur scowled. "Who do you think? By Mordred!"
TBC...
A/N Yep, as many of you guessed, Merlin was saved by Arthur - it makes a nice change from the actual program!
When I wrote this, I was never totally happy with the convo between Merlin and Arthur, or with the one with Merlin and Gwen. But even after I've reviewed it, it still bothers me! :[ Oh well, I hope you all enjoy it anyway!
Hours to write, minutes to review, so please R&R! :)