A/N: Hello again! Well...I'm still a bit shocked from the response I got from the last chapter. I really wasn't expecting it, so thank you so much to everyone who's reading this :) You made my week so much better.

Title: Of Twisted Morals and Human Weaponry
Author: BeyondTheStorm
Rating: T for...well, a lot of things. Some language, some violence, the whole general situation, a bit of torture, etc.
Characters/pairings: The cast is as follows: Merlin, Arthur, an antagonist, two guards with names, and a few without. Merlin and Arthur are the main focus of this story. Oh, and no pairings. Only friendship here, though if you want to read more into it, feel free. Whatever floats your boat.
Spoilers: Um...none, as far as I know.
Warnings: Abuse, a bit of torture, me being descriptive
What to expect: Bromance, introspection, angst, some whump, H/C, lots of drama, lots of worrying...oh, and some magic. Can't forget the magic :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin :)

So, I meant to mention this last time, but I apparently forgot, so I'll do it now. I've already answered it a few times, but I think I'll do it once here for everyone. For anyone wondering, this fic doesn't actually have a specific time frame in mind within the series. It's definitely after season 1 and before the end of season 3, but aside from that, I never picked a place for it to go, which is why there are no spoilers listed for anything, because I have no intention of mentioning any of the big, deciding factors in the series (i.e. Morgana, Morgause, The Great Dragon, etc). I want it to be ambiguous, unlike all my other fics. I thought it would be fun. It's possible that this could change, depending on what happens, but for now that's the way it is :)

Anyway, like I promised, here's Merlin's POV! Hopefully this will answer a few questions (and quite possibly create some). Onward!

CHAPTER 2

In hindsight, perhaps he could admit that maybe, just maybe, his plan hadn't been such a great idea after all. He was pretty sure that just about anyone would probably agree with him on that. If he ever managed to find a way out of this mess, he was certain that, if no one else, Gaius would have a thing or two to say about it (and he didn't even want to know what Arthur would do to him when he found out).

However, let it be known that he was in no way responsible for this. Whoever's fault it was, it most definitely wasn't his, not really…

…Well, maybe a bit.

Alright, so leaving Camelot and wandering off into the woods in the middle of the night hadn't been the smartest thing he had ever done (although it certainly wasn't the dumbest), but after being woken up due to sensing something extremely powerful and very much magical, he couldn't just lie in bed and do nothing. Instead he had gotten up, dressed quickly, and left. He hadn't written a note or said anything to Gaius before leaving, but that was only because he hadn't expected to be gone for very long (and wasn't it funny how that had turned out). He had only wanted to see what was going on and make sure that it didn't have anything to do with a magical attack against Camelot. That was his duty, after all.

He had never even considered that it might be a trap—because really, in all honesty, he was just a servant as far as anyone knew, and why would someone ever go out of their way to trap a mere servant?

Well, apparently it would seem that he wasn't as careful with his secret as he had originally thought (and Gaius would probably have a thing or two to say about that as well), but honestly, it wasn't his fault. After all, if Arthur wasn't always throwing himself into dangerous situations, then Merlin wouldn't constantly have to protect him with his magic (so really, it was all Arthur's fault. Most of the terrible misfortunes to befall him usually were).

The whole thing had started just over a month ago when he and Arthur had gone out into the forest with some of the knights in order to hunt down a group of "mercenaries." As far as he was concerned, that was just a glorified term for "bandits," but every time he had referred to them as such, Arthur had corrected him. Apparently there was some big difference that he just wasn't able to comprehend or something like that (hired or not, what did it really matter? They were still just people willing to do anything for money). The two of them had argued about it for quite a while, not paying much attention to anything else…which, thinking back on it now, was probably how the mercenaries had been able to ambush them.

And there had been a lot of mercenaries.

The battle had gone like most battles usually do when Arthur's involved. The prince and his knights fought off the men while Merlin discreetly used his magic to help them. There had been falling tree branches and swords that were suddenly too hot to hold or that randomly went flying out of the men's hands. A lot of the mercenaries had found themselves tripping over nothing only to meet their end at a knight's blade. It had been rather chaotic, but in the end Camelot had once again been victorious.

However, some of the mercenaries had escaped. They had also seen him using magic to help the knights and doing so without any effort and with barely a word.

Earlier that day, before he and Arthur had even left the castle, he had asked the prince why they were going to hunt down the mercenaries. He had wanted to know what they had done. Apparently the group of unknown men had been taking people. They would set up camp near a village, and within a few days someone would disappear. It was usually just one or two people, but sometimes it was whole families. No one had any idea why or what for, but it wasn't a situation that could simply be ignored.

That was why they had ridden out to face the mercenaries, because as cruel as he could sometimes be, Uther did care about his people and wasn't the kind of king to ignore their plight. When word had reached him about the disappearances, he had reacted accordingly and with haste.

Unfortunately, none of them had known the full story. If he had, the warlock would have been a lot more discreet when using his magic, and he wouldn't have let any of the men get away. That was, after all, why he was in this mess to begin with.

It had been one month now. One month since he had snuck out of the castle to investigate the magic he was sensing only to walk into a trap designed specifically for a sorcerer (or an idiot, because all they had really done was sneak up behind him and knock him out while he was distracted by the magical artifact that they had left lying in the middle of the bloody forest). It had been one month since he had been dragged across the kingdom and over the border. One month since he had been sold—sold, like he was a piece of property instead of a person—to an arrogant, overbearing lord with twisted morals and no sense of humor.

Bloody stupid mercenaries. They had ruined everything. It hadn't even been worth their time seeing as how the lord had had them all killed. Apparently allowing themselves to be noticed and then beaten by Camelot's knights meant that they were no longer useful (plus he got the feeling that this was a man who didn't like to let go of money if he didn't have to). Merlin was just thankful that they hadn't bothered to or even been given the chance to mention that he had been amongst those knights and thus had a direct connection to Camelot and to Arthur. If possible, he wanted to avoid dragging anyone else into this kind of situation, especially the prince. He didn't want the people he cared about to get hurt because of him.

It was best if these men all thought he was just some random, lonely sorcerer, albeit a very powerful one.

Unfortunately, they had seen to that as well, which was why after one month he was still at the mercy of his captor. That didn't mean he couldn't make the man's life difficult though. After all, he certainly wasn't going to make things easy for such an irritating, boisterous twat. Arthur at his worst couldn't hold a candle to this lord. Under different circumstances, he probably would have been worried about that (the man had a rather dangerous temper at times), but the whole situation was a rather precarious one, and he had learned early on that he could push the limits a great deal without consequences.

After all, it wouldn't do to damage a potentially valuable asset, would it?

He really—really, as in words could not describe just how much—hated being treated like a thing. One day that narcissistic nobleman would get what was coming to him.

However, that day likely wouldn't be anytime soon, Merlin mused to himself rather dejectedly as he was led down a lavish hallway by three armed guards who looked like they were enjoying this about as much as he was. Understandable seeing as how this wasn't the first time they had been made to do this. It probably wouldn't be the last either, which really was unfortunate, but it's not like he was going to just sit around and do nothing. Obedience was not one of his character traits (just ask Arthur), and so there was no way he was going to act like a good little prisoner and stay in his cell. Why stay when he could easily get out?

The only problem was that no matter how many times he escaped, he always ended up going right back in. They never failed to catch him (and he got the feeling that one day their master's patience was going to run out).

When they got to the end of the hallway, one of the men pushed open the large wooden door that would lead into another hall, one lined with cells. He was never put in the same cell twice in hopes that he wouldn't be able to break out of the new one. Wishful thinking on their part.

They walked all the way to the far corner, choosing a cell with four stone walls and a metal door—no bars, no windows, not a single way to let light in. There was a small cot in the corner which was at least better than the pile of hay he had had last time, but it was still anything but ideal (a part of him was well aware that dungeons weren't meant to be comfortable or homey, but he had been here for a whole month now, so he had every right to be indignant).

One of the guards quickly opened the door while the other two brought him inside, leading him over to the far wall where a set of manacles attached to a long chain were lying in the corner. He wasn't sure why they even bothered. It's not like chaining him up ever did them any good.

When they were about halfway across the room, the guard on his right turned to the other, his expression warring between resigned and irritated.

"I can handle things from here. Go on and alert the others that we found him. That sodding bell is starting to give me a headache."

The other guard gave an amused smirk before releasing Merlin and heading back towards the door.

"Will do. I'll make sure to inform his lordship while I'm at it." There was no missing the disgust in those words, and the warlock inwardly smiled at the insulting tone. He had learned early on that most of the guards held no love for their master either.

When the door was finally shut and locked and the two guards had retreated down the hallway, the one still holding Merlin's arm quickly released it, his expression instantly softening into something that looked a great deal like sympathy. There was concern there too, as well as guilt, and it was a testament to just how many times he had been in this situation that he understood exactly why those emotions were there.

"Are you alright?" the man asked, and Merlin knew the concern in his voice was genuine.

"Well," he began, "all things considered, I've probably been better."

"You know what I mean, Merlin." His tone was serious, stern. "That was a reckless stunt you pulled. You could've gotten yourself killed."

"Right, and we all know how inconvenient that would be," he muttered, but in the small, quiet cell, his words were easily overheard.

"I'm serious, Merlin. You could've been crushed. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I wanted to get out," he replied in exasperation, walking over to the cot and sitting down with a huff. He turned his attention to the floor, kicking absently at a loose stone. "The stupid door kept getting stuck when I tried to unlock it, and I guess I just got a bit frustrated. I didn't mean to destroy the whole wall."

"…Remind me to never get on your bad side."

Merlin looked up at that, unable to keep himself from smiling. It sometimes surprised him that he still could after everything that had happened in the last month. He had this man to thank for that, as well as a few others. When he was first locked up, he hadn't expected to be treated with anything other than cruelty and disdain, but that had all changed after just the first few days. He had learned rather quickly that most of the people working here weren't doing so out of choice. True, they had more freedom than he did, but many of them may as well have been prisoners.

Rordan was one such man. He looked a bit older than most of the guards Merlin had seen (which wasn't saying much as most of the guards were rather young), but he was actually only a few years older than the warlock himself, perhaps five or seven at the most. He was married with a beautiful wife and two little girls that he often spoke fondly of. It was for their sake that he was working as a guard. He never elaborated on why exactly, but Merlin knew enough to be able to read between the lines.

A person will often do whatever it takes to protect the people they care about even if it means doing something they aren't proud of.

And Rordan wasn't the only one in such a situation. Many of the guards had similar stories. Most he had heard by eavesdropping while the guards were patrolling the dungeons or when they were stationed outside his cell to keep watch. He had nothing better to do, after all, and any information he could get, no matter how trivial, was better than nothing. By now he knew most of their stories even though only a handful had ever talked to him personally, had bothered to share theirs with him and to listen to a few of his in return.

Sometimes he wishes that he had never bothered, had never overheard any of them talking during those first few days. It would have made things so much easier if he hadn't.

He watched quietly as Rordan slowly walked over, choosing to lean against the adjacent wall. The man heaved a sigh, running a hand through his rather messy brown hair before once again fixing Merlin with a worried look.

"I didn't think you were able to do something like that," he said, his mind still obviously on the whole blowing-up-a-wall thing. "At least not anymore."

"It was an accident. It just sort of happened. I probably couldn't do it again even if I tried." The warlock looked down at his hands where they were resting against his legs. He curled and uncurled his fingers a few times, trying to shake off the slight tingling sensation he could still feel while at the same time wishing it would never go away. For just the briefest of moments, he had been able to feel his magic rushing through him, rising up along with his frustration. It had come out as a pure rush of power, wild and uncontrolled, but he had finally been able to reach it.

Of course, he had paid the price for it afterwards, but the pain had been worth it. He had missed that feeling. He hadn't realized how empty and alone he would feel without it until it had suddenly been taken from him. That was one of the first things that had happened upon his arrival to the fortress. His new owner had immediately taken what had looked like just an ordinary silver cuff and clamped it around his right arm, just below his elbow. He hadn't understood what it was for at first, but the moment the metal had touched his skin, he had felt the familiar warmth of his magic vanish, retreating deep inside of him to a place where he couldn't touch it. It had become nothing more than a gentle brush at the very recesses of his being, still there but too far away for him to reach.

Apparently it hadn't been just a silver band. It wasn't "silver" at all aside from its color. It was some sort of rare metal, foreign and hard to find with a strange name he couldn't remember, and it had the irritating and completely natural ability to suppress magic.

When that gentle thrum of power had first dimmed and retreated, he had instantly tried to draw it to the surface only to find that doing so hurt. Trying to pull his magic up while the band around his arm kept pushing it down had resulted in feeling like he was being torn apart. Needless to say he had stopped immediately and had only tried a few other times before deciding it was pointless. He couldn't focus while in that much pain, so having access to his magic wouldn't do him much good anyway.

However, what none of them had taken into account with the whole magic suppression thing was that Merlin wasn't like other sorcerers. His magic was practically a living, breathing part of him, and it was impossible to separate it from him completely. He was still capable of simple spells, like unlocking his cell door. He could still move things as well and could probably even throw people back without it hurting too much. Anything more though was beyond him at the moment, and it's not like he could just take the cuff off. It was far too thick—at least half an inch, and probably about three in length—to break, and it refused to slide down his arm at all no matter how hard he tried. He was unfortunately stuck with it for the foreseeable future.

"…I'm sorry."

Merlin's head shot up, surprised at the soft apology. Rordan was no longer watching him, his attention focused on the floor. He looked riddled with guilt, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed.

"Why are you apologizing?" he asked a bit cautiously, confused, because he was pretty sure that the guard hadn't done anything wrong. It's not like he could just let him go, and Merlin certainly didn't expect him to. If he gets caught while trying to escape, that's his problem and his fault. He doesn't want help, and he would never ask for it, because that would just put them in danger. This time around it had been Rordan who found him, and he knew that the guard didn't like having to put him back in a cell, but that was his job, and that was just fine. He had no reason to feel guilty about it.

"Because you could escape easily," Rordan said, his voice rising with each word. "I know that if you wanted to, you could just push right past us. You could probably even kill us if you wanted, despite that stupid cuff—you blew up a wall, for God's sake—but you don't even try! You let yourself get caught every time, and none of us can do anything about it even though it's our fault in the first place, and—!"

"Rordan. Rordan, calm down."

Merlin was on his feet now, arms raised in a calming gesture, trying to get his friend to stop yelling and to just take a few breaths. When the guard had finally settled down a bit, Merlin walked over to the wall and stood next to him, neither one of them making eye contact.

"You don't have to apologize," Merlin told him, needing to break the silence as well as reassure his friend (and they were friends, because he couldn't think of another word for it). "You haven't done anything wrong."

"…But I'm right, aren't I? The reason you haven't escaped is because you can't do it without hurting us, right?"

Merlin just bit his lip and turned away, not wanting to answer that. He didn't want to admit that Rordan was kind of right, because that would just make the man feel even worse. However, it was the truth. These men weren't evil even if their lord was, and he wasn't about to harm them when they hadn't done anything wrong. Plus…most of them had families, children. When he thought about it like that, he found he couldn't even attempt to throw them back for fear of hurting them (his magic was incredibly unstable if the earlier incident was anything to go by). He didn't want to be responsible for destroying a family, for taking a father away. Most of these men were good people who were just looking out for the ones they loved, and they didn't deserve to suffer for it, so even if that meant that his escape plans would most likely always end in failure, then so be it.

Besides, even if he was a heartless, evil sorcerer, he'd still end up getting caught. After all, it's not like he was really capable of much magic at the moment, and what little he could do would leave him exhausted and drained before ever reaching the gates.

"…Thank you."

Startled once more, Merlin turned his attention back to Rordan, staring at the man in utter bewilderment. First he was apologizing and now he was thanking him, and the warlock had no idea why. It's not like he had done anything. He was probably making everyone's lives more difficult in the long run.

"For what?" he finally asked.

"Just…for everything. For not attacking us, for understanding. You have every right to hate us, but you don't, and we're all thankful for that. The others wanted me to make sure you knew how grateful we are. I just wish there was something we could do for you. You're a good man, Merlin, and you don't deserve this."

"It's alright. You don't need to worry about it. It's my fault I'm in this mess in the first place."

"Still, I wish we could help you. We…we can't disobey our orders, but if nothing else, we'll at least continue to look out for you."

Merlin couldn't help but smile at that. Those words were a promise, earnest and genuine, and he knew that Rordan was speaking for all of the guards that the warlock had gotten to know and perhaps even some he hadn't. By now most of them probably knew what he was doing, that he was simply choosing not to attack them. Quite a few of them had caught on rather quickly, and ever since then they had gone out of their way to be kind to him. He was given water regularly, sometimes more than he needed and even during the times when his captor had told them not to give him any. They always found ways to get him extra food too, far more than a prisoner was usually allowed to have. If they were ever ordered to rough him up a bit, they always pretended, and if it happened to be done by one of the other guards, one of them would always come to see him afterwards to make sure he was alright and treat the worst of his injuries.

He knew that he couldn't ask them to let him go; the repercussions would be too great, but it was enough to know that they wanted to, that they would if there was no way of it leading back to them. As much as he hated this, he understood, and he didn't blame them. They were doing what they could to repay him for his sacrifices, and that was enough.

"Thank you," he said before walking back across the room, heading for the cot. "You should probably be getting back. Someone might notice you're gone."

"…Alright."

Merlin watched as Rordan walked rather slowly towards the door, obviously reluctant to leave quite yet. He paused just as he was about to push it open, giving the warlock one final glance.

"Just be careful, Merlin."

"I'm always careful." That earned him a small smile and an amused huff before Rordan opened the heavy metal door and then closed it quietly behind him. The sound of a lock clicking into place filled the dark, empty cell, and Merlin couldn't help but sigh. It's not like locking the door would do any good. He could easily open it, although he needed at least a day or two to recover first. Even using just the smallest amount of magic left him feeling drained.

With nothing better to do, the warlock decided to simply lie back and wait for what he knew was coming.

He didn't have to wait long. Even before he heard the rattling of the keys, he had heard the heavy footsteps thundering down the hall. When the lock clicked once again and the metal door scraped across the stone floor, he heaved one last sigh and prepared himself for yet another confrontation.

"Well now," came the overly smug, almost lilting voice of his captor, "how's my favorite prisoner?"

Merlin didn't say anything, pretending to be asleep, but not a moment later the sound of boots pounding against the floor alerted him to his visitor's approach. He knew what was coming, even braced himself for it, but he couldn't help the small flare of panic as a rather large and very powerful hand wrapped around his neck, squeezing just enough to get his attention and to make breathing a bit difficult. Merlin was well aware that those hands could easily break him, could snap his neck like a mere twig, but despite the fact that he didn't look it, the man was patient and strategic. Still, the warlock couldn't help but wonder sometimes what would happen to him if that patience ever decided to run out. One day it would happen, of that he had no doubt. Already the man's control was wavering.

Merlin was forced to open his eyes as the hand around his throat squeezed just a little more, causing him to gasp before the pressure lessened. He did his best to glare at the face hovering above him, those dark eyes narrow in irritation and his lips forming an ugly sneer.

"You'd do well to remember your manners, boy," he snarled. "I expect a proper greeting."

With no fear and no hesitation, eyes hard and set with his own special brand of arrogance, Merlin forced his expression into something calm and indifferent and perhaps just the slightest bit amused.

"Hello, Barragh."

No titles, no submission, no respect. He didn't deserve it, and there was no reason to give it. After all, this man needed him alive.

What was the worst he could do?

A/N: That's all for now. I hope you all enjoyed it :) There shall be more Merlin next time, and some of Arthur as well.

I wanted to quickly say thank you for all the reviews. I tried to reply to the ones I could (hope I didn't forget any), and thank you for some of the replies back. Sorry I didn't reply to the replies. This is probably going to seem silly (but by now I'm sure most of you have realized that I worry a lot about...well, everything), but I wasn't sure if I would seem like a bother if I did. I like talking to people, but I don't want anyone to feel like they're obligated to converse with me or anything. Yes, I have a few social phobias (and there is someone to blame for that). Feel free to tell me if I'm just being silly and paranoid, because I get the sneaking suspicion that I probably am...

Anyway, that's all for now! Please drop a review if you can. I won't ask or beg, but I do love to know what you all think :) Feel free to ask questions too even if I may not always answer them.

Oh, and a virtual batch of cookies to anyone who can guess what the "silver" metal is. It does have a name. I may or may not mention it in the fic (haven't written that far ahead yet). Just wanted to see if anyone knew what it was :)

Until next week!