A/N: Hello :) Before I say anything else, I just really want to say thank you! Seriously, I never expected this kind of reception for this fic. You've all made me immensely happy. Thank you so much!
I think I was able to get through all the review responses, and the ones I couldn't respond to directly, I'm going to do at the end of the chapter, both for the reviews for CH 1 and CH 2. I did it for both Healing Spells and Beyond the Vale, so I figured I'd do it this time too, because I like responding and answering questions (and just generally saying thanks :)

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 :)

Hope you like the chapter. It's part Merlin's POV, part Arthur's.

Onward!

CHAPTER 3

When the glaring face above him twisted into an enraged snarl, it suddenly dawned on Merlin that maybe he had finally pushed things a bit too far. That thought was further proven when Barragh lifted him from the bed by just his neck and slammed him into the wall, knocking the breath from him. The man simply held him there, his grip tight but not quite suffocating. Merlin raised his arms and tried to pry the hand away from his throat, but the mountain of a man was probably a hundred times stronger than he was. As much as he hated to admit it, he was at his mercy.

"Is that any way to talk to your master?" the lord snarled.

"You're not my master," he snapped right back, and despite the fist that slammed into his stomach, he didn't regret those words. There was only one person he would ever serve, and nothing this oaf could do would change that.

"You certainly are a cheeky little bastard. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, given what you are. I find that most sorcerers tend to be too arrogant for their own good…but we can fix that."

The lord's free hand moved to grip the warlock's arm, right where the metal brace was. He squeezed it tightly, pushing it into the skin until Merlin couldn't help but cringe against the pressure.

"It must be quite painful having your magic suppressed like this. I've placed one of these on every sorcerer I've ever caught, but I imagine it must be a thousand times worse for someone like you. The kind of power you possess is unheard of, inhuman. When you were first brought here, Neirin told me that you have more magic in a single finger than most have in their entire body. He's completely useless when it comes to magic, but he knows how to sense it, and he has never once been wrong."

He eased his grip, no longer pushing down, but his hold still remained tight in both places, so Merlin kept silent. There was no point in setting him off again, at least not yet. Besides, the warlock didn't have a comment to make. He knew it was all true even if he didn't always believe it. He was aware of how different his magic was—how different he was—from other magic users. Both Gaius and the dragon had referred to him as a "creature of magic," which was probably a much more accurate description than calling him a "sorcerer." Most sorcerers could train for their whole lives and still never achieve even a fraction of what he was potentially capable of.

In the wrong hands, that kind of power would be devastating…and that was exactly what Barragh wanted.

"I could take it off, you know," the man said, his voice much softer, the words coming out in what could almost be considered a purr (as disturbing as that thought was, he couldn't think of a better word for it). "I can put an end to your pain, to the emptiness. I could give you anything you wanted, offer you an entire kingdom if you so desired. You would never want for anything ever again, and all you have to do is pledge your magic to me. Your fealty in exchange for your freedom. I can promise that if you make the pledge of your own free will that you shall be treated well."

It was the same thing once again, the same pretty but empty words of a power hungry man. How many times had he been made this offer? This was probably the fifth or sixth time that Barragh had asked him, so how many was that in total? Too many, in his opinion, and everyone always received the same answer. He wasn't interested in power and riches or in ruling the world. All he wanted was to protect the people he cared about and to see Camelot prosper under Arthur's rule. He didn't need fame or fortune or even recognition for his deeds. He just hoped to one day be accepted for what he was and what he could do, and he would wait for that time to come. He didn't need anything else.

"I already told you," he began, his voice level and firm as he stared down his captor, meeting that piercing gaze unwaveringly. "I pledged my life to another a long time ago. My magic is for him and him alone, and there is nothing you can offer me that will change that. You will never have my loyalty."

The hand around his throat tightened violently, choking him, fingers digging into his neck. He tried to draw in air, clawing at the arm that held him, and before he knew what was happening, Barragh threw him to the ground. Merlin could do nothing but lie there, coughing between breaths. His whole body hurt, and he would likely be covered in bruises come morning. He was used to being pushed around by the power-hungry lord, but there was something a bit different about this encounter.

For a moment there, it had looked like Barragh was about to completely snap. Even now the man looked infuriated but oddly determined, as if he had just reached some kind of conclusion. Without warning, he kicked the warlock right in the stomach, and Merlin began coughing anew, curling in on himself in order to prevent another attack. His keeper simply glared down at him, eyes filled with fire.

"I tried to be nice," he began, his voice shaking with barely contained fury. "I made sure that any serious wounds you received were treated properly. I've given you clean clothing, food, water. I made sure you were treated well, because you'd be of no use to me dead. I even offered you a way out, but since you seem so determined to decline my hospitality, I believe a new approach is in order. I refrained from punishing you too harshly because I wasn't sure if you could endure too much physical persuasion, but if you're still this willful and defiant…I'm sure you'll survive."

He could hear Barragh making his way to the door, but the mountain of a man stopped just as he opened it, and from his place on the floor, Merlin couldn't see his face. He imagined the lord was smirking in that angry yet self-satisfied way of his.

"As punishment for trying to escape and for your blatant disrespect, you'll receive five lashings, and if you ever try something like that again, I'll make sure it's ten, and I'll be the one holding the whip."

With that said, the door to his cell slammed shut, the lock clicking into place, and Merlin found that he was once again on his own, and this time there was no way out. He was alone in the dark, and he found that he didn't even have the strength to get off the floor. All along he had known that a day like this would come, that eventually Barragh would get tired of being denied and would decide to try and force him into submission. It had always been a possibility. Seeing as how all his other attempts had failed, the man was running out of options. Since he couldn't seem to get what he wanted by asking nicely, apparently he was going to resort to torture.

After all, pain could be very persuading.

Merlin suddenly found himself dreading the next time that door would open. He had never been flogged before, although he knew that under different circumstances he probably would have been. Had he been anyone else's servant, he was sure his insolence would have earned him a couple lashings at the least, but Arthur wasn't that kind of master. In fact, other than occasionally throwing something at him, the prince never really punished him for anything. Sure, he had been thrown in the stocks a few times, but it was usually Uther who was responsible for that. For the most part, Merlin was a rather fortunate servant (although he would never admit that Arthur was actually good to him, even though he kind of was).

Just like they had many times during the past month, Merlin found his thoughts turning towards Camelot. He couldn't help but wonder what was happening there, if everyone was alright. The kingdom was always being attacked, and without him there to protect it, what if something had happened? Surely he would have received some sort of news if that were the case. The guards would have certainly mentioned it, but he couldn't help worrying anyway. Was everyone there doing alright? Certainly they had to have noticed that he was missing, that something was wrong. Were they worried? Did they miss him? Did Arthur miss him? Was anyone trying to find him?

Was Arthur trying to find him?

He desperately hoped he wasn't (even though a part of him hoped that he was, that he cared enough to try). Arthur needed to be in Camelot, needed to stay safe, and even though the castle wasn't exactly the safest place while Merlin was away, it was better than the forests and the outer villages. Any number of things could happen to the prince while he was away, like getting attacked by bandits or wild animals or some magical creature. Without Merlin there to subtly take care of things, Arthur would be vulnerable. What if something happened in his absence?

What if Arthur were to get himself killed all because Merlin had been too much of an idiot to not notice such an obvious trap?

No matter what, he needed to find a way out of here. Even if he received a hundred lashings, he needed to get back to Camelot, back to Arthur, but as long as that stupid brace was still clamped around his arm, he was completely helpless. Even if he gave it everything he had and actually tried to fight off the guards, he would surely collapse long before he ever made it outside the castle.

There was nothing he could do but wait this out and hope for an opportunity to present itself. He would simply have to pray that in the mean time, Arthur would be smart for once and not go looking for trouble.

It was truly unfortunate that he already knew how well that would turn out.

After having managed to catch at least a few hours of sleep, however fretful they had been, Arthur was eventually awoken by the sound of metal creaking. His eyes snapped open and he immediately sat up straight, wincing when his neck cracked due to being in such an uncomfortable position for so long. He quickly rubbed at his eyes, trying to get rid of the blurriness, and once he felt a little more awake, he looked over to the door of his cell. A guard had just come in bearing a plate of food and a cup which likely contained water. There was another guard standing just outside the cell, and once his comrade was completely in, he shut and locked the door behind him.

"I'll be just down the hall, so yell when you're done," he said before walking off, his footsteps eventually fading into nothing. The other guard just smiled before making his way over towards Arthur.

Even though his body was starting to protest the position he was sitting in, the prince didn't really feel much like moving. Instead he stayed exactly where he was, his eyes never leaving the man approaching him. Unlike his previous visitor, this one was fairly young, perhaps just a year or two older than himself. He also had a rather friendly appearance if the smile was anything to go by. It wasn't smug or amused nor did it seem to be in any way forced or fake. His soft features certainly helped with that, with hair the color of sand and eyes that were bright and clear.

Now that he thought about it, the guard he had seen earlier had been rather young too, as had the other from just a moment ago, and they all seemed pretty clean cut, almost proper.

Why was it that Barragh, nobleman that he was, looked like a common thug while his guards looked like they could possibly pass as nobility?

"Sorry I woke you," the man said, and astonishingly enough, it seemed like he actually meant it. Be that as it may, he was still a guard and still worked for Barragh, and so Arthur wasn't all that inclined to be anything less than wary. However, it was true that until he could come up with some kind of plan, he was at the mercy of his captors. Therefore it was probably best to try and not be overly hostile regardless of how frustrating the whole situation was.

Besides, this guard was clearly making an attempt to be polite. At the very least he could try and be somewhat civil. Maybe it would even play to his benefit. In order to come up with a plan, he needed information. The guards were a good enough place to start.

"Here," the young man said, setting the tray and cup down in front of the prince. "I thought you might be hungry. They probably didn't feed you on the way here."

No, they hadn't, seeing as how he had been unconscious through most of the trip. He probably hadn't had a decent meal in days (because dry, stale bread and whatever he could find out in the woods didn't really qualify as a meal). Though he couldn't quite feel it at the moment, it was probably safe to say that he was more than a little hungry.

Arthur finally shifted from his position against the wall, his body protesting against the movement. Everything was stiff and sore, but he ignored it as best he could and reached out to slide the tray closer, picking up the cup and taking a short sip. As much as he wanted to down the whole thing, he knew he needed to ration it. This was probably all the water he'd be getting for a while.

"No need to hold back. I can easily get you more. I mean, it's not like we plan on depriving you or anything. Well, Barragh might, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"What?" He couldn't keep the word from slipping out, shocked at what the guard had just divulged (and so flippantly too). As arrogant as the lord was, Barragh was still in charge—was still this man's master, in a sense—and yet he spoke so easily about disobeying him and going behind his back. He didn't seem ashamed or worried in the slightest.

Apparently the self-proclaimed weapons trader wasn't very popular even amongst his own men.

"I said you don't need to worry," the man said with a smile. "Eat and drink as much as you want, and if it's not enough, I'll get more. Trust me, I've had plenty of practice. Most of us have, actually, and Barragh has never once noticed."

Arthur's eyes narrowed as he stared at the guard, his defenses going up once more.

"…Why?" He couldn't help being suspicious. This wasn't normal behavior for a guard, someone who was meant to watch over the prisoners and protect the castle. There was no reason to be so accommodating or civil. What was the point in aiding the enemy? What was in it for him?

The guard simply stared back at him, confused.

"Why what?"

…Is he serious?

"Why would you go out of your way to help me? What's in it for you?"

There had to be something. Maybe it was all a trick, a clever plan to lure him into a false sense of security (not that that was likely to happen). Perhaps he was giving him food now just to deprive him of it later, or maybe he was merely trying to confuse him as some strange new form of torture…and okay, Arthur was aware that that didn't make a whole lot of sense, but there just had to be a reason, something other than what it seemed, because there was just no way that this man was that kind of person. He couldn't be. After all, Merlin was the only man he knew who was gormless enough to try and befriend someone in such a ridiculous fashion, without even knowing the first thing about them and during a situation where it was completely uncalled for. Guards and prisoners, for all intents and purposes, were supposed to be enemies—it was common sense!

"Just because Barragh's holding you prisoner doesn't make you a bad person. If anything, it' probably the opposite. Besides, what's wrong with being nice to people? I'm just trying to help."

…Alright, so he had been wrong. Apparently there were other people in the world with the same mentality as Merlin.

A rather frightening thought, that.

"Oh, sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Owyn."

The guard, Owyn, even went as far as to offer his hand to Arthur, who simply stared at him as if he were insane. The prince actually found himself at a complete loss for once. He had no idea how to react to such a ridiculous act of friendliness when nothing about their situation was meant to be friendly. He was a prisoner, being held for ransom, and Owyn was a bloody guard. Was this man mentally afflicted or something?

When Arthur didn't take the offered handshake, Owyn heaved a sigh and let his arm fall back to his side, his expression changing to one of slight exasperation. Honestly, if anyone should be feeling exasperated, it was Arthur. None of this was making any sense!

"Look," Owyn began, "I know you probably don't trust me. I wasn't really expecting you to, and I certainly don't blame you for being suspicious. I meant what I said though. I mean you no harm. Most of us don't. It's really just Barragh and the few who are close to him that you need to be wary of, like Neirin. Ugly fellow—mostly brawn, but he's got enough of a brain to be a bootlicker. Horrible brute, that one, but not to worry. You likely won't see much of him."

Arthur tried to open his mouth to say something but found himself rather lost for words. It wasn't often that a person could render him speechless. In fact, he couldn't really remember a time where someone actually had. There was a tiny voice in the back of his head, one that sounded a great deal like Merlin, laughing at how he couldn't form even a single word. Never thought I'd see the day when the great Prince Arthur didn't have anything to say, or something like that. Indeed, that idiot would definitely be laughing if he could see him now.

The fact that there was no laughter, no snide remarks, no amused grin, made him realize once more with a startling, cruel clarity, just how alone he really was.

For such a long time now (or at least it seemed like a long time), Merlin had always been by his side, whether he was wanted there or not. No matter where he went or what he faced, Merlin had always been there to keep him company. Even when Arthur told him to stay behind, Merlin always came with anyway, always followed him. He was always there, and Arthur felt his chest tighten at the sudden, unwelcoming thought that it might never be that way again. Merlin was gone, and unless he could find him, there would be no more insolence, no more banter, no wise words or clumsy mishaps or endearing smiles ever again.

It came as something of a shock just how painful that thought was and how greatly he missed the constant presence at his side. He missed Merlin.

"Hey."

He snapped his attention back to Owyn, trying to hide whatever evidence he had shown of his inner turmoil, but he clearly hadn't done it quickly enough, because his current companion was watching him with something that looked a great deal like concern.

"You okay?" he asked. "You sort of spaced out for a moment there."

"I'm fine," the prince replied shortly, distracting himself by picking up a chunk of bread and taking a bite. Just one was enough to make him realize just how hungry he truly was, and without even considering whether it was appropriate behavior or not (no one was around to scold him for it, after all), he began to wolf down the food in front of him. There was really no need to bother with finesse; it wouldn't get him anywhere. Besides, it's not like he cared much about any of these people's opinions anyway.

Eventually he noticed that Owyn was watching him, a smile on his face.

"I guess you were pretty hungry," he said, his voice tinted with amusement. "Soon as you're done, I'll go get more. I'll bring water too."

Arthur swallowed his current mouthful and then merely stared at the young man before him again, still a bit wary and more than a little confused.

"Why are you being so…?" he began, unsure exactly how to phrase his question.

"So what?"

"So…nice?" It was the only word that seemed to fit. It pretty much summed up Owyn's unnatural behavior while dealing with a prisoner. Honestly, what sort of captor willingly offered up extra food and water to the people they were supposed to be guarding? And what kind of guard acted so friendly towards a hostage? The man made no sense!

To his surprise, the smile on Owyn's face slipped a bit, becoming something almost sad, melancholy.

"…We're really not that different from you—most of us, anyway. If I had made even one wrong move, I imagine I'd be in a similar situation. Sometimes I think it might be better if I were."

"What are you talking about?"

For the first time during the encounter, the young man met his eyes without a trace of humor, his stare nothing short of grave.

"Just because we can walk these halls freely, can come and go as we please…it doesn't mean we're free. For all intents and purposes, we're all prisoners here. Our cell just happens to be a bit bigger than yours."

Arthur just sat there for a moment, trying to process what he had been told, but when he finally opened his mouth to ask a question, he was immediately cut off by some rather frantic shouting. Both he and Owyn turned to look out into the hall as the sound of footsteps resounded down the corridor, followed by even more yelling.

"Owyn!"

Without a word, Owyn made his way across the cell just as the other guard from earlier came running up to the door, immediately unlocking it and throwing it open. He grabbed Owyn by the arm and practically pulled him out of the cell before quickly locking it up behind him. Through it all, Arthur merely sat there and watched them, wondering why the other guard looked so flustered and terrified. The concern pouring off him was almost tangible.

The man began to speak rather quickly, his voice too quiet for Arthur to be able to eavesdrop on their conversation. Whatever he was saying though couldn't be anything good, because in no time at all, Owyn's eyes had widened in what looked like fear but was probably closer to disbelief or even outrage.

"Flogged?" he suddenly yelled, obviously forgetting to keep his voice down, but that one word was enough to draw Arthur's complete attention, and he found himself trying harder to hear what they were saying.

"Y-yes, that's what he said. When I heard, I knew I had to tell you."

"Damn it…why now?"

"Barragh wants to teach him a lesson for trying to escape. He said he's tired of it, that the next time it happens, he'll make it ten."

"…Who did he ask to…?

"…Neirin."

Another soft curse followed by a lot of frantic shifting, as if he wanted to start pacing but couldn't.

"There's no way he'll go easy. Why couldn't it have been one of us?"

"W-what should we do?"

"…Find Rordan. Find him and make sure he knows what's going on. Tell him to meet me in the armory. We might not be able to stop it, but at the very least…we can be there for him afterwards."

"…Alright."

With a slight bow, the guard ran off down the hallway, leaving Arthur alone with Owyn once again, but the rather cheerful, friendly young man he had first met had vanished. In his place was someone who looked like he wanted nothing more than to slam his fist into a wall (or into Barragh, though it was likely to make little difference as far as potentially breaking his hand went. The latter would certainly be more satisfying though). He was clearly angry, but at the same time he was focused, eyes nothing short of determined. He quickly glanced back into the cell, and Arthur found himself staring into an expression filled with both righteous fury and overwhelming guilt, though he didn't quite understand the second one.

"I'm sorry, but there's something I've got to take care of," he said. "I'll come back once I'm done, promise."

Before Arthur could get in a single word, Owyn fled down the hallway, leaving him alone with nothing but his own thoughts for company. If he had been confused before, it was nothing compared to now. His mind was whirling with questions, unable to keep himself from being curious about that last hushed conversation. Had they been talking about the prisoner that Barragh had mentioned earlier, the one who kept escaping? Were there other prisoners here as well, and if there were, why hadn't he seen any of them? There were other cells all around him, and yet he seemed to be the only one in this part of the dungeons. Why?

And just what was so special about this other prisoner that the guards were all up in arms about him being flogged?

When Owyn returned (and wasn't it rather odd that Arthur found himself trusting in the fact that he would return), he would have a lot of questions for him.

A/N: That's all for today. I hope you guys liked the chapter. This completes the cast for this fic (Neirin doesn't really count, because he likely won't be seen, only mentioned. I had to give him a name because it was too awkward to try and refer to him with just nouns. It would've been rather silly too :)

Again, thank you for all the reviews, and thanks just for reading :) Please feel free to tell me what you think, even if it's criticism. I don't care, just so long as it's done politely and as long as you're willing to accept a rebutal of a sort in return ;)

Responses: I said I would, so I'm going to :) I really do appreciate every review, so I want to be able to respond to all of them. I'll go in order, starting from chapter one (since I forgot to do it last time) with the exceptions of the ones I already responded to (the anonymous ones that have accounts :) Oh, and I tend to ramble, so depending on what was said, the responses might get a little long...

Guest: Thanks for the review :) True, though I hope I covered the reason why he hasn't been able to. For all his power, Merlin really isn't invulnerable, and I like playing on that in my fics :) One of the reasons that I never specified a specific time frame for when this fic is set was to actually avoid issues like the Great Dragon and Morgana (neither of which will probably be mentioned at all in this fic if I can get away with it :) Figured I should cover all my bases, just in case :)

Cinnimania: Thanks! I'm glad you like it :) I'm rather enjoying myself now. Once I get back into things, I tend to stop worrying quite so much (though it's nice to know I'm not the only one :) Fear has definitely been enough to keep me from posting before (and there are some things from long ago that I wish I had been too afraid to post :) And hey, even just reading and reviewing is fun (I tend to do far too much of the first and never enough of the latter). It's all part of the joy that is fanfiction :)

Guest: Thanks for the review :) Yes, Arthur can tend to be a bit bad at connecting the dots (he's a bit thick, but we still love him for it). Though I won't say for certain what will happen in this fic, I will say that there shall be all kinds of whump and lots of bromance. Two of the best things, in my opinion :) I have lots of plans, and I hope I can keep people guessing as far as what's going to happen. Surprises are rather fun, after all :)

Paul: Thanks for the review, though I'm sorry you feel that way. However, I do want to answer your question, as it's one I haven't been asked yet :) My first reason is simple: I only write what I like, and when it comes to my writing, I don't cater to anyone. The second is because it rarely happens in the series. That's half the point of fanfiction, to write and read the things you never get/would've liked to see. The last reason is that I view fanfiction as a challenge :) I have written multiple novels, but writing fanfiction is something altogether different. For me, it's about putting the characters into situations that are difficult, that they haven't been in, and seeing how well I can keep them in character. I also like trying to develop them, especially Arthur and especially in regards to his bond with Merlin (I adore friendships like theirs :) I would just be terribly bored if I tried to force myself to write something similar to what I've already seen in the series or just something I don't particularly care for. Trust me: forcing myself to write something never turns out well :) I've tried.

Kira: Thanks! Glad you're enjoying it :) Haha, no worries. I say things like that all the time :) I suppose it's probably pretty obvious that I like whump too. My sister calls it being sadistic, but she's hardly any better :) And I suppose you were partially right about it. After all, I can't not whump him given the situation I've placed him in. It'll be a week until the next chapter, but it'll definitely be happening then. Hopefully it'll be worth the wait :)