A/N: Argh...dialogue. I blame you for the incredible lack of sleep I will be getting (I have to be to awake again in 4 hours...sigh). While I will consent that I'm not horrible at it (seeing as how the last time I claimed to fail at dialogue everyone felt the need to disagree with me), it doesn't change the fact that it takes me forever to write it. I can produce a page of paragraphing in the time it takes me to come up with just a few bits of dialogue, and I apparently failed to realize just how much this story was going to rely on the dialogue to push things along. I'm not so good at thinking ahead, it seems.

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 :)

I'm sorry I didn't get around to the review responses for chapter 4. I'm going to try to do them for this chapter, but we'll see. My hours picked back up at work, so my free time is rather sad at the moment (for all those who have asked and anyone who is curious, I work in retail on the salesfloor, though I'm technically a step above salesfloor. I have a title and everything :) But anyway, thank you for all the reviews. I'm still a bit shocked, honestly. I was never expecting so many people to read this, so thank you :)

Anyway, without further ado, onward!

CHAPTER 5

When Arthur was about halfway through the bread and fruit that had been brought for him, Owyn very calmly and casually uncrossed his arms and slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. The prince glanced up at the movement and saw the guard watching him yet again with a small smile on his face—which, strangely enough, didn't unnerve him this time. Though he certainly hadn't expected to, he was actually becoming rather comfortable around the somewhat strange man, and even though he barely knew him, he found that he much preferred that ridiculous grin to the melancholy expression he had been wearing earlier. He had no idea why, exactly, but he also didn't care enough to examine those thoughts further. For some reason, it just felt more comfortable to him…familiar, even.

However, he could certainly do without all the staring.

The prince quickly swallowed his mouthful of bread and then decided that the best thing to do in this situation would be to stare right back (see how he liked it), but all that managed to do was make him smile even more. Arthur couldn't help but scowl a bit at the touch of amusement he could see in that grin, but even that wasn't enough to deter him from staring. Whatever Owyn had been mulling over earlier, he was apparently done with it now. However, the man wasn't saying anything. Even though he clearly had Arthur's attention, he was just sitting there watching him.

It was extremely unsettling.

"…What?" he finally asked, irritated at the scrutiny he was being subjected to.

"Nothing," Owyn said with a smile. "Just curious is all. You seemed rather interested in what happened earlier even though it has no bearing on you. I was merely wondering why."

"Is curiosity a crime here?"

"Of course not. I just find it strange is all. Most people in your position would only be concerned about themselves. I merely think it's a bit odd that a prince like yourself would be so curious about the flogging of another prisoner."

Owyn just smiled at him innocently—as if he hadn't just spouted a bunch of carefully concealed, teasing insults about not only the prince's station but his character—and Arthur immediately took back all his previous thoughts about the guard. That smile absolutely did not inspire any feelings of comfort or familiarity whatsoever (Owyn could just go right back to being depressed for all he cared).

He really wasn't sure what it was about him, be it his words, his tone, or that infuriating half-grin, but whatever it was, Arthur found himself becoming more and more exasperated. True, some of his own words had been a bit short with perhaps a little disdain thrown in, but it's not like the prince was being uncivil, and yet Owyn just kept grinning like an idiot and phrasing his sentences in a way that wasn't directly insulting but felt like it should have been. Everything he had said was valid to a point, but Arthur still found himself becoming irritated at what sounded like words that were carefully chosen to avoid one's ire but that were said in a tone that hadn't been careful at all.

It was probably some sort of subconscious choice on his part due to the odd similarities between the two, but in the end he found himself responding to Owyn in much the same way he often did to Merlin: superciliously and with a touch of sarcasm.

"Oh, is that so?" he asked haughtily. "And I suppose a guard caring about the punishment of a prisoner is normal then? If anyone is odd here, it's you." He managed to fight the urge to point accusingly at the guard, but he wasn't able to restrain himself from running a hand through his hair out of sheer frustration. None of it made any sense to him. "I just…don't understand why you all seem to care so much! There's nothing in it for you!"

"…Does there have to be?"

And just like that, his entire demeanor changed. Gone was the amusement, the smile, the carefully constructed words, and in its place was something sad but sincere. It was enough to quiet the prince, and once more he found himself at a loss when dealing with this man.

"What?"

"That's the second time you've mentioned that. Earlier, when I was being too 'nice' to you, you asked what was in it for me, but just now, I think you pretty much answered that question. The truth is, there really is nothing in it for me, not in the way you're implying, but I don't see why that matters. There doesn't have to be. Haven't you ever done something simply because you felt it was the right thing to do, or risked your life for someone that, in the eyes of others, you had no reason to? Can you honestly tell me that you've never once gone against your king—your father—and risked his ire for the sake of another, for something that, as a prince, you shouldn't have cared about?"

He opened his mouth to say something but promptly closed it, letting the questions wash over him, because the answer to every single one was a simple but resounding "yes." There were many times where he had done something simply because he had felt like it was the right thing to do, even if it meant going against his father, and more than once he had risked his life for things and for people that most would deem unimportant, expendable. The answer was yes, he had, and if asked "why" or "for what" or "who", his answer would probably be the same.

After all, wasn't that part of the reason he had ended up here in the first place?

He was about to say something, to offer some sort of explanation, but apparently he didn't need to, because Owyn just smiled at him in understanding, as if he already knew what the answer was. Instead the guard just relaxed against the wall, letting his head fall back before addressing the prince again, his words soft but intense as he turned his eyes to the ceiling.

"If there's one thing I've learned from being here, it's that there's rarely a benefit in doing what's right, but I think it's better than regretting the fact that you did nothing when you had the power to do something. If you have the ability to save someone, then save them—or at least, that's my belief."

Arthur wanted to say something. He really did, but he found that words were failing him again. This was quite possibly the last thing he had expected to hear and not at all one of the conversations he had intended to have. Despite Owyn's position and his duty as a guard in service to Barragh, his words and their sentiment felt real and genuine, as if that truly was his belief.

Gods, if this man had been sent to try and confuse him, then he was sure doing a decent job of it. Arthur was pretty sure he was staring openly by now, both intrigued and shocked by what had been said. Funnily enough, Owyn was actually starting to look just a little unnerved by it.

"There you go staring at me like you think I'm completely mad again," he said with a sigh, his tone snapping the prince out of his reverie.

"No, I just…wasn't expecting all that is all," he said, still recovering a bit from the somewhat wise but earnest words he'd just heard.

"Most people probably wouldn't be, at least not from me." Owyn just smiled again, the kind that made it seem like everything was amusing to him. Very casually he placed his arms behind his head and stretched his legs out, slumping further against the wall. He was the very image of relaxed, and Arthur was starting to find it difficult, not to mention exhausting, to keep up with his constant change of demeanor.

The guard gave a brief nod to the platter that was still half full, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Are you going to finish that? Because if you are, I'd appreciate it if you would hurry up a bit. I can't leave until you're done."

"Why?"

"Need to take those dishes back with me. Just because I have no problem going behind Barragh's back doesn't mean I want to get caught doing it."

Makes sense, he thought to himself as he looked down at the food that was left. He figured he may as well finish it. No point in wasting decent food, and there was no telling when his next meal would be. He picked up a slice of bread and resumed his eating, earning him an even brighter grin from the guard.

Once he was well on his way to finishing the rest of his meal, Owyn felt the need to talk again, and Arthur was a bit surprised to find him bringing the conversation back to where it had started.

"So, you wanted to know about what happened earlier?" he asked, earning him the prince's attention once more. "Well, you were right. Barragh gave the order to flog one of the prisoners."

"The one who keeps escaping?" he questioned before popping a few grapes into his mouth. That query earned him a rather bemused and incredulous look, accompanied by a raised eyebrow that could have given even Gaius' a run for his money. The prince found himself swallowing his mouthful quickly before responding somewhat hesitantly (he blamed Gaius for that. Obviously it had become a natural response to being looked at like that). "I…Barragh was here when the bells went off."

Apparently that was a good enough explanation, because Owyn just gave him that amused half-grin again before remarking a bit sardonically, "Overhead that conversation too, did you?"

The prince scowled at that before grabbing another handful of grapes.

"Well, he was shouting, so it wasn't exactly difficult," he replied, earning him a quiet chuckle in return.

Arthur reached out to the plate again and popped a few more grapes into his mouth before asking, "So how did he escape?"

"Sorry, but I'm afraid I can't tell you that," Owyn said. He really should have been expecting that answer. The man was still a guard after all, albeit an extremely odd one. "To be completely honest, I'm not even sure I really understand how he does it. No matter what cell we put him in, he always finds a way out."

"…Just how many times has he escaped?" he asked, bemused, because from how Owyn spoke, it was obviously more than just two or three.

"Let's see… I think today's attempt makes seven this month."

"Seven?"

Seven tries in one month. Seven times he had managed to escape from whatever cell they had put him in, and still he hadn't been able to make it out of the castle. If what Owyn had said earlier was true and most of the guards really were decent people, then why hadn't he managed to escape yet? Surely most of them would just ignore him if he was seen unless it was unavoidable to do otherwise. Was there some other reason then as to why he was still a prisoner after seven attempts?

And another thing… If he was so difficult to control and contain, then why was Barragh even bothering? Why hadn't he chosen to punish him before now? Sure, the mountain of a man had implied that the other prisoner didn't look like he could take even a couple lashings, but there were surely other forms of punishment that could be used. For what reason had he stayed his hand for so long?

"If he's managed to escape seven times already, then why is he still here?" he asked, because it just didn't make any sense to him. Was the other prisoner just that incompetent?

"I don't know how much you saw of the interior of this castle before they locked you in here, but this place isn't easy to navigate," Owyn said, his eyes once again trained on the ceiling as he explained. "It's essentially a maze of halls and passages. I was told that when it was built, it was originally designed as a prison of sorts. Most of it is comprised of cells. That's one of the reasons that you haven't seen anyone else, because with so many places to keep prisoners, Barragh makes sure that everyone he holds is isolated. Wouldn't want anyone collaborating, after all.

"Every time someone manages to escape from a cell, Barragh has them moved to a new one in a different part of the castle. That way, even if they were able to memorize a particular route, they likely would never be able to find it again. Though I must admit, Barragh will have a hard time finding him a new cell if he escapes again. He's pretty much been placed in every section of the castle by now."

Despite the grin on his face and the jovial tone to his voice, it wasn't hard to see that the other prisoner's predicament bothered him. Barragh's continued frustration was certainly amusing, but at the same time it came at the price of a friend (and he got the feeling that that's how Owyn saw him, otherwise he wouldn't be so concerned).

There was still one more thing he wanted to know, something that had been bothering him ever since Barragh had snarled at him while the warning bells tolled in the background. When he had overheard Owyn and that guard talking outside his cell only hours ago, his curiosity had been piqued even further. He wanted to know what it was about the other prisoner that made him so special. From the sound of it, he seemed to be more trouble than he was probably worth, so why were they all putting in so much effort for him. Why was Barragh even bothering when he was clearly so difficult to deal with?

"What makes him so important?" he asked, genuinely curious about the answer. He watched and waited as Owyn turned his attention back to him, a hesitant expression on his face, as if he were thinking through his words carefully (for real this time) less he say something he shouldn't. That alone proved that there was a great deal more to this situation than he knew, something that he wasn't likely to be told any time soon. It was understandable, really, but that didn't make it any less frustrating.

"He, well…" Owyn began, trailing off to gather his words before starting again. "Let's just say that he has a particular set of skills, and he's extremely good at what he does. It isn't a talent you come across very often, and so Barragh decided to keep him. He wants those abilities for himself, and he's determined to make that happen no matter what. Unfortunately, he got tired of asking nicely."

"So he had him flogged," Arthur said, a scowl making its way across his face. He actually found himself feeling rather indignant on the other prisoner's behalf. Sure, he had seen people—mostly criminals—suffer at the hands of a braided whip before, but it wasn't a punishment that he would ever willingly subject anyone to. It was brutal, unjust, and unneeded. That was one thing (of the many that there were) that his father and he could never see eye to eye on. There had even been times, few though they were, where his father had even used flogging as a punishment for a servant, for something as essentially harmless as speaking out of turn or giving an opinion, a simple moment of insolence, a minor indiscretion, an insult, a task that had been forgotten, etc. Most of the time it was just the threat of being flogged, but he had gone through with it before, and the prince was ashamed to admit that he had rarely tried to talk him out of it (talking never did any good in the long run, but at least he could say that he had tried).

Things were very different now though. He was no longer the type of person—the type of prince—who could sit back and allow innocent people to suffer through a punishment that didn't fit their crime. After all, if insubordination was enough to earn a man a flogging, then Merlin would have likely been flogged to death a long time ago, and Arthur knew for a fact that there were masters who would resort to such a thing, who would punish their servants in some way for tardiness or being insolent, but he never would. Aside from throwing something at the idiot or tossing him in the stocks for a few hours, Arthur would never intentionally hurt his servant (and just the thought of someone ordering for Merlin to be flogged made him feel sick and had his blood boiling).

Using a physical punishment as a deterrent—using fear to control someone—wasn't something he could agree with, not anymore.

"…You're a good man, Arthur."

His head shot up, a pair of startled blue eyes meeting a rather contented set of green. There was a smile there, one filled with something at ease and knowing, and even though he hadn't said a word to betray his thoughts, it seemed that Owyn knew exactly where his mind had been.

"What…?"

"I've met a lot of people in the time I've spent here, peasants and nobles alike, but you're probably only the second person to look so offended on another's behalf, and a stranger's no less."

The guard began to stand, stretching out his arms and legs that had likely grown a bit stiff after spending so much time sitting on the floor.

"And ironically enough," he continued, "the first is actually the very person you got so offended over."

Owyn's smile fell a bit, his expression growing serious once more as he fixed the prince with his surprisingly focused gaze (Arthur immediately decided that during their next lengthy interaction, he was going to keep track of how many times that grin appeared and disappeared off the other man's face, because surely it had to be a rather spectacular number).

"You asked me earlier why he was so important. For Barragh, it's because of his abilities, but for us…it's because he's a friend. He's one of the kindest people I've ever known. That's why I 'care so much,' as you put it, and someday I will find a way to get him out of here, no matter what the cost. After all, if one of your friends was in trouble, wouldn't you do the same?"

Yes, he would. He had done, more than once, and he would continue to do so regardless of the consequences to himself. He could never abide just sitting back and doing nothing or giving up without ever having tried. It didn't matter what anyone else had to say on the matter—people couldn't just be replaced. He could always find more soldiers, more knights, get another servant, but it would never be the same, because he knew them, as comrades and as friends, and though he had many of the first, he only had a few of the later. Real friends were hard to find, and he was ashamed to admit that he often took the ones he had for granted, that it always seemed to take something devastating and drastic for him to finally realize what he stood to lose only for him to grow complacent once again after everything was settled.

He feared that someday the realization would dawn too late, that he would be left with nothing but an empty silence from all the words he should have said and everything he had meant to do. He could only hope that such a day would never come, and he prayed to whoever would listen that his oversight and his arrogance hadn't already cost him one of the few things in his life that he couldn't bear to lose.

No matter how long it took, he had to find Merlin. He had to, because the alternative was unthinkable. He would not allow the life of his friend to be taken as recompense for his ignorance. Arthur would find his wayward servant, and together they would return to Camelot where Merlin would continue to be a terrible servant but a loyal friend, and Arthur would do his best to become the same (because it had to go both ways for it to work, and it was about time he did something to earn the friendship that had been offered to him so unfailingly).

So lost in his thoughts was he that the prince didn't even notice as Owyn made his way over and picked up both of the now empty platters as well as the water jug. He didn't hear him as he moved across the cell and called out to the guard down the hall to come and let him out. It wasn't until he heard the sound of his cell door opening, the scraping of metal against stone, that he finally was snapped out of his thoughts. When he looked up at Owyn, the man smiled at him and gestured to the dishes he was holding.

"I'll come back tonight with some more if I can manage it. That is, of course, if you want me to."

"I…yes," he said, and because he felt that it was needed, he added a brief but honest, "Thank you."

Those two simple words only seemed to make Owyn's grin grow brighter, even though there was still that touch of amusement that never seemed to quite fade from his eyes, but this time there was something else there too.

If he didn't know any better, he would have called it pride.

"You certainly are different from what I thought you'd be," he said before stepping into the hallway and allowing the second guard to shut and lock the door behind him. However, as the other man walked off, Owyn remained just outside the cell, and when the sound of footsteps finally faded away into silence, he glanced back at the prince and spoke once more.

"Can I ask you just one thing?"

He nodded. After all, Owyn had answered plenty of his questions, so he could answer at least one of his.

"Earlier, when we were talking about doing what was right, I got the feeling that you understood, so I just want to know… Whatever or whoever it was that you risked so much for, that you went against your father for…was it worth it?"

Arthur let the question wash over him, but only for a second, because in the end it didn't even bear thinking about. Even if he didn't have hundreds of moments that he could call upon, he had one that he would never be able to forget.

A feast, a poisoned chalice, and an agonizing, desperate race against time to save the incredibly selfless, loyal fool who would one day become his most trusted confidant and his greatest friend.

No matter how many times it was placed before him, he would always make the same choice.

"Yes."

A thousand times over, yes.

A/N: So that's it for now. Sorry that it's a bit shorter than the previous ones, though not by much thankfully :) I'm sure I probably frustrated many of you with this, but I plan on keeping Arthur oblivious for a little longer yet. It's rather fun (for me, anyway :)

I promise there shall be some of Merlin's POV in the next chapter.

Again, thank you. You all make my week so much more tolerable in the midst of unreasonable expectations and ignorant managers. Please let me know what you think :)

Until next week!