A/N: Hello! Not much to say today, other than I am really enjoying season 5 :) I rewatched the first 3 eps with my sister on Sunday. It was great fun. Thank goodness for the internet, otherwise I think I might actually die if I had to wait until they aired here. Thank you internet!
Oh, and I have decided that everyone who is an anime fan should watch Fairy Tail. Really. It's rather brilliant, and the music is incredible! I don't think I've ever loved a soundtrack so much :)

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 think I got through all of the review responses this week. I apologize if I missed any. And sorry for any rambling. Believe me, no matter how much or how little is said, I will come up with some way to ramble in the reply. It's a gift :)

Like I promised, this chapter has Merlin's POV. I wasn't actually expecting this part to take up a full chapter, but I rather like the way it turned out (even though the last paragraph took me almost half an hour to write. Chapter endings are always a bit tricky for me when they're not cliffhangers).

Onward!

CHAPTER 6

When his eyes finally decided to open once again, it was well into the morning, or at the very least it felt like morning (it was rather hard to tell the time of day when you were stuck in a huge stone cell without a single window). To be honest, Merlin had gotten rather used to not always knowing what time it was or how many days had passed. The only reason he had been able to keep track of it at all was because of Rordan and Owyn, though the latter had eventually stopped being useful in that respect (originally the warlock had been using his meals to gauge the time of day, but that method had quickly failed when the guard had started bringing him more than two or three meals a day—not that he didn't appreciate it, of course).

Wishing that he could at least get up to look out the very small, very barred opening on the door to see if the hallway was dark or not, Merlin tried to push himself up and immediately regretted it. He didn't even manage to fully get his arms under him before the wounds on his back began to pull and burn, forcing him to collapse onto the cot with a groan. Apparently moving was a very bad idea, because not only did his back hurt but everything else did as well. It probably had to do with lying in the same position for so long. His neck felt stiff, his arms were tired, and thanks to his attempt at getting up, he was rather sick to his stomach too. Yes, moving had definitely been a very bad idea, and therefore he was perfectly content to just not move for the rest of the day (a whole week sounded even better, but he was pretty sure that wasn't an option).

The warlock heaved a deep sigh and let it out slowly, trying to relax as best he could, but amidst the relaxation he could feel what had become the very familiar and very irritating pull of boredom creeping up on him. He was well acquainted with it, seeing as how there was rarely anything for him to do while trapped in a cell. Pacing got old rather fast, as did staring out the window or into the hallway, all of which he couldn't do in his current state even if he wanted to. Being injured and immobile didn't leave him with many options for keeping himself occupied, and the last thing he wanted to do was go to sleep again (who knew when he would wake up next).

However, that meant that the only thing he could really do was let his mind wander, and that wasn't something he was all that eager to do. No matter what he chose to think about, it would eventually lead him back to the same place, and that would only make him fitful and anxious in the end. It always did, because it didn't matter how far his thoughts strayed, they always came back to the same thing: Arthur and Camelot. He couldn't help but wonder if everyone was alright, if they were worried about him, or if something terrible had happened in his absence. He certainly hoped not. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to forgive himself if the kingdom had somehow fallen because he wasn't there to protect it.

What worried him even more though was the thought of Arthur going off on his own and doing something foolish, like trying to find him. The warlock wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that though, because in some ways a part of him wished that Arthur was trying to find him. If the prince were to suddenly disappear like he had, he would waste no time riding off to look for him, because no matter how big of a prat he was or how ungrateful he could sometimes be, Arthur was still his friend—his destiny too, but that had become rather secondary as far as reasons went. One day Arthur would be a great king, and he wanted to do everything in his power to help make that happen.

And so because of that, a large part of him hoped that the prince wasn't trying to find him, that Arthur wasn't putting himself in danger for his sake, because he wasn't worth it. His life wasn't important enough for the prince to risk his for it. Someday, even if it took everything he had, he would find a way back to Camelot on his own. No one needed to look for him. He could take care of himself. Oh really? Because I think we can all see how well that's going, his mind supplied in a voice that sounded a lot like Arthur's. He could almost feel the incredulous stare that would no doubt accompany those words, tainted with just a glint of amusement, a bit of familiar condescension, a faint trace of well-concealed fondness…

…And just like that his façade cracked, and he found himself missing the prince—his best friend—more than ever.

I want to go home.

Merlin closed his eyes, trying to ignore the sting of unshed tears, but it was getting gradually harder as the days went by. He always tried his best to stay optimistic, to believe that one day he would get to go home again, but there were moments when it would all catch up with him, where the uncertainty would begin to take its toll and he would be left wondering whether he would get to go home and whether anyone even missed him. He was certain that Gaius did, and possibly Gwen as well, but surely after a month of Merlin's absence, Arthur would have gotten himself a new servant (he could barely manage on his own for a couple of days let alone weeks on end).

The prince had to have replaced him by now, and even though he knew that it was only practical and that Arthur didn't actually have that great a say in the matter, it still hurt to think about it. Servants were expendable, easily replaced, and although the prince had long since stopped thinking like that, it didn't change the fact that he had far more important things to worry about and focus on than a missing servant, and a month was a long time to wait. Surely he must have given up by now.

You know that's not true, said that same voice from before, and he could almost picture the accompanying scowl, the underlying anger that came from feeling like he had been insulted in some way, and Merlin could concede that yes, a part of him knew that it wasn't true. The term "give up" wasn't exactly in Arthur's vocabulary unless preceeded by words like "won't" and "never." He just wasn't that kind of person, even though there were times where Merlin wished he was. It would certainly make protecting him a lot easier, but at the same time that would take away one of the very things he was so admired for, something that would make him a truly great king: his determination and drive to do what's right.

So even though the warlock sometimes had his doubts about how exactly he fit into the prince's life, he knew that Arthur wouldn't just write him off as a lost cause, not unless he had tried everything he could think of to find him. He just had to keep believing in his friend and hoping that one day, when he finally made it back home, he would be welcomed and accepted back with open arms…and perhaps a hug. No harm in wishful thinking, right?

With a deep breath and a long sigh, he cleared his head and allowed his thoughts to fade away for a while. He was tempted to just let himself fall asleep again no matter how much he didn't really want to, because at least he didn't have to worry about anything while sleeping. Unfortunately, that wasn't likely to happen anytime soon seeing as how the pain running along his back was gradually getting worse. Someone must have given him something for it—a tonic, perhaps—while he had been unconscious, because it hadn't been quite so bad when he had first awoken. Now, however, whatever he had taken seemed to be wearing off, and so he made an extra effort not to move at all in the hopes of staving off the pain for a little longer.

He nearly failed when the door to his cell creaked open and startled him, but he managed to stop himself just in time. He did tense up though, which resulted in rather a lot of discomfort, but he bit back on the groan that wanted to escape just in case it happened to be Barragh coming to see him. No matter how much pain he was in, he wouldn't give his cruel captor the satisfaction of seeing it.

He needn't have bothered, because the hesitant, soft voice that called out to him wasn't one he had to put up a front around.

"…Merlin?"

Rordan. He must have come to check up on him. Merlin shifted his head just enough so that he could look up, showing the guard that he was indeed awake and aware, offering the smallest of smiles as he did so. It was enough to prompt his friend into coming into the cell, closing the door behind him before making his way over to the cot. It was small, but there was enough space for him to sit down next to the prone warlock, which is exactly what he did after placing his supplies down on the floor (bandages, water, some salve, a vial of what was probably some sort of potion to help with the pain).

The guard turned his head enough so that the two of them could properly see each other before offering a somewhat forced grin.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. Merlin would have shrugged if he had been in a position to do so, but instead he allowed his wry grin and a few words to answer for him.

"I've been better."

The look on Rordan's face clearly said what he thought of that statement, and all it took was a few moments of being subjected to that knowing stare before he finally elaborated.

"Hurts," he admitted, "but it's not as bad as I thought it would be."

The guard nodded at that before reaching down and unsheathing a small dagger hidden in his boot. Merlin just watched as he also grabbed the vial from the floor and held it up for the warlock to see.

"I need to change your bandages," he explained. "Do you want to take this now or later? It'll help with the pain."

"How long will it last?"

"A couple hours or so."

"Later." He could put up with the pain for now if it meant a few hours of pain-free bliss later.

"Alright. Just let me know if you change your mind."

Rordan set the vial down and then pulled away the blanket that had been covering the warlock, and Merlin couldn't help but shiver a bit at the sudden chill. Where had that blanket even come from? He was pretty sure it hadn't been there earlier, and there was no way Barragh would have given him such a thing

"Why do I have a blanket?" he asked as Rordan began the task of cutting away the old bandages (much faster and easier than trying to unwrap them).

"Because it gets cold in here, so Owyn brought one down for you."

"Of course he did." A smile spread across his face at the thought, taking on a teasing glint. "A couple of mother hens, the both of you."

"Well, you do seem to need a lot of looking after," Rordan teased right back before moving on with his task, carefully pulling away the bandages and wetting them with water in the places where blood had adhered them to the skin. Merlin tried to stay quiet, to not make any sounds whatsoever, but it was difficult when it felt like someone was trying to tear his wounds open. It burned and stung, but he just closed his eyes tightly and did his best to bear it. If Rordan noticed his distress at all, he chose not to comment on it.

Once the bandages were off, it was time for the salve, and thankfully it was far less painful and much more soothing than it had been the first time around. He almost sighed in relief at the first cool, numbing touch and allowed himself to relax as it was gently rubbed into the damaged flesh on his back. By the time it was over, he could only feel a dull burn. The relief wouldn't last, but it was enough for now.

A sigh from Rordan drew his attention as the guard held up the dressings that needed to be applied with a somewhat guilty look on his face.

"There really is no easy way to do this," he said. "I'm going to have to move you."

The warlock swallowed rather hard, knowing exactly what that meant. His earlier attempt at moving would be nothing compared to this. There was no avoiding it though.

"…Just do what you have to."

He closed his eyes again and prepared for whatever was to come next, and at first it didn't really hurt. He was merely rolled onto his side, but the moment Rordan tried to sit him up, everything changed. The wounds pulled and his stomach rolled with the change of position, and as helpful as it would have been for what was to come, he found that he couldn't sit up on his own just yet. His friend ended up having to awkwardly prop him against his own side before he was able to start winding the bandages around the warlock's torso. It was obvious he was trying to be careful, but sometimes all the care in the world just isn't enough.

After what felt like forever but could only have been a few minutes, Rordan was tying off the ends of the bandages before reaching for the vial.

"You'd best drink this now while you're still sitting up. I can't imagine you'll want to be moved again later."

Definitely not. As soon as he was lying back down, he wasn't going to move for a long, long time. He parted his lips as the rim of the vial pressed against them and then swallowed the liquid down, grimacing just a bit at its taste. He had grown rather used to foul tasting potions, but that certainly didn't make them go down any easier. Thankfully a water skin was placed before him not a moment later, and he gratefully drained it dry before Rordan began to maneuver him back down onto the cot.

"You're healing well," he said as Merlin laid his head down against his thin pillow with a sigh of relief. "Faster than what I thought you would, actually. I assume your magic has something to do with that."

"Probably." He wasn't entirely sure, but it seemed reasonable enough. His magic had often protected him from things that should have killed him, mostly spells, but it sort of made sense that it would also help to heal any physical wounds he was forced to endure. It was a comforting thought that his magic was still looking out for him even though he could barely feel it anymore.

The two of them remained quiet for a moment before Rordan lowered his head and asked a question that neither of them really wanted to think about.

"…Has Barragh been by yet?"

Merlin couldn't help but scoff at that and roll his eyes. Thinking about the self-proclaimed weapons dealer always put him in a foul mood.

"No, but I'm sure he will be," he replied bitterly. "Even if it's only to gloat."

When Barragh did eventually show up for one of their "chats," he had every intention of being his sarcastic, insolent self. He would give him nothing that he could use against him, because there was no way that this could possibly break him. His resolve and his faith weren't so easily shattered. No matter what his keeper chose to believe, he was far from weak.

He would not be broken.

"…You got pretty far this time," Rordan began, shifting the conversation just a bit in what was hopefully a better direction, "even with all the noise you made."

Merlin couldn't help but smile at that.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I think I'm starting to learn my way around this place." Which was saying something, because Barragh's stupid castle was actually a bloody maze masquerading as a fortress. There were so many hallways and rooms, very few of which ever led to anywhere useful. Most of them were dead ends, and seeing as how his magic wouldn't let him simply blow holes through the walls (his previous escape didn't count, because that had been an accident), they had all remained as such.

If only Barragh would just stick him in the same place just one time, then maybe he'd be able to actually find the gates for once. He hadn't even seen them as of yet, but he knew they existed…somewhere. He'd find them eventually. It was only a matter of time, really.

"A few more tries and I might just reach the gate," he said, trying to be jovial, but his words ended up wiping the smile off of Rordan's face, replacing it with something quite sad instead. He knew why—of course he did, but it wasn't exactly something he wanted to think about. It was easier for him to just focus on the goal and not so much on the potential consequences of trying to get there.

Still, it was hard not to.

"Merlin…"

"I know," he said, cutting his friend off before he could say anything else. He turned his eyes away, not wanting to see the worry and pity that were on Rordan's face. "I know, but I can't just give up. I need…"

He swallowed hard, nervous about what he intended to say, because he was going to be giving a part of himself up, something he hadn't done for any of them. He knew so much about their lives, but they knew next to nothing about his, and even though it needed to stay that way to some extent, there was no harm in divulging a little. Besides, he knew that whatever he said to Rordan would be safe with him.

"…There's someone I have to get back to."

It was possible that some of the guards already knew this, had guessed as much after watching him continuously try to escape no matter how futile his efforts, but he had never once actually mentioned any of the supposed people in his life. To do so would have been too dangerous in case he were to accidentally say too much. Barragh had a way of finding things out about people, so it was better not to talk about personal things. He would never be able to bear it if the people he loved were used against him. He could deal with the pain when it was his, but he wouldn't be able to bear another's. He would end up submitting to Barragh's will one way or another if any of them were placed in danger. His heart would never be able to take the strain.

Rordan's eyes widened a bit at the admission, clearly surprised at being entrusted with even that little bit of information, but it only lasted a moment before his expression softened into understanding.

"Someone important to you?" he asked quietly, and Merlin couldn't help but smile at the query and the conclusion that Rordan had most likely drawn from the warlock's statement.

"Yes, though probably not in the way you're thinking." He had to suppress an amused snort at the thought of Arthur's expression if anyone were to ever suggest such a thing. It cheered him up a bit before he sobered and pressed forward with his explanation. "There's someone that I swore to protect with my life."

He turned his eyes, full of resolve, towards Rordan so that he would be able to understand just how important this was to him, because it was important. Protecting Arthur was his purpose, the reason for his magic, and without that hopeless prat in his life, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to continue living at all.

"That's why no matter what it takes, I need to get back to Camelot."

"…Even if trying to escape costs you your life?"

He wanted to say that it wouldn't happen, that there was no way it could, but he knew that wasn't true at all, because even if Barragh had no intention of killing him, that didn't mean it wouldn't happen. If the man decided to stick to his threat, then every failed attempt to escape could possibly earn him five additional lashings, and if he didn't give himself enough time to heal properly, there was a good chance he would succumb to his injuries. There was also every chance that using his suppressed magic too much could over-tax his body (for all the magic he had, he was still made of flesh and blood. He was only human, no matter what anyone else had to say about it).

Yes, dying was a very real possibility if he intended to continue trying to flee from his captor.

However, that was a risk he was willing to take.

"If I die, then I'll at least die knowing I did everything I could to get home," he said with complete conviction even as his strength began to wane (there must have been a sedative in that potion he had taken). However, he was determined to make Rordan understand. He knew it wasn't logical, that as far as self-preservation went, it probably looked like he didn't have any at all, but that didn't matter. None of it did.

He would never allow himself to become a tool for Barragh. He had only one master, and he was more than happy to be Arthur's servant for the rest of his life, until the day he died. His loyalty would never belong to another.

"No matter what happens to me, I will never serve Barragh."

For a long moment, Rordan didn't say anything. He just stared right at the warlock, at the determination and the sincerity he could see in those blue eyes, half-lidded from exhaustion. There was a word for it, all of it, one that was rare and powerful, dangerous and sometimes blind, one similar to belief and trust and yet at the same time so far beyond it.

Faith.

The conviction he could see in Merlin was fuelled by faith. Whoever it was that he had sworn to protect, they had his unwavering dedication, his absolute loyalty, and his unfathomable power whether they realized it or not. Just what kind of person was worth all that? What could they have possibly done to earn such unfailing devotion from a sorcerer like Merlin, someone with power enough to possibly conquer the world but with a heart that never would?

Merlin was truly, unbelievably strong—stronger than all of them, and in so many ways. Even now, with his magic locked away and mostly out of his reach, he still refused to yield, to give up. Even after seven failed attempts to escape and no word of anyone searching for him, he still refused to give in, to take the easy way out, to accept a fate he had no desire to be dealt. Was there any limit to his strength, to his desire to return home? Was he simply impossible to break?

God, he certainly hoped so.

He couldn't help but recall a conversation they had had a few weeks ago, back when the two of them had first started to really talk to each other. He remembered how he and Owyn had tried to convince him that he could just lie to Barragh, pretend that he was willing to serve him and then escape once the metal band on his arm was removed. He could also remember how vehemently Merlin had argued with them about it, saying that he would never be subservient to Barragh even if it was just a lie, that he would never stoop that low to save himself…that he would never be able to commit such a betrayal (it wouldn't have worked anyway, because Barragh had ways of finding out whether someone was lying or not, and Merlin had proven himself to be a terrible liar no matter how good he was at withholding information).

Rordan hadn't really understood what he had meant back then, but now he did. To betray someone in that way, even falsely, that he had dedicated his life to went against everything he was and all he believed in. Merlin was one of the kindest people he had ever met, full of compassion and empathy for the people who had found their way into his heart and his life, and something told him that despite all his inner strength, a betrayal of that nature could very well be the one thing that would break him.

Hopefully the kindhearted sorcerer would never be forced to make such a choice. If he and Owyn could somehow manage to line up their pieces just right, then he would never have to. It was true that Rordan had a family to think of, one that Barragh had no problem using as leverage to control him, but he couldn't keep sitting back and doing nothing. Besides, if everything were to go according to plan, no accusations would be launched in his direction, and even if it all ended up falling apart around them, Owyn intended to take full responsibility for it (no amount of arguing had been able to change his mind, because what the other man stood to lose was something he no longer cared about). He had said that whatever punishment Barragh served him would be worth it regardless of whether they succeeded or not, because at least they would have tried.

However, neither of them had any intention of failing. One way or another, they would save Merlin.

"…We'll find a way to get you out of here," he told the boy as earnestly as he was able, because he genuinely meant every word. "I promise."

He watched as a tired smile crossed the warlock's face though it was laced with sadness and a somewhat worrying amount of resignation.

"Don't make promises you can't keep," he said, and even though he seemed touched by the declaration, it was obvious he didn't believe it. Rordan would have probably felt a bit hurt at the lack of trust, except that wasn't what it was. Merlin knew that most of them were prisoners in some way. He knew what they stood to lose, and no matter how desperately he wanted to go home, he wasn't the type of person to sacrifice another for himself. He would never accept the idea of someone giving their life for him. He was selfless and stubborn like that, and no amount of arguing would be able to convince him otherwise.

Of course, that didn't mean they had to listen to him. Whether he wanted them to or not, they were still going to help him.

As Merlin's eyes began to close, Rordan knew that it was time for him to go. The warlock would need all the rest he could get, because the next person to walk through that door was unlikely to be a pleasant one. He needed to regain at least a bit of his strength before then.

He quickly stood and gathered the supplies he had brought before making his way to the door.

"…I'll bring you some food up later," he said, glancing back at the young sorcerer. In that moment Merlin looked even younger than he already was, with his face half buried in the pillow and his thin frame covered in bandages.

"Okay," came the sleepy reply.

With nothing more to say and nothing left that he could do, he opened the door, but before he could leave, the sound of his name (or what he assumed was his name, given that it was half-muffled by a pillow) stopped him.

"…Thank you."

Whether the boy could see it or not from such a distance and through the shadows of his cell, Rordan gave him a smile, one that even managed to reach his dark eyes. He stayed there, just like that, and watched over the warlock who had somehow become one of his dearest friends until sleep finally claimed him. After one final glance he stepped into the hallway, where the early light of a new day was dawning, and closed the door behind him.

A/N: Well, I hope you liked it :) It'll be Arthur's turn next week.

And as always, thank you so much for reading. Really, words cannot express my gratitude. I seriously wasn't expecting so many people to like this, so thank you :) Please feel free to let me know what you think.

Review Responses: For the anonymous reviews I couldn't respond to directly :)

twinspired: Thanks for the review! So glad liked it :) I have a lot of fun writing Arthur like that, making him think and contemplate, especially when there's someone there to push him along. Owyn is rather fun as well, especially when he's talking to Arthur. There shall be quite a few more conversations between the two of them, promise :) And I'm definitely making Arthur go through with that if I can figure out how to slip it in without breaking the word flow (so happy you liked that bit. I threw it in while I was editing, 'cause I thought it'd be funny, and because Owyn really does change his expression rather often :)

Janssye: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying it :) I'm having rather a lot of fun writing it, despite all the dialogue I've subjected myself to writing. I just hope that what I have planned (and what I don't, because I'm pretty sure most of this fic isn't actually planned) will be just as good. I'll do my best :)