A/N: Look! Look how early I am! It's not even 10:30 yet! This has to be a new record for me...but it's only because I wrote most of this chapter yesterday 'cause I wasn't sure if I'd be going shopping after work today or not, and I had yesterday off (a rarity). Dunno whether to be proud of that or not :)

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 :)

Anyway, I enjoyed this chapter. I've had bits of this one planned for a long time, and thanks to this chapter, I've finally gotten the last of my problems out of the way for making the rest of this fic work out the way I need it to. Lots of important stuff in here, even if it may not seem like it at first sight :)

Hope you enjoy!

Onward!

CHAPTER 14

Arthur watched silently as Owyn began to work on patching up Merlin's wounds. Using a small knife he simply cut the shirt off of him seeing as how a good portion of it was stained red. Blood wasn't easy to get out of clothing, so there was no point in trying to salvage the shirt. Plus getting it off of him would have been rather difficult without causing more pain, and that was the last thing any of them wanted. Their young friend had suffered enough.

Once the material was out of the way, Arthur was finally able to get a good look at the damage that was done. Like he had assumed before, there were five lines cut into Merlin's back, but there were also five others. They seemed to be a bit older, the flesh mostly healed but still rather tender looking. They would probably leave scars, much like the newest ones would, and that thought alone was enough to send him back into thinking about all the things he would do to Barragh if given the chance. How dare that sick, twisted, poor excuse for a nobleman do something like this to his servant? No matter what, he wouldn't let him get away with it.

However, that train of thought also led him back to a very important and very elusive question: why had Barragh done this? Why Merlin? What did he want from the boy? What could he possibly hope to gain from him? It had already been decided that it wasn't information and it likely had nothing to do with Arthur or with Camelot, so then what was that man trying to do? For the life of him, he just couldn't figure it out. There had to be a reason, but he had absolutely no idea what it could possibly be. Surely both Owyn and Merlin knew though. They had to.

"Here, Merlin," he heard Owyn say, drawing his attention back to scene before him. The guard had a vial of something in his hand and was offering it to the servant. "You should probably drink this. It'll help with the pain."

"Alright," came the hoarse, tired reply. Owyn very carefully lifted him into a position where he could drink the potion before just as gently setting him back down. Merlin closed his eyes and heaved a sigh while the guard just sat back and waited for the tincture's effects to take place.

"Just try to rest for a bit," Owyn told him. "I'm sure you could use some sleep after what happened."

Merlin just murmured something sleepily in response, and just when Arthur thought that the boy really was asleep, those blue eyes opened again and shifted to Owyn. They were half-closed and groggy, but the pain in them had faded enough to see the guilt that had long before settled there.

"Owyn?" he whispered, his voice so quiet that Arthur nearly had to strain his ears to hear it.

"What is it?"

"I'm sorry. For what I did, I…I'm sorry. Could you please tell them? And Rordan—tell him I'm sorry."

"He knows," Owyn said with a reassuring smile. "We all do. No one blames you, Merlin, I swear it. We understand. Now try to get some rest."

"Okay…" His voice trailed off as his eyes slipped closed once again, his breathing slowly evening out into something much calmer as sleep finally took him.

With a deep and very relieved sounding sigh, Owyn began the long process of cleaning the poorly bandaged wounds on Merlin's back, cutting away the scraps of cloth that were used so that he could wash them properly. Barragh usually wasn't so careless with his prisoners. He knew that even a small wound could kill a man if infection were to set in, and Merlin's wounds were anything but small. To leave them unattended as they were would have been the same as condemning the warlock to death. Did he no longer care whether the boy lived or not, or was it something else? Was there another reason that he had chosen not to do anything or send anyone?

No point in thinking about it, I guess. It was difficult to understand the mind of a mad man, after all, although Owyn had certainly had his fair share of lucky guesses. He just hoped that that luck wouldn't run out. So far he had managed to keep Barragh off his back, but if the man were to ever find out what he and Rordan had been planning, well…things probably wouldn't end well, for any of them.

As he very carefully began to wash the blood off of Merlin's back, the guard glanced at his second favorite prisoner, watching as the prince focused his intense gaze on the sleeping warlock. His expression was set and firm, not giving anything away other than displeasure, but his eyes were another matter. There was worry there, as well as guilt, though they were overshadowed a bit by a rather intense anger, something he imagined was aimed fully at Barragh. Arthur was most likely imagining all the different ways he could make the man suffer for what he had done to the one person the prince could call a friend.

A part of him couldn't help but wonder if he would still feel that way if he knew the truth. If he knew why Merlin was here, why he had been taken, would that drive to save him still be the same?

When he and Rordan had been piecing together their plan after deciding that it might be a good idea to have the prince aid them, Owyn had set out to see whether or not he could be trusted. At first he hadn't been sure, but the answer he had arrived at had been a rather firm and resolute "yes" after that conversation they had had about magic. From the beginning they had known that Arthur would have to be told if he was going to help Merlin, and if what he had said was true, then the warlock would have been safe with him.

However, Merlin and Arthur knew each other. They were friends—important to one another—and for however many years they had known each other, Merlin had been lying to him. He had been keeping his magic a secret.

Owyn had never factored the possibility of betrayal into his plan.

Arthur was going to find out; one way or another, he would find out. If he was right about the reason that Barragh had put the two of them next to each other, then there was no way that Merlin's secret could possibly remain a secret. By revealing Merlin as a sorcerer to Arthur, he would ensure that the boy no longer had a place to return to, that he would no longer be able to go back to Camelot, to his home. It all felt a bit ironic, really. Barragh had been trying to find a way to get to Merlin, to break him, and for the last week he had had the key to doing so locked up in a cell on the other side of the castle.

All he was trying to do was keep the boy from making another desperate attempt at getting home. He had no idea just how much damage he would cause by telling the prince of Camelot that Merlin had magic. If Arthur were to react poorly, then Barragh would end up stealing away far more than just a home.

There has to be something I can do. There had to be a way to fix this, to protect them both, but breaking them out wasn't an option. There was no way to prevent the confrontation that was coming. Arthur was going to find out. Would their bond be enough to weather such a reveal? Trust was a difficult thing to build and was even harder to piece back together after being shattered. Could the two of them withstand something as painful as that?

He didn't know, but he hoped so.

Turning his attention back to the task at hand and away from the prince, he put the now ruined cloth into the bucket of red-tinted water and grabbed a new one. He pulled out a small jar of salve, something that Rordan had told him would help with infection, and began to apply the mixture as gently as possible. Even though the potion he had given the warlock was clearly doing its job, he didn't want to cause any unneeded discomfort nor did he want to accidentally agitate the very raw and tender wounds. They were worse than last time, deeper and longer. Merlin was in for a long recovery.

"…Owyn."

At the sound of his name, he paused for a moment and looked over at the prince. Most of the anger he had seen before was gone, the worry more prominent, but there was curiosity there too, a question no doubt forming on the tip of his tongue, and the guard had a good idea as to what it would be. He needed to cut him off before he could ask it, before Owyn was forced to make a choice between what was logical and what felt right.

"I know you have questions, Arthur," he said, looking away from the prince and back towards Merlin. "I'm sorry I left you earlier without explaining anything, but there honestly isn't much I can tell you. I swear I wasn't trying to hide anything from you—I had no idea that you and Merlin knew each other, if that's what you're wondering—and I'm afraid that most of the questions you probably have, I won't be able to answer."

"I only have one," Arthur said. "Two, possibly, depending on your answer."

"Go ahead."

"Is Merlin the prisoner you told me about before, the one who keeps escaping?"

He weighed his options, trying to see if answering it could potentially lead to problems, and even though the answer to that was rather obvious, he still decided to tell him the truth anyway. Besides, he got the feeling that the prince already knew the answer. Much like Owyn often did, he just wanted confirmation.

"Yes."

"Alright, then I have one more." He motioned for the prince to continue even though he was dreading the words that would come next. He knew where this was going, and this time he really did need to make a choice. Funny how just a single question was enough to place him into a situation where he couldn't win, where he would have no choice but to betray someone. Both of these young men had given him their trust.

It wasn't a burden he had ever wanted to carry, however inevitable it had been.

"What does Barragh want with him? Why Merlin?"

For what felt like hours (but was probably more like twenty minutes), Arthur had been trying his best to find an answer to that question, going over everything he knew and everything he had thought he had known, and yet he still couldn't come up with anything. It just didn't make sense. Merlin was a peasant with no defining skills or influence. There was nothing to gain by keeping him. Barragh had threatened to break him, but for what? What would that accomplish? What would be the point? Really, either Barragh was mistaken (or just flat out insane) and thought that Merlin was something he wasn't or…

…Or Merlin was hiding something. He wanted to believe it wasn't possible, that Merlin had no secrets, at least not any that he had kept from him, but he knew that wasn't true. His servant, for all his cheerful friendliness and his straight-forward insolence, was not an open book. More than once he had found himself wondering if the boy was hiding something from him, if there was something more than what could be seen on the surface, because for a mere peasant from a small village, he was uncharacteristically clever in certain situations and brave to the point of stupidity during others. He was a walking contradiction that somehow made perfect sense, and Arthur was almost certain that there was just one thing he was missing, one little piece he needed in order to understand why it all just seemed to fit.

From the moment they had met, he had felt that there was something about him, something he couldn't place. Now more than ever, it felt like the answer was right in front of him, that he was only a step away from finally understanding.

"…I can't tell you."

What?

That was not the answer he had been expecting, and it certainly wasn't the one he wanted.

"Why not?"

"Because it isn't my place to say."

"But there is a reason?" There had to be. From what he had said and the way he had said it, not to mention the story he had told Arthur about the "other prisoner," there was definitely a reason.

"Yes."

"Owyn, please, just…tell me something, anything. I want—"

I want to understand.

"I can't."

"Owyn!"

"I can't!"

Owyn turned to face the prince, and if Arthur hadn't been silenced by the outburst, the look on the guard's face would have been more than enough to render him speechless.

"You don't understand—it's not that simple! I can't just tell you, because I don't know how you'll…!" He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, gripping it at the crown in a hold that had to be bordering on painful. "I want to trust you, Arthur, but I'm not sure if I can, not with this, and there's too much I don't know to even try. You're going to find out eventually, but Merlin should be the one to tell you. It isn't my place."

At first he wasn't sure what to say or which part of that he should be reacting to; Owyn had pretty much stated outright that he didn't trust him, at least not with whatever secret they were all keeping, but that brought up the question of exactly who he didn't trust—the prince of Camelot or Arthur. There was a difference, because he was more than just a prince, more than his father's heir, even though his status often stood as a barrier between him and other people. He had his own mind, his own beliefs, his own ideals, and sometimes they didn't line up with the ones his father had built their kingdom upon.

He was so much more than just a representation or an enforcer of Camelot's laws and standards; a part of him had always known that, but it had been Merlin who had truly shown him just how far a person could drift from what was expected of them without truly giving up everything that they were. Yes, Arthur was a prince, the future king of Camelot, but that wasn't all he was, and no matter what happened, he had no intention of changing. He could never be the kind of king his father was. He would be a friend to the people as well as their ruler. He would protect them with everything he had, and if something or someone was important to him, he would not hesitate to give his all to keep them safe, even if it meant his life. Maybe it was counterproductive in a way, perhaps even selfish, but so what? Human beings were selfish creatures, and not even kings were beyond that measure. It was impossible to live a life completely detached, and he had no interest in ever trying. He would continue to protect all that he held dear regardless of the cost, even if it meant trekking across the kingdom on his own in search of a missing servant.

It was funny in a way how selfless actions could sometimes come from the most selfish of intents.

"I'm sorry."

Arthur's head snapped up from where his attention had drifted to the floor, and he was somewhat surprised to find that Owyn was done tending to Merlin and was instead just sitting there watching him. Just how long had he been lost in thought?

"I know it must be frustrating," Owyn continued, "not having all the answers."

"Can't you at least tell me something?"

"No, I can't, but…" The guard got to his feet, bag and bucket in hand. "I can give you some advice."

Arthur wanted to scoff at that, but the look on Owyn's face kept him quiet.

"No matter what happens, never question his loyalty to you. I may not know what the two of you have gone through, but I'm almost certain that everything he's done has been for you. Don't ever throw that away."

"What? What are you—?"

"You know, sometimes its better not to have all the answers," Owyn said as he made his way to the door, glancing back at the prince only after he was out in the corridor. There was a small grin on his face—a far cry from his usual smile, but it still managed to quell some of the unease in his heart. "After all, if people were meant to know everything about each other, then a thing like trust wouldn't exist, would it."

With that said, the guard quickly locked the door behind him and disappeared down the corridor before Arthur could even think of a single thing to say. He had been left on his own again with only his thoughts for company, and when his eyes drifted over towards the unconscious servant in the cell next to him, he was certain that he'd be receiving no refuge from his own bemused mind. He had been hoping for a bit of clarity, but now everything seemed even more muddled than before.

How was he supposed to get answers out of Merlin? Not only was he unconscious, but more often than not, trying to get a straight answer out of him was like trying to break down a wall with a twig. Merlin was good at talking a lot without actually saying anything, especially when there was something Arthur wanted to know. What if this time wouldn't be any different? What if he refused to answer? What was he supposed to do then? Sure, he could always try commanding him to, but the boy rarely did as he was told, and, well…after all he'd been through, if Merlin did choose not to answer, Arthur wasn't sure if he'd have the heart to force him.

With a deep and rather put-upon sigh, the prince slumped against the wall and resigned himself to a long and more than likely very frustrating wait.

After putting away what was left of his supplies and disposing of the parts that were no longer useful, Owyn made his way through the halls in search of his co-conspirator. There were some things he needed to tell him, and they needed to start coming up with a new plan fast, because whatever Barragh's intentions were for their favorite prisoner, they obviously weren't going to be anything good. The two of them needed to find a way to fix this before things got any worse.

Unfortunately, it was already too late for that.

The moment he stepped out into the main hall, two hands fell on his shoulders, and before he could even figure out what was going on, his arms were seized and restrained.

"What?"

He glanced to both sides, seeing two faces he knew quite well, and for the life of him he couldn't understand what they were doing. He tried to break their holds, but it was two against one, and even though he was far from weak, strength was definitely not his greatest feature. No matter how he struggled, he couldn't get free, and the more he tried, the harder they held on.

"What do you think you're doing?" he yelled. "Let go of me!"

"We can't. We were ordered to detain you."

"What? Why?"

"Barragh wants to see you."

"W-what?"

For just a brief moment, he completely froze, allowing every panicked thought, every moment of fear he had felt in the last month slip through his defenses. Despite all his bravado and the carefree, unconcerned air he often wore, he had long since been dreading a moment like this, knowing in the back of his mind that it had always remained a possibility. With all his sneaking about and attempted subterfuge, it had only been a matter of time before someone noticed, someone who wasn't willing to just turn a blind eye. Somehow Barragh had found out that he wasn't as loyal or as trapped as he had thought (he couldn't think of any other reason that Barragh would want to see him), but what exactly had he learned? There had been so many instances, so many little things here and there over the last month. At what point had he screwed up?

Did Barragh somehow know about the plan to free Merlin, or was this about something else, and if he did know about the plan, then what about Rordan? Was he safe? He had to be, right, because that had always been the plan, that no matter what went wrong, Rordan would take none of the blame. Therefore he had to be alright, and if he wasn't, Owyn would find a way to put everything on himself, because if both of them were caught, then who would be left to help Merlin? Someone had to be around to look after him, now more so than ever.

He was really starting to regret his decision not to tell the other man about what he had learned from Arthur, about the connection between the prince and the warlock. Rordan would have a hard time helping them if he didn't fully understand the situation. He really should have told him when he still had the chance.

However, those were regrets to dwell on another time. He had more important things to worry about.

In the blink of an eye, the fear was gone, and in its place was nothing more or less than pure defiance. Even though he knew it wouldn't do him any good, he struggled against the two guards. It was all in vain though. There was no way he'd be able to overpower them, not when he had already been restrained.

"Damn it, let go of me! I haven't done anything!"

"Do you think we want to do this?" the guard on his right hissed, soft enough not to be overheard by anyone else but filled with an intensity that easily made up for what it lacked in volume. "We're not following orders because we want to. We don't have a choice."

"I'm sorry, Owyn, but we can't let you go."

…Right. They were all technically prisoners, weren't they? Sometimes in the midst of one's own problems it was difficult to remember that there were others who were no better off. It was easy to forget that fear was universal, and all people had something they held dear, something they couldn't bear to lose. What right did he have to ask another to make such a sacrifice when there was nothing he could give up of his own? Other than Arthur, Merlin, and Rordan, there was nothing and no one he held dear, and seeing as how the first two wouldn't be touched and the third was unknown to most, he had nothing hanging over his head, nothing that he could be threatened with.

However, he could still remember the feeling of having his back against the wall, of caring too much, and so he couldn't blame them for their actions. Fighting them was pointless, and so with no way out, he simply gave up and allowed the two guards to escort him down the hall and towards Barragh's office where their master was no doubt waiting. It had been a long time since the two of them had spoken one on one—what a spectacle that had been—and this time there would even be a small audience for the sake of drama.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

The two guards dragged him rather unceremoniously down the long stretch of hall and then down a smaller corridor before stopping in front of a set of double doors. Without even bothering to knock, they made their way into the room, and when Owyn came face to face with the last person in the world that he had ever wanted to become acquainted with, he did all he could to keep his thoughts from showing on his face. He didn't want to let Barragh know just how nervous he was, because the man enjoyed playing off of those emotions, exploiting them, reveling in them, and the last thing he wanted to do was give him an even greater advantage than he already had.

It would be better to just act the way he usually did and pretend like he had no idea why he was even there.

"What's the meaning of this, Barragh?" he asked as he was brought before the overbearing lord. "I don't recall having done anything to warrant this kind of treatment."

"Oh, don't you?" the man replied sardonically, clearly not buying it. "I think you know exactly why you're here."

"I'm afraid I haven't the foggiest. Why don't you enlighten me?"

He was expecting the nobleman to get angry, to go into a rage much like he often did when dealing with his men, but instead of that face twisting in anger, it fell into something that was far too smug and knowing. Owyn rather hated that look.

"Very well then," Barragh began, "but first, let me ask you this—how is our young sorcerer fairing?"

"W-what?"

"I trust you went and patched him up for me. After all, he'd be no use to me dead."

"How…?" How had he known? How could he have possibly known that? No one had seen him, not even Rordan, so how could Barragh know that he had just come back from taking care of Merlin? It was impossible.

"Simple," Barragh said as he began to pace the room, hands folded behind his back. "Because I know you. Your actions were predictable."

Some of Owyn's confusion and the slowly building sense of dread must have shown on his face, because before he knew it, Barragh was laughing at him.

"Did you really think I wouldn't find out, that I've been oblivious this whole time? I know that you and Rordan have been taking care of that boy, bringing him extra food, water, blankets, providing him with any extra comfort you can think of, tending to any injury, no matter how minor. Why do you think no one else ever brought his meals? Why do you think I never bothered to send anyone to treat his injuries? If you believed that you were doing everything without my knowledge, then surely you must have noticed something as simple as that."

He hadn't. He honestly hadn't; sure, he may have questioned it a few times, but he had often assumed that the other guards just noticed that the deeds were already done or merely figured that the two of them would take care of Merlin and therefore never said anything about it. He had been certain that that was the reason, because nothing else had made sense.

…Unless, of course, Barragh had been aware of all of it, everything, from the very beginning.

"Why?" he asked in a voice that shook, feeling far more shaken than he had ever been when dealing with this man. "If you knew, then why?"

"Because I wanted you to."

His eyes widened, his head jerking in the direction that Barragh had been pacing. The man was staring at him with a smirk that could only be described as cruel. It was the look of a man who knew he had won, who had been savoring his victory for a long time, just waiting for the game to finally come to a close. It was the look of a man who had known what the outcome would be long before ever allowing them all to play.

He had tricked them. All the while they had thought they were ahead when he had been stacking the deck the entire time.

"I wanted you to look after him. I wanted you to befriend him, because that way, when you abandoned him, it would hurt. I figured that since I couldn't find anyone to use against him, I would simply create someone, but as it turns out, I've come up with a far better idea to break that stubborn little sorcerer. Therefore, you and Rordan are no longer needed."

"What do you mean?" He really didn't like the sound of that.

"I'm saying that I don't need you anymore for this, that your involvement is unnecessary, and whereas I can threaten Rordan to stay away, I get the feeling I've lost my leverage over you. Unfortunately for me, I need you alive, because without you, I lose access to your estate, so I won't kill you. Instead I think I'll have you locked up to pay for some of your other transgressions."

"What? What transgressions?"

"You stole food from my kitchens, and even though I allowed it when it was for the sorcerer, I never gave you permission to take food to the prince."

Ah, there was the anger that had been absent for so much of their conversation. He tried not to flinch away as Barragh walked up to him, a look on his face that could kill. Owyn was forced to look up as the mountain of a man glared down at him, his words coming out in a snarled hiss.

"I've given you a great deal of lenience, but if my plan fails because of something you said to him, I will not be so forgiving."

The lord backed up a few steps before signaling to the guards.

"Take him away."

As the two men began to drag him from the room, Owyn forced aside everything that was going through his head—shock, fear, anger, incomprehension, failure—and found his voice long enough to ask one last question, the one thing he desperately wanted to know.

"Barragh, what are you going to do with Merlin?" he demanded, glancing over his shoulder to watch the man as he stood behind his desk, that infuriating smirk back in place. He said not a word in response. All he did was reach for something that was sitting on his desk before holding it up for Owyn to see.

His blood ran cold at the sight.

"But that's… No! You can't!"

"You're in no position to tell me what I can and can't do."

"You'll kill him!"

"His body will endure. The rest of him, well…"

"Barragh!"

"I hope you enjoy your stay. Remember to behave yourself, Owyn."

He yelled in frustration, struggling against the two men pulling him along. There was so much more he wanted to say, so many curses he wanted to throw, but in the end they managed to drag him from the room and down the corridor, taking a route that few ever used. It wouldn't do to create a spectacle, and if given half a chance, that's exactly what Owyn would have done. He cursed Barragh the entire way, pulling and digging his feet in, trying to get away even though to do so would have been futile. There was nothing he could do to change the situation, no way for him to fight against it. Everything was falling apart, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The two guards threw him into a cell at the end of a long, abandoned corridor, and by then most of his energy was already spent. Instead he just slumped against the wall and listened as the door was locked with his own set of keys, sealing his fate.

That was it. After all that had happened, they had lost. He had failed. Barragh had fooled them all.

Damn it…

How could everything have gone so wrong?

A/N: There you have it :) To everyone who has said they like Owyn, it is thanks to you that I decided not to kill him. As a character who was never in my original planning, it could have gone either way, but I rather like him too, so he gets to live. I did need him out of the way though, and this worked rather well in a lot of ways. Plus it was fun...for me, at least :)

Lots of bad things are about to happen, and I'm certain it'll be either the next chapter or the one after that that will have the magic reveal. Things are going to progress very quickly from here on out.

And thank you again for taking the time to read this, and thanks so much for all the reviews! They always give me something to look forward to when I get home from work, and I've really needed that lately. Christmas time is a nightmare for retailers.

Until next week!