A/N: Well, here we go. I bring you the third longest chapter of this fic (beaten only by 9 and 18, I think), clocking in at just over 5,200 words. This turned out vastly different from what I expected for this chapter. I had intended to get through a lot more stuff than just this, but alas...I should know by now not to hold too high of expectations for myself. If there's on thing I'm good at, it's drawing things out. I'm rather terrible at estimating the length of my stories. One would think I would have realized this by now :)

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

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin :)

So, I already knew that going into this chapter, I wasn't going to be able to fully please everyone. I tried to take everything into consideration, but in the end I pretty much went with how I thought the scene should go. Funnily enough, I had absolutely no idea how I wanted to write this chapter until I was on my lunch break today. Funny how inspiration sometimes strikes at the oddest of times. I just hope that what I decided to do is satisfying enough. It certainly was fun to write :)

So anyway, I was going to be a horrible person and cut this chapter off after the second section, but in the end I decided not to, because I felt that would have been just a tad too cruel this time. You'll understand when you read it :)

Onward!

CHAPTER 20

To be perfectly honest, Arthur didn't really have a plan. He had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to get Merlin and himself out of this situation. Looking at it logically, it seemed almost impossible. Barragh was twice his size, a real mountain of a man, and he was armed far better than the prince. There was a sword on one side and a dagger on the other, and Arthur was certain that there were likely more on his person, concealed and out of sight. The man was a weapons dealer, after all. He likely kept himself well-prepared for encounters such as this, and given his profession, it was pretty likely that his skill would be on par with a knight's at the very least.

To make matters even more difficult, he also had chainmail and a few pieces of armor as well: gauntlets, a breastplate, shoulder guards, etc. Not only was he big, but he was protected. Getting past both his defenses and offenses wasn't going to be easy especially since all Arthur had was a dagger. No armor, no sword, just a dagger. He was at a complete disadvantage. Usually he was better matched with his opponents, but not this time. He was going to have to be careful. After all, it wasn't just his life riding on this. In reality, his life probably wasn't riding on it at all. Barragh only wanted to ransom him off after all. Killing him had never been the intent. If Arthur chose to walk away, he was fairly certain that the nobleman would let him keep his life.

However, this had never been about him to begin with, not really. From the moment he left Camelot, everything he had done had been for his servant.

When he had set out, he hadn't really had much of a plan aside from "find Merlin." All he had intended to do was find his friend and bring him home, and despite the obstacles placed in his way, that plan was still the same.

Why bother changing it now?

Just a few yards away from him, Barragh finally seemed to snap out of his momentary surprise as a cruel yet amused grin took its place upon his face. He released the warlock and allowed him to collapse fully to the floor before taking a solitary step towards the prince. He placed his bloody hand on the hilt of his sword, the threat obvious in his stance, and yet his almost casual posture was clearly mocking in nature.

"You'll strike me down, huh?" he challenged, grinning all the while. "Do you really think you can defeat me, princeling?"

It was true that the odds were stacked against him. By most standards, it seemed damn near impossible. However, it didn't really matter whether he could or not; he just would. It was as simple as that. There was no way he could allow an injustice like this to pass, to let this man continue to do as he pleased. He wasn't about to let Barragh use his only friend like some kind of weapon, to force him to commit atrocities that a heart like Merlin's would never be able to abide, to keep hurting him until he finally gave in or died from his wounds. The weapons dealer was sadistic and twisted, and if ever there was a man who could truly be called evil, Barragh was most definitely it.

He wouldn't let him get away with this. The nobleman would pay for his crimes with his life, he'd make certain of it…but in all honestly, as noble as his intentions seemed, he knew that at the very heart of them all was the purely selfish desire of vengeance. This wasn't entirely about seeking justice, of ridding the world of a cruel, malevolent person. It wasn't about protecting his land or his people (this wasn't even his kingdom, after all), and it had nothing at all to do with being a prince or even a knight. In the end, all he wanted was to see Barragh dead for what he had done to Merlin, to punish him for daring to lay a hand on someone that actually meant something to him.

It didn't matter if he was outmatched, if there was only a slim chance of him actually being able to win against the tyrant of a lord. He would win, because any other outcome was simply unthinkable. He couldn't see himself losing. He just couldn't.

Ignoring Barragh's taunt, Arthur simply deepened his glare and hardened his resolve, for once allowing his opponent to see every bit of the anger and the flood of emotions coursing through him. If looks could kill, Barragh likely would have burst into flames. It was an encouraging thought (a shame it couldn't actually happen though…not without the help of magic at least. He made a note to ask Merlin about that once the sorcerer was properly healed and back on his feet. He imagined his list of questions would only grow longer in the coming days).

After a moment more of absolute silence, the weapons dealer seemed to realize that Arthur wasn't going to respond to his jeering question. The grin slipped off his face, a scowl forming as he gripped the hilt of his sword tightly and slowly drew the blade from its sheath. Even in the dim lighting, Arthur could tell that it was a fine blade. He also got the feeling that the markings along the middle weren't just for decoration—Barragh was a dealer who specialized in magic, after all. It wasn't too far a stretch to assume that most of what he carried on his person was enchanted or reinforced in some way by magic.

This definitely wasn't going to be easy.

"Well, what are you waiting for, Arthur Pendragon?" said Barragh as he fell into a familiar stance (yep, definitely at the level of a knight at the very least). "You want him back? Come and take him."

The first move was important; he had learned that long ago. It could make or break a battle. He couldn't be hasty, couldn't just rush forward without some sort of plan. All he had was a dagger, and even though he certainly knew how to fight with one (he had been trained in all manner of weaponry until he was proficient with them all), he still felt more comfortable with a sword in his hand. With such a short range of attack, he would have to be able to get in close to his opponent, which was a lot easier said than done, and then after getting in range, he would have to be quick. One strike could end everything, one way or another. There was no room for carelessness, for mistakes, not this time.

It didn't seem like Barragh had any intention of moving first. There was no reason for him to. After all, he wasn't the one who wanted to completely maim and emasculate his opponent—though the second was plausible (he certainly seemed the type). Arthur was the one who had challenged him, so he would have to make the first move. Such a chance was both a blessing and a curse.

Finally deciding on a course of action, the prince gripped his dagger tightly and charged. He kept his eyes trained on Barragh, wanting to see the moment he made a move or even flinched in a certain direction. He was good at reading his opponents, a skill he had picked up along the way during his years of training. Of course, part of that ability was pure instinct—there was no true way to predict an opponent's moves unless you could somehow read their mind, especially when going up against someone he knew nearly nothing about. He had no idea what Barragh's style would be like, whether he would focus more so on offense or defense, whether he was fast despite his build, or whether he had any particular skill in reading someone's movements as well.

There were a great deal of unknowns when it came to this man, and so he really couldn't afford to let himself get caught off guard. If something went wrong, there was no one around to help him. He didn't have anyone to distract his enemy or toss him another weapon if he ended up losing his. He was completely alone this time. One wrong move, one tiny little slip in judgment, and it would all be over. What made things worse was that after his little revelation earlier, he was no longer sure whether Barragh would let him live or not. The man seemed to desire power over everything, even money, and if he believed that killing the prince would help him gain control over Merlin, then Arthur was certain he wouldn't hesitate to do it. The ransom was in no way an insurance upon his life, not anymore.

He was no longer safe from this man's unchecked insanity.

As Barragh began to swing his blade, Arthur attempted to do the sensible thing and duck under it so that he could get in close and hopefully ram his dagger into the man's chest. Despite the chainmail and the breastplate, there were gaps in the armor where he could slip in his blade and force it through the links of metal. All he needed to do was get in a hit close to the man's heart and it would all be over. However, as it turned out, Barragh's size actually wasn't a hindrance to his speed. He swung the blade too fast, forcing the prince to raise his own to defend.

The force of the strike nearly knocked the dagger from his hand, and he had to quickly step back to avoid losing his balance. He moved back after deflecting the blow, wanting to put some distance between himself and the madman who clearly knew how to handle himself in combat. It seemed all of the prince's earlier assumptions were indeed spot on. Barragh did have the same level of training as a knight.

This really wasn't going to be easy, not at all.

He gathered himself and his thoughts and tried again only for much the same thing to occur, but this time the weapons dealer followed him back. It didn't take much to quickly put him on the defensive, forcing him to use his dagger to block and deflect when he couldn't manage to dodge out of the way entirely. It became rather obvious to him after about the eighth of ninth strike he deflected that if he tried to meet too many of them head on, he was going to lose his grip on the dagger. Each one sent a jolt through his arm from the sheer strength behind them, and after just nine or so blows, he was already starting to feel the growing strain in his hand and arm. It probably wouldn't take long for the numbness to set in, and if that happened, his fate would be sealed. If he couldn't hold onto his weapon, then he would have no way to defend himself.

Trying to remain calm, he attempted to get around the man's blade so that he could at least land a hit. Even a minor wound would be in improvement and could turn the tides of their duel in his favor. Pain was a good way to slow someone down and distract them. He would pretty much take whatever he could get at that point.

As they continued blocking and countering blows, the prince kept looking for an opening of some kind, hoping that if he was patient enough one would present itself to him. When he finally found what he was looking for, he didn't hesitate. Pushing himself as fast as he could, he dodged a swing that was just a little too wide and landed a decent blow on the man's arm. The blade sunk in just under the shoulder guard, a sharp stab that would definitely hinder the man at least a little.

However, his small victory ended up costing him dearly. As he pulled away, bloody dagger still in hand, Barragh swung his blade again, a look of pure anger on his face; if he was in pain, he showed no sign of it. Doing the only thing he could to save himself from losing a limb, the prince blocked the blow, but the force behind it was too much for his body to handle. He was sent crashing to the floor in an undignified heap, groaning from the harsh contact and the numbness that was spreading through his hand.

Arthur was well aware of what would happen to him if he remained immobile for too long, so he quickly sat up and raised his sword-arm once more in case he needed to counter another blow…only to realize that his dagger was no longer there. His fingers were gripping nothing but air. He turned to the side, hoping that it would be next to him—he didn't remember letting it go at all—and caught sight of the small but deadly blade.

Ever so innocently it lay there, halfway across the room and completely out of his reach.

Well… Damn.

Darkness.

Nothing but black in every direction. Absolute darkness—that was pretty much all he could see, hear, or feel. In fact, that seemed to be all he had been able to feel for a long time now. Of course, he had no way of knowing that for certain. Time was rather irrelevant when you had no idea where you were or what was going on. It seemed pointless to bother keeping track of it. It didn't much matter in the end anyway. Besides, he almost preferred the darkness. It was certainly better than what awaited him in the waking world, that was for sure. He definitely wouldn't mind staying a while longer…which of course meant that as soon as that thought crossed his mind, he was no longer able to. Ironic how things like that always seemed to be the case. Already the darkness was fading (if such a thing were even possible. It was usually the other way around).

Strangely enough, the first thing he noticed wasn't the pain. What came to him first was actually noise, and a rather familiar noise at that. It was the sound of quick steps, light but still heavy enough to keep the owner balanced, to allow their stance to remain firm, and along with it was the clashing of metal. He knew both well, enough so that they registered even amidst the fog that had settled over his mind. He heard them often in Camelot, usually when Arthur was training the knights. It was the sound of a battle, a duel. Someone was fighting.

With a great deal of effort, he tried to focus on the noise, to let it ground him, distract him from what he knew was still waiting for him in the realm of consciousness. Maybe if he had something to distract him, the pain wouldn't set in. Honestly, anything was worth trying after what he had been subjected to earlier (he would have rather just remained unconscious for the rest of his life, but seeing as how that didn't appear to be an option, he needed to find a viable alternative).

As the noise began to grow louder as he slowly returned to awareness, he tried to crack his eyes open to see just what was going on. Unfortunately, that simple act was enough to awaken a good deal of the pain that had been sleeping in his body, just waiting for a chance to assault him again. Had he not already screamed his voice away, he probably would've groaned at the nauseating discomfort that quickly spread through every fiber of his being. Eventually it would begin to feel like fire again, like his entire body was being set ablaze and slowly torn apart, but before that could happen, he was determined to figure out what was going on. He needed to know. Curiosity was a rather powerful force, even in the midst of agony.

Doing his best to keep the pain at bay long enough to open his eyes, Merlin forced his way through the darkness until a sliver of light made itself known before him. Unfortunately, that wasn't nearly enough for him to be able to see his surroundings, so he tried a bit harder, fighting the urge to just give up and go back to being unconscious and unaware. He could do that as soon as he had sated his curiosity. However, just the mere act of opening his eyes enough to properly see was proving to be exhausting. It also didn't help that even the dimmest of lighting felt like he was staring into the sun. He knew it wouldn't last though, and that was enough to keep him from stopping.

Taking a slow, shallow breath, he cracked his eyes open just a bit further until he could see blurry shadows moving about in the torchlight. He very carefully blinked his eyes a few times, resisting the temptation to just leave them closed every time, and eventually he found that the shadows began to take shape. He could just make out two pairs of legs moving about, coming close to each other for a brief moment and then separating, over and over again, and every time they came together, that familiar clash of steel would ring throughout the room.

Two people were fighting, just as he had suspected. However, he couldn't quite figure out who they were. It was rather difficult to identify a person from their legs alone, but he couldn't for the life of him move his head to get a better view seeing as how he was pretty sure that that's where a good deal of the pain was coming from. He vaguely remembered hitting it against something, but that memory was most likely lost amongst the others, caught up in all the things he wanted to forget from the past few days. It was best to just not think about it. He could ignore it for at least a little longer yet.

Even though he hadn't fully satisfied his curiosity, he was starting to think that it would be better to go back to sleep for a while. The pain was starting to come back even more, and sooner or later it would force him under whether he wanted it to or not. Better to go willingly than to fight it. However, just as he was about to let his eyes slip closed again, a short cry caught his attention followed by the clattering of metal against stone. He gave his attention back to the two people in the room, not expecting to see anything more than he had before, but the sight that met his eyes banished any thought of going back to sleep.

A man was lying on the floor after being knocked down—a young man with blond hair whose voice had sounded painstakingly familiar. Even though he couldn't see the man's face, could make out none of his features aside from his build, he was certain that the eyes staring back from that face would be a vibrant and haughty blue.

Arthur…

He didn't understand. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why Arthur was there. What was going on? What was happening? The questions and the sheer level of confusion were enough to really make his head hurt. He was certain that his eyes would have become as wide as saucers had he actually been capable of opening them more than halfway, because he was fairly sure that the last time he had closed his eyes, he had given up on the idea that he would ever see the prince again. He had lost all hope of ever being reunited.

Sure, this wasn't much of a reunion, but it had to count for something.

He watched silently as the prince sat up and raised his arm only to suddenly look dumbfounded at the sight of his empty hand. Merlin could see his eyes darting around almost frantically until they fell on something off to the side. Curious, the warlock shifted his gaze to where Arthur's was only to see a dagger lying on the ground quite a long distance away. He wasn't entirely sure what was so fascinating about it, his mind unable to make the connection in its somewhat sluggish, foggy state, so instead he turned his attention back to the prince only for what little breath he had been taking in to get caught in his throat.

Someone, the other person who had been in the room, obviously—he did seem to recall that there had been two people fighting—was standing in front of the prince. They were holding a sword, the blade of which was resting against the side of Arthur's neck. The prince was staring up at the person, looking a mixture of nervous and furious. The second was pretty common, the first not so much. However, the level of anger was enough to make him wish he could raise his head to see who the other person was (again, curiosity and all).

In the end he didn't need to be able to see them. Their voice was more than enough to give them away. He was certain he'd never be able to forget the sound of it for as long as he lived.

"Well, well, Prince Arthur," the man said, pleased and smug. "It seems you don't quite live up to your reputation. I was expecting more of a challenge from you."

Barragh.

Arthur had been fighting Barragh.

Why?

"I wonder what I should do with you. I'm sure your father has already sent someone with the ransom, though given Uther's reputation, I wouldn't be surprised if he sent an army instead. If that's the case, then it really wouldn't matter whether I keep you alive or not."

It felt like his heart stopped as he heard those words, and had he been able to call out, he would have. He would have yelled at the weapons dealer, in anger and desperation. He would have probably begged him not to kill the prince, to spare his life, to let him go. It was terrifying in a way to know that a simple threat to Arthur's life would be enough to reduce him to that, to knock down every single one of his defenses, but perhaps the most frightening part about it was the fact that he probably would have promised the man whatever he wanted just so long as Arthur lived. He would have cast everything else aside, including himself, to keep his friend safe.

"I'm beginning to think it might benefit me more if you were dead. If what you said is true, then I'm sure the little sorcerer cares a great deal about you. Perhaps your death would finally be enough to break him."

No!

He had to do something. He had to help. He couldn't call out, couldn't bargain or plead, so he needed to act. He had to find a way to save Arthur…but what could he do? The state he was in, he wouldn't be of much use to anyone.

If only the prince had a weapon of some kind, a way to defend himself, then maybe…

Oh.

The dagger.

Merlin shifted his gaze to where the small but deadly weapon lay. If he could somehow get it to Arthur, then the prince would be able to fight back.

However, he couldn't move. His body wasn't listening to him. He could barely even feel it aside from the pain (the occasional twitching didn't count. That was entirely involuntary).

If he couldn't move, then how was he supposed to reach the dagger and throw it to Arthur? His friend needed his help. He had to do something.

A thought began to form at the back of his mind, fleeting but there, something he hadn't considered for a long time now, something he had been robbed of until it felt like a far off memory that he couldn't quite reach.

Even though he honestly couldn't move, could barely even keep his eyes open enough to see, the truth of the matter was that he did have a way of getting that dagger. He always had, from the very day he was born.

Before he was even old enough to understand what magic was, to understand that he was different, unique, special, he had been able to reach for anything he wanted with nothing more than a thought, a desire, and it would come to him without question, go wherever he wanted it to without resistance. It was something that only he could do with nary a word, something that couldn't be taken away or suppressed so easily.

He was magic and magic was he.

If he simply willed it to, the dagger would move. It had to.

Arthur needed it.

Somewhere in his mind, he knew that this was going to hurt. The magic in him had been pushed and pulled so many times and in so many different directions that it had felt like his body was being torn apart. It hadn't been given any time to recover, to settle—he wasn't even sure if he'd be able to reach it underneath everything else, lost in too many sensations and buried under too much pain. However, he needed it. For once in his life, he desperately needed it, because without it he couldn't do anything. Without it, he was helpless, and if he was helpless, then Arthur would die.

Regardless of the consequences, he had to use it, and so he did the only thing he could think of. He reached. He pulled at the dagger, directed every thought he could towards it, waiting for that familiar thrum of power, of warmth that came every time he used his magic, that spark of comfort and familiarity that made him feel whole. He knew it was going to hurt, but the pain was a small price to pay when it came to protecting the people he held dear.

His magic existed for Arthur's sake.

If he couldn't use it to save the prince, then what was the point? What good was he if he couldn't even protect the person he had dedicated his life to?

With every last ounce of will and power he had, he reached for his instinctive magic and grabbed the dagger, sending it flying across the floor silently until the hilt bumped into the prince's leg. He had just enough time to see Arthur look down at it as Barragh drew his sword back for the final strike before the pain set in. The light dimmed as his eyes slipped closed, but for a brief moment he could still hear what was happening. He was able to make out the sound of a blade sinking into something followed by a pained gasp and the clatter of metal upon stone before a wave of fire washed over him, engulfing him. It washed everything out until only silence remained and he was swallowed by the darkness once again.

When Arthur suddenly felt something press against his leg and glanced down to see what it was, he almost thought he was hallucinating, that his desperation had made him delusional. After all, he was pretty sure that dagger had been halfway across the room only a moment ago. He very clearly remembered it being nowhere near him, so then how had it gotten there? There was no one who could have moved it. After all, he certainly hadn't done it, and there was no way Barragh would have (that would be rather counterproductive).

But if that was the case, then who could have…?

Struck by a sudden thought, the prince glanced over at the only other person in the room aside from Barragh. A few yards away from where the two of them had ended up, Merlin was still lying on the floor exactly where he had been, motionless and with his eyes closed. It didn't seem possible, but at the same time nothing else made sense.

Merlin, did you…?

There wasn't time to think about it. He had something else that he needed to do. Barragh had already drawn his blade back after spouting more threats and more nonsense that Arthur hadn't cared enough to listen to, and now he was bringing it forward to run the prince through.

Arthur didn't think about what he was doing. He could ponder how everything had happened later. All he needed to do at that moment was move.

Grabbing his dagger as tightly as he could, he threw his weight to the side and dodged the strike that would have pierced his heart. Not expecting it, Barragh overbalanced, and before the man could recover, Arthur pushed himself forward and up, driving his dagger as hard as he could between a gap in the nobleman's armor. He forced the blade in, piercing through chainmail and leather and flesh until he could push it no further before twisting the dagger as hard as he could.

A pained gasp echoed through the room followed by the clattering of metal on stone as the sword in Barragh's hand slipped through his fingers. His eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open in shock. He looked down at the prince as if he couldn't believe what had happened, what he was seeing. Knowing him, he probably couldn't.

Arthur was no expert on anatomy, but he knew a killing blow when he dealt one. No one could recover from a strike so close to the heart.

Rising to his feet, the prince regarded the man before him with something very close to vindictive satisfaction but was probably more like self-righteous anger. He leaned close, wanting to make sure that the poor excuse for a noble heard every single word he had to say.

"You deserve so much worse than this for what you've done," he told him, low and seething, meeting those shocked eyes with a gaze that burned. "If it had been up to me, I would've had you drawn and quartered for what you did to him, you sick, arrogant bastard."

He twisted the blade once more.

"But I fear I don't have that kind of time, so we'll have to settle for this."

He let go of the hilt and stepped back, watched as the towering man fell to the floor much like his sword had only moments ago. He waited with baited breath until those dark eyes closed and that broad chest finally stopped moving. He didn't start breathing again until he was certain the other no longer could.

He wasn't entirely sure what emotion it was that flooded through him at that moment, pooling in his chest and his lungs until he almost felt like sobbing from the sheer intensity of it. In some ways it felt a great deal like relief, because while looking down at the man below him, he realized that it was finally over. Never again would that mouth spout cruelty and lies, words of hate and manipulation. Never again would those hands bring forth destruction and cause unimaginable suffering. He would never be able to hurt anyone ever again.

It was over.

Barragh was gone.

A/N: There. I hope you enjoyed the chapter :) I was totally going to end it where Merlin's POV ends, but I knew what would happen if I did, and seeing as how I've ended pretty much every chapter since chapter 9 in a cliffhanger, I figured I'd be nice this time. Originally a whole lot more was going to take place in this chapter, but this scene demanded its own apparently, and who was I to say no? I just write the words that come to me. I stopped pretending that I have control over that ages ago :)

Anyway, I do hope you enjoyed it. I certainly had a lot of fun coming up with it (it's a good thing I got off work two hours earlier than usual for a Tuesday otherwise you probably would have gotten stuck with the cliffhanger as the ending). Thanks so much for reading! I'm glad you're all still enjoying this :) Please feel free to drop a review, but don't feel obligated. I'm more than happy just knowing that there are people reading this.

So, it's late now, and I'm going to get some sleep before I have to be up again in five hours. With work and choir, I've got a long day ahead of me :)

Until next week!