A/N: It's very late again, and I'm very tired, so I'm going to keep this short today :)

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 really want to say that there are only maybe three or four chapters after this one, but all of my predictions have been wrong thus far, so we'll see what happens :)

Not much to say about this chapter, only that I hope you like it :)

Been listening to the music box version of Hello/How Are You this whole week. Does it have anything to do with this chapter? No, not really. I just think it's pretty in a bittersweet kind of way, and I rather love the lyrics :)

Re-read this while my eyes were trying to close, so if you see any mistakes, please let me know and I shall fix them tomorrow after choir.

Onward!

CHAPTER 21

The first thing Arthur did once he was certain it was over was reach for the sword lying at Barragh's side. He then quickly unhooked the scabbard from where it hung on the man's belt and connected it to his own before sheathing the sword. Even though he probably wouldn't need it, he felt better having a blade at his side, and if he was going to be escaping with Merlin, then he wanted a way to defend himself and his servant if the need to do so should arise. One could never be too careful in a situation like theirs.

The second thing he did was turn and run halfway across the room to where the unconscious warlock lay, completely still and unmoving. He fell to his knees next to him, immediately placing two fingers against that pale neck, searching for a pulse before checking for anything else. He had to be certain, needed to feel the soft thrumming of a heart that was often too kind and too brave for its own good, one so often overlooked despite its unbelievable size. He had to know for sure that Merlin would be alright, that whatever he had done to help in that battle (and he had helped, because there was just no other explanation for how that dagger had gotten to him right when he needed it the most) hadn't pushed him beyond the point of recovery.

He wasn't sure what he would do if it turned out to be too late. Such a thing was simply unfathomable to him.

It took a while, but he eventually found what he had been searching so desperately for: a soft but steady beat pulsing against his fingers. He heaved a deep sigh and looked down at the warlock, taking note of the injuries he had only seen at a distance before. The blow to the side of his head had thankfully stopped bleeding, but he was more than likely going to have a concussion when he woke up. The rest of the wounds were small, probably inflicted with a knife and for no other reason than to cause pain without endangering his life. Most were superficial, but a few would need to be treated.

Aside from the head wound, what worried him most was how shallowly the boy was breathing. His chest barely rose or fell; if one weren't specifically looking for the motion, they would probably assume he wasn't breathing at all. Whatever had been done to him had clearly put a great deal of strain on his body. It was unlikely that he'd be waking up anytime soon, but perhaps that was for the best. With nothing to help dull the pain, he would likely wake up to extreme discomfort. It was better if he slept for now regardless of how badly the prince wanted to talk to him. He still had a lot of questions to ask, after all, and there were even more things that he simply just wanted to say.

"Thank you" was rather high on that list, and "sorry" wasn't too far behind it.

There was so much he needed to make up for. He only hoped that Merlin would be willing to forgive him for being such a prat about the whole thing.

Arthur's head suddenly shot up as his ears caught the sound of hurried footsteps. He turned towards the door and placed his hand on the hilt of his pilfered sword, waiting to see who would appear before him. He hoped it wouldn't be anyone that actually cared about the deceased weapons dealer, because he really didn't want to be bothered with another fight when there were more important things to be doing, but in the end he needn't have worried. The man who stepped through the doorway was a familiar one.

Rordan.

The guard had said he would meet him there, after all, though he was a little late to be of any help in dealing with Barragh. That was fine though. Arthur had wanted to be the one to pay him back for all he'd done. It had just felt right that it be by his own hand that everything was finally put to an end.

"Arthur," he heard the guard call, his voice sounding rather relieved upon seeing the prince unharmed. He took a few more steps before he came to a stop, his eyes drifting to another point in the room. It was easy to see what had caught his attention. Even in death, Barragh was a rather difficult thing to miss.

The prince remained quiet and just watched as the guard approached the body slowly, his eyes a bit wide. If it wasn't widely known that Barragh was ill favored, even downright hated by almost all of his own men, Arthur might have called that expression horror, but he knew that it was only a form of shock, the look of a man who couldn't quite believe his eyes. The prince didn't need to be able to read minds in order to know what was probably going through Rordan's head. His jailor of however-many-years was now lying on the floor, motionless, lifeless, unable to hurt or torment anyone ever again. It was obviously a difficult thought to grasp, to realize that it was over, that the threat was gone…that he was free.

They were all free.

"You killed him…" It was both a statement and a question, spoken almost reverently despite the confusion that bled through. The reality of it would probably take a while to truly sink in, but at that moment, Arthur couldn't wait that long. There were still things that needed to be taken care of, namely Merlin.

"Rordan," he called, grabbing the man's attention. The guard shook his head to clear it before making his way over. The prince watched as the lingering shock faded into concern as Rordan knelt by the warlock's side, taking note of his injuries and the overall state he was in. Something told him that this man was probably a lot more knowledgeable in that area than he was if that focused gaze was anything to go by. Perhaps he was a physician as well as a guard. He made a mental note to ask later once everything settled down and there was time to just sit and talk.

Eventually Rordan heaved a sigh and sat back, a small smile gracing his face.

"He'll need treatment," he began, "but for now he should be alright."

The guard got to his feet and glanced around the room once more before turning to the prince.

"Come on, we need to get him out of here. If you'll follow me, I can lead you to the front gate. There shouldn't be too many guards wandering the corridors right now, so we should be alright."

Arthur nodded and then gave his attention back to his servant, trying to figure out the best way to carry him. He didn't know how long they were going to have to walk, and even though Merlin was on the slight side—even more so now—he was pretty sure that his arms wouldn't be able to bear the boy's weight the entire way. Usually he would just carry him over his shoulder, but that would be unwise given his difficulty breathing and the head wound (he was no physician, but he did recall being told that serious wounds, if possible, should be positioned above the heart to limit blood loss. The wound wasn't bleeding now, but that could easily change if he wasn't careful with the injured warlock).

That pretty much left just one option.

"Rordan," Arthur called, grabbing the guard's attention. "Could you help me with him?" As much as he didn't particularly like having to ask for help, he knew he wouldn't be able to position Merlin by himself, not without potentially hurting him, and that was the last thing he wanted to do after everything that had already happened. He was better off just sucking it up and asking for the guard's assistance.

Rordan nodded his consent and crouched down again while Arthur turned so that his back was facing the guard. He glanced over his shoulder and motioned with his arms, and that seemed to be enough for the man to understand what he wanted to do. Very carefully he lifted the warlock into a sitting position before just as carefully maneuvering him so that his arms were draped over the prince's shoulders and his body was resting against Arthur's back. Shifting the weight he had decided to bear, Arthur secured his servant's legs with his arms, and once he was certain that he could stand without dropping him, he got to his feet. He had to hunch over a bit to make sure Merlin didn't just slide right off, but it wasn't too much of a bother. This would be a lot easier and probably a lot less painful for the both of them.

"Alright," he said, looking to Rordan. "Lead the way."

Together the two of them made for the door, not even bothering to look back as they stepped into the corridor. There was no point. All that mattered was moving forward.

As quietly and quickly as he could, Arthur followed Rordan down the long hallways and around every corner, always making sure to wait until he was given the okay to move. Even though they didn't really have to avoid most of the guards, it was still a better idea for them to remain unseen. Being spotted would result in too many questions and too much wasted time, so Arthur followed very carefully, never moving too fast or too slow, not wanting to get ahead or fall behind. After a while it became painstakingly clear that on his own, he never would have been able to make it out of the castle. There were so many corridors and so many different paths to take. Rordan seemed to have them all memorized; he never hesitated when choosing a direction. Arthur couldn't help but wonder how long it had taken to learn the castle as well as he had. Apparently Owyn hadn't been exaggerating when he had equated the castle's design to that of a maze. One could very easily get lost and turned around in the many halls and alcoves.

It felt like an hour had passed by the time they finally made it into a rather large room, one that looked like an entry hall. There were all sorts of doorways and staircases leading to different rooms and different levels, but it was the very large and very open gateway that drew his attention. He was fairly certain that it shouldn't have been open given how late it was into the night, and he was also pretty sure that someone should have been guarding it. Arthur wondered if the man leading him had anything to do with that.

Rordan motioned for him to follow again, this time moving rather quickly towards the entryway. Arthur wasted no time in following, wanting nothing more than to get outside, to finally be free of the stone walls that had started to become far too familiar over the last few weeks. He was almost running by the time he got within a few feet of the gate, and when he finally took that first step beyond the walls, he came to a stop and took a deep, filling breath.

He was certain that fresh air had never felt so good.

The outside world was dark, lit only by the moon peering down from the night sky, but even in such pale lighting, he could still see the rolling plains and the thick forest not too far beyond them. Through the soles of his boots, he could feel the uneven ground, firm and soft at the same time, the grass all around him rustling in the gentle breeze, cool and crisp as it passed over, sending a shiver down his spine that wasn't from the cold.

He had never really understood it when people equated fresh air and being outside to being alive, but at that very moment that was exactly how he felt. It had been a long time since he had seen anything other than stone, metal, and torchlight.

It was invigorating. He felt alive.

"Come on," Rordan urged, motioning for the prince to follow. "This way."

Arthur followed the guard outside a little further and then around the side of the castle. What he found waiting for him there turned out to be a very pleasant surprise. Apparently Rordan really hadn't been idle with his time, because while Arthur had been on his way to find Merlin, the guard had prepared a horse for them, fully saddled and with provisions.

"I tried to get two of them, but I fear I was only able to secure one before the stable master got back."

"It's fine." It was more than fine. This was far more than he could have ever asked for. Besides, a second horse wasn't necessary. He would rather have Merlin ride with him. That way he'd be able to make sure that he was alright, that he didn't fall off, that he kept breathing and didn't decide to give up after Arthur had gone through so much trouble to get him back. No, he had no intention of parting with his servant anytime soon. He was going to keep an eye on him for as long as he could until he knew without a shadow of a doubt that the warlock would be alright.

As Arthur moved towards the horse, Rordan moved to help him, carefully taking Merlin as the prince pulled himself up onto the horse's back. He was rather impressed with how well-tempered it was, remaining calm even with an unfamiliar rider in the saddle. He stroked its neck in thanks for tolerating him before reaching down to pull Merlin up in front of him. It took the two of them awhile, but eventually he and Rordan were able to get the warlock up without causing him any undue pain (though it was rather hard to tell, honestly, since his unconscious expression never seemed to change no matter how they moved him).

Grabbing the reins with one hand, the prince wrapped his free arm around his servant's waist to make sure he wouldn't fall off, taking all of Merlin's weight against himself. It was a bit uncomfortable, but he didn't much care. He would deal with it for however long he had to. It was a small price to pay for the comfort of his friend.

"You should head for the woods," Rordan told him, drawing the prince's attention. "There's a cave not too far in. You'll be safe there for a while."

Something dawned on him then, something that he probably should have noticed the moment he realized that there was just one horse waiting for them.

"You're not coming?" he asked, though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

"No. Not yet, anyway. There are still a few things I need to take care of. With Barragh gone, we're finally free, but there were those who were loyal to him, and I doubt they'll take his passing well. I need to stay here for a bit and make sure nothing happens."

The look on his face must have betrayed his discontent, because Rordan was suddenly grinning at him, though it was his voice more so than his expression that managed to reassure the prince.

"I will meet you there, I promise. Until Merlin is well and you're both safely back in Camelot, I won't leave you. I swear it."

Being a prince and the leader of Camelot's knights, Arthur knew an oath when he heard one. He couldn't help but return the smile.

"I'll hold you to that."

Rordan's grin grew brighter with those words, but at the same time it took on an almost knowing, amused sort of tint. His eyes were shifting between the prince and the warlock, and Arthur found himself growing a bit uncomfortable under the man's dark eyes. He didn't particularly like that expression. He blamed Merlin for that. Merlin was a master at the "I know something you don't want me to" look, which usually resulted in a good amount of teasing (at Arthur's expense) and banter (at both their expense) and often ended with Merlin fleeing the room before anything could be thrown at his head (definitely at Merlin's expense, though he liked to believe that it was all in good fun on both their parts).

"What?" he asked a bit skeptically, wanting to know why Rordan was looking at him like that. The guard merely shook his head, but the amusement was still very much there.

"It's nothing, really. Just a bit surprised is all. I didn't believe it at first, but I guess the two of you really are friends, aren't you."

…Oh. So he had figured it out. Well, that certainly explained the smile.

"How did you find out?"

"I had my suspicions after you so readily agreed to help him and all, but it was actually Owyn who confirmed it for me. I'll admit, I still had my doubts even after that, but I think you've proven them rather unfounded. I know now that I can trust you with him, even after you make it back to Camelot."

Arthur wasn't quite sure what to say. He barely knew where to start. He had never been very good with the emotional stuff, and he knew that whatever he said would come out sounding a lot more sentimental than he wanted it to, but at the same time he had to say something. Rordan cared about Merlin, saw him as a precious friend, and because of that, the trust he was placing in Arthur was nothing short of an honest gift.

"Thank you." He didn't know what else to say. Nothing would be adequate. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for looking after him. I don't know how I could ever repay what you've done for us.

Rordan only nodded, his smile unwavering.

"Take care," he told the prince, "and I'll see you soon."

With one final nod and a hasty farewell, Arthur gripped the reins tightly and urged the horse forward. Before long they were making their way across the plains and away from the castle. He was tempted to look back, but he kept his eyes trained on the path ahead. They needed to reach the forest where they would be safe until Rordan returned, and he would return. Even though Arthur had only just met the man, he knew he could trust him. Merlin did, after all, and that was good enough for him.

It proved to be a long ride across the grassy plains. Not only did he have to keep their speed slow for Merlin's sake (he wasn't sure if he'd be able to hold onto him if he tried for anything more than a quick trot), but the darkness made it difficult to navigate. However, even though it had taken a lot longer than he would have liked it to, they eventually made it to the edge of the forest. He quickly picked out a path that the horse could follow and then very carefully made his way onward. He kept his eyes open for anything that looked like a cave, but once again, the darkness made it rather difficult. This was why riding after dark wasn't a good idea (though to be fair, he hadn't had much of a choice in the matter). It was easy to get lost when you couldn't see where you were going—not that he had actually known where he was going to begin with, but that was beside the point.

In the end he eventually did find the cave Rordan had mentioned, nestled deep in a natural valley of the forest, surrounded by tall trees and a small but winding brook. It was more than he could have asked for in a temporary resting place.

However, as it turned out, he wasn't exactly alone in the quiet little valley, and whereas he had been expecting to find the cave when he entered the forest, he certainly hadn't been expecting this. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was pretty sure that he probably should have been. However, that fact wasn't enough to keep him from gaping at the young man standing just outside the mouth of the cave, returning Arthur's shock with a smile that was far too jovial for a man who had probably been standing there for hours on end, just waiting for someone to show up.

Then again, when did anything like that ever seem to matter to that man? If "carefree" had a face, he was certain that one would be it.

With that irritating but at the same time extremely welcoming, sight-for-sore-eyes smile plastered on his face, the young man raised his hand in greeting with a solitary wave.

"Hello."

He didn't say anything else, only stood there, looking like an idiot (in Arthur's humble opinion, anyway). Had he had a free arm, he would've liked to reach out and smack him upside the head. Instead he merely shook his own and hung it with a sigh.

"'Hello?' Really? That's all you have to say? It's been over a week!"

"Seemed appropriate."

"What the hell happened to you?"

"Oh, you know. This and that."

"Owyn…"

The guard just smiled even brighter, trying to look innocent and failing rather spectacularly, and even though a part of that irritated the prince to no end, he couldn't help the swell of relief that came along with it. One more little piece of his life had just slotted back into place. It was comforting to know that the other man was alright, that he had made it out of the castle after being locked up by Barragh. It was also comforting to know that he wasn't alone anymore, that there was someone there to help him, because as desperate as he was to treat the injured young man in his arms, he knew he couldn't do it all alone. He was no physician, and he didn't have the materials or the knowledge necessary to take care of Merlin.

He was pretty sure that Owyn did. Given what he knew about both Owyn and Rordan, he was certain that the guard hadn't traveled into the forest without knowing what to expect (and it was kind of heartwarming in a way, because he had come into the forest to wait for them, as if he had already known that everything would turn out alright, that the two of them would show up. It was a vote of confidence that Arthur wasn't entirely sure he deserved but that he was grateful for nonetheless).

"Here," Owyn began, drawing Arthur away from his thoughts as the guard began to approach him, "let me help you. Wouldn't want either of you falling off, after all."

Though it was said with that teasing grin, the intent behind it was genuine, and so Arthur very carefully maneuvered Merlin down until Owyn could pull him from the horse. Once the servant was safely down, Arthur dismounted and tied the reigns to a nearby tree—didn't want the horse to go wandering off without him—before following after the guard as he brought Merlin into the cave. It was rather dark inside, the only light being the dying fire that Owyn had likely built some time ago, but with a few added logs and a bit of prodding, the flames soon sprang back to life, casting their light along the walls.

As the shadows disappeared and the world around them was bathed in an orange glow, Arthur found his eyes drawn to a face that was no longer smiling. In all his encounters with Owyn, that was an expression he had only seen a few times but one that was probably close to a second nature for the man. There was anger there as well as regret as those bright eyes took in what had been done to the young warlock in front of him, but it was the indignation that felt the most familiar, that seemed the most natural. He was pretty sure that most of them in that castle knew that feeling rather well.

Sitting down close to the fire, the prince continued his silent observation, waiting to see what Owyn's verdict would be, but he found that with a different angle came a different view and a new perspective. His chest tightened a bit at what he saw. He had missed it in the cover of darkness, where the only light had been from the moon between the treetops, but in the firelight he could see it plain as day.

It seemed that Owyn hadn't been as lucky as he had previously thought. The right side of his face was bruised. The marks were fading, but it was quite obvious that someone had punched him in the face. His left hand was also bandaged, looking a bit swollen when compared to his right. That could have been caused by any number of things, but how it had happened didn't particularly matter. What mattered was that it had happened at all and that it probably wouldn't have if Barragh hadn't found out that the guard had been helping him.

Whatever Owyn had suffered through while locked away had essentially been Arthur's fault, and he couldn't help but feel guilty about it.

Maybe he couldn't make things right with Merlin yet, but for now he could at least try to fix this.

"…I heard from Rordan," he began softly, "that you were imprisoned by Barragh."

He was expecting maybe a wince or a flinch of some kind, but Owyn just kept right on examining his patient and didn't even bother to glance up at the prince when he responded.

"That I was. At first I thought he was going to get rid of me, but as it turned out, without me, he would've lost access to my estate, so he decided to just lock me up instead. Bit ironic, really, that my 'leverage' ended up being used to my advantage for a change."

He honestly couldn't tell whether the man was just pretending not to be upset by it or if he genuinely just wasn't. Either way, it didn't change the fact that he owed the guard an apology.

"…I'm sorry."

This time Owyn did look up. Arthur wasn't sure what he had been expecting to see on that face, but the absolute shock on it rather threw him off.

"What? What for?"

"I… It was my fault. Barragh imprisoned you because of me."

"No he didn't."

"Yes, he did. Rordan told me he did."

"No, he locked me up because he was a sadistic twat and I apparently talk too much. It had nothing to do with you."

He should have been glad that Owyn didn't blame him for what had happened, but for some reason it only made him frustrated with the man. Didn't he know how hard it was for him to apologize? It wasn't something he did very often, after all. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he just accept it like he was supposed to?

"That doesn't change the fact that it wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for me."

"…Do you want me to blame you?"

"No, I just…I mean, look at you! Look at what happened! You were clearly punched in the face by someone!"

"Hey!"

"How are you not at least a little bit mad about it?"

The look Owyn gave him after that was somewhere between disgruntled and incredulous, or maybe insulted and resigned. It certainly wasn't an expression he had seen there before. It actually made him a little nervous. He suddenly felt a lot like a child about to be scolded for pilfering sweets from the kitchens.

"For your information," the guard began slowly, talking as if he were explaining something to an unruly kid…or an idiot, "I did not get punched in the face. I punched someone in the face. There's a big difference."

"What…?"

"Nearly broke my hand, but he definitely deserved it."

"Then what about the bruises?"

"Hmm? Oh, I accidentally bashed my face against the side of my cot the other day. I'm probably lucky I didn't poke my eye out."

"How…?" In the end he just sighed. "Never mind. I don't want to know."

Suddenly he felt exhausted. He blamed Owyn for that. He had forgotten how frustrating the man could be after not talking to him for more than a week. He knew there was more he had wanted to say, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember any of it anymore. Why was it that nothing ever seemed to go the way he expected it to even when it should have been fairly simple to predict?

"…Hey, Arthur."

The prince looked up from where his attention had drifted to the flames. Owyn was once again taking stock of Merlin's wounds while digging through the bag at his side. There was a soft, small smile on his face as he glanced at the prince.

"I know you feel responsible, but you really shouldn't. There really is no need for you to apologize. Not that I don't appreciate it, but in the end, it wasn't your fault. All of us, we made our own choices. Sure, maybe we could have done a better job, but that's beside the point. What matters is that we made them. It was my choice to help you and Merlin, and so everything that happened to me as a result of that is my fault, no one else's. I knew what I was getting into, but I did it anyway, because I believed it was the right thing to do. So, how about instead of seeking blame for the things you aren't responsible for, you start focusing on taking care of the things that you are."

With a simple flick of his head, the guard motioned to the unconscious warlock lying on the ground before them before handing the prince a water skin and a cloth.

"I know you're not used to this, so I'll help you out, but I think it would be best if you did as much as you can on your own. I'm sure you believe that you have a lot to make up for, and I know that nothing I say is going to convince you otherwise, so this can be a start. After all…he's important to you, right?"

He had been asked that question before, in a different way and under different circumstances, but the meaning behind it was still the same, and this time around he didn't need to think about it.

As he took what was offered to him, ready to move forward once again, he gave his answer without hesitation.

"Yes."

A thousand times over, yes.

A/N: Well, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter :) And look, no cliffhanger! Hurray! Though I do enjoy writing them, I'm sure you're all rather tired of them. I must say I rather enjoyed writing this chapter. It came really easily too, which is always nice. It's kind of a winding down chapter after all the crap that happened in the last few, and Arthur learned a few more things (oh Owyn, how I love writing you :)

Anyway, again, thank you so much! I honestly can't believe how many people are reading this. So many alerts and favs, I'm rather in awe, and so many reviews. I've never written anything, fanfiction or otherwise, that's received so many so quickly. Thank you. You've no idea how much it means to me. You guys make my crappy work days so much more bearable. So thank you to everyone reading, and I hope you'll stick with me till the end, and I certainly hope I don't disappoint :) I'll certainly do my best.

Until next week!