Hidden Motives

A/N: Thanks very much for the reviews. Here's chapter three! Hope you like it and please review!

Chapter 3

'Merlin.'

Merlin heard the voice as if from a distance. It was like trying to hear and think through a fog, but when the voice called his name again he found that he recognised it as Gaius. Relief flooded through him and he forced his eyes open, grimacing in pain as he did. Gaius' concerned face was the first thing he saw and he allowed the man to pull him into a sitting position.

'Gaius. Am I glad to see you,' he whispered, closing his eyes again as his head throbbed.

'What have you got yourself into now, Merlin?' he asked sadly.

'I have no idea, but it doesn't make any sense at all.' He opened his eyes again and saw the soldier standing guard outside the cell, having locked Gaius into it. 'You haven't been arrested as well, have you?' Merlin asked in alarm.

'Arthur asked me to come and treat your injuries,' he explained, holding his medicine bag up by way of explanation and nodding at the basin of clean water on the floor. 'Let me have a look.' Slowly Merlin turned round and then gingerly reached up to feel the cut. Gaius swatted his hand away and began to bathe the wound. It stung a lot and Merlin had to bite his lip to make sure that he didn't start complaining. After a few minutes, when the guard seemed to have lost interest in the treatment, Merlin heard Gaius' voice, no louder than a whisper.

'Arthur came and told me what you said to him earlier.'

'What do you think, Gaius? Is it possible that something's controlling me?'

'I don't know. There are many spells that can induce such actions.'

'But on me?' Merlin asked.

'You're not impervious to enchantments, Merlin.'

'So you think I did it? You think I tried to kill Arthur?' he asked. There was no accusation in his voice, just a desperate resignation.

'I'm not saying that.'

'But you can't think of another explanation,' Merlin continued for him. There was a slight pause.

'No,' the man admitted sadly as he put down the cloth and began to dab a soothing salve onto the gash.

'Gaius,' Merlin pressed. 'Did I say anything to you yesterday afternoon, anything at all that seemed odd?'

'I didn't see you yesterday after breakfast, remember. I left you a list of errands because I was working in the lower town all day.'

'I remember that,' Merlin nodded and then hissed at the sudden movement. 'But wasn't there anything else?'

'I didn't see you,' Gaius repeated. 'It wasn't until I got back and found Arthur pacing in my quarters that I knew anything was wrong.'

'And it was definitely a poison?'

'Merlin; it was the deadliest poison that I have in my quarters. It was locked away. Who else would have been able to open the chest it was in without the key?' he finished sadly.

Merlin said nothing as Gaius wrapped a bandage around his injuries. Once that was done he placed his head in his hands. How was this possible?

'Gaius, what am I supposed to do?' Merlin asked him desperately. He turned round so that he was facing his mentor and friend, but Gaius' face was heavy and he shook his head sadly.

'I don't know, Merlin. For now, all I can do is try and find out what could possibly be affecting you and then find a way of removing the spell. You'll be able to do it yourself once we know what it is.'

'Did Arthur speak to you about helping with the research?' Merlin asked him hopefully.

'No, but he did instruct me to start looking and that is perhaps the best we can hope for. If Arthur is on your side then maybe he can speak to Uther and try and put back your execution.'

'And if Uther won't listen, Gaius? What then? What if you don't find anything in the next two days?' Gaius looked at him sadly and then leant closer, ensuring that the guard definitely couldn't hear any of their conversation –not that he had shown any signs of hearing it so far.

'You'll be able to flee before then if it comes to that.'

'Run away?'

'Survive,' Gaius argued. 'But we may yet find something that will clear your name.'

Merlin nodded at him and gave a weak smile, but it was for Gaius' benefit; it had nothing to do with his own optimism over the outcome. He had done enough magical research over the last few years to know that finding specific spells as well as working out how to perform them could take weeks, and that was even with his ability to read things incredibly quickly when he needed to. There was no way that Gaius on his own would be able to find the correct spell in time unless the right book fell open on the right page by some stroke of luck.

'Time's up,' the guard called gruffly from outside the cell. His keys jangled noisily as he unlocked the door and ushered Gaius out with a firm nod towards the corridor. Gaius gathered his supplies slowly. Merlin knew he was doing it on purpose; taking his time so that he could offer a few extra seconds of companionship and comfort, but there was only so long that you could make a prison guard wait.

'Thank you, Gaius,' Merlin whispered as the man finally got up to go.

'Make sure you don't fall asleep for a few hours, but do try and get some rest, my boy,' he smiled back. As much as the old man tried to hide it, Merlin could see that he was worried. That only worried him further. Gaius was nothing if not a realist; how many times had Merlin been on the receiving end of Gaius' measured words telling him to consider the folly of a plan or accept the reality of a situation? He'd lost count. If Gaius was worried, regardless of what he had said about finding the spell in time, then Merlin knew he needed to be as well. He watched his mentor walk slowly down the corridor with the guard. Within seconds they were out of sight. As soon as they were, Merlin made his way over to the pile of straw and rags that were supposedly there to provide some comfort. He curled up on them but, heeding Gaius' warning, made sure that he didn't close his eyes. Instead he stared unseeingly at the wall, letting their monotony calm the swirl of emotions that were twisting through him.

The hours passed achingly slowly and yet dizzyingly fast. Through the barred windows above him, he could just about track the progress of the sun through the sky. It climbed high and began to sink again before Merlin had another visitor. It gave him too much time; too much time to do nothing, to feel helpless. He could be doing so much more good if he was researching with Gaius. For a moment he considered calling Kilgharrah and asking him for some advice, but then realised that having a dragon crash into Camelot probably wouldn't help.

So instead he sat staring at blank walls and lying on scratchy straw and rock, trying not to think of his impending execution and trying not to dwell on the fact that his last two days of life were being spent so purposelessly. At first he hadn't minded being on his own –he had never been one to be afraid of his own company- but when he finally did hear the prison doors opening and hear footsteps heading towards him, he inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. He looked up, hoping to see Gaius, expecting to see Arthur and finally being surprised to see Lancelot. He quickly stood up and came to stand by the bars, grasping the cold metal in his hands.

'Anything?' he asked, once Lancelot had shooed the dungeon guard out of he corridor.

'Arthur's got us all out searching, secretly of course so that Uther doesn't find out. Gwaine, Elyan, all of us.'

'Searching for what?'

'Anything that could be linked to magic. He's made his decision, Merlin; he's trying to prove that you weren't in control of your actions.' Merlin closed his eyes and bowed his head against the bars in relief. He had hoped and guessed that Arthur would believe him, but he hadn't been completely certain up until now. 'Gwaine made his position quite clear,' Lancelot continued wryly. At the words, Merlin smiled for the first time in hours.

'I bet he did,' he replied and then looked at Lancelot. 'Thank you.'

'Don't mention it; we all know it's not in you to harm Arthur.'

'So has Arthur spoken to Uther? Gaius was going to ask him to get the execution pushed back.'

Lancelot shook his head.

'No, he wants to wait until he's got something he can show to his father.'

'You haven't found anything then?' Merlin asked. He knew it was unlikely that they would have found anything so soon, but now that he knew efforts were being made to save him, he just wanted to speed up the whole process and get to the point where he was pardoned and back to being Arthur's incompetent, but by no means regicidal, servant.

'It's early in the search. Don't worry. But it's why I'm here. We need your help.'

'Anything,' Merlin answered instantly; he just wanted to feel useful. 'Do you need a spell or some magic?'

'No, just tell us any places you've been in the last few days where you were alone. We need to narrow down the search.'

Merlin hid his disappointment at the words; that hadn't been exactly what he'd hoped for when Lancelot had asked for help. Still, if it sped up the search…

'Erm…on my own?' He sighed. 'There are loads of places.'

'Just tell us what you can.'

'The stables, all over the castle. I went gathering for Gaius; he'll know all the spots.' He thought hard and listed off a few more places, although by the end they were places that he'd been on his own in for maybe a minute, which he was sure wouldn't be enough time to cast a spell, but he wanted to cover everything.'

'Good, thank you,' Lancelot nodded, mentally storing the information. 'I'm sorry Merlin, but I've got to go; we're running out of daylight.'

Merlin nodded, but had to swallow several times before he could manage to give a reply.

Moments later he was alone again, but a flame of hope had been lit and he no longer felt each seconds passing by him like a precious gift that was lost to him.

The next thing Merlin knew, a guard was carelessly pushing some food through the bars of his cell. He cursed himself for falling asleep, but he did feel a little more refreshed for the rest. He ate the food quickly, aware that he hadn't had anything all day. It was a small meal, but Merlin knew that Arthur had had a hand in getting it to him. He was relatively certain that the majority of prisoners didn't get cuts of meat and fresh fruit on their prison diet. He made a note to thank the Prince the next time he came in.

When would that be? Merlin glanced outside. It was dark and the moon was beginning to shine brightly. Only the flickering candles that adorned the prison walls outside his cell gave him any light. Had their searches throughout the day been successful? He doubted it; surely they would have come and found him by now. He took to pacing the floor for a while, racking his brains to try and remember anywhere else that he had been, or anything else that could help with the search, but the futility of his efforts frustrated him and he soon found himself lying down again and wishing away his hours with sleep.

Darkness was all around him, with the whispers of shadows and voices breaking through it to become shadowy entities all vying for his attention; calling out to him, trying to draw him in with wild claws. He felt them like knives against his skin, tearing at the flesh there, burrowing into him, digging deeper and deeper. He tried to cry out in agony, but they continued, heedless of his screams. He tried to brush the sounds off, tried to kick them away, but he was helpless. He couldn't move; he couldn't fight. He couldn't do anything but wait. With one final agonising attack, they disappeared into him in a flash of light.

He opened his eyes and looked round. The room was familiar. The armoury of the castle, piled high with weapons, more than Merlin had ever seen before. They were stacked in every corner, reaching to the ceiling. Line after line of spears and swords; maces and hammers. Merlin felt his fingers running along them, but was surprised to realise that he wasn't making his body to move in such a way. He tried to pull back control, but it was useless. There was nothing he could do but watch as his hands reached down and selected a spear, freshly sharpened, glinting in the light from the sun. Outside of the room he heard the familiar sounds of servants laughing and talking, calling instructions to each other.

His body turned as he heard another familiar sound from down the corridor. Arthur's voice, calling him to find out what was taking so long. Merlin wasn't sure what he was meant to be doing to know how to reply -even if he could use his mouth-, but through no will of his own, he heard his voice calling back, asking Arthur to come to the armoury, to look at something.

A terrible dread began to creep over Merlin; he didn't like the tone in his voice, didn't like the careful selection of the words, didn't like the way his hands felt as they grasped the spear more tightly; shifting it into an attack position. The sudden realisation struck Merlin to the core and he renewed his fight for his body with a hundred times more fervour than he had done originally, but it was no use. He felt himself experimentally move the spear back and forwards, heard Arthur coming closer.

He fought and fought, throwing all his will into dropping the spear and turning away, but it was futile. Arthur appeared at the door. Merlin saw him roll his eyes in frustration as he saw his servant wielding a spear and then watched the eyes turn wide and accusing as the spear was thrown at him, hitting him in the heart and breaking deep into the flesh there; no chainmail or armour hindering it.

The blood poured.

Merlin woke up with a strangled yell, clawing at the air, feeling sweat and tears dripping down his face. His breathing was heavy and ragged and he doubled over coughing. The images of the dream played over and over in his mind, tormenting him. He opened his eyes, frantically searching for some semblance of reality as he saw Arthur standing by the bars of his cell, watching him with sheer confusion and alarm. The expression was so similar to the one in the dream that Merlin opened his mouth to scream his denial, but the Arthur in front of him shifted and frowned, opening his mouth several times before eventually finding his voice.

'Merlin, what is it?' he asked, his voice unusually uneven. Merlin pressed his forehead to the floor and took several deep breaths. He was trembling all over.

'What are you doing here?' he asked, not wanting to go into the details of his dream. Arthur took several seconds to answer.

'I came to see how you were.'

Merlin glanced out of the window; the moon still shining brightly.

'At this time?'

'I couldn't sleep. Evidently, neither can you.'

Merlin said nothing. The images were still going around his mind. He tried to focus on something else and took to watching the flickering shadows on the wall that the candles cast. He let the warm colours erase the blackness of the dream, but he knew they would only shield him from them for a time. He sat up and then shuffled back so he was against the wall near to the bars. Arthur pulled up a chair and turned it towards him, before lowering himself onto it. He looked distinctly uncomfortable sitting there and his eyes shifted constantly to the door of the dungeons. Merlin guessed his slightly dramatic scene had put the Prince out of step a little.

'Thank you for the food,' Merlin said with a smile, remembering the unexpected meal and wanting to distract the Prince from what he had just witnessed.

'You're welcome,' he nodded, but said nothing else. The quietness of the dungeons deepened.

'How's the search going?'

'We haven't found anything. But we'll keep looking tomorrow,' he added quickly. Merlin nodded, but said nothing.

The silence they found themselves in was an unusually uncomfortable one. They spent enough time in each other's company that silence was something they could share together quite happily, although Merlin was sure Arthur would have some comment about him never shutting up. And if for any reason the silence did get too pressing, all it would take was a well timed jibe on Merlin's part or an eloquent insult on Arthur's to get them back on track again. No, silence was not an issue between them. But it was now. Suffocating, complete, dark. It was the silence of strangers and Merlin couldn't understand it and didn't want to.

Arthur didn't stay much longer. They exchanged a few words about the search and tomorrow's plans, but even then the exchange was halting and uneven. To Merlin's dismay, he found that it was a relief when the Prince finally told him to get some sleep and then left.

What had happened? Was the reality setting in for Arthur? Did he realise that he wasn't going to be able to find a way of proving Merlin's innocence? Or did he still not quite believe Merlin's story of memory loss and enchantment? Either way, Merlin felt his heart sink lower and his hopes of being pardoned shrink to the tinniest of flames. One gust of wind would extinguish it forever. But it was the dream that played on his mind as he sat in the dull light. A dream that had been so vivid and so unbelievable and so agonising.

Merlin hoped that it was just a result of the accusations; his imagination using them to create another scenario, but at the back of his mind the single nagging thought remained, driving him mad in its insistence. What if his dream was soon to become his reality?

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