Hidden Motives

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. Please let me know what you think of this chapter as well. I'm away over the weekend, so won't have time to write very much. As such, it might take a few extra days to get the next chapter up, but hopefully this one will tide you over until then.

Chapter 6

He looked angry. That was the first thing Merlin noticed as the Prince appeared outside of his cell. The man's piercing blue eyes stared at him accusingly, but before Merlin could drop his eyes from the ferocious expression, Arthur had turned away. Inwardly, Merlin gave a groan; the Prince was pacing. Merlin hated it when he did that; it would usually be followed up with lots of shouting. Well, he had been expecting that.

He decided his best course of action was to stay quiet, but when, after several minutes, Arthur had still said nothing and stopped in his pacing to lean against the wall and look anywhere but at Merlin, he decided he might actually have to start the conversation. He was aware of the fact that at any moment the sorcerer could put an image in his head and cause him to do something he would regret. He doubted, at this point, that the sorcerer was nearby –after all, the whole of Camelot was looking for him-, but Merlin didn't want to push his chances too far.

'Arthur. Gaius told you about the spell, so…' he trailed off as Arthur's full attention was suddenly fixed on him: fierce and unrelenting. '…so maybe it would be best if you didn't stay too long.'

'Trust me, Merlin: if you somehow get broken out of your cell, I'll be able to cope with your pathetic attempts at combat.' His voice was hard and Merlin suddenly feared that that tone would be the last one he heard Arthur use to speak to him.

'Arthur,' he began again, more gently this time.'

'You know,' Arthur interrupted and Merlin had a feeling that the Prince didn't even know he'd said his name again, 'you've come up with some fairly stupid ideas in your time and, on occasion, a good one. Do you know which category your current plan falls into?'

'Yes, I do actually,' he replied back, meeting Arthur's sarcasm with a general cheeriness that he knew would irritate him. He didn't like this seriousness; he and Arthur rarely dealt in it. 'The question is: do you?'

Arthur gave a sigh of frustration and then resumed pacing.

'I won't let this happen,' he said as he walked. 'I will get my father to see reason. And if he won't, then I'll break you out myself.'

'No,' Merlin replied in alarm. As touched as he was by the gesture, the thought of being alone with Arthur when nobody else in the castle knew where he was, terrified Merlin. How many different ways could he kill the Prince and hide the body? Too many to count.

'Merlin, what you're suggesting is insane. And I won't let you do it, not for me.' His voice had grown quieter and more full of emotion. Merlin frowned, that was not the Arthur he knew. He only threw in emotion when he really couldn't help it. Was the situation really affecting him so deeply? Merlin tried to reverse their positions and imagine himself as the Prince, having this conversation. Yes, maybe this did warrant some extra emotion from Arthur.

As if sensing Merlin's surprise, Arthur steeled his expression.

'Anyway, my father is already considering your innocence.'

'It will be easy to change that,' Merlin replied quietly. Arthur fixed him with another glare, but Merlin stood firm. 'It would only take one threat from me against your life and he'd reassess his position.'

'You wouldn't do that.'

'As I'm sure you'll agree,' Merlin said, 'I've done stupider things than that before.'

'What you're suggesting is suicide,' Arthur replied, his voice getting louder.

'Not exactly.'

'No? Tell me, how is letting yourself get executed for something you didn't really do, and threatening to make yourself look guilty anything but suicide?'

'I'm doing this to protect you!' Merlin said incredulously.

'Protect me from what Merlin? You can barely hold a sword, you aren't capable of anything that is remotely stealthy and you can't walk in a straight line without tripping over something.'

'You saw it yourself,' Merlin retorted. 'I nearly managed to poison you.'

'But you didn't.'

'That isn't the point. I know this castle inside out. I know more passages than you. I can get in and out of Camelot without being seen. If I'm really convinced that you're the enemy, or if the sorcerer stops me recognising you and instead convinces me that you're a threat, I can easily get around undetected to kill you. When your father had that warrant out for me, I hid in Camelot for days. I got into your room, no questions asked.'

'Fine, then I'll step up security and make sure you stay locked up until we find the sorcerer responsible.'

'There's no guarantee that will work, and I don't want to be in the position where I'm testing it. What if the sorcerer decides to break me out himself? The guards wouldn't stand a chance.'

Arthur turned away in frustration, his whole body tense; he seemed to be beginning to understand his helplessness; it was coiling him, making him ready to lash out at any moment. Merlin didn't want that to be their last conversation: Arthur yelling at him, him arguing back and then finally the two of them parting ways in anger. He couldn't go to his own execution with such an unresolved conflict. Maybe that was Arthur's plan: stay angry with Merlin so that he would be more open to having his execution pushed back. Merlin couldn't deny that it would make him think about it.

'Arthur,' he said slowly, calmly, gently. The Prince looked over at him; he was still shimmering with frustration and anger, but he listened, which was all Merlin really needed. 'If this was the other way round; if you were me and I was you, what would you do?' Arthur shook his head, but didn't argue; this encouraged Merlin on. 'When it comes down to it, your life and your position, the future you have before you…they are all more important than me.'

'Merlin-'

'It's true, and you know it is,' he interrupted firmly. Arthur fell silent. 'You can't jeopardise the future of the Kingdom for one life, especially the life of a servant. You're the future King, Arthur, you have to be around to lead the land; you can't risk me hurting you and destroying that hope.' Arthur had turned away, refusing to acknowledge the words, but Merlin continued on. 'But that isn't the main reason I want to do this. Perhaps it's selfish of me,' he shrugged. Arthur looked questioningly at him. He smiled, pleased to have the Prince's full attention once again. 'You're my friend, Arthur. It doesn't matter how unlikely it is to happen; I can't risk being the person who kills you. I can't do that. I'll do anything to make sure it doesn't happen. And I can't live with myself knowing that it's a possibility.'

'What about me having to live with watching your execution?' he asked after a short pause.

Silence from Merlin. What could he say in response to that? He could say that Arthur didn't have to be there, but he would take that as more of an insult; the Prince was not one to leave his friends alone in hopeless situations, no matter how much it hurt him to watch.

'I'm sorry,' Merlin simply said instead. The prince shook his head, but not in a way that made Merlin feel like he'd accepted the situation. He started pacing again.

'I won't have this. I won't. I'm the Prince of Camelot and if I want a prisoner kept alive then I can have a prisoner kept alive.'

'Arthur,' Merlin said desperately, realising that he was loosing him, but it was too late. Yes, his words had begun to break through to Arthur, but Merlin could almost see the barrier sliding into place to hold them back. 'Please. This is the best way.'

'I'll decide what's the best way. And as my servant, you'll go along with it.'

'Arthur,' he repeated, more angrily this time.

'I'll be back here in the morning to have you released,' he carried on, heedless of Merlin's words.

'Please, listen.'

'I have been listening, Merlin, but I don't agree.' And with that he turned tail and walked out of the dungeons, not once looking back, despite Merlin's loud shouts of pleading. The prison door boomed shut and Merlin was left, breathing heavily, his heart hammering and his fists clenched in frustration. He gave a yell of anger and felt his magic flare through him for a few seconds, responding to his heightened emotions.

Everything had been going so well. Arthur had been listening to him and then suddenly… He wasn't thinking rationally. Always before, Arthur had managed to keep his heart and his head in balance, but at the moment, he wasn't acting rationally. Merlin closed his eyes as he realised what he had to do. He had been hoping it wouldn't come to it, but there wasn't a choice now. Arthur was right, if he really did want Merlin kept alive, he could probably find a way of convincing Uther; especially if the King was genuinely beginning to believe Merlin's innocence. What was more, this Uther was not the same Uther that Merlin had dealt with in the past; he was weaker now, more vulnerable, more likely to be swayed. And Arthur could do that.

No, there was only one choice. He sat down on the floor of his cell, back and head against the wall and waited for the guard to return. A while later, the man took up his position; not looking at Merlin, just doing his job. Merlin thought his words out carefully, thought about how he would act as he said them.

Slowly, as menacingly as he could manage, Merlin got up and began pacing his cell, his eyes ever on the guard. He wanted to put the man on edge; it would make it so much more impacting when he finally spoke. And so he walked backwards and forwards for several minutes and then headed over to the bars, staring, until eventually he saw the guard give him a sideways glance. He smiled in what he hoped was a threatening way, although he rarely threatened anybody and so was just guessing.

'Look at you; guard for the illustrious Pendragon family. What an honour.' The sarcasm in his voice was cutting and foreign, he hated the sound of it, but he pressed on. 'Shall I let you in on a secret?' he asked. The guard still wasn't looking at him, but Merlin could see that he had his full attention. 'I'm going to kill them both. Uther. Arthur. By this time tomorrow, they'll be dead and forgotten.' At this the guard reacted. He slammed his sword against the bars. Merlin stepped back half a step, but then gave another smile as the guard rounded on him.

'By this time tomorrow, you'll be dead and forgotten.'

'Don't assume that I'm working alone,' he replied calmly. 'I have powerful friends who will be paying me a visit very soon. When they do, you'll be watching me walk out of here to go and kill your King.' He spat the word.

He stopped there, but found it difficult to keep the same casual and evil look on his face. He was a bad liar at the best of times, but even more so when he could hear a voice screaming in his head, asking him what he was doing. He had to agree. What had he just done?

But he knew that his plan had worked, and its success was confirmed when the guard left his post and headed out of the dungeons, only to be replaced by another a few seconds later. Merlin sat down in grim relief. Maybe Arthur could have swayed his father before, but it would be impossible now. Uther would not take a threat on his life well, and he definitely wouldn't listen to Arthur assuring him that Merlin had been making it up.

No, he'd sealed his own fate and there was nothing anyone could do now to stop it.

His dreams that night were full of horror and anger and pain, all of it caused by him. He tried to stay awake to fend them off, but his body seemed to be fighting against him on that front. Countless times he found himself screaming into awareness. His body was pouring with sweat his hands and arms were bruised where he flung them against the floor and walls to try and escape the terrible visions, but they were inescapable in his dream world.

Time and again, he watched himself kill Arthur, never for a clear reason, never with any mercy. He felt himself slip more poison into Arthur's goblet and stand over him watching him die. He saw himself purposely leaving Arthur to the mercy of bandits in the woods. He watched as he led the Prince into trap after trap, ambush after ambush, as he stabbed him in his sleep while they were out hunting. He felt himself smash a rock into the head of the unsuspecting Prince, saw himself push the man from the towers of the castle. Time after time he felt and saw Arthur's blood covering his own hands; heard Arthur's last gasping breaths; saw the accusation and the hurt and the betrayal in his friend's eyes and was powerless to do anything to stop it.

He spent the dreams screaming at himself from where he was buried in his body's consciousness, trying to wrest control back and failing every time. There was nothing he could do except watch Arthur die horrendously and agonisingly over and over again. Several times when he woke up he found himself shaking violently. He heard sounds at the window which made him jump; he saw shadows in the corners stretching towards him and yelled to keep them away. He could feel the blood on his hands. Several times when he looked around, the cell seemed to have an unearthly red glow that reminded him only of death and guilt.

By the time the sun rose on the morning of his execution, he had already been awake for hours, battling the demons that still tried to claw into his consciousness. He felt weak, shaky. When he tried to stand up, he found that it took several attempts, but eventually his legs gained some of their strength back and that was when he became aware of his fear. He could feel an aching in the pit of his stomach which wouldn't go away; he felt clammy and cold, which didn't change, even as the sun began to bake the earth. And always there was a shout or a cry trying to force its way up and out of his throat.

Today, he was going to die.

It seemed surreal; like it wasn't really going to happen. He felt as if, at any moment, Arthur would come in, ask him what he was doing in the dungeons and then haul him out to start another day of chores. Was this really happening to him? After all his years of working so hard to protect and guide Arthur, was this really how it was going to end? It seemed so unfair, so pointless. A surge of anger flowed through him and he reached for his magic, ready to open the doors and walk out of Camelot for good, but memories of his dreams stayed his hand. He could not risk it. How many times had he said that to himself, to everyone, in the last few days? He could not risk it.

The dreams, while not true –not yet- had given him a glimpse into the possible reality he would have to live with if he killed Arthur. He had felt the terrible regret and remorse in every dream. They had given him a gift of terrible understanding of what his life would be like if he allowed his fear to change his mind in going through with this plan.

He liked calling it a plan; he felt like he had a small amount of control over the situation; that because it was his choosing to go through with it, he wasn't being used as a pawn in some killer's mind. It was small comfort, but it was enough to give him the tiny glimmer of peace that he needed to not break down and cry for a life that would now go unlived.

He was doing the right thing, of that he had no doubts. But it didn't make it any easier. He made a decision, however, for the Knights, for Gwen, for Gaius and for Arthur, that when he walked out there, he would not show his fear and his grief. He would be strong; the last gift he could give to them to make it the tinniest bit easier on the people who had been there for him since he arrived in Camelot. He would walk out there and search them out, smile at them, reassure them as best he could and try and thank them through a simple look. It was all he could do, but this time, he believed it would be enough.

When the soldiers came to fetch him, he put up no resistance.

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