Hidden Motives

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. Hope you like the next chapter. Please let me know!

Chapter 15

Merlin attempted to cry out as his fingers wrapped around Arthur's hands, trying to prise them open, but to no avail. The Prince's arms were tense with the effort he was putting into choking the life out of Merlin.

'Arthur,' he gasped, the word barely above a whisper, but the Prince only slammed his head hard against the rock floor. Merlin felt the world pitch at the impact, pain shooting through his head like a knife, and for a moment his hands loosened on Arthur's. Was this really how he was going to die? At the hands of a possessed Arthur who, if he ever realised what he had done, would be destroyed by the guilt. But suddenly Lancelot was there, having thrown the torch to the floor. With a shout, he leapt towards Arthur, tackling him around the chest. Even with the force of Lancelot's attack, Arthur still didn't let go of Merlin's neck and he felt himself being hauled forward so that suddenly he was pinning Arthur, but without the advantage of the upper hand. Lancelot joined in the efforts to prise Arthur's hands loose, but Merlin knew in himself that his strength was dwindling. His vision was blurring and his chest felt like it was trying to burst open.

'You're going to kill him!' Lancelot yelled at Arthur, but the Prince showed nothing other than satisfaction. Just as he was about to pass out, Merlin saw the gleam of Lancelot's sword and then felt Arthur tense from where Lancelot had delivered a deep cut to the back of the Prince's hand. With a yell he loosened that hand and Lancelot pulled Merlin away with so much force that it knocked both of them backwards, leaving Arthur snarling on the floor.

Merlin rolled sideways, away from Lancelot, gasping in deep breaths between choking and coughing. His stomach heaved and he vomited what little was in it onto the floor, before taking more desperate inhalations in an attempt to fill his pleading lungs. He rolled onto his back, and tried to clear his vision by blinking rapidly. From his sideways view on the floor, he watched Arthur scramble to his feet and take two steps forward before Lancelot blocked his way. Arthur lunged at him, but the attack was uncharacteristically sloppy and the knight sidestepped it easily, before delivering a hard blow to the side of Arthur's head. He staggered to the side and then collapsed to the floor; still conscious, but completely dazed by the impact.

Merlin closed his eyes and felt his chest heaving up and down as if his body wasn't sure when it would find itself running out of air once more. A gentle hand on his shoulder caused him to open his eyes again and he saw Lancelot's worried face studying him intently.

'Are you alright?'

'…I…' Merlin tried to reassure him, but he couldn't speak; his throat was screaming in agony. He nodded his head instead and gratefully accepted the hand that Lancelot offered to pull him to his feet. Once upright, Merlin felt his balance waver and cringed as his head pounded, but after a few seconds and a few magical thoughts, as Arthur was looking the other way, Merlin managed to ease those symptoms.

On the floor, Arthur seemed to have given up the fight. He lay there, groaning slightly and trying to sit himself up properly. Merlin and Lancelot took several steps towards him, but still kept a healthy distance. This was not what Merlin had expected. He had been prepared for Arthur to be in a bad physical state, but he had never for one moment entertained the idea that his mind would be so troubled. The Prince looked at them, fury in his eyes.

'My mind is my own; get out of it, now,' the threat in his voice sent a shudder through Merlin, but it was quickly followed by a sudden revelation. He looked over at Lancelot, his eyes wide, but the knight had caught on.

'The enchantment,' he said quickly. 'It wasn't just for show.'

'Arthur,' Merlin whispered, his voice cracking and making its protests against the usage well and truly known. Instantly, Lancelot was kneeling beside Arthur who looked wary, but didn't move to attack him.

'Arthur, this is real. It isn't a vision or a hallucination. Merlin and I have been trying to find you and rescue you.'

Arthur laughed and shook his head, sitting himself up slowly.

'It's convincing, I'll give you that.' His voice was cold, devoid of all emotion. 'Except for one fact,' he added, anger and pain in his words. 'Merlin is dead.'

The shock that Merlin felt at hearing the words was soon replaced by an overwhelming grief for what Arthur had gone through, because there was no doubt that the Prince believed what he was saying.

'Dead?' he asked, his voice no louder than a whisper, but Arthur heard it and flinched. Cautiously Merlin moved closer, but Arthur refused to look him in the eye.

'Why do you say that?' Lancelot asked.

'No, I won't go along with this. I'm not playing your games anymore,' Arthur told him firmly, shuffling back, but Merlin moved towards him, knelt down and laid a hand on his shoulder. He recoiled from it instantly, but it staid him in his tracks and he looked at Lancelot again. 'I saw it all: the false murder charge; the conversations in the dungeons; Merlin deciding to go through with the execution. You made me live the conversations,' he said viciously, stabbing a finger into Lancelot's chest.

'They were visions,' Merlin croaked. 'This is real.'

'You were executed,' Arthur told him, still not looking at him, still with bile in his voice.

'No…I…I,' he faltered as his throat seemed to close against the movement. 'I was going to be and then I…' he shook his head in frustration and looked pleadingly at Lancelot. 'I can't…' he mouthed, pointing at his throat.

'He realised that it wasn't really you,' Lancelot continued. 'He realised you were being impersonated so he escaped and Gwaine and I got him out of the city.'

Arthur's face, which had been a mask of fierce anger, began to smooth out at the words into one of disbelief and shock.

'What?' he breathed, his voice sounding no stronger than Merlin's. 'But all the conversations, the plan to get executed…'

'They happened,' Lancelot nodded, 'but the execution never went ahead. The sorcerer's been lying to you.'

Arthur turned to look at Merlin, his eyes wide and vulnerable, hope beginning to brim in them, a hope that he was desperately fighting.

'You're…?'

'Me,' Merlin nodded, attempting his best reassuring-Arthur grin, but being quite certain that he was failing miserably with the pain he was in.

'But…'

'Come on Arthur,' he whispered, forcing his throat through the pain. 'You know I always survive.'

Merlin saw that the words cemented the truth in Arthur's mind. His whole face changed, a brightness seemed to flood into it and some of the pain that had caused it to be so tense and fierce melted away. He opened his mouth to speak again, but stopped before any words came out. Merlin saw the emotion running through him, the immense relief at finding out the truth. The Prince's eyes grew bright and his face trembled as he attempted to hold back the tears that he so rarely displayed. Instead he put his hand on Merlin's shoulder –such a familiar gesture, but one that had never been carried out with such a weight of grief in it. Merlin could almost feel Arthur's pain at believing his friend had died and it brought tears to his own eyes. He wished for the hundredth time that he had realised sooner.

Merlin expected Arthur to say something to him, anything at all, but instead, the Prince put his head down and dropped his hand. His shoulders began to shake with emotion and he put his head in his hands, his breathing ragged and disjointed.

'Arthur,' Merlin whispered. He looked over at Lancelot wanting to know what he should do, but the knight had moved away, evidently deciding that the moment was a private one. And so Merlin turned to his own instincts. Something told him that, for once, witty banter would not be the way forward. Whatever Arthur had been through, had affected him much more deeply than Merlin could have anticipated. The only time he had seen Arthur like this was when he had challenged Uther about his mother's death.

What had Uther done then? But no, Merlin would not use Uther's attempts at comfort. Uther had lied his way through that situation. No, Merlin had known Arthur long enough to know how he could help him and it was simple really; there was one thing that Arthur had always needed and always would need, though he would never admit it.

He needed someone by him.

And so Merlin moved over until he was sitting next to Arthur, and then slowly he put a hand across his friend's shoulder. He didn't say anything, knowing it would only embarrass Arthur. He just sat with him, sharing his pain, trying to ease it, trying to make him see that it was not necessary.

Arthur didn't move, gave no indication that Merlin's efforts had made any difference to him, but one thing convinced him that it had, Arthur didn't stop crying. He knew how ridiculous that logic was, but he also knew that an Arthur who wanted to hide his emotions and hurts would have shrugged off the arm around his shoulder and forced his tears to cease. This Arthur, this Arthur who Merlin had only seen glimpses of in the past, was one who didn't care if Merlin saw him upset, who simply needed someone to be there with him.

It took only a few minutes for Arthur to stop crying, but he kept his head in his hands for much longer before suddenly putting his head up and looking at Merlin fearfully.

'Guinevere,' he said. 'Sythe is trying to-'

'Gw…' Merlin cursed his throat's weakness. 'Gwaine has hidden her,' he managed the second time, some of his own tone entering back into it, rather than the ragged whispers.

Arthur's relief was evident, but his expression soon sobered and his eyes dropped down to Merlin's throat, which he was sure was now covered in purple bruises. Self-consciously he pulled his neckerchief higher up, in an attempt to conceal them, before realising that he wasn't wearing it; it hadn't quite gone with his guard of Camelot disguise. He could see the guilt in Arthur's eyes.

'Merlin…I…' he began, but Merlin shook his head.

'It's fine, you were confused,' he whispered.

'It's not fine, Merlin. I could have killed you.'

'Nah, you'd never manage it,' he grinned, but the hacking coughs that followed his attempt to speak more loudly ruined the carefree effect he had been going for somewhat and only served to fill Arthur's face with more guilt. 'Really,' he said once they'd subsided. 'I'm fine.'

'I'm sorry.'

'You apologising?' Merlin replied. 'Maybe you're the imposter.'

Arthur looked at him incredulously and then gave him a gentle shove.

'Well you're definitely not one,' Arthur told him, but then he looked at him seriously again. 'Thank you, Merlin.'

'For my fantastic sense of humour?'

Arthur shrugged. 'Just thank you,' he nodded. Merlin didn't know what to say to that and so settled for nodding back.

'We need to go.' Both he and Arthur looked up at the sound of Lancelot's voice. 'We need to get you out of that chain.' He took out his sword and asked Arthur to pull the chain tight against the weight that it was welded into. Merlin noticed, with concern, that Arthur's steps were much more fatigued than they had first appeared. The sooner they got him out of here, the better.

Once Arthur had pulled the chain as tight as he could, which sent him around the other side of the weight, Lancelot gave Merlin a meaningful look. Merlin moved around the side and saw what Lancelot meant. The chain was thick and if the magical history of this place was any indication, it could be very difficult to break.

Signalling that Lancelot should distract Arthur, Merlin reached out his hand and touched the blade of the sword. While Lancelot told Arthur, very loudly, to pull the chain tighter, Merlin whispered a fortifying spell over the sword. With that done, Lancelot moved closer to where Arthur was and took an almighty swing at the chain.

It came away first time, leaving Arthur with about half a metre's worth of chain left dangling from his waist.

'We'll get the rest off later,' Lancelot assured him. 'We've brought extra clothes to disguise the fact that you were kidnapped,' he continued, nodding to Merlin. The two of them began taking off their layers.

'Why?' Arthur asked. 'The sooner the people see me, the sooner we can prove the other me's an imposter.'

'No, we need more time to convince your father. As soon as Theo hears-'

'Theo?' Arthur interrupted. 'Theo as in keeper of armoury and training grounds?'

'He's the sorcerer, Sythe,' Merlin nodded, pleased to hear that his voice was sounding minutely more normal.

'But he was here for years. He was an excellent worker,' Arthur argued.

Merlin tried to outline what they had found, but his voice wouldn't co-operate and so Lancelot took over. Arthur still didn't look convinced, but nodded his assent. At this point, anything was possible.

'So we need you to appear to be the same Arthur that's been here for the past two weeks,' Lancelot finished. 'If not, it will give Sythe a chance to retaliate before we've convinced your father of the truth.'

They got changed into their clothes, Merlin trying not to look too closely at the wound that ran around Arthur's waist, and then Lancelot retrieved the two helmets that had gone skittering across the floor during Arthur's crazed attack earlier. That done, they headed back towards the tunnel. Merlin knew that they had hours before Sythe even attempted to come and visit Arthur, but suddenly his sense of urgency increased ten fold and his pace quickened towards the tunnel.

Their progress was relatively quick back to the ledge, but Merlin could tell that Arthur was struggling. It was only when he looked back over his shoulder and saw the Prince's pained expression that he remembered the blistered hands that had no doubt been caused by pulling at the chain; coupled with the slash Lancelot had given him, it was fair to assume that Arthur was in a lot of pain. It was at that point that Merlin realised the two problems they were facing once they reached the ledge. The first being that, with his hands in that state, Arthur would not be able to climb the rope back up to the platform and the second being that, if by some miracle Arthur did manage to reach the top, he was no doubt going to be somewhat suspicious as to how they welded a rope into a sheer rock face.

He voiced his concerns about the first problem to the two of them. Arthur insisted that he would manage it; Merlin laughed that off and told him to stop being so arrogant, and then Lancelot, much to Arthur's dismay, suggested that they tie the rope around him and haul him up. The Prince tried to argue, but eventually conceded that it would probably be the only way.

Fifteen minutes later, Merlin found himself staring up into the darkness as Lancelot climbed the rope back up to the dragon cave entrance. Quickly he went over his plan to ensure that Arthur went up last, at least then, Merlin could un-weld the rope and have the combined strength of Lancelot and himself to haul Arthur the rest of they way up. Now all he had to do was convince Arthur to let him go first.

As it turned out, it wasn't necessary.

'You go next, Merlin,' Arthur told him as Lancelot reached the top and began swinging the rope back and forth so that it could reach them on the ledge.

Merlin found his mouth opening to argue. It suddenly seemed absurd that Arthur should be left down here, alone and undefended. But he clamped it shut and nodded his assent. It wasn't until he was three or four metres up that he turned back to Arthur grinning.

'Good job I went first; it'll need the two of us to pull you up.'

'Merlin!'

As soon as Merlin got to the top, he whispered the spell to release the rope from the rock face and joined Lancelot in bracing themselves against the strain of pulling Arthur up, but soon enough he was at the top with them, untying the knots that he had created as fast as he could.

Merlin waited with baited breath to see whether he would ask about where the rope had been tied, but he made no comment, evidently making his own assumptions, none of which –Merlin was sure- would be anywhere near the truth. A few minutes later, Arthur was striding purposely through the dungeons, two guards following obediently behind him.

It was with a terrible sense of fatigue that Arthur made his way through Camelot. Merlin had instructed him to head towards Gaius' quarters, but never had the rooms seemed such a distance away. His mind was racing with so many thoughts, that he found it hard to even concentrate on the route he would take. All he knew was that he was meant to avoid any of the main routes so that they didn't run into Sythe.

Despite the obvious perils of their current situation and his exhausted, malnourished and emotionally drained state, Arthur felt an incredible lightness inside of himself.

Merlin was alive!

The joy that he had felt when he had realised the truth had completely overwhelmed him. The pain that had been drowning him and burning him inside suddenly evaporated out of his being, leaving him with a euphoric sense of light and goodness; two things that he always associated with his manservant. But not only that: for a moment, one where the heights of his emotions had given him an unparalleled clarity, Arthur had realised how much he needed Merlin. The feeling of a connection between them had suddenly been just as much of a reality as the pain in his body.

A sense of purpose had encompassed him, and even now, with the certainty of that revelation fading, he still felt the undeniable pull of it; the thought that he and Merlin, together were meant to achieve something more than what they were currently doing. It pulsed through him like a heartbeat; like life itself. He had laughed it off at first: Merlin and himself working towards something together, each an irreplaceable piece of the same plan! But his amusement had fallen flat and he had been forced to admit that ever since they had met, the same feeling had been there. Merlin acted in a way which suggested to Arthur that he already knew about the connection, that he felt it or understood it. It was evident in his dedication, in his actions, in the way he had gently and loyally steered Arthur and counselled him and encouraged him when times were tough.

Arthur had never realised what Merlin's commitment had stemmed from, but now he began to believe that Merlin had known for years. Suddenly he wondered if his friend had always felt the same sense of togetherness and future that now thrummed through Arthur in a way that he couldn't deny.

One word was whispering around Arthur's head and, as much as he tried to ignore it, he couldn't shake it from his mind.

Destiny.

Never before would Arthur had believed that he and Merlin were destined to meet and become friends and shape the future; he would have laughed at anyone who even hinted at it. But now…now he couldn't quite convince himself that there was any other explanation. He had known the deep and cutting grief of believing that Merlin was dead and it had been about loosing his friend, the most devoted of servants, but it had also filled him with an emptiness that came from feeling like a certain path had been closed to you.

And then he had discovered the truth, discovered that Merlin was alive and rescuing him and helping him, and suddenly he had felt a path forming once more, a path that was only open to him if Merlin was there. And somehow, it felt like the one he was meant to walk.

He glanced back at Merlin -who gave him a grin that no guard of Camelot would ever display- and then noticed the marks on his neck, just visible above the chainmail collar. Guilt flared through him again; how close had he come to making Sythe's deception a reality? He found it hard not to blame himself, but of course Merlin would never want him to.

He put it aside for now. Merlin's wounds would heal, as would Arthur's guilt.

They continued forward and Arthur saw the castle as if it was a distant memory returning to him. Everything was so normal, so natural. For the first time, he understood the completeness of Sythe's deception: no-one had had a clue that anything was wrong; they still didn't. The moon shone down on a city content in the belief that all was safe and that their rulers were working for them.

The warning bells peeling out across the town, however, soon shattered that illusion. Arthur turned to Lancelot and Merlin in alarm.

'Oh no,' Merlin breathed. 'He must have found out.'

'How?' Lancelot asked as a group of soldiers headed towards them, all but running.

'Sire,' one said. 'What are your orders?' For a moment, Arthur found that he had no idea how to answer. What could he say? He didn't know what they had been told. He could only assume that they hadn't yet seen his doppelganger.

'What information have you been given?'

'Only what you have told the generals, my Lord: the escaped prisoners are back in Camelot.'

'Then concentrate your search on the lower town. They will not risk coming near the castle,' Arthur said, pushing as much authority into his voice. After two weeks of being completely under Sythe's control, that was harder to do than he had expected. The soldiers disappeared quickly, but all around them, the castle was coming to life. Servants were waking; knights and soldiers were emptying from their rooms. Arthur moved forward, detouring to a guards' station to borrow a sword. If he was going to appear convincing as Prince –he rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of his thoughts- he needed a sword. As soon as he had it, he felt more at ease.

'We need to get to Gaius,' Merlin told him as they moved on. 'Just act natural.'

'I'm doing that Merlin, I've just picked up a sword,' Arthur told him through clenched teeth.

'I know, but just make sure you act like Arthur.'

'I am, Arthur!' he said, turning and fixing Merlin with a glare. Merlin had the decency to look sheepish. Destiny or not, Arthur wished he would keep some of those comments to himself sometimes.

They carried on, attempting to look like they were urgently dealing with the current situation, but as they got closer to the courtyard, taking the lesser used side passages, more mixed reports began coming in as soldiers and knights alike began bringing messages.

'Fires in the lower town, Sire.'

'Riots, my Lord. They're spreading throughout the town.'

'What is going on?' Arthur asked Merlin and Lancelot, once the soldiers had gone.

'I have a bad feeling that this might be Gwaine's attempt at a distraction,' Lancelot told him.

'Fires and riots?' Arthur asked him incredulously.

'It's Gwaine,' Merlin pointed out. Arthur glared at him again as they made their way out onto the courtyard, trying once again to look like they were meant to be there.

'I thought he was meant to be distracting Sythe so that he didn't find out I was gone?'

'Maybe he figured he might as well…'

Arthur looked at the two guards that had been following him. If the search for the imposters was going to be successful, he needed every man to be out there looking for Lancelot, Gwaine and Merlin. They were traitors to Camelot, supposed friends and allies who had proven that they were enemies that could never be trusted; who had hurt him deeply and in the most terrible ways.

He opened his mouth to order them away, but then felt shock flow through him as he recognised the very faces of the men he had been so desperately trying to bring to justice. Instantly his defences flew up. How had they followed him? More importantly, what were they going to do now? Evidently they were planning to ambush him.

Arthur looked around and saw the soldiers running back and forth in the courtyard a few metres away. A smile crept across his face. Whatever their plan was, it would not work. He drew his sword, watched them recoil in shock. 'You will pay for your crimes.'

With that he swung his sword at the stunned men.

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