Hidden Motives

A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews. It's great to know that people are enjoying it so much! Here's the next chapter! Please let me know what you think!

Chapter 18

'He's the imposter!'

Arthur's voice was the first thing that managed to break through the shock that had temporarily taken over Merlin's body when Sythe had walked in, once again fooling everybody into believing that he was the Prince. Merlin looked over at his friend to see the anger and disbelief on his face.

'Guards!' Uther called again.

'No!' Arthur shouted and Merlin desperately wanted to tell him to calm down. Making Uther angry was a sure way of making him deaf to all reasoning. 'No! I'm your son. That man is a sorcerer called Sythe.'

'Silence!' Uther shouted at him, taking several menacing steps towards Arthur, his eyes flashing with rage. 'I know exactly who you are and what you two have done to my son, and you will pay with your lives.'

'He's lying to you!' Arthur said through gritted teeth.

'You've lost Sythe,' Sythe said, stepping up beside Uther and addressing his counterpart. Merlin saw the strain in Arthur as he tried to get away from his captors, but this time they held him firmly. 'I escaped from your prison and you will never have the Kingdom. Camelot will be safe from your tyranny.' Merlin had to admit that Sythe's impersonation was flawless. Everything he said, the tone he used, the way he moved; absolutely everything was exactly as Arthur would do. And Sythe knew this. He was baiting Arthur into loosing control, knowing that Uther would see it as confirmation that Arthur wasn't really his son.

And it was working. Merlin could see that Arthur's control was quickly slipping. He thought about what Sythe had done to Arthur; thought about how much the Prince had suffered. His anger at Sythe was already deeply embedded and this was only making it stronger and more potent. Arthur was exhausted, drained and desperate. He was close to loosing it completely. That would only strengthen Sythe's position. So Merlin decided that he had to do something.

'Why are you doing this?' he asked, Sythe. 'Why Camelot? What do you hope to gain?'

'Do not try and work your manipulative words with me, Merlin,' Sythe spat, turning on him with such a familiar glare that he forgot, for a moment, that he didn't have to worry if this Arthur was angry with him; not for the same reasons anyway.

'You are the expert in that,' Merlin told him.

'How dare you speak to my son like that!' Uther raged.

'Sire,' Merlin began, deciding at this point that things couldn't get much worse. 'This is not your son.'

'Silence!'

'If I was the imposter,' Arthur interrupted, 'and Merlin was working with me, why would I say that he tried to kill me? Why would I risk his execution?'

There was a calmness in him, at least temporarily. He seemed to have reigned in some of his fury to try and focus on convincing his father of the truth. Merlin waited to see what Uther's response to the question would be; Arthur was making a very good point, one which the King would be hard pressed to refute, but one look at Sythe's face told Merlin that he had already covered that particular aspect. Whatever story he had fed to Uther was watertight.

'Don't try to twist your tale into something it isn't. I know that you sent Merlin to kill Arthur, intending to take his place before the alarm could be raised. And when that failed and the boy ran off, your only choice was to capture my son and take his place while he was still alive in the hopes of saving your accomplice.'

'You have been told nothing but lies,' Arthur told him fiercely, 'If Merlin had been sent to kill me, why would the sorcerer suddenly decide to imprison me instead?'

'Because you, sorcerer, are corrupted and led by the evil in your heart!' Uther shouted. 'Once you had taken his place, you chose to torment my son with visions and hallucinations as part of your twisted games. I have been told everything.' His tone was firm; there was no sway in it, no movement from the opinion he held.

'That isn't true, Father!' Arthur argued, his desperation beginning to show through again.

'And your accomplice threatened my life as well,' he continued, as if he hadn't heard Arthur. 'He claimed that he had powerful friends who would be helping him.' Merlin glanced at Arthur to see the Prince glaring at him. He shrugged sheepishly; there wasn't much he could do about that now. It had seemed like a good plan at the time. 'And you are a powerful friend; though not powerful enough to bring down this household.'

'I'm your son! He's the sorcerer. Look!' He tried to shake off his guards again, but they were relentless. 'You want proof, then I'll give you proof. There are gashes around my waist where I have been chained for the last two weeks, not a few days as this traitor says. My hands,' and at this he held them up, just managing to twist his arms against the guards' grip. The injuries on them, though helped my Gaius' ministrations, certainly looked painful, 'are blistered from where I tried to pull the chain loose.'

'You use the very injuries you inflicted on me as false proof?' Sythe asked in fury. 'You take the own evil of your hand and use it to try and turn my father against me.'

'He is not your father!'

'They are not your wounds. They're mine.' With that he lifted the hem of his shirt to reveal a bandage all the way around his middle and, underneath it, deep lesions that could easily be evidence of being chained. He held out his hands and they were blistered raw.

Merlin didn't know whether the injuries were real or simply an illusions, but he could feel the sinking feeling encompassing his body, could sense the despair that was swirling around himself and Arthur. Every turn they took was blocked by Sythe's lies and manipulations. How could they fight those when the truth looked so false by comparison? Merlin didn't know what to do; he hadn't got a clue how to fight Sythe on this one. Uther's mind was made up and when that was the case it was almost impossible to get him to change it.

Sythe had played on the King's deepest fears, that his son had been hurt and captured. The sorcerer had made his way to Uther, no more than an hour or so ago, feigning hurt and horror, and used everything to stir the man's emotions and gain his trust. He had showed the King a son who had been mistreated, he had played on Uther's pride and guilt that he had not recognised the difference and had made sure that the man would turn all that anger and hurt and fear onto his real son, never giving Arthur's explanation a moment's thought. Gaius had said that Sythe was clever, that he could manipulate and take on a role, but Merlin was only now beginning to understand how detrimental those skills could truly be. All Sythe had to do was continue to play his part and drive Arthur mad with the injustice of it and he would win. Uther would execute his son and pave the way for Sythe's takeover.

Unless…Merlin's mind raced. Perhaps there was a way to show who Sythe really was. Memories. Memories that Sythe would have no knowledge of. If Arthur could engage Uther in a conversation about the past, about things that they had shared and done when Arthur was a child then Sythe would have no knowledge that would give him credibility. Merlin opened his mouth to make the suggestion, but before he could utter a word, Arthur was speaking again, his words directed at Sythe.

'I challenge you to a duel.'

'Arthur,' he whispered warningly.

'No, Merlin,' he snapped back, before turning to his father. 'You have watched me fight since I was a boy. You know how I fight. If you want proof that I'm your son then watch me in battle.'

Merlin couldn't help but think that this was a bad idea. Arthur was exhausted. He had not eaten properly for days, he was injured and he was emotional. Sometimes his anger gave him a battle clarity that was deadly, but today Merlin knew it would only serve to make his focus slip.

'Arthur,' he tried again, but the Prince didn't even look at him, instead his eyes were fixed on Sythe. Merlin followed his gaze and, for the first time, saw the slightest flicker of uncertainty on the man's face. He covered it quickly of course, but Merlin realised that Arthur had just gained the upper hand, a precarious one, of that there was no doubt, but the upper hand nonetheless. Because now Sythe had only one choice. He had to accept Arthur's challenge for one simple reason: Arthur Pendragon would never turn down a challenge of a duel regardless of who it came from or whether he was injured.

'A duel with a sorcerer is never a fair fight,' Uther told him. 'You will use magic.'

'I do not possess magic because I am your son,' Arthur said calmly but firmly. 'And even if I was the imposter, using magic would only destroy my disguise. Nobody will be using magic in this duel,' Arthur said, his gaze sliding to Sythe. Merlin saw the man's jaw clench slightly, but he soon regained his composure.

'You will die by my hand, sorcerer,' he said, lifting his head in defiance to Arthur's words. His tone seemed sure, but there was some uncertainty in the way he held himself. Maybe this would work. But still, Merlin felt some unease at this current path. Both Lancelot and Gwaine had agreed that Sythe could fight and that he could do so well. It wouldn't matter if his fighting style didn't quite match up to Arthur's if he did actually succeed in killing him, and in the Prince's current state that was a distinct possibility. Trust Arthur to want to solve a problem by swinging a sword. Merlin's solution would have been so much more peaceful.

But there was nothing for it now, both Arthur's had agreed and Merlin could see that Uther was about to give his consent for the fight; he had utmost faith in Arthur's fighting abilities and he would be able to tell whether it was his son. That meant that Sythe would be backed into a corner and revealed at a time that he hadn't chosen. That would most definitely make him mad.

'Arthur, I'm not sure that this-'

'Merlin, shut up,' Arthur told him warningly. Merlin snapped his mouth shut as he caught sight of the look on Uther's face. He thought Merlin's protest were to do with the fact that he didn't believe that his Arthur could keep up the pretence during a fight. It was giving strength to Sythe's story once again.

Eventually Uther nodded.

'Very well. You will fight and your treachery will be clear. My son will defeat you.' His eyes never left Arthur while he was speaking. He turned to Sythe, a look passing between the two of them: Uther wordlessly asking if he wanted to do this and Sythe nodding back with a resolve that Merlin had seen on Arthur's face hundreds of times in the past.

The guards who had been holding Arthur released him and went to stand beside Uther, while Merlin's captors pulled him towards the side of the room. Merlin tried to keep his face neutral, but he knew his unease was showing through; it was evident in the smug look that Uther directed his way before turning his attention to the fight.

Both Arthurs had discarded their cloaks and moved towards each other, circling slowly as they drew their swords like mirror images. Merlin knew how the battle would start; even he could mimic Arthur's usual opening move; Sythe would have no problems acting the part for now. It was when they got into the heat of battle that the deception would hopefully begin to fall apart. Sure enough, the two Arthur's raised their swords level with their shoulders, pointing forwards, both hands on the hilts and their bodies turned towards each other

It was Arthur who made the first move…just. The moment Sythe saw him take a step forward he did the same, so that they met in the middle in a dangerous clash as their swords were thrust forwards. Both were forced to turn their opponent's sword away and both broke apart, moving to the sides. As they did so, the two swords were swung once around the men's wrists in unison -Arthur's standard refocusing move- while the two men remained upright, their eyes firmly on each other. Merlin's sense of unease began to increase. Had he not known which was the real Arthur, he would have been hard pressed to pick him out. Perhaps Sythe had studied Arthur's fighting style more studiously than they had first believed.

The battle began again as both men started a second charge; this time their attacks were a series of short stabs that knocked them both back several times. And then suddenly Arthur stumbled. Merlin clenched his fists at his sides. What had happened? But as Arthur backed up, Merlin saw him touch his side gingerly; Sythe had caught him with the hilt of his sword as Arthur had tried a wide swing. Sythe pressed his advantage with a set of moves that Merlin had seen all the knights, including Arthur, use before on several occasions. Arthur on the other hand was forced to defend against the fierce attack in a series of clumsy parries as Sythe attacked him from countless different angles, forcing him to try and compensate balance and positioning after every one. The winces of pain on Arthur's face made Merlin aware that Sythe was also forcing Arthur to aggravate the wounds on his sides as he moved to block the blows. This was not going well.

Merlin looked at Uther; it was evident that the fight was only confirming his ideas. From where he was straining against Sythe's attack, Arthur suddenly gave a yell and forced the man back, executing a series of lighting fast attacks that he was well known for. He was relentless, even as his breathing became ragged and his face dripped with sweat. Sythe managed to hold his own, but he had lost the upper hand and his parries now lacked some of the style and precision that had come to be expected from Arthur Pendragon.

Had Arthur been at full health, that particular continued attack would have been all that was necessary to defeat Sythe, but Arthur wasn't at full health. Merlin could see the signs of fatigue as he fought. His face was pained and he grimaced frequently, taking shallow breaths in between his attacks and closing his eyes every now and then against the pain. His hands began to shake on his sword and Merlin could see the tracks of blood -from the now opened blisters- that were beginning to colour the hilt. He was tiring fast and Sythe was not.

The man saw the weakness beginning to claim Arthur and pressed forward once again, almost mimicking exactly the moves that Arthur had just employed, forcing the Prince back across the room, while Uther watched with a deep satisfaction. Merlin's unease blossomed into fully fledge fear as he saw Arthur begin to loose grip on his weapon for a split second. Every step he took now seemed to elicit some sort of pained reaction on his face.

He was going to loose.

Merlin realised it at about the same time he knew Arthur had, because, for a split second, the Prince looked over at him, grief in his features, frustration, a despair that was so easy to read. But then it cleared and his face smoothed out. He blocked Sythe's last blow with a cry that was partly to do with increasing strength and partly to do with releasing some of the agony he was in. He swung several powerful blows that caused Sythe to stagger back several paces, but still it would not be enough.

Taking a deep breath, Merlin did the only thing that he could think to do. He whispered the words of a spell that would hopefully buy them the time they needed. He kept his head bowed to hide his eyes and kept his voice to a whisper that was impossible to hear against the sounds of the fight.

Instantly, black mist flooded the room, as if it they had all been sucked up into dark thunder clouds. A sudden silence encompassed the room and Merlin felt his guards move opposite ways to each other as they moved to get away from what they no doubt perceived to be a magical attack. The difference in their directions meant that Merlin could twist away from their grip. He heard their muffled voices shout, but he was gone, running through the thick cloud blindly, trying to head for the spot where Arthur had just been.

'Guards!' Uther's voice seemed far off in the fog. 'Get them now!'

Merlin continued to run; his hands stretched out in front of him, before he ran headlong into somebody, knocking them to the floor. He prayed desperately that he had calculated the distance accurately and then put his face close to the other person's. Arthur's face, complete with utter exhaustion, swam into view and that was all it took to shift Merlin into action.

'Run,' he whispered. For once, Arthur didn't need telling twice. He accepted Merlin's hand and allowed himself to be pulled up as they heard the shouts of Sythe close by. He was angry, that was for sure, but he was also confused, completely taken by surprise. Of course he was, Merlin thought reluctantly; someone had just used magic and it hadn't been him. Merlin felt the gnawing uncertainty of having revealed his magic to Sythe, for surely the man would guess, but it had been necessary.

Keeping one hand on Arthur's shoulder, Merlin pushed him forward to where the main entrance was; it was the closest exit available to them.

He had only taken three steps when he felt it; the slice of metal across the back of his leg. It wasn't too deep and it definitely wasn't deadly, but Merlin cried out in pain and, on instinct, turned and unleashed a burst of magic in the direction if his attacker. It had to have been Sythe, but the cover of the black fog was so complete that it was impossible to confirm with his own eyes. In the darkness, Arthur hadn't seen the use of magic, but he had heard Merlin's cry.

'Merlin?' he asked in alarm; his voice was close by, but Merlin could only just make out his face; it was full of concern.

'I'm fine, just go. I think it's forwards.'

They pressed ahead quickly. Merlin hissed with every step he took. The sword had caught him on the bottom of his leg, drawing a line of fire down from his knee to the top of his ankle. It hurt.

Soon, however, Merlin all but ran into Arthur as the Prince banged straight into the door. The two of them searched frantically for the metal handles that usually held the wooden beam; all the while hearing the muffled shouts of confusion and anger from the other people in the room. It was evident that at least a couple of them were heading towards them. Eventually, Merlin's hands closed around one of the metal protrusions and he gave it an almighty pull, Arthur joining him as soon as he got a grip on it.

The door swung open and they both rushed through it, slamming it back into place. Merlin gasped as the jarring movement shuddered along his injury.

'We need to go,' he breathed at Arthur. He nodded, turning Merlin around and pushing him forward. Merlin gritted his teeth against the pain in his leg and tried to run in the direction Arthur had faced him, but his leg was struggling to hold his weight. Seeing this, Arthur looped Merlin's arm around his shoulder, providing him with the extra balance and support that he needed. They said nothing to each other, but the grim expressions on both their faces spoke enough about how hopeless they felt.

They pressed on in a stumbling walk, but no sooner had they rounded the corner then they ran into two guards coming the other way. Merlin wasn't sure how their situation could get any worse. Did these guards know; had an alarm been raised? Had Uther let anyone else know about the 'imposter'?

Arthur was not in a position to fight his way out of this. He was barely able to run in a straight line.

'Did we miss all the fun?'

Merlin frowned at the words and looked up at the guard who had uttered them, breathing heavily. Relief flooded through him as he saw Gwaine's grinning face obscured beneath the helmet. Next to him was Lancelot, concern being the main emotion on his. Behind them the door to the throne room opened.

'Run?' Gwaine suggested.

None of them argued.

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