A/N: Bit shorter than my usual chapters, but hey, it's a good place to cut it off. Hope you're all ready for some bromance. I'd almost say this chapter was bromantic fluff if, you know, Merlin and Arthur weren't locked up, hurt, and weaponless.

Chapter Four: A Very Important Destiny

It was hours before the guards returned Merlin to the cell.

As they had before, they gagged him with a rag soaked in something—something that Merlin now realized was to make him more willing—then threw him in. Merlin just managed to twist enough to land on his sore shoulder instead of his face. Terrified of what state he might find Arthur in, Merlin thrashed around for a few seconds like an upturned turtle before managing to swing himself onto his knees and glance frantically around for Arthur.

The king was lying sprawled on the floor by the far wall of the cell, unmoving.

Trying not to fall on his face, Merlin scooted on his knees as fast as he could towards Arthur, afraid of what he might see.

His first feeling was a flicker of relief—Gwil hadn't been lying when he said Arthur wasn't too badly hurt, especially compared to some of the scenarios that had been going through Merlin's head. Although he was clearly unconscious, Arthur was still in one piece, still breathing steadily, even still wearing his armor.

But Arthur was hurt. The center of his face was a mess of dried blood, and a huge purple splotch was spreading over his left eye. Merlin wasn't sure which blow had landed first, but it was clear one of the blows had been to Arthur's nose and possibly broken it—It was hard to tell under that much blood. The other blow had knocked him unconscious. Merlin hoped the blow to knock Arthur out had come first so that he wouldn't have felt the pain of his nose, but the pessimistic side of him doubted it. Arthur's armor had hurt him more than it helped—Merlin suspected both blows had been to Arthur's head because Trent had been too lazy or eager for blood to be bothered to deal with the armor's ties.

For the thousandth time, Merlin cursed the stupid chains keeping him bound. Not only could he not use magic to heal Arthur, but with his hands behind him, he couldn't do anything for his injured friend at all. He couldn't check to see if the king's nose was actually broken, couldn't wipe away the blood covering his face or feel for a fractured skull, couldn't shift him into a more comfortable position, couldn't even whisper words of comfort, because he was gagged as well as chained.

He carefully bent over, lowering his ear to press over Arthur's chest, but he couldn't hear a heartbeat through the thick armor and chainmail. He didn't necessarily need to hear a heartbeat right that moment, because if Arthur was breathing, then his heart was probably fine too, but the warlock found himself fighting tears of frustration anyway. He couldn't think of a time when he had felt so useless.

Arthur was injured because of him, and he could do absolutely nothing about it. And Gwil was going to take him away and make him breathe more of that horrible smoke that made his head ache and force him to answer more questions and if he didn't answer them Arthur was going to get hurt again and his magic was gone and how exactly was he going to get them out of this and this was all his fault…

Merlin took several deep breaths through his nose until he stopped shaking. Arthur was going to be fine, he told himself. Arthur was going to be fine, Arthur was going to be fine…

But not if he didn't get Arthur out of here, and soon. The knights would surely be looking for them by now, but he had no guarantees he and Arthur would be found anytime in the immediate future, or if the knights would be able to even do anything if they found them.

He thought about calling Kilgharrah, but he wasn't sure the dragon could be much help—they were trapped in an underground cavern of some kind, out of even Kilgharrah's reach. Besides, there was still the matter of his being gagged. Not to mention Merlin wasn't even entirely sure if the chains would try to keep him from using his dragonlord abilities. If he ever managed to get Arthur above ground, he would call the dragon, but for now, Merlin decided he was probably better off not risking death for nothing and keeping this secret to himself, especially as Gwil didn't seem to know he was a dragonlord.

Although Gwil did seem to know an awful lot about him. It seemed that Gwil had not only been watching him for some time, but that he had heard a lot from Morgana as well. Answering the questions about himself had been humiliating, but after the second time Gwil had ordered Arthur hurt, Merlin didn't dare lie again.

Fortunately, it seemed Gwil was primarily interested in Morgana. He wanted to know her hideouts, her weaknesses, what sort of magic she knew. Merlin had no idea if Gwil was testing him for honesty or if he genuinely wanted to know, but either way he still didn't dare lie. It felt wrong, somehow, to tell Gwil about Morgana. It hurt to think of Morgana—the old Morgana, the pretty, compassionate girl he remembered—telling Gwil everything she knew about him. But it felt even worse to tell Gwil everything he knew about her. Was it possible, Merlin wondered, to betray someone who was now his enemy—who was, in fact, the reason he was in this predicament in the first place?

Merlin turned away from his motionless friend still lying on the floor. He didn't think Arthur would have done what he'd done—Arthur was too noble, even about his enemies—but either way, there was nothing Merlin could do about it now. He'd done the best he could to protect both Arthur and Camelot, and now he'd have to live with the guilt that came with it, like he always did.

Trying not to trip, he scooted on his knees over to the door and examined it. There was a food slot, Merlin noted, although his stomach reminded him it hadn't been used, and likely never would. The slot seemed barely large enough to accommodate a tray, never mind an arm. The food slot, he concluded, was useless for escape.

The door itself was thick and sturdy, although the hinges looked slightly rattled, as if they'd taken on a great weight. Merlin glanced back at Arthur guiltily. The king had probably thrown himself at the door.

But it wouldn't have done any good. The door had something magical on it; Merlin could sense it. For sturdiness, perhaps? He leaned his cheek against the door and closed his eyes, ignoring the warning heat creeping painfully onto his wrists and through his jacket.

His brow wrinkled slightly as he concentrated. Not for sturdiness. For binding. He wondered if this was what kept Arthur from moving when their captors came to the cell. Activated when the door was open, most likely. He could have taken care of it with some effort were his magic not nearly strangled by these wretched chains…Would it be worth a try anyway?

He cast around in his mind for a suitable spell. "Ic al—"

But after barely a few syllables, the pain emanating from the chains encircling him flared. He let out a muffled scream and clenched his eyes shut, burying his magic back down.

Maybe he could take the spell off the door, but the effort would probably kill him. He was willing to do it if it meant Arthur got out of here safely, but doing it now, while Arthur was unconscious and injured, would not bode well for the king's chances of survival. On the other hand, what if he were in worse condition tomorrow? Gwil claimed he wasn't going to kill Arthur, but Merlin knew that guarantee wouldn't last long. He had no doubt Gwil would kill Arthur if he didn't swear loyalty soon enough. And there was no way he could ever let someone like Gwil control his magic.

Merlin stared at the door, weighing his options carefully. Should he sacrifice himself now and hope Arthur would be able to make his way out alone when he woke up? Should he wait for Arthur to wake up, urge him to run for it, and then remove the spell from the door? Or should he bide his time and wait until an opportunity with a higher chance of Arthur living through this presented itself? Would such an opportunity ever actually come?

A slow moan came from behind him, and Merlin whirled away from the door, his whole body lighting up with hope as he scrambled to Arthur's side.

"Er'r!"

"Mer…Merlin?" Arthur's eyes cracked open. He raised a hand to his head, then winced as he touched the ugly bruise forming on his temple. "You forgot breakfast again…Wait. We—" The king sat up quickly, then swayed and pressed his hand to his head again.

Don't sit up that fast, you prat, you might have a concussion! Merlin wanted to yell, but all that came out was a muffled mess.

Still holding his head and cringing, Arthur waved his free hand blindly in Merlin's direction until his fingers found the gag and yanked it down.

"—absolute dollophead, stay down and sit still!" Merlin ordered.

Arthur blinked at him as if not quite sure what he was doing there.

"Look at me, Arthur. That's right, look at me…" Merlin stuck his head into Arthur's face to block the limited light and stared into his eyes before sitting back, satisfied. "Alright, I don't think you have a concussion. How do you feel? Any ringing in your ears? Any nausea? Too bright? Too dark? Too loud? Too—"

Arthur finally pulled his hand away from his face and sat a little straighter. "Shut up, Merlin."

Merlin sighed in relief. "Good to see you're no more touched in the head than usual. How's your nose?"

Arthur touched it gingerly, cringing as he felt the blood caked there. "Hurts. But I don't think it's broken…Does it look crooked?"

"Oh, yeah, like it's been twisted right off. Gwen'll never be able to look at you again."

Arthur's eyes widened for the briefest moments in panic, but then he scowled. "I'll have you know, she appreciates me for more than my nose."

"You're right; there's also your dollop-shaped head and prattish charm."

"You could go to the stocks for that."

"Not while I'm in here, I won't. What happened?"

"I should be asking you that."

"Well, how should I know? You were like this when I got here."

"The sorcerer, the one who gave you the poison, Trent, he came in here. Didn't say a word, just punched me straight in the face, and I was stuck to the wall, couldn't do anything, couldn't even duck…"

"That'll be the door. It's got some kind of binding spell on it." Merlin clamped his jaw together before he said anything else. Whatever was in that smoke was making it harder to think before he spoke.

But Arthur, as usual, didn't seem to notice. "And then he turned to leave, and then someone else came in and said something, and then he just marched back in and next thing I remember is waking up to see your stupid face. And I know this has got something to do with you, Merlin, so what happened?"

"I…Gwil asked me something. And I didn't answer, and you…this is all my fault. I'm sorry." He could feel his voice growing thick.

Arthur looked at him a long moment, and Merlin was sure he was about to accuse him of acting like a girl. But instead, Arthur put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "You did the right thing, Merlin. Protecting Camelot comes first. Camelot is far more important than any one man, even her king—especially her king. And you've shown incredible loyalty and bravery and…And I hate that you're here, but I'm glad you're here with me."

"Now I know you've got a concussion."

Arthur gave him a light shove. "Shut up. I mean it."

Merlin felt warmth settle inside his chest.

Arthur hesitated a moment. "Is he using magic on you?"

"What? No." Sensing from Arthur's confused expression that he had answered too quickly, Merlin added, "He hasn't got any magic. I think that's why he needs Trent…"

"No magic? Then how do you explain the door and these?" He gave the chains a small tug.

"Pretty sure the door is from Trent. The chains are from Morgana."

"Morgana? Then she's behind this?"

"Sort of. She's like…Gwil's sponsor or something. They're working together."

"Then she's here."

"I don't think so. He's double-crossing her; he'll be trying to keep her from showing up."

"Double-cross her how?"

"Er…I don't know, it's just sort of…an impression I got."

Arthur was silent for a long moment. Merlin knew he didn't like talking about Morgana. That was fine with Merlin, as he didn't much like talking about her either.

"I don't understand," Arthur said finally.

"Oh, that's a surprise."

"Be serious, Merlin. Gwil's barely even glanced at me since I got here. He's captured the king of Camelot, and yet it's you he's focusing on. What does he want from you, exactly?"

Merlin tensed. What was he supposed to say? "Nothing."

"The truth, Merlin."

Merlin flinched and blurted, "He wants me to swear allegiance and serve him."

Arthur stared at him as if he had just said something incredibly stupid. Merlin cursed in his head. How was he supposed to explain that away?

"He wants you to serve him? But you're a horrible servant!"

Merlin deflated. "I know."

"You're clumsy and late and spend all your time in the tavern!"

"Yes, I get it."

"And even if you were a decent servant, no one goes to these lengths for that! There's more to this than that, Merlin. Tell me."

"Arthur, please don't." Merlin didn't know when his voice had started to sound so small. "Please…not now."

Arthur stared at him incredulously. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again.

Merlin wondered if he should just tell Arthur everything. He was so close. It was on the tip of his tongue…But his head hurt and he felt so, so weak, and he didn't think he had the strength to go through all that with Arthur just now. If his gamble went wrong…if Arthur rejected him now…It would absolutely shatter him. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep going.

But he should tell him. Arthur needed to know. And it was only a matter of time before Arthur realized what was going on anyway.

Merlin took a deep breath, ready to spill his deepest secret at last. "Arthur—"

"How're your wrists?" asked Arthur at the same time, peering around him.

Merlin closed his mouth and frowned. He really didn't want to think about them. He couldn't see behind his back, but based on the way his wrists screamed at the slightest movement, they couldn't look good. Arthur's sharp breath confirmed his suspicions.

"Bloody sorcerer," Arthur muttered, voice filled with venom, and Merlin's heart sunk. Arthur would hate him if he told him now. Just a little longer.

"Is the other one, the big one, is it…?"

Merlin bit his lip, debating on how much to tell him. "Yeah, the big one's burning too. I think my clothes are protecting me from most of it, but…yeah."

"Do you think if I put the cape on it again…?"

Merlin glanced at the ratty cape. "Better not. It'll infect it."

"Oh…Well…If there's anything I can…can do to make you feel better or…something…"

Merlin looked back in surprise. "I'll tell you."

Arthur settled back against the cell wall, nodding. "Good. Good. Glad that's settled then."

The warmth in Merlin's chest spread all the way to his toes, and it felt a little bit like magic that not even the chains could suppress.

Through some maneuvering, he managed to scoot to sit next to Arthur, shoulder to shoulder. They sat there in companionable silence for a few moments before Merlin, thinking of Gwil's tea and how thirsty he was, smacked his lips.

"Merlin."

"What?"

"Don't do that."

"What?"

"That…smacking thing."

"...Oh, you mean this?" He smacked them again.

"Yes, Merlin, I meant that!"

"But I'm thirsty."

"So am I, but I am trying not to be an annoying idiot about it."

"Well, there's the difference between you and me."

"The fact that you're an annoying idiot? I agree."

"The fact that I've got a destiny, Arthur. A very important one."

"You don't say. And what, pray tell, is that?"

Merlin grinned and smacked his lips again as obnoxiously as possible. "It is my destiny to annoy you until the end of time."

"Merlin!"

A/N: Only you can prevent forest fires...by leaving a review. Possibly. At least it's worth a shot, right?

Ic alaete…(beginning of Merlin's spell) = I release…