The Bonds of Friendship

Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to the BBC, only the storyline belongs to me

So this is the final chapter - thank you to all my readers; past, present and future! Thank you for your reviews, favourites and alerts but don't allow the word 'completed' to stop you doing these actions :P

Also a special thank you to Ocean Mint Leaves who has been so kind with her words and effort to review after all my chapters - you really inspired me to get through my moments of writers block :)

I hope you enjoy it x

A Promise Fulfilled

The cold night air was like a slap in the face as pain shot up the rejected man's dried cheek from the shift of wind scratching his open wounds. He huddled further into himself in the corner of the cell opposite to where the remainders of the wooden bed lay, trying to retain some of his body heat; it seemed that the guards didn't appreciate the idea of someone trying to kill their prince and liked it even less when the same person did anything to bring harm to the castle pet.

A rugged cough dragged out of his bloodied throat and the movement caused the neck chain to rub further into his skin; he released a strangled hiss as his bruised wrists automatically tried to rise to adjust the chain but were held back by the set of shackles attached to the dank wall.

Despite the past seventeen hours he had spent aching and bleeding in the corner of the small cell after a serious beating, where he had been repeatedly reminded that nobody touches the prince or Merlin without consequence; Cirion was still finding it hard to grasp the fact that he had failed.

His entire life had been filled with the drive to be the best, to be the smartest and quickest and to never allow himself a moment to think about the hurt he had caused through his rise to power.

Which was why the lonesome hours in the dungeon had left cracked tear tracks on his face as the silence and lack of opportunity requiring him to be planning someone's downfall had closed in on his mind; leaving only the hidden images and sounds of the dead screaming curses to his name as company.

He had once been a remorseful man; like others he had felt guilt for his wrong doings and would try to set them right with apologies and kind gestures to neutralise the pain he had caused.

The King could remember the exact moment that he had become what he was now.

It had been led by his need for power; Lorem had always been looked down on as the weak kingdom, laughed at by the other members of court, only visited out of pity. Aurea had been the chance to change that ever-grating perspective; he was the fresh and new player to the private game among the lands.

He had loved his son; it may have been an expression that he never showed but it was there none the less. That's why when the sharp echo of his hand striking the cheek of his five year old son sounded after the boy claimed he didn't want to be a prince, the guilt that filled Cirion was so over-whelming that the man had suppressed it far within his mind, as he knew that no words could ever apologise enough for what he had just done to the little boy he loved so deeply.

From that day Cirion no longer uttered the word 'sorry' or tried to rectify his actions through gifts and unexpected acts of mercy because he knew that if he apologised for even the smallest action, that burning guilt would stifle him as his mind would whisper that if he could be remorseful for shouting at a servant, then he had to deal with the fact that the hideous purple bruise his son had displayed for a week had been his fault.

This unhealthy technique had left a raging storm of self-hatred and guilt living with him every second of the day, and his need to pour out the anger that deep within he knew he deserved, caused it to be thrust upon everyone else; his people, his wife… his son.

And when all of that was stolen away from him in one moment, the King had scavenged to find anywhere else to store his dark emotions as they began to crawl up from the depths of his mind and cut at him for all the pain and death he had caused. It had been a desperate faint memory of the golden prince of Camelot flashing through the darkness that had lighted the pure hatred for the boy and had caused his broken mind to blame all of his losses on Arthur Pendragon.

A sharp click shattered the King's replay of self-loathing and he growled at being unable to wipe away the fresh tears dripping onto his cuts as the dull creak of the dungeon door echoed into the small space. On raising his head his growl deepened at the sight of the very man plaguing his thoughts standing before him; studying him with a blank expression.

The rumbling noise from Cirion's throat seemed to snap Arthur from his inner contemplations and he threw a quick look down the strangely empty corridor before crouching in front of the King; leaving a few inches between them. He cursed his body for flinching as the prince entered his personal space, but he managed to hold the piercing gaze that was sent at him, waiting for the boy to speak first and divulge his motives for being in the cell.

"Do you love your son?"

Cirion froze at the unimaginable question, out of all the words he'd expected to come from the prince's mouth, maybe involving long-strewn insults with a broken nose to follow; that had not been one of them.

Arthur let out a sharp breath and threw a glance over his shoulder, turning back to the unresponsive man he hissed with a sense of urgency, "Look, you hate me and in return I hate you but right now you're going to have to forget that if you want a chance at living – so I ask again, do you love Aurea?"

Still confused by the prince's question and not trusting his voice to speak with the state his mind was currently in, he simply replied with as much of a nod that the shackle around his neck allowed.

At his movement Arthur suddenly snapped his hands out to the King who reactively pushed back into the wall and screwed his eyes up, waiting for the feel of a fist hitting his face.

But instead he felt a weight fall from his left arm, quickly followed by his right and then finally the feel of full breath being admitted access down his throat as the last shackle was thrown across the room. His eyes flew open in shock and he just managed to catch sight of a key disappearing back into the prince's tunic pocket.

Suddenly he found himself being gently lifted off the ground by a firm grip on an undamaged area of his arm along with a side bag being placed over his neck.

The loss of metal digging into his body and the sense of freedom were still trying to grip themselves as reality in the King's mind and his vacant stare stayed fixed on his free wrists; the frantic voice of the prince dulling as background noise.

Two hands suddenly put pressure on either side of his face and they dragged his head to turn to look at Arthur's worried gaze, "Cirion listen to me!"

The hurried whispers swirled around the King's mind but he couldn't quite understand the words; it was all just noise. He succeeded in dragging his misty gaze to fix on the prince's moving mouth and he tried to work out what the hyped up man was trying to say but it just reached his mind as a blurred rumble; his head still trying to adjust to the first change of altitude in the past seventeen hours.

Suddenly the mist snapped away and the sense of the room, the feel, the smell, the sight and the noise drew back to their normal sharp focus and his brain began to receive the prince's words for what they were.

"… in the bag! Do you understand Cirion? There's a map in the bag along with enough provisions to get you to the place that's circled on the parchment – the guards will be back in a minute so you need to move now. Just follow the tunnel on the right and you'll find a horse waiting for you at the end. Do you understand?"

He gave the man a brief shake as he demanded confirmation and was rewarded with a strangled 'yes'.

With a returning nod he pulled Cirion out of the cell and turned him in the direction of the tunnel but before the King thought he would be pushed down the corridor he grasped the prince's arm and looked at him with a pure disbelief and confusion, "Why are you doing this?"

His voice came out as a scratched whisper with a plea of desperation in it and the years of guilt in his chest inflated even more by the look of pity the prince he had thrown his cruelty onto for so long gave him.

"I promised to give you a message from an old friend," Arthur gently revealed, lightly taking the King's hand off his arm and carefully nudging him towards the tunnel, "He said: Sometimes gaining forgiveness can be the key to allowing that first apology."

Then sending a firm kick at the open cell door so the top rusted hinge crashed to the floor, leaving the metal bars swinging over the entrance the prince turned his back on the King and jogged towards the staircase.

Blinking at the cell that was now the picture of a daring one-man break out, Cirion forced himself to follow the prince's actions and stiffly ran down the dimly lit corridor. But then a sense of curiosity hit the man and he achingly whipped around with a hushed call, "Goldey?"

Arthur's head popped back around the corner on the staircase he had just disappeared up, a strange expression on his face at the softness of the tone that normally spoke the nickname with such acidity.

The King ran his tongue over his dry lips and asked with the tone of a nervous child, "Who sent the message?"

The prince's mouth drew into a light knowing smile and he gently replied, "Follow the map Cirion."

And the sight of the young blonde boy vanished from the King's sight for the last time, leaving him to continue down the corridor with a tiny spark of something near recognisable to hope flickering through the dark flood in his mind.

Two men sat in a companionable silence in-front of the lazy flames dancing in the grand fire place; the dim light briefly highlighting the watchers features through the darkness of the early hours of the awaiting day.

Arthur was slouched in his favoured armchair, absent-mindedly sliding a feathered pen between his fingers and allowing his brain to linger on small unimportant thoughts to give it a well-deserved rest. Meanwhile, Merlin was perched in the opposite fabric chair with his feet laying on his friend's knees from a subconscious need to take comfort through the connection; gazing into the burning wood as the harsh ringing of the warning bells echoed through the castle walls.

Shouldn't you be helping? The warlock casually asked, not taking his eyes from the orange strands reflecting in his gaze.

The prince didn't turn to the question, I'm sure my men have it under control.

It could be something to do with Cirion, Merlin replied as his eye-line moved to study his finger nails.

Maybe…

He could have escaped.

He is a clever man.

But he'd probably have taken quite a heavy beating from the guards.

I'm sure he did.

Would have needed some help to run away.

A logical analysis.

You disappeared for quite a while earlier.

Well noticed.

Stop by the dungeons on your travels?

I have no idea what you are talking about.

Another comfortable silence fell over them as the clatter of boots and rising shouts of orders and directions filled the courtyard below before the heavy footsteps speed away along with a clip of hooves through the castle gates, the noises fading out until they became soft distance murmurs in the night air.

You tell him about the grate at the end of the tunnel?

Even left him a horse.

Their gazes flicked to catch each-other and identical smirks drew onto their features as they simultaneously hit the other with waves of amusement.

Arthur let out the first chuckle, shoving the warlock's feet off him as the boy fell into a fit of giggles, allowing him to fall off his chair as his humour grew into hysterical laughter as the past few weeks events caught up with his mind and began to release all the tension and anxiety that had been stirred up in his body for so long, trust Merlin's way of dealing with a stressing situation to be collapsing into a fit of giggles.

As his friend rolled around on the floor clutching his stomach Arthur moved to his far window, looking out over the forest that hopefully held Cirion deep in its mists by now, far from the reach of the Camelot knights and soldiers.

He knew he would never be able to completely forgive the King for everything he had done to him over the years, especially concerning some of the most recent events. But the pain and torture he had seen staring at him through the man's eyes in that cell… well it had given him a rough idea of why he had done what he had.

It seemed that Cirion had never got over the death of his son and wife as he presented, he had been the master of façades and fake images and it seemed that he had played everyone over the years when it came to his own life – even himself. Maybe all the bright, jewelled clothes where more of an attempt at tricking himself into believing he was fine with his past, rather than a mockery to it.

But now perhaps the tormented King could finely find peace with himself… and somehow help Aurea do the same.

The waves of humour dimming down drew Arthur back to the room and he turned to see Merlin clawing back onto his chair with fresh tears splashed on his cheeks, the remainder of a childish grin still on his face.

He rolled his eyes and shoved the boys head as he re-took his seat, clearing his head of the thoughts of Cirion and Aurea since he felt they deserved their privacy, and also he would rather just put the whole event behind him rather than have to sit through a bombard of questions if Merlin caught whiff of the Keepay and his relevance to the prince's life.

Though as the warlock's legs were about to re-fall onto Arthur's knees one last thought regarding the once prince broke through, what did he mean when he said Merlin knew more than he let on?

The boy's feet came into contact with his friend for the spilt second that the words were fully formed before they scattered among a variety of mundane quirks and ideas, but it was enough and Merlin suddenly tensed, strands of guilt pouring off the boy as he quickly cast his gaze to anything in the room apart from Arthur.

Merlin… He drew out with a warning tone; the first time this had been mentioned after they'd left the Cave the prince had let it drop, but if it had enough significance to make the warlock feel the same amount of guilt the second time the question was asked… what are you blocking from me?

He could feel the mixed emotions lapping off his friend, obviously torn between denying that he was hiding anything or just admitting whatever it was that he clearly waskeeping cornered off in that special 'Merlin Lock Box' in his head.

But as the warlock met his gaze he felt the waves dejectedly simmer down to admittance; it was already clear that the prince now knew that something was being held under the secret genre so there was little point of trying to convince him otherwise.

Look, he sighed as he shifted his body to face his friend, it's not a massive thing and I did have liable reasons for keeping the information from you.

Arthur raised his eyebrow, meaning you were trying to protect me from something.

Merlin rolled his eyes at the annoyance emitting from the prince, well it kind of is my job.

No it's not! You… but with a sharp breath intake, he stopped the beginning of his over-used speech about how his life was his own to look after since the warlock never actually took it in and tiredly surrendered, just tell me what stupid feat you did now in my honour.

Merlin resisted the urge to childishly stick his tongue out at the prince but he couldn't help the sheepish waves fly from him, well you remember how when this first started you told me to do some research on it all but I told you I hadn't.

Yes… Arthur curiously drawled.

Well at the time I told the truth – I hadn't done any research, but later on, after that day where my fatigue became more noticeable since it affected your fighting – I kind of did go and look up stuff about our connection… and I found something.

You mean we didn't have to go to the Cave in the first place! The prince shouted with disbelief, he could have been spared all those days of torture with Merlin dying in his arms if the same dying boy had just shown him some books!

No! No – that's to do with what I found, I knew we did have to have the connection completed – I didn't know about the Caves of Animas specifically, but I did know that we clearly hadn't been fully bonded… Sighing he shook his head, trying to rattle his thoughts into place; it'll be easier if I just explain without you interrupting.

Arthur gave a mild grunt in response, his emotions showing that he'd dropped into a sulk over not being told about important research.

Thanks, the warlock tried to sincerely reply but failed as mild waves of amusement sprinkled from him at Arthur's child-like behaviour, right, well as I said I did the research after that training session – it was clear that my high levels of tiredness weren't natural so it sent me after some answers.

It took quite an effort to actually find the time to get to the library and dig around without you noticing, I'd managed to block you from sensing my presence but I couldn't hold it for long so it didn't give me much lee-way during the day; so the following days some of my fatigue was natural since I spent most of the night down in that dust ridden room piling over a load of battered books.

The reason I hid the fact that I was doing research was because of the obvious effect the connection was having on me; and I knew that if you were aware that I was concerned enough about it to willingly do excessive research that you'd start panicking and turn all fuming over-protective prince on me.

A grudging wave of agreement fell over him at the last line.

Eventually I found this small, beat-up notebook – it was full of a load of hardly readable scrawl but when I did manage to understand it… it revealed quite a lot.

It belonged to a long-dead sorcerer from the time of the Great Purge – it was during the darkest times of the battle where the people of magic were losing ground and fast running out of ideas. The book contained notes from an experiment this sorcerer had tried… he believed that if it worked it would win them the war; which in hindsight, it probably would have.

He'd created this spell that could connect the life-forces of two people, tying them to each-other in life and death; he knew that if he was successful, it meant that each sorcerer would be able to bind themselves to a soldier of the enemy meaning they would be inclined to live, since the only way Uther and his men would be able to kill them would be by killing themselves.

The one condition of the spell was that the party it was being performed on had to be on the brink of death; therefore allowing the two life-forces to connect as the casters force would be drawn into the dying's to bring them back to full restoration.

This sorcerer managed to capture a lone soldier, and he took him to his hidden base where he'd been creating the idea of the spell and stabbed him straight through the chest before performing the first part of the spell. It took a couple of days for the soldier to fully regain health and during these days the sorcerer slowly fell into a weaker state of mind – there weren't many notes around this time showing how much toll the soldier taking his life-force was having on him.

Studying Arthur's absorbed features he sent a wave of sincerity, that's what made me realise that our form of the connection wasn't completed, because he had specifically noted that section as the first part of the spell – I'd been encouraged thinking that I would get a solution from the second part; but instead it was the next section that made me adamant to keep the information from you.

The soldier fully recovered; he was conscious, able to speak, think and move – there was nothing wrong with him unlike the sorcerer who was quickly fading. This is where he performed the second part of the spell; it hit them both straight away – he described it as a snapping action that sent them both flying in opposite directions.

But where the sorcerer got up to find that he was completely back to his well-being state of health – he found the soldier with a broken mind, gabbling away huddled in the corner of the room.

He'd waited for weeks on end – writing endless notes of the man's behaviour and hoping that it would eventually disappear and he'd be back to normal – but it just got worse and as the soldier's mind regressed his savage side increased, he was constantly attacking himself, the sorcerer – anything that got in his way.

The final sentences in the journal state the sorcerer's decision to kill the soldier – it was likely he'd end up killing himself anyway and even if he released him to fend for himself in the wild; he'd probably either be murdered by one of his own men or one of the magical community.

So in the end his spell finished with his own suicide.

Arthur had his eyebrows knitted together as he firmly stared into the crackling fire, his emotions surprisingly under-control and giving off no indication of how he was reacting to the new back-story, so that's why you kept refusing to see Gaius; you didn't want to complete the spell.

Yes… I was worried he'd already know about the past experiment seeing as he's quite knowledgeable about that era, Merlin nervously replied, he wasn't used to the prince being so neutral with his feelings; it was more menacing than when he just started shouting.

Slowly Arthur turned back to face the warlock and leant forward, placing one hand heavily on his leg to stop him from being able to move away; as Merlin's foot began to dig into the prince's stomach as he continued to bend forward he suddenly raised his free hand and smacked the boy around the back of the head, you idiot!

Merlin mentally grinned as waves of amusement lined with understanding were sent to him but externally he made a show of grumbling about his now throbbing head.

He knew that Arthur understood why he hadn't shown him the research when he'd found it; his first instinct was always to protect the prince, even if it meant having to protect him from his own mind. Arthur would never agree with the warlock's need to effortlessly throw his own life away for the sake of his life, just as Merlin would never agree to stop doing so.

It wasn't something they needed to discuss; they both knew where the other stood and their reasoning's for doing so but this didn't mean that Merlin could miss the opportunity to say his famous line, I'm sorry for keeping it from you, but you know that I'll always be by your side protecting you with my life.

Arthur huffed but he threw some gratitude at his friend for the sentiment and Merlin returned it with a grin.

The camaraderie silence drifted over them again as the weight of the spoken promise fell into the room; Arthur had an inkling that he should say something similar in return but in that typical Merlin fashion the warlock quickly skirted around the serious moment.

Which basically means I'm stuck with you, and I really didn't want to have to be responsible for a lunatic for the rest of my days; you're weird enough already.

Merlin.

Yes?

Shut up.

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