Hidden Motives

A/N: Okay, so I'm back sooner than I anticipated, but I just wanted to start posting. That said, I really haven't written very much of this (I'm currently on chapter 3) and so I think there will only be weekly updates, at least for now.

So, this story. It's set not long after series 3, maybe a couple of months, but before series 4. It's mostly from Merlin's POV, but I'm sure Arthur will sneak in there in later chapters. This first chapter is quite short, but the rest will be longer.

Anyway; enough said. Hope you like it and please review!

Chapter 1

As much as Merlin liked waking up to the sound of birdsong, he preferred it when he knew why he was waking up to birdsong, and as he lay their with his eyes closed and a headache pounding his skull mercilessly, he realised that he hadn't got a clue as to where he was. It was definitely morning; the smell of the air and the sound of the dawn chorus were enough of a clue, and he was relatively certain that he was outside if the feel of tree roots sticking into his back were anything to go by, but still, he couldn't recollect how he had come to be there.

He opened his eyes a crack and the sprinkled sunlight that was making its way through the canopy sent pain flashing through his head. He shut them again quickly and then shielded his face with his arm before slowly opening them once more. It took several seconds, but eventually his eyes adjusted to the light and he found himself even more at a loss than he had been before. Where was he? A forest, that was for sure, but he didn't recognise anything and Arthur had dragged him around enough of Camelot's woods and forests that he was relatively certain he could now recognise specific trees. He sat up slowly, his head still aching and his clothes soaked through from his night on the forest floor. Mud clung to the material in thick clumps and he tried to brush it off.

Standing to his feet, he found himself swaying dangerously and reached out for a nearby tree to steady himself. The pain in his head was awful and he quickly muttered a spell to dampen it. That done, and his ability to think slightly improved, he gingerly ran a hand over the back of his hair and cringed as he felt the matted lumps of it, crusty with something that he knew would be blood. That would explain the throbbing in his skull. What on earth had happened?

He put his back to the tree and rested against it, closing his eyes and trying to calm the queasiness that was beginning to pulse through him. He took several deep breaths, sucking in the fresh air to try and settle his rolling stomach. When he finally felt like he could move without throwing up, Merlin opened his eyes and looked around, searching for any clues: firstly as to his whereabouts and secondly as to what had happened to him last night.

He tried to remember what he had been doing yesterday. He had been running errands for Gaius during the morning -he remembered that- and then he'd tidied up Arthur's room after lunch, but he drew a blank on the afternoon and evening.

Arthur. Surely if he was out here in the middle of nowhere then Arthur was as well. They always got into these scrapes together. He surveyed the ground around him, looking for any sign of the Prince, but there was nothing. A quick glance at the forest floor confirmed that there was only one set of footprints leading to the place where he had found himself lying and there was nothing for several metres in any direction that suggested anybody else had been here with him.

Surely Arthur would have sent out a search party for him by now. Merlin snorted to himself; he doubted Arthur had even noticed that he was missing. Although, what with everything that had happened over the last few months, it was possible that Arthur might show a tiny bit more concern over Merlin's whereabouts than he had been known to in the past. What with Morgana's betrayal revealed and Uther's health rapidly declining, Arthur was under more strain than he had ever been before and it was making him cautious and alert, likely to become defensive and concerned over very small things. He was jumpy, that was the only way to describe it, and it was unlike Arthur. Although over the last week or so he had seemed to rally a little more. Perhaps he had decided that he couldn't live with the threat of Morgana looming over him, or perhaps it had something to do with the fact that his uncle, Agravaine, would be arriving in two weeks time. Merlin hoped that the man's arrival would give Arthur the sense of stability that he was lacking with his father so much out of action.

With a sigh, Merlin looked around once more and decided that all he could really do now was head back to Camelot. He desperately hoped that he hadn't wandered round aimlessly for too long because he wasn't sure how long he was going to be able to stay on his feet. Realising that he had no other choice, he gingerly began moving forwards, following his footprints back the way they had come.

It took a long time, but eventually he found himself in more familiar parts of the woods. He must have been walking for hours to end up where he did. Recognition of where he was gave him a new burst of energy and he found that his pace picked up and he felt less likely to faint at any given moment. His focus away from his physical state, Merlin began to try and piece together the events of the previous night. He had evidently fallen, or been hit in the head; he hoped it wasn't the latter as being attacked seemed like a much worse scenario than just succumbing to his usual clumsiness. His memory loss was probably also down to the bump; he'd seen Gaius treat plenty of people who had suffered a similar injury and lost their memories. In most cases, their memory returned; he could only hope that would be the case for him.

If, however, he had been attacked, he needed to work out what had happened. Could it be Morgana? Yes, she had now revealed her allegiance to Morgause, but he doubted she would try and attack the Kingdom again already and why would she attack him of all people? Yes, he had irritated her no end during her final months in Camelot, but she had never seen him as any real threat. Unless, of course, she had hatched another plot, which Merlin had found out about. Perhaps he had been going to tell Arthur and Morgana had tried to kill him in order to stop him. Merlin sighed. It was a possibility, but he doubted that he would still be alive if Morgana had followed him and found him unconscious in the middle of the forest. It wasn't really her style to show mercy. Not anymore.

So maybe there had been another enemy trying to kill Arthur with only Merlin to stand in their way? Perhaps, but, barring yesterday afternoon and evening, Merlin could remember all that had been going on in Camelot and nothing had seemed amiss. Maybe he had just really annoyed Arthur and the Prince had decided to try and kill him. Merlin wouldn't put it past him if he was in one of his moods.

But none of those explanations seemed to resonate in Merlin and so he trudged on, resigning himself to that fact that for now at least, he would have to stop worrying about how he had found his way out of Camelot and instead concentrate on finding his way back there without his head injury becoming too much of a problem.

The forests soon gave way to the plains that stretched out from the city. It was a relief for him to see the familiar walls and the usual traffic of people, carts and animals making their way into and out of the city. He joined the main road up to it, getting a few odd looks from the early morning traders who were heading into the city with their wares. He ignored them as best he could and then brushed at his clothes again, trying to get rid of some more of the mud that caked them. He really could do with looking less like a nomadic traveller and more like the manservant of the Prince. A few flakes of dried mud fell to the ground and so he turned his attention to his face, scrubbing at the skin there, trying to rub off some of the grime. Finally, he turned his attention to his hair and tried to smooth it into some semblance of order, but the injury at the back of his head made that trickier and when touching it heightened the pain once again, he decided to leave it for now.

Before long, he was walking through the city gates. He felt more relaxed as he realised that there were no warning bells ringing and the people looked calm; there was no screaming, no crates overturned or belongings strewn across the streets. A good day in Camelot. That ruled out his enemy attack theory. There were, however, an increased number of soldiers and knights out on the streets. Evidently things weren't going as smoothly as Arthur wanted everyone to believe. Merlin had been in Camelot long enough to know when the city was on alert.

His first instinct was to find Arthur and ask what was happening, but his vision was beginning to blur and he was feeling a little shaky on his feet. Gaius seemed like the better option for now. He dreaded to think what his mentor would make of his current state, but perhaps he could shed some light on the situation. He hadn't even made it into the palace courtyard when shouting from behind him caught his attention.

'There he is!'

Instinctively, Merlin turned to see what had got the soldiers so rattled, only to frown in shock when he saw them pointing at him. Immediately, they raced towards him, and on instinct, Merlin backed up several paces. This only made them start yelling louder, telling him to stay put, and so he stopped, knowing how insistent Camelot's fighters could be. He recognised several of the soldiers, although he couldn't name many of them, but the knight who was with them made him relax. Merlin breathed a sigh of relief and smiled.

'Lancelot,' he called. 'What's going on?'

But his friend didn't smile and he made no move to stop the soldiers as they roughly grabbed him, causing him to stagger in his weakened state. Lancelot moved closer, his face grave.

'What's happened? What's going on?' Merlin asked him, worried now at the solemnity in his expression and posture. Had something happened to Arthur? No, if there was something wrong with the Prince, the rumours would have made it out of the castle by now and he'd be able to sense it in the attitudes of the people. He looked at Lancelot again.

'Merlin,' he said heavily, 'you're under arrest for the attempted murder of Prince Arthur.'

Of all the possibilities that had crossed through Merlin's mind, that had not been one of them.

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