Arthur sat still, back against the wall. He still couldn't fully understand how his father could possibly believe him to be guilty of sorcery. He had stood at Uther's side time and again against magic, because he loved his father, and he would support him in any way he could. But now this. His own father refused to listen, to understand. It was infuriating and Arthur was constantly torn between flashes of unconstrained anger and wrenching sorrow.

Uther refused to even acknowledge that Arthur was his son.

He didn't know what his father would do with him. Did the King really have the strength, and hatred, inside him to condemn him to death? Or would he come to his senses and realise the truth? No word had been sent to Arthur of a sentence, and so somewhere, in the back of his mind, there was still a spark of hope. But that spark was going out, fast.

The only think he held onto was the fact that his friends were still fighting his corner with him. Morgana, he knew, as she had been to see him, would not give up until the moment his life left him, and Merlin had told him that he, too, had no intention of abandoning him, but right now, he was wondering about Guinevere. Would she still stand by him despite what he had been accused of? His heart twisted. What if she thought he was guilty?

His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knock on the door, a pattern that Merlin had come up with to let Arthur know it was him. Not that anyone was allowed to come down and see him, but Merlin, being Merlin, came anyway.

He told himself that the reason Guinevere hadn't come was because she wasn't allowed to. But that hadn't stopped her before, when Arthur had found a cure for Merlin's poisoning and Guinevere had snuck into the dungeon to get it. What if...

Snap out of it, Arthur!

"Arthur?" Merlin's voice at the door caused Arthur to glance up, but that was his only reaction. Speaking just seemed like a waste of time now, and he had barely spoken to anyone in the past few days, which caused using his voice not only to be a waste of time, but also painful and difficult.

Merlin, though, hadn't expected any more of a response, and so he continued as though the Prince had spoken.

" Arthur..." Merlin paused. "Arthur, Uther has decided a sentence."

Arthur glanced up sharply, questioningly.

"He's... they're... you're..."

"What?" Arthur's voice was rough, but he spoke anyway, concerned and, although he would never admit it, scared.

"You're going to be... you're going to be executed in three days time. I'm sorry."

"WHAT?" Arthur sprang to his feet, the biggest reaction Merlin had seen from him in a while. "Merlin, I didn't do anything!"

"I know." Merlin spoke quietly, almost to himself. "But he won't be persuaded."

"How?"

"Burned..." the servant sighed in defeat. "Burned at the stake."

"I thought he might not be strong enough..."

Merlin left after a moment. Arthur knew he had to go; there could be guards anywhere, and yet it was still horrifically lonely to know that these were his last three days alive and he had to spend them suffering, alone and miserable.

And in his father's mind, he would die a sorcerer. A traitor.

Not a son.

His mind span with the shock of it all, swallowing him with grief and anger. If there was another piece of breakable furniture in the cell, which unfortunately there wasn't, it would have joined the table in the small pile of broken wood against the wall.

With no other way of letting out all his anger, he punched the wall viciously, ignoring the pain that shot through his hand with the impact and the possibility of a broken finger.

His life was about to end: how did it matter if he hurt himself?

How did anything matter? He slid back down the wall and hugged his legs to his chest, resting his chin on his knees.

How did he matter?

Just as Arthur was about to zone out back into the dark thoughtfulness he had been in before, he heard loud voices in the corridor outside, one of them distinctly Merlin's.

"I didn't do anything! I was just talking to him!"

Leaping to his feet, he moved to look between the bars of his cell door. Merlin was struggling against two guards, who were not having much trouble restraining him, and was trying desperately to proclaim both his and Arthur's innocence.

"Is it a crime to speak to an innocent man?"

"That man has been pronounced guilty, and it has been judged a crime by the King to speak to him."

Merlin was dragged away with ease and out of sight. Arthur leaned against the wall in despair, sighing.

That man has been pronounced guilty...

So it was true. He was going to be killed by his own father.