*Takes place after series 5. I thought it extremely unfair that Arthur had so little time to see Merlin as he really was. So I decided they needed more time together. I intended this to be a series of episodic stories, much like the show, but it kind of took on a life of its own and grew into one grand adventure. I hope you enjoy it.

It had been many months since the Battle of Camlann. Arthur had healed well, although his training had yet to return to its previous intensity. Merlin secretly wondered if it ever would, but his king, and friend, was alive and that's all that really mattered. Arthur's victory had won him the undying loyalty of his subjects and allies, and Camelot, indeed the whole of Albion, was flourishing under his reign.

For his part, Merlin had found himself suddenly elevated from manservant to Court Sorcerer, responsible for assisting Arthur with all things magical. The only problem had been that every time Arthur came to him for advice, Merlin would end up on tangents, his logic getting lost down rabbit holes, leaving him rambling on about improbable hypotheticals and Arthur no closer to an answer than when they'd started.

Finally, one evening while the two were working out some finer points of the new magical laws, Arthur threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

"Fine! You know what? Fine!" He pushed all the rolls of parchment across the table to Merlin and gave him a pointed look.

"You handle it."

And he'd walked out, leaving the warlock staring, dumbfounded, after him.

And so, with that rather inauspicious beginning, their joint rule as High King and High Sorcerer began.

Now they wandered Camelot's busy marketplace, bantering and reminiscing and generally keeping an eye on things. As they strolled between the merchant's stalls, Merlin began to feel troubled. The day seemed less bright, the noise of the crowd more threatening than cheerful. There was a sense of being trapped. And lonely.

He was starting to become well and truly alarmed by the black despair building inside him when he and Arthur came within earshot of a large, burly man boasting loudly to the butcher. Merlin put a hand on Arthur's arm, and they stopped at a stall that provided a clear view of the man. They pretended to inspect a collection of warding charms, and watched.

"Yes, yes, I know it's legal now. Bad decision, if you ask me. Not that I've ever had to worry about it. See, I've managed to beat the magic out of my little sprite, here."

He gestured toward a girl, a few years into adolescence, and she flinched.

And Merlin understood. The fear. The sadness. The despair. It was all coming from her. There was something going on here, something bad, and Merlin decided he needed to get to the bottom of it.

Arthur broke into his thoughts. "I didn't think that was even possible, to beat the magic out of someone."

Merlin shook his head. "It's not." He considered the girl. "I think she might be a druid. I'm going to try to talk to her."

"How? I'm guessing that brute won't let you get within a league of her."

"We're already within a league of her."

Arthur rolled his eyes. For all his elevated status and responsibilities and magic, Merlin could still be incredibly obtuse. "It's a figure of speech, Merlin. You'll never get close enough for her to hear you."

"I don't have to be close for her to hear me."

"I don't recommend shouting."

Now it was Merlin's turn to roll his eyes. "I don't have to shout. I can talk to her with my mind."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up. "You can talk to people with your mind."

"Not everyone. Just druids."

Arthur stared at him. "The wonders just never cease with you, do they?"

Merlin grinned. "Not today."

Arthur nodded at the pair, who were now heading away from the butcher's. "Well, you'd better hurry. She's getting away."

Merlin grabbed his arm and they followed the pair at a prudent distance.

'Hello?'

The girl's head turned slightly.

Merlin continued, 'It looks like you may be in trouble, and I'd like to help, if I can.'

Her mental voice was cautious. 'Who are you?'

'My name is Merlin. The druids know me as Emrys.'

That stopped her dead in her tracks. He could see her carefully searching the crowd for him.

'Emrys?' His heart ached at the sudden, desperate hope that colored her thoughts. 'His ring! Can you get-'

'Look out!'

But his warning came too late. The man, realizing she was no longer following, had returned and he cuffed her, hard.

"Quit'cher lollygaggin', girl!" he bellowed.

She nodded obediently, holding a hand to her head, and moved off after him.

'Are you alright?'

'Yeah. That wasn't too bad.'

Her words chilled him.

'Can you get me away from him?'

'I'm thinking. We can't just swoop in and grab you, or it'll look like a kidnapping instead of a rescue.'

'A rescue…' She was quiet a moment. 'I have an idea. Get ready.'

He didn't even have time to formulate a response before he saw her stumble. She tried to catch herself on a cart of apples, but only managed to pull it over, spilling fruit over herself and across the path.

The sound drew the man's attention and his face contorted with rage at the sight of her next to the toppled cart. "STUPID GIRL!" He reached over, grabbed an arm and jerked her upright hard enough that she shrieked in pain. A backhand to her face left her crumpled in an unmoving heap on the ground.

The man was aiming a kick at her when he suddenly found a lanky, black-haired young man pulling desperately at his shirt.

"Leave her alone!"

The man shoved and Merlin, losing his footing on the apples, fell hard against the cart, his head making and audible thump.

"Ow."

And then the man found the point of a sword against his throat. His eyes widened at the king and the market guards who were starting to gather.

"My liege," he stammered. "I was… was just…"

The sword pressed in and the words died.

Arthur's look was distasteful. "Yes, it seems you were just," he gestured around him, "making a scene in my marketplace," his eyes went to the girl, "beating an innocent child senseless, and," he checked to make sure Merlin was still functional, "assaulting my sorcerer."

The man's face paled visibly.

Arthur, satisfied that he'd gotten his point across (pun entirely intended), sheathed his sword. "Put him in the dungeon," he instructed, then turned to haul Merlin out of the apples, only to find the warlock already crouched anxiously over the girl.

"She's breathing."

He gathered her gently into his arms and strode toward the castle, Arthur on his heels.

Within moments, they burst into Gaius' chambers. One look at the pair of them, and the girl in Merlin's arms, brought him to his feet in alarm.

"What happened?"

Merlin laid her down and explained while Gaius examined her. By the end of the story, the warlock was pacing in agitation.

"She's a druid, Gaius." He turned and paced the other way. "And he was five times her size, at least." Turn, pace. "How could he do that to her?" Turn, pace. "He could've killed her." Turn, pace, stop. His eyebrows drew together, remembering. "She said something about a ring."

"Merlin."

His name drew him out of his thoughts and he turned his attention to the physician.

"She's going to be fine, but her shoulder is dislocated."

"Can you fix it?"

"With your help."

"What do I do?"

"I'm going to reduce the swelling, then I need you to hold her while I reseat the joint."

"Right."

Gaius placed his hands on the girl's shoulder and his eyes blazed amber. Then, with Merlin bracing from the other side, he pushed and twisted until the joint popped back into place. He ran a finger gently over the bruise that was beginning to purple across the girl's cheek. "It escapes me how anyone could so mistreat a child."

Arthur spoke. "Rest assured, the man responsible is in my dungeons and will see justice for it."

"Well, then things may be looking up for her."

'Emrys.'

The girl was awake and regarding Merlin out of dark, serious eyes.

'Thank you.'

'Of course. And it's all right to speak. You're safe here.'

'I can't. That man has an enchanted ring. As long as he wears it, I am his thrall. He has forbidden me to speak to anyone but him.'

'But you can communicate with me since you're not technically speaking.'

The corner of her mouth rose in a half-smile. 'Exactly.'

Merlin nodded. 'What's your name?'

'Branwen.'

'We're going to help you, Branwen. Don't worry.'

He turned to find two pairs of questioning eyes on him.

"He's enslaved her with magic," he explained. "He has a ring that controls her."

Arthur, ever practical, said, "Well, I'll just go down to the dungeons and retrieve it."

'That won't work.'

"Wait," Merlin said, stopping Arthur at the door, then asked the girl, "Why won't it work?"

'The spell can only be broken in two ways. He has to either remove the ring of his own will or…' she hesitated. '… he has to die.'

Merlin relayed this information.

The king nodded. "There's no time to lose, then."

Merlin's mouth fell open. "Arthur, you're not planning on killing him!"

"No, idiot. Not unless I have no other choice. I meant that we have no reason to delay his trial and every reason to resolve it quickly."

"Oh. Right."

Arthur shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder if there's anything at all in that head of yours."

He crossed over to the girl, who was watching them with very wide eyes. He knelt down beside her. "I know you're injured, but do you think you might be up to helping us?"

She nodded solemnly.

He patted her knee, noting uncomfortably how bony it was. "Good. The trial will be tomorrow morning, first thing. Get some rest," he added gently.

He rose and made to leave, but when Merlin seemed disinclined to follow, he backtracked, grabbed his arm, and dragged him out, leaving the girl in Gaius' capable hands.