Author's Note: I cannot apologize enough for my ridiculously long absence. My life has been as hectic as hectic can be, but considering how short the chapters are there really isn't an excuse for it. Part of it boils down to the fact that I just don't care about this story anymore, not as much as I used to, but I absolutely loathe unfinished fics, so I will finish it for certain.

Anyway, have a chapter, with another hopefully coming soon.


Fear ripped through him. They knew. They knew. And unless he "learned his place," as Sirs Kay and Robert put it, and learned it fast, they were going to tell Arthur.

It turned out Robert and Kay had followed him the day he and Arthur had returned from hunting the wyverns. Merlin had headed straight to the armory, unaware of the men who stalked him, and, careless with fatigue, started cleaning Arthur's armor with magic with only a cursory check of the room first.

And they'd seen.

It wasn't until the next day that the two knights had cornered him in the back stall of the stables. They had...explained their position. "Listen, servant," Kay had sneered, his mouth twisting around the word. "You're nothing but a peasant and a traitor. You're nothing! You have no right to act like you are, Gods forbid, the King's equal!"

"Arthur is-" Merlin had begun angrily, but he was cut off by a vicious kick to his stomach.

"You will show respect!" Robert all but screeched. The way his voice tore through two octaves in a single sentence would almost have been comical if it had not been for his next words. "You will learn your place, sorcerer, or we'll have your head. Your precious king will hand it to us himself. You think yourself his friend? He will kill you the instant he knows what you are."

And here the nightmare started.

At least three times a week the knights had little "chats" with him, and there was nothing he could do about it. He could not, would not, risk Arthur finding out his secret; this close to Uther's death, there was no way he would accept his magic. It might even turn him against magic forever, to know that his confidant had betrayed him. Merlin would not chance it, no matter what Robert and Kay did to him. So he held his tongue, let the knights hit and kick and punch as they saw fit. Around the king, Merlin worked hard to keep his dopey grin on his face, to pretend nothing was wrong; in public, however, he kept his head down, stayed silent, and maintained some semblance of distance.

They beat him anyway. It didn't matter what he did, they always found time to "talk" with him, late at night as he made the trek from the king's chambers to his own.

It is almost fortunate, Merlin thinks as he sits in Gaius', that Arthur stumbled upon him when he did. Physically and mentally, the warlock is at the end of his rope, and the knowledge that all this is finally going to stop brings an almost dizzying sense of relief. he is at the point where he nearly doesn't care that this relief comes at the cost of Arthur finding out about his magic - some part of Merlin wants to think that the king will not believe Robert and Kay when they tell him or even that Robert and Kay will not tell him at all, but he knows better than to hope for it. He wonders suddenly if this will be his last night in Camelot.

He is pulled back to the present as Arthur's mouth snaps shut. The king's jaw works furiously as if he is actually chewing on his next words. "A - month? You've been keeping this from me for an entire month?"

Merlin shrugs. He isn't sure how he can explain himself, since the tavern isn't a viable excuse, so he stays silent.

Arthur seems to be struggling with something. The silence stretches on for an uncomfortably long few minutes. A wave of fatigue threatens to drown the servant as he observes his master. He's so tired. He just wants to sleep and pretend none of this ever happened.

Gaius steps back from his suddenly. "I'll go get some bandages." Merlin supposes the physician is trying to give him and Arthur a moment alone, and he is unsure whether he's grateful for it or not.

The king makes no move to stop the old man, and the second the door closes he rounds on the servant. "Why," he growls, "in the name of all that is holy did you let this go on? Gods, Merlin, I could've stopped it in a half a second if you'd told me!" Merlin feels fear ping through him: Arthur wants answers, and the stubborn blond looks like he's going to shake him until he gets them. He has already grabbed Merlin's shoulders and is staring him down.

Merlin averts his eyes. He can't tell him.

"I'm serious, Merlin," Arthur insists. "Why have you let this continue?" He pauses, something akin to hurt flashing across his face. "Did you think I wouldn't stop it? Or do they have something over you? Did they threaten someone? Whoever it is, we can make sure they're safe. Come on, Merlin, tell me!"

He sounds pissed, the warlock thinks idly. He recognizes an out in the king's words, however, and seizes it gladly. "It - it's Gaius. They said they'd do to him what they were doing to me. It would kill him, Arthur. They said they had friends who would do it if they were gone." Lie delivered, he dares to meet his friend's eyes.

Arthur's grip on his shoulders relaxed somewhat. "You idiot," he says, shaking his head. His face takes on a slightly incredulous look, one the servant has seen many times before. "Did you honestly think I can't have protected Gaius? It's two guards at his door and to go on rounds with him. Seriously, merlin, it's not even hard."

Merlin stares at the floor. He knows his excuse is weak, but there's not much else he can think of that his master would accept.

Arthur sighs. "Stay here," he says in his best king voice, the one of iron that none could disobey. "I'll send down Percival and Elyan to stay with you, alright."

He nods with a cool relief settling over him. He has been granted a brief reprieve from Arthur's questioning, time enough to formulate a story that will appease the angry king, but he knows he will have to face him eventually.

The king searches his servant's face for a long moment, and then gives his shoulder a final squeeze and strides out of the room. Merlin watches him go, and a part of him marvels at the control and fury, together in equal measure, that rolls off of Arthur in waves as he walks. Gods, Merlin thinks somewhere, he's going to make a great king.

Again he wonders if he will be there to see it. Merlin isn't a stranger to the thoughts that start to rise up within him, the thoughts that turn his stomach but he thinks them anyway. He imagines Arthur's face when he realizes he's been betrayed; Arthur, refusing to listen to him and going hard and cruel before his eyes; Arthur, sentencing him to death or banishment; Arthur, becoming Uther. He can picture nothing worse. Second purges and druids dying, crying children and broken homes.

Gaius returns the minute Arthur leaves. Merlin can't bear to look at him; he doesn't want to face the man he considers his surrogate father. The old physician shuffled over to the warlock and quietly begins to tend to him. "Gaius," Merlin manages finally. "They know."

Gaius freezes halfway through applying salve to his back. "What?"

"Robert and Kay. That's why I didn't say anything. They saw me once, in the armory. I was tired, I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry."

"Do they have proof besides what they saw?" The physician resumes salving, but Merlin feels his hands shaking slightly.

"No, I don't think so, but Gaius-"

"Arthur won't believe anything they say," Gaius says firmly. "He cares for you a great deal, Merlin."

Merlin shakes his head. "He's not sane when it comes to magic. "

"Have faith in him. You are his Emrys; he cannot truly forsake you, just as you could never forsake him. In time he will forgive you."

Merlin stays silent, but a small part of him hopes.