A/N: Thank you GuestM, Buckhunter, and SnidgetHex for reviewing! Merry Christmas Eve if you celebrate!

Chapter 3

Arthur stood in the corner, arms crossed defensively, stewing over the revelation that Merlin was a sorcerer. He couldn't believe it, even after seeing it with his own eyes. Merlin of all people. And he'd hidden it for years. Arthur had trusted him. More than anyone else, save Guinevere. And Merlin had betrayed him.

Gwen walked over to him, expression sober, and placed a gentle hand on his arm. She didn't have to say anything, her patient eyes inviting him to open up to her as always.

Arthur shook his head. "I thought the days of being betrayed by those I was closest to were over," he said quietly.

"Are you upset Merlin has magic or that he never told you?" she asked.

Arthur just gave her a look; of course magic was the problem.

"Lily's right," she went on. "We've accepted her. And Merlin is still Merlin."

"And you're okay with just shrugging this off?" Arthur asked her. "As though it's not important?"

"It is important," Gwen replied. "Your best friend has spent his life serving you in a place where he would have been executed if found out. Yet he stayed. He's always been there for us. Now it's your turn. So what are you going to do?"

Arthur sighed in frustration. Leave it to his wife to be the voice of reason. "It doesn't matter if we can't figure a way out of our current situation." Gritting his teeth, he turned toward the object of his vexation. "Merlin," he called. "Can you use your magic against these thorns?"

Merlin hesitated. "I'm not sure. Based on what we read, they seem pretty strong." He lifted his chin. "But I'm willing to try."

"You can't go out there alone," Lancelot interjected, struggling to prop himself up further against the wall.

Merlin gave him a sober look. "If that's what needs to be done, I'll do it."

Arthur's jaw tightened. Was it loyalty, or just a desire to prove himself? "I'll go with you," he said.

Gwen looked at him worriedly, and he squeezed her hand. These were his people to protect, and he wasn't going to entrust a sorcerer to do it.

Arthur bit his tongue at that thought. He didn't want to think of Merlin like that. He certainly had never acted like any other sorcerer Arthur had known. But he'd lied to them all. He couldn't fully be trusted.

Leon, Percival, and Gwaine decided to come with them as well. Merlin looked torn between grateful and uncomfortable. They removed the barricade from the doors and cautiously peeked outside. The immediate corridor was clear, so they ventured out. The doors were blocked again behind them.

They made their way down the hallways until they came across some thorns filling an adjoining passage. They were quietly squirming in place. Merlin stepped forward, and Arthur exchanged wary looks with the other knights. They watched Merlin take a deep breath and stretch out his palm.

Arthur couldn't help a reflexive flinch when Merlin uttered a spell. The vines recoiled as though struck by an invisible force, but that apparently only served to anger them, as they immediately lunged forward to attack. Merlin shouted another spell, but it didn't do anything; the vines kept coming. One lashed out toward Merlin, who didn't retreat in time. Arthur leaped forward to hew it in two, then spun to slice at the two right behind it. The sundered appendages went flying, but the stumps continued to thrash. A thorn caught Arthur's chainmail and scored a shallow cut across his arm. Leon, Percival, and Gwaine plowed into the fight, striking out haphazardly at the flailing vines.

Merlin tried to use magic again, shouting almost desperately. The glow of his eyes in the dark was eerie as the flames from Percival's torch flared and belched out toward the thorns. But just as before, they did nothing against the inky plants.

Arthur grabbed Merlin's arm and dragged him back down the corridor to retreat. After a few turns, the thorns had stopped following.

"I'm sorry," Merlin gushed, and he sounded truly remorseful. "These things are dark magic; I don't know how to fight them. Not even dragon fire is supposed to burn them."

Arthur didn't say anything as they returned to the common room.

"It's us," Arthur called at the door, and they waited for the barricade to be moved so they could be let in.

The scuffing of furniture sounded on the other side, and the knights kept casting nervous looks around until the doors finally opened and they could slip back inside to safety.

"What happened?" Gwen asked, her eyes widening as she reached for Arthur's bloodied arm.

"It didn't work," he said, grimacing as Gwen picked at the edges of the broken links to get a look at the wound. It was just a scratch, though.

"I'm sorry," Merlin apologized again.

"Then what do we do now?" someone else asked.

Arthur's expression was grim. He didn't know.

Lancelot sipped carefully from the cup of water Gwen held to his lips. The wound in his side still throbbed, making even the small movement of swallowing painful. Blood was beginning to seep through the makeshift bandage in small amounts, but there was nothing to be done for it, as they didn't have any supplies in here. Gaius was tending to injuries others had received as best he could.

Lily suddenly jumped to her feet and bolted for the back of the room. Lancelot craned his neck in concern as the sounds of retching reached him. Gwen set the cup down and quickly went over to her. It was another minute before they returned, Gwen walking closely beside Lily as she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

"Are you all right?" Lancelot asked in concern.

She nodded as she eased herself back down next to him. "I started feeling ill right before the thorns attacked. My magic must be reacting to something so corrupted and unnatural."

Lancelot's brow furrowed with worry for her, though they were all in dire straits at this point. He wanted to reach out and rub her back comfortingly, but his hands were smeared with blood, so he kept them in his lap.

"Sorcerer," a voice said loudly, drawing everyone's attention. Sir Beorn was glaring at Merlin. "He's probably working with Morgana."

"I'm not," Merlin denied.

"Then why can't you fight the thorns if you have magic?"

Merlin's jaw ticked. "They're too powerful."

Sir Beorn scoffed. "More like you're secretly working against us."

"He saved us in the tunnels," Lancelot spoke up.

The knight snorted. "He didn't save us; he only guaranteed we'd be trapped in here."

Gwen got to her feet with an air of authority. "That's enough. Merlin is not the enemy here."

"He's not helping either," Beorn muttered.

"Your queen said that's enough," Arthur said sharply, sending the room into silence again.

Merlin shuffled over to Lancelot, Lily, and Gwen, the few who weren't currently at odds with him.

"Can your magic heal Lancelot?" Gwen asked him. "His wound is serious."

Merlin's mouth pressed into a thin line. "I've never been good at healing spells," he said regretfully. "That's why it was a relief when Lily came along and could do it openly."

"But I don't have any medicinal plants in here," she put in.

"I'll be fine," Lancelot said. "We have bigger concerns right now."

"If only I'd grabbed the book with the mention of the Dark Seed when we left Gaius's chambers," Merlin lamented. "I could at least see if there was more on it."

"You hadn't expected them to infiltrate the castle," Lancelot said.

"I should have."

"Merlin." Gwen reached out to clasp his hand. "You can't blame yourself."

He shook his head. "I don't know everything about magic, you know. My grimoire would come in handy right now."

"And where is that?" Gwen asked.

"In my room."

Which was on the other side of the castle from their current location.

"You'll never make it, not with the thorns everywhere," Lancelot said. "Especially if your magic didn't work on them the first time."

"And you definitely can't bring the castle walls down on them," Gwen added with a touch of humor.

Merlin made a frustrated sound. "My magic is finally out in the open and I'm helpless to use it."

"You'll think of something," Lancelot encouraged. "You always do."

Merlin sighed, and the four of them exchanged grim looks. Things were looking rather bad…

Merlin silently cursed his magical ineptitude as he packed more cloth against Lancelot's wound, removing his blood-soaked neckerchief. The laceration needed to be sewn closed, but they didn't have the supplies for it.

"Merlin!" Gaius called from where he was setting a servant's broken arm. "Find some fabric to make a sling with."

Merlin reluctantly left Lancelot and walked around the room. There wasn't much to work with. "One of you mind sacrificing your cloak?" he asked the knights.

Percival handed his over, and Merlin cut a long strip from it, which he then helped Gaius fashion into a sling. Now they had more bandages for later, but still barely any water for cleaning the grislier injuries. The longer they all were stuck in here, the increased risk of complications for those in need. Not to mention the thorns could find them at any moment. And then it was over.

Merlin walked past Gwaine, who had his arms crossed and a dour expression on his face.

"Do you hate me now?" Merlin asked quietly.

Gwaine regarded him seriously for an extra beat. "I don't hate you, Merlin," he finally said. "I just thought our friendship went both ways."

"It does," Merlin insisted. "But you haven't exactly expressed any open-mindedness toward magic." He dropped his gaze. "I didn't want to risk losing you as a friend. Magic is who I am; I can't just stop being me."

Gwaine didn't say anything for a long moment. "Then I guess you don't know me as well as you claimed." He turned and walked away.

"Gwaine," Merlin called after him, his heart fracturing. This was why he'd never come out, even after all this time. And he wished he could take it back now.

He turned to find Gwen coming toward him, eyes sympathetic. "Just give everyone time," she said.

"You're not upset with me?" he asked.

Gwen smiled. "I could never be upset with you, Merlin."

He gave a wan smile back. "Thank you."

He hoped she was right about Arthur and Gwaine and everyone, that in time they'd come around and forgive him…accept him.

If they lived long enough for them to have the chance.