"Merlin!" Arthur shouted.

The chains binding Merlin's ankles and wrists popped off. Merlin's body fell to the ground before Arthur could reach him. Arthur held Merlin's head in his lap. Lancelot knelt beside him. Merlin was unrecognizable. His face was ashen, blood coated his gray lips. His cheeks were hollow. Merlin had always been too thin, but now…he was nearly skeletal. His skin–what remained of it–was mottled hues of black, purple, and palest white. His clothes were mere shreds which did nothing to obscure the extent of the damage done to Merlin's body.

Burns, cuts, and bruises covered every inch. Where the enchanted manacles had covered Merlin's wrists and ankles the skin was bright red with raised white lines of scar tissue in a harsh geometric pattern. Broken bone jutted against the brutalized skin of his shin and fingers. A rib poked clean out of Merlin's skin, the blood coating it dry. The chains though, those were the worst part. Four long chains wound through Merlin's flesh in a dozen places. The skin around where the chains penetrated was streaked an angry red. Yellow pus dribbled from a few.

"Merlin?" Lancelot said softly. There was no response. Merlin's chest wasn't moving.

He and Arthur exchanged dread-filled looks. Lancelot took the blade of his sword and placed the flat beneath his nose. After an agonizing moment, the blade fogged. Lancelot and Arthur let out pent up breaths. Merlin was still breathing, for now.

Arthur didn't let himself think about what he'd seen Merlin do, wouldn't even let himself think the word. Magic. Arthur took off his cloak and wrapped it around Merlin's too cold body then carried him out of the dungeon. He was terrifyingly light in Arthur's arms. Arthur swore he could feel Merlin's bones shifting unnaturally under the skin. He knew the pain of moving broken bones to be extreme, but Merlin's eyes did not so much as flutter from it.

Lancelot and Leon were helping Percival to his horse while Gwaine nursed a head wound when Arthur emerged from Cenred's castle. One of Percival's legs wasn't bearing any weight thanks to a deep stab wound on the thigh. Percival was lucky it hadn't hit an artery.

Arthur took one look at the horse they had brought along for Merlin and shook his head. There would be no way they could strap him to it safely as battered as he was.

"Gwaine, Lancelot, I need you to lend me your cloaks," he said.

The two knights obeyed. Arthur told them his plan and after a short while they had fashioned a makeshift hammock which they could strap onto two of the horses' saddles and lay Merlin in for the journey back to Camelot.

"Shouldn't we make a temporary camp back in the castle, Sire?" Leon asked. "Merlin's and Percival's wounds need tending and there are likely supplies inside."

Arthur looked back at the castle uneasily. While the castle had shown signs of recent inhabitants, the knights had not encountered anyone other than Morgana's soldiers who they'd killed. Any servants must have fled at some point or remained well hidden. Despite that, he couldn't shake the feeling that a malevolent presence was watching them.

"No, I have a bad feeling about that castle. Morgana may be dead but that doesn't mean she hasn't left her mark on it. We take care of their wounds here then set out. The sooner we get away from this place, the better."

Percival's leg was bound in short order. As for Merlin, they laid him on Arthur's cloak in the grass and bound the wounds they could and applied a salve to some of the worst. But the chains had proved the biggest problem.

"Should we leave them in him?" Arthur asked the others.

They exchanged uncertain looks. None of them had more than basic battlefield medical training. It was useful for setting bones or stopping bleeding, but something as serious as this? They were all equally in the dark.

"If we pull them out, won't he bleed more?" Gwaine said.

"He'll bleed anyway if we don't bandage the wounds," Percival pointed out.

Leon nodded in grim agreement. "The wounds are already infected, leaving the chains in will only do more damage."

They looked to Arthur for the final decision. He swallowed hard then looked at Merlin's gray-tinged face. He hadn't reacted to being moved, he was probably too far gone to feel this too.

"That settles it then," he said. "We pull the chains out."

Percival took his sword and aimed it at a length of chain with Elyan's support. Though he couldn't stand, he was still the strongest of the knights. If anyone could break the chains, it would be him. He took a swing, then another, and another. He stopped when a shard of metal flew off the edge of his sword while the chain was barely scratched. Breaking it into more manageable pieces wasn't an option.

Gwaine was the one brave enough to remove the chains while the others sat around him and Merlin. Gwaine grimaced as wiped his palms on his pants. With one hand bracing Merlin's thigh, he pulled the end of a chain through the swollen and discolored flesh.

Merlin gasped and tried to sit up. His eyes flashed gold and Gwaine was sent flying. Gwaine sat stunned in the grass for a moment, looking between Arthur and Merlin. Merlin tried to rise again, and Arthur rushed to hold him down. Merlin gasped again and struggled weakly against Arthur's grasp..

Arthur bent down so his lips were near Merlin's ear. "Merlin, it's me, Arthur. Stop struggling. I know it hurts but we are trying to help you."

Merlin's glazed eyes roved over Arthur's face. "Ah-tha?" It was little more than a rasp.

Gwaine had gotten up and was back at Merlin's leg again, a determined look on his face. None of the knights dared to mention what they had just seen.

"Lance? Could you hold his leg still for me?" He asked. "Looks like our friend's decided to give us a challenge, eh?"

Gwaine gave a poor imitation of his usual roguish grin. Lancelot took his place beside Gwaine to pin Merlin down. Leon joined and Percival moved to help too, taking Merlin's other leg and shoulder.

Merlin gave a strangled cry as Gwaine pulled the chain through the next hole, but Gwaine stayed firmly on the ground this time. Arthur muttered encouragement to Merlin as he held him still.

"We're here, Merlin. Hang on just a little longer. I know it hurts, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Whether Merlin could hear him, Arthur couldn't tell. After a while, he stopped struggling, he only stared up at the sky sightlessly. Arthur would have thought he was dead if it weren't for the tears that streamed down his face. Gwaine had finished removing the chains from his legs.

They rode late into the night to put Cenred's kingdom as far behind as possible. The absence of the knights' usual banter was a weight on them all. Arthur hated the silence, it left him alone with his thoughts.

He didn't know what to make of the man lying quiet as death between his and Elyan's horses. He hadn't let himself think before, he only thought of evading Morgana, defeating her if they were lucky, and rescuing Merlin. When he'd seen Morgana fly across the room and seen her blood ooze onto the dungeon floor, he had felt nothing but anger at what had been done to Merlin. When Merlin had shoved Gwaine away with magic, Arthur had only felt panic that Merlin was dying, that he was in agony.

Looking at Merlin, it was impossible to think of him as a sorcerer. The very word rebelled against Arthur's mind. Merlin was just Merlin. Loyal, brave, clumsy, foolish yet witty Merlin who had never been afraid to knock him down a peg. Merlin, who had complained but always tolerated the worst of him, had assured him time and time again that he would one day be a great and honorable king, even when Arthur least believed it. The scrawny, awkward man who was now on the brink of death bloody and weak couldn't be a sorcerer.

But half-forgotten memories flashed in Arthur's mind. Jingling keys floating in the corner of his eye, a blanket moving off Merlin's bed when he knew it shouldn't, food going missing with Merlin just out of reach of the plate. So many times Arthur had thought he'd seen something out of the ordinary, but had dismissed it as his eyes playing tricks on him. The thought of it being magic, that Merlin was lying to him, had been too repulsive to consider.

But riding on horseback in the forest with the crisp scent of rain and decaying leaves and the soft beat of hooves against damp earth to clear his mind, those mental shields which prevented him from seeing the truth were gone.

The Merlin Arthur knew was dead. No, not dead, he had never existed. He was a lie, an illusion. The real Merlin was a stranger, and that terrified Arthur. All his life he had been warned of the dangers of magic and lived to confirm their veracity and just when he'd thought perhaps he had been too harsh in his stance on magic, Morgana, his own sister, had betrayed them and now Merlin too?

Arthur couldn't bear to look at Merlin. Pain, anger, hatred all roiled in his stomach. A deeper betrayal Arthur could not imagine.

Late into the night, they stopped to set up camp. There was little talk beyond the necessities of gathering firewood, preparing dinner, and assigning a watch. Lancelot and Gwaine tried their best to force some broth down Merlin's throat with minimal success.

As they all ate, Arthur caught the others exchanging glances when they thought he wasn't looking. They were likely wondering how to approach the subject, Arthur thought. There was no use being a coward and avoiding the necessary discussion.

"I see that look you all have in your eyes, I'm not stupid. You all saw that Merlin used magic."

Arthur stared each one of them down. None but Lancelot dared to meet his gaze. He pursed his lips and straightened under Arthur's stare. Gwaine shifted uncomfortably towards Merlin, a hand straying towards his dagger. Elyan fidgeted with his water skin. Leon clenched his jaw and his skin was pale, even in the glow of the fire.

Realization dawned on him. "Hold on, did you all already know Merlin was a sorcerer?"

Leon nodded though he still avoided looking Arthur in the eye, then Percival, then Gwaine, Elyan, and lastly Lancelot, whose determined expression never wavered.

Betrayal bubbles up in Arthur's chest. He shot up. "You all knew, knights of Camelot sworn to abide by the laws of the land and to be loyal to the king above all else, you knew Merlin was a sorcerer and you concealed it? Explain yourselves!" Arthur was yelling now. He breathed heavily as the knights sat motionless.

"Merlin saved your life using magic," Lancelot said. He glanced apologetically towards where Merlin lay. "The night you faced the griffin, when you thought I saved your life, it was Merlin. He enchanted my lance so that it could pierce the griffin's flesh. If not for him, we would both have perished."

"When the immortal army attacked Camelot, Merlin used magic to fight against them," Leon said.

"Merlin used magic to kill a bandit that was about to deal a killing blow to you on one of our quests," Percival said.

Elyan nodded. "He's done that just about every time we were ambushed."

"And here I thought he was just using it to help me steal food from the kitchen," Gwaine said with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. There was a threatening gleam in them that Arthur didn't like.

"So you admit to committing treason then? You confess to concealing a sorcerer? You could all be executed for this." Arthur said, his voice wavering at the end. All his friends had lied to him, the men he had trusted with his life were traitors. Not one of them was faithful.

"Sire, Merlin is my closest friend," Lancelot said. "And I swear on my honor that he would never use his magic for evil. His loyalty is to you above all else, a truth we have all borne witness to."

"That doesn't excuse hiding it from me," Arthur said. His hand gripped and released his sword reflexively. "If his intentions were honorable, he would have told me about his magic long ago."

"If he had told you the truth, you would have killed him," Gwaine spat. "The second you found out, you would have tied him to a stake and lit the pier yourself before he could breathe a word in his defense. It's what you've done to countless innocents who just so happened to be born with magic, isn't it? And Merlin would have let you do it rather than betray you. He kept his secret so he could continue to protect you, can't you see that?"

"So that's how you feel about magic, then. You think they are innocents who can't control their powers?" Arthur shouted. "Have you forgotten already what Morgana did using magic? She was just like Merlin, she pretended to be on our side before she attacked Camelot and made herself Queen. And she's only the latest in a long line of evil sorcerers threatening our people."

"I…once I agreed with you, Sire," Leon said softly. "I've lost family and good men to magic like you. But when your father sent us to kill those druids when we were boys because you spoke up in defense of them-"

Arthur could still smell their tents burning, could see the terror stricken faces of men, women, and children frozen in death. He'd scrubbed his hands raw trying to get the phantom of their blood off his hands.

"I knew in my heart what we did was wrong," Leon continued. "But I was a coward, sire. I did not protest their deaths. I fought against sorcerers because of the evil they wrought, I chose to remain loyal to the crown even when my conscience told me not to. I even betrayed Merlin to the witch finder."

"That amulet may have been a fake, but I had already known Merlin was a sorcerer. I had merely chosen to ignore the way things moved around him when they shouldn't, the time I swore the armor was polishing itself while he read. I did it to obey my conscience but when I came down to orders, I betrayed him. And I regretted doing so the moment I did it. After seeing what Aridian did to him, I couldn't bear to betray him again."

Arthur couldn't stand to look at his knights' faces. He stormed off into the woods. Elyan called after him, but Arthur needed to be alone. He broke into a run, then as near a sprint as he could manage in the dark woods. He ran until his breath was ragged and his legs were leaden. He could hear the trickling of a stream nearby. He made his way towards the stream and collapsed on its bank.

The cold water on his face and neck brought temporary relief. His mind could be quiet here. In the chirping of the crickets and the croaking of the frogs, in the way the leaves on the trees rustled with the faintest breeze, here he could find peace.

Arthur found himself lying in the dirt by the stream. His body ached with exertion and his chest throbbed with pain. The physical discomfort helped to drown out the mental conflict that had been building all day. Here, he could rest.