The sun had set over another day in the beautiful city of Camelot, the king having just retired to his chambers. He was reviewing the written reports of the counsel accompanied a servant, George, attending to him for the evening.

"What would you say, George, if I asked you to clean the floors of the throne room with a cloth the size of your hand?" he asked, wanting the man to show some kind of emotion, and waiting for a, not doubt insulting reply. He was bored if nothing else, looking for a distraction from his work.

George frowned, then standing to his full height answered. "I would ask as to how soon you would like it done, my lord."

Arthur sat back in his chair, at a loss for words. Here was a servant he could assign the most absurd chores, the one his father had likely wanted for him before a stupid, scrawny idiot had saved his life and been awarded the position. Here was the perfect servant, and felt wrong. He was efficient, prompt, obedient, and seemed to take the phrase 'boot licker' as a pledged vow. He was never rude, incompetent, or disrespectful. He was however, honest. He sighed, slumping in his seat, letting the pain of Merlin's betrayal wash over him again as though ice water had been poured down his back.

His anger had mostly subsided; leaving his head spinning with the reality of what was truth and what had to be decided.

He had heard members of the counsel exchanging ideas as to what the servant had done to him, rumors of enchantments, black mail, and queries as to who was truly ruling Camelot spread like fog seeping through crack doors. The most stunning and unexpected rumor was one of the servants making that was questioned and carried to the lords and ladies; if the sorcerer was not in fact a wolf in sheep's clothing. They were wondering if Merlin did not wish for the downfall of Camelot, if he was, in fact, loyal to them.

The subject of magic was not only being crucified, but discussed.

Arthur was even more alarmed to find this did not unsettle him as much as he once thought.

He had brought this revelation to Gwaine, who had withdrawn slightly after the incident in the training yards, to have an opinion from foreign perspective, to which he replied, "The last thing I would doubt, after all these years, is his loyalty."

The king was finally driven from his thoughts by someone calling to him.

"Sire? Sir Terrance has returned and wishes to report his findings." The servant stated, as the Arthur looked up to find the knight had already entered the room waiting for the king to respond.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to clear his mind, and quickly stood to address the knight properly.

"Yes, please begin. George, you may leave." He dismissed, the servant bowing out of the room as he went. The king couldn't but help but glare after him.

The knight watched him worriedly until Arthur motioned for him to speak.

"I apologize, sire, but we found nothing unusual. The guards also had very little of importance to tell." sighed Sir Terrence disappointed with his lack of information.

Arthur did not blame him. He had sent out the knight in one of the patrol after the king himself had asked in a discussion after a meeting a few days previous. The king had requested him to lead a small patrol in search of anything out of the ordinary, to question anyone he met, anything that point him in the direction of an accomplice to Morgana. After the queen had been saved from her spell he had doubled the patrol to search for her or to simply ward her off, as it seemed to be proving useless. He knew the enchantment Gwen had been under was cast far from the Camelot, only now he was worried if the witch did not reside closer then he thought, and what or with who she would strike at the kingdom with. It also might give him clues as to what, if anything tangible had happened to Merlin while they had been looking for him. The king knew he was the reason the man was not the smiling idiot babbling nonsense in his ear, but maybe there had been some incident the servant had experienced when he left Camelot that made him this way. It was horrible of him to hope for this, if it was only a fruitless search in attempt to ease his own guilt. Unlike all the battles, ambushes, and impossible quests, the only one that had inflicted the damage, the only one responsible for Merlin's pain and the one that had put him in danger was Arthur himself. He did not want to admit it, he wanted there to be another cause, someone else to blame. It seemed he was fated to watch everyone he care for suffer because of him.

The king closed his eyes kneading his forehead between his thumb and forefinger.

"Right. What of my other request?"

"I questioned the guards tasked with monitoring the physician's and," the knight shifted uncertainly. "Your servant's, daily routines, as far as entering and exiting the chambers, and they have not witnessed anything, out of the ordinary."

Arthur was at a loss. At any other time, on any other subject he may have smirked at the man's lack of subtlety, but he understood his unease. He had wanted to keep an eye on Merlin without encouraging the rumors, something the counsel had insisted upon.

The king thanked the knight and dismissed him, in favor of the cool darkness and the comfort of his bed. He extinguished the candles closed his eyes trying to push all concerning thoughts out of his head as he drift off.

When the men left him to crumple to the cold ground, it took him a few moments to realize he was alone, not quite free from the dark corner of his mind. The footsteps grew louder, he slowly became aware a distant light of a torch and, like the three men, did not want to be found. In his most reoccurring nightmare he was repeatedly burnt at the stake, the king creating new ways to torture him with fire before he woke in a drenched sweat. Not entirely aware he was not currently in any danger, he attempted to scramble into the shadows to evade the flames he knew he never outrun, but found he could do little in the way of movement. He merely managed to move his arm underneath him to at least prop himself against the wall groaning when he did so, and soon learnt he didn't possess the energy, or the strength.

"I think it came from over here!" Apart of his brain recognized the shouts, but the sounds were muffled and sounded as though they were being heard from under water.

"Come on, mate. It was probably just a bird or something."

"No. I'm certain it came from this direction."

The light warmth of the fire blazing on the torch finally landed on him for the second time that night.

"M-Merlin?" asked a startled Leon. The man in question lay on his side against the wall arms sprawled in front of him, with his eyes open staring ahead of him, void of light.

"Merlin?!" came another voice from behind him he distantly identified as Gwaine.

The knights gathered around the prone form as a moment's silent hesitation passed over the group. Finally the warlock blinked back to full awareness, twitching his figures in way of response.

Their barley audible collective sigh did little to ease the tense night air.

"What happened?" asked Percival asked quietly, slowly moving him to lean against the wall, he didn't move, only flicked his gaze to the floor. After the knight received no hint of a response, the servant heard the familiar movement of chainmail as the tall man knelt down in front of him. He could feel Percival's eyes on him, trying to discern the condition of the servant from his freshly injured face.

"Nothing." Merlin grunted, surprised his voice was more then a whisper. He was trying not to think, knowing it would bring all the pain he had felt back to the surface, wanting to stay numb for as long as he could, even if he knew it wasn't the healthiest of actions. He appreciated the knight's concern, however he really just wanted to be left alone.

"No. Who did this to you." demanded Gwaine, who stood looking down both ends of the hall as if the offending men would return and offer themselves as victim to the knight's rage as he ground his teeth in disgust and pint up fury.

Leon drew a deep breath, knowing their quarries would not bring them the answers they sought, and resolutely stood to take charge. "Percival, go warn Arthur of what has happened. Gwaine, I want you to take Merlin to the king. I'll go ask the men on duty if they heard anything and wake Gaius." He ordered. "This is getting out of hand." He muttered as an after thought before taking off to the physician's chambers.

"Help me get him up first, Percy." Gwaine asked evenly after the king's second in command had left.

"Which one of your legs was the bad one?" the knight asked his friend, trying to gage the warlock's condition before moving him while Percival went to one side of him and took hold of his upper arm.

"Right." Merlin hissed feebly as Gwaine took up the other side, pulsing irritations making their way to his every conscious thought, and was pulled slowly to his feet.

Aching, stabbing pain seemed to explode from everywhere as those it were a volcano and had only previously been bubbling under the surface, temporarily depriving his lungs of air. The movement did even lessen his vision making the corridor darken even further while the two men held him steady on his feet. He wanted to be left there to rest, to close his eyes for only a moment.

"Right. Okay then, put him on the left so he can lean on me..." He chattered nervously as Percival transferred the weight of the nearly limp man over to his brother in arms.

"Got him."

The taller man nodded, turned, and disappeared in the darkened hall back in the direction they had come.

"Come on, mate. It's not far off; you can make it from here. Whoa!" Gwaine exclaimed, the warlock having surrendered briefly to the welcoming darkness his body implored him to be submerged in. He jumped away from the cold pool of unconsciousness jarringly by the man's surprised voice, whom he had almost taken down with him by catching the knight off guard.

"Easy there my friend, we'll soon get this all worked out and get you fixed up." Gwaine soothed, trying to ease both their minds.

Merlin jerked suddenly to attention, finally able to clear some of the haze from his mind. Had he heard right? Did Gwaine still want him as a friend? Or was this another figment of his own imagination there to taught him? He tried to clutch at the chain mail right beneath his arm that was slug over the knight's shoulder. He knew he had to stay conscious, he knew Gwaine was helping him, and he also knew he was being taken to Arthur. This made him vaguely think of resisting their progress. He felt tired, embarrassed at the manner in which he was being taken to see the man that had not bothered to see him for a week. The warlock did not want, or feel up to dealing with the annoyed, degrading tone he expected, or the man that came with it.

The injured and now sweating man, heavily assisted by his friend, made their way as swiftly as they could without Merlin hissing or having to stop to catch his breath because of the pain, which wasn't very fast, given he did so every few steps. Gwaine prattled on in attempt to keep his friend from passing out even though the servant didn't respond. However, after what seemed like quite a trek, they reached their destination.

The guards on either side of the king's chamber doors paled when they saw Merlin, one of their jaws dropping in astonishment at the battered young man.

"Quit your gawking and let us in! Hey Princess!" defended Gwaine, almost succeeding in pounding on the door of the royal chambers.

"Enter!"

Helpfully, the guards managed to pull themselves together enough to open the doors before the knight had a chance to knock them down.

Thankfully, the queen was not present for this. Arthur stood in a white sleeping tunic and old brown trousers behind the dining table with his arms crossed in front of him, talking to Percival. The king paled as he took in the appearance of his servant, now fully exposed to the light of the candles, his arms dropping to his sides. It went unnoticed by the dark haired man, who was still trying to adjust his eyes to the light of the many dancing flames.

Merlin was leaning, almost being carried by Gwaine, bleeding from his hairline, nose and mouth, had one blackened, swollen eye, red fist shaped blots on either side of his face trailing to his red and purple neck. His jacket having been lost along the way, his tunic almost successfully concealed a nicely swelling bruise. The shirt covered many more bruises, bleeding cuts visible in various areas; his right leg had swollen to an unusual size. Gwaine looked positively murderous.

"That bad, huh? Not my best look then?" the servant asked jokingly to the man supporting him, trying to crack the nearly impeniatrable wall of tension. His voice sounded grated and hoarse as he restrained himself from coughing.

"This isn't funny Merlin!" barked Arthur, recovering some of his composer.

"Damn right it's not!" yelled Gwaine, moving forward to assist his friend in a nearby chair at the dining table. The knight withholding some anger from the king in favor of finding and punishing those responsible for harming his friend.

The pain in the warlock's leg lessened somewhat when his weight was off it, only to allow another sharp, biting pain in his side to be forced to the forefront of his mind, making him clutch at it in an attempt to ease the pain.

"Who did this to you?" repeated Percival.

"It doesn't matter." Argued the warlock, dropping his gaze to the floor and fighting a grimace.

"Yes it does! Don't be stupid!" Gwaine disagreed vehemently.

"Merlin!"

"It was dark okay? I couldn't see their faces!" answered the fatigued, and now irritated servant. Couldn't he be left to rest? Yelling was doing nothing to lessen the pounding in his head.

"So there was more then one?" stated the king, catching on quickly, his mind unwillingly picturing the scene.

"I-" he stammered, now feeling cornered. "Can't we just forget it happened?!" pleaded Merlin.

"No!" came the unanimous reply making his ears ringing uncomfortably.

"Come on Merlin, they couldn't have been wondering around in the dark! What were you doing outside of Gaius's chambers anyway?" reasoned Arthur, his concern falling to an air of suspicion.

"I needed some fresh air! And they were drunk, okay?" he paused to cough, paying the toll for raising his voice in his current condition. He took a deep despairing breath, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand, feeling the stinging heat of the bruises that decorated his face, and steadied himself. "It's not important in any case."

"What is the reason you're protecting them?" asked the king, exasperated. "Why are you so determined to hide from this? Something so simple as carrying the punishment of those responsible for-"

Simple?

"It's not simple, Arthur!" exclaimed Merlin, anger robbing his mind of pain. "And according to the law it, this is justified! Something as ingrained as prejudice cannot be expected to be over come after more then twenty years of acceptance of persecution. You can't lock up anyone for carrying out what is not against the law. Besides this is nothing compared to what those with magic have had to endure."

"Don't you even begin to speak of my father!" warned the king. Biting back the warlock's reasoning that could be viewed as a challenge and an order.

"You mean his actions of brutally murdering so many?" Merlin continued, anger rising again to defend people that could no more defend themselves then be present in the room. "Including drowning children?"

Arthur's fiery rage suddenly cooled. He did know of that particular sentence his father had ordered, but the idea was beyond his comprehension.

"My father only did what he felt would protect the kingdom. I have only witnessed suffering at the hands of those who use it!"

It was Merlin's turn to falter. He had realized this before; they had both suffered because of magic. He himself possessed the gift and he wasn't like them, he wasn't evil. He couldn't be, he reasoned, while his mind began to fill with horror and his gaze grew far away.

Arthur watched the servant become even paler, if that were possible, and looked to be at a loss for words. He sighed deflated, then looked to his knights.

"Gwaine, Percival, I would like to speak with Merlin. Unaided."

"Surely that can wait until morning." asked Gwaine following the king's line of thought, concerned for his damaged friend.

"Evidently, it cannot." The king affirmed.

Poor Merlin! Unfortunately he's just gotten into the woods, trying to adjust to being a captive in his own home, secrets laid bare to be judged, and betrayal still fresh while the two friends only attempting to deny it's existence.

Next chapter Merlin's time for a real explanation for his actions has come.

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