Note: Merlin is not mine.

"I'm a sorcerer," said Gwaine brightly, looking straight at the witchfinder and plastering what he sincerely hoped was a distinctly mystical smile on his face, but it wasn't the witchfinder who spoke next. It was Arthur.

"You are not a sorcerer!" Arthur announced, so firmly that it sounded like a proclamation from a king rather than a denial altogether. Gwaine took heart from this, that perhaps the ruse would work, as Arthur looked over to Merlin and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"He's not a sorcerer," Merlin dutifully agreed, although his words were muffled, because he had buried his face in his hands at Gwaine's confession.

"He's not a sorcerer," the witchfinder concurred to the king. "No common sorcerer could have healed that wound, not how you described it."

"I most certainly am a sorcerer!" proclaimed Gwaine, feeling somewhat offended that the witcherfinder wasn't taking him seriously. They had just met, after all! How could he know that Gwaine wasn't significantly more powerful than he looked from his position... on the ground?

Arthur and the witchfinder were both staring intently at Gwaine, while Merlin had finally looked up from behind their backs. He was wearing an expression of mingled mortification and disbelief that was so delightful that Gwaine would have laughed if the witchfinder hadn't chosen that exact moment to slam his scabbard down into the rock between Gwaine's knees, the metal tip uncomfortably close to where Gwaine tended to prefer a gentler touch.

"I am no common witchfinder," said the man, sneering down at him. "No denials or cheap trips can convince me of any falsehood."

"And I, sir, am no common sorcerer!" said Gwaine, more confidently than he felt with that scabbard where it was, and he ignored Merlin frantically gesturing for him to stop talking from behind Arthur and the witchfinder. "I am the mighty Emarys."

"Emarys?" repeated Arthur sketpically.

"Emrys," said the witchfinder and Merlin at the same time, the former looking so excited that Gwaine seized on the temporary distraction to inch away from the scabbard between his legs, and the latter rubbing his temples and looking like he had no idea what was happening, no idea how to deal with it, and no idea how to get them all out of it.

"You are not Emrys," said the witchfinder, "but he is near."

"No, he's definitely me," said Gwaine, still more offended that the man apparently wouldn't even give it a second thought that he could be Merlin. Plus, Arthur hadn't shown nearly enough gratitude that Gwaine was no longer dying! Regardless, Gwaine figured he may as well do the thing properly. "My birth was foretold, and I can slow time, and I can talk to dragons."

"Oh, is that all?" interjected Merlin, who Gwaine thought looked like he wanted to run away, get rid of the witchfinder, and strangle Gwaine, but couldn't quite decide on the order.

"I can also read minds."

The witchfinder laughed at that, and Gwaine suddenly wondered if he'd overplayed his hand and mind-reading really wasn't possible for any sorcerers. The man on his sword, and the scabbard scraped another few inches closer to where Gwaine definitely did not want any part of the witchfinder or his weaponry.

The man evidently found Gwaine's claim so amusing that he looked over at Arthur, as though he wanted to share the joke with somebody of high enough standing to join him in laughing at a knight, but Arthur just looked frustrated. Still behind their backs, Merlin's eyes flashed gold, and sparks flew from where the tip of the witchfinder's scabbard touched the rock beneath Gwaine.

This was of no small concern to Gwaine, who preferred the sparks that flew in that general area to be more metaphorical than literal. Then he noticed that the scabbard no longer moved as the witchfinder leaned on it and shifted his weight. The scabbard was seemingly anchored to the stone by magic.

Well, Gwaine thought, there was another piece of his anatomy that Merlin had saved, and while it was a very important part of his anatomy, his head was the larger concern at the moment.

"Gwaine's not a sorcerer," said Merlin, speaking firmly but pale in the face as he stepped forward.

"Of course I am," said Gwaine, heaving a sigh that may have been slightly too melodramatic.

"Of course you're not," said Arthur, actually rolling his eyes this time.

"Of course he's not," agreed the witchfinder, who then pointed at Merlin. "He's the sorcerer."

"Of course he's not!" shouted Arthur angrily, although he looked like he was on the verge of smiling, like either the witchfinder had a very peculiar sense of humor and Arthur didn't want to be rude by not laughing, or the very notion of Merlin as the sorcerer was so ridiculous that it was funny.

"Of course he's not," said Gwaine, "because I am. I healed myself with magic all by myself and I'm fine now with no harm done. And Merlin... was also here."

Merlin's face was in his hands again; Arthur looked completely nonplussed at what was happening and his lack of control over any of it, and his temper was clearly starting to rise because of it. The witchfinder looked like he'd run out of patience with the whole situation. Gwaine was feeling pretty good about it, on the whole, insofar as anything good could come out of this mess. He was feeling strong enough that he was pretty sure his legs would hold him if he tried to stand; unless Merlin decided to start doing magic tricks with Arthur or the witchfinder looking at him, they might all get out of this.

"Nobody could heal themself from the spell the king described," said the man. "Not even the most powerful sorcerer known to history. Just as it weakens the senses of a normal man, it cuts off the magic of anybody who tries to channel it. If you were a sorcerer and he –" and here the witchfinder nodded his head sharply at Merlin – "was not, then you would be dead, unable to save yourself. You're alive because you were lucky enough to have a sorcerer on your side."

Gwaine chanced a glance at Merlin, unsure how to play this new development, but Merlin looked confused as well. He didn't dare look too long, as his top goal was mostly to keep the witchfinder's attention anywhere but on Merlin.

"There is a spell," said the witchfinder suddenly, "that can reveal the identity of the sorcerer, quite conclusively. Of course, the sorcerer here knows this and would be able to stop me, if he so chooses. It's a well-known spell, is it not?"

"No!" said Arthur.

"I don't think he was talking to you, Arthur," whispered Merlin, color coming back to his face. He didn't seem so frightened anymore, but also just looked quizzically at the witchfinder. If this spell was so well known, then Merlin must have missed that day at sorcerer school. Something was missing and didn't make sense, but Gwaine couldn't see it, and it seemed that Merlin didn't know any better than he did.

"How can you do magic if you're not a sorcerer?" diverted Gwaine. "Magic is outlawed."

"Know thy enemy," said the man, smiling so genially that it was terrible to behold. He crouched over Gwaine, not letting go of his scabbard and therefore keeping the secret of Merlin's spell for at least a little longer. He began muttering a long string of words that sounded like nonsense to Gwaine, but Merlin looked more confused than ever, so it seemed that it wasn't the same strange language that Merlin had been speaking to cure his hand. Or maybe Merlin had missed that language day at sorcerer school too. It would be hard to blame him for playing truant from any magical studies, mused Gwaine to himself, since when would he have time for sorcerer school anyway with all his work for Arthur and chores for Gaius?

"Stop," said Merlin, looking alarmed again as the witchfinder continued speaking without pausing to draw breath. "Arthur, stop him."

"Why? I'll just let him prove himself wrong so we can get goi–"

"That's not a spell! That's an incantation from the Old Religion!"

"How on this flat earth would you know that?!"

Merlin had no answer for the king, and then Gwaine was struck with a thought that was both so alarming and so heartbreaking that he fully looked away from the witchfinder and focused on Merlin. Maybe Merlin truly did have big gaps in his magical knowledge, but not because Arthur required him to do at least some of his duties as befits a king's manservant or because Gaius needed him to gather herbs. Magic was illegal in Camelot, and it sounded like Merlin himself was more or less illegal in Camelot if he was truly this Emrys. And how tragic it would be if the only chance that Merlin had to learn new spells was from watching enemy sorcerers cast them at those he loved...

Most unfortunately, the witchfinder caught Gwaine's intent look at Merlin before Gwaine remembered himself, and the man seemed to interpret it as more of a cry for help than anything else. Even as he continued ignoring Arthur and smiling down at Gwaine, the man shifted his weight in his crouch, and it took Gwaine just a second too long to realize what he was going to do, and that he wasn't doing a simple spell that would detect a sorcerer. Too late but trying anyway, Gwaine yelled Merlin's name so loudly that he drowned out the witchfinder's words, even as the witchfinder spun on his heels at the last moment and directed the spell at Merlin instead.

And Merlin, with the practiced ease of a man whose instincts had become to hide the best part of himself even at the risk of great personal harm, let the spell hit him without so much as trying to shield himself in broad daylight with the king, his knight, and a witchfinder watching. Merlin fell, and even as he hit the ground, Gwaine saw the tips of Merlin's fingers on his right hand begin to blacken, with the inky magical infection already starting to spread further toward his heart, as if his blood had turned black and it was just a matter of time before he would rot from the inside.

To be continued!

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And "A Certain Point of View" is officially off with new updates! It has been QUITE a while since I revisited this story, so hopefully I'm not totally out of practice and it semi-works. I would definitely appreciate any feedback! There's at least one more chapter after this, no matter what.