AN: Crossposted from AO3, which is where more specific TWs can be found. Reviews are greatly appreciated!

Merlin threw the rope down and kicked his project in frustration, cursing and regretting his decision when the stone proved sturdier than his foot. He frowned at his sore, now soot-stained foot. Gaius would probably tell him he deserved that pain for kicking stone, no matter how charred.

Not that Merlin had any room to complain about a stubbed toe, he thought. Many in Camelot had far worse injuries from when the Dragon had attacked. Merlin was lucky to have gotten away with only a few small scrapes and burns and whatever other petty injuries he brought on himself.

He eyed his work one last time before deciding it was futile. He knew nothing about building wells, and it was stupid to think he could fix one without magic and in the dark. While the physician apprentice in him knew he would regret spending all night working on reconstruction, Merlin knew he would not be sleeping even if he had spent the night in his chambers. He might as well try to be as useful as possible—The lower town certainly needed all the help it could get, and he appreciated the distraction the work provided.

Remembering his plans to stay busy, Merlin looked up and did some quick calculations, figuring it was close enough to dawn to justify heading to Gwen's house. He had promised to meet her at dawn to treat the people she had taken into her home, generous as she was.

As he struggled around debris left by Kilgharrah's rampage, the young warlock tried to take stock of the state of this area of the lower town. Hopefully, if these residents' need was especially dire, he could appeal to Arthur for help, and possibly make Gwen's life easier in the process.

This task was difficult, however. The remnants of destruction and gore were hard to look at for long. Many devastated families were already up and working to salvage whatever of their lives they could in the light of the small fires that had yet to be extinguished. The atmosphere was heavy, the usually boisterous street silent with grief. Merlin could not deny feeling relieved when he finally reached Gwen's home, located in an area less affected by the attacks than most, and was greeted by a friendly, relatively happy face.

It was nice to look into the face of someone who seemed genuinely excited to see him.

"Merlin! I didn't expect you for another few hours at least, with the way the Prince always complains about you being late. What are you doing up this early?"

"I said dawn, didn't I? Plus, I could ask you the same."

Gwen had already done her hair, which Merlin had been informed was a time-intensive process if she wanted her curls to look right. She pulled him inside with a hug.

"Oh, hush, at least I didn't have to get up in time to walk over here." She began to step away. "Did you at least have breakfast?"

Merlin pretended he hadn't heard the question, like he always did when Gwen asked about his eating habits. Instead, he stepped closer to properly return the hug, wrapping his arms a little too tightly around his friend. He could not seem to remember the last time he and Gwen had had a moment alone or bring himself to step away from her arms, where he could pretend nothing mattered and he was safe and cared for.

When Merlin felt he had dragged out the moment as long as he could, he stepped back, brushed out the wrinkles in his tunic, and jerked his head towards the haggard, half-asleep family lying on the floor across her main room.

"How are they?" he whispered, not eager to disturb them before he had to.

Gwen shifted her weight, suddenly nervous, frowning and matching his volume.

"Nothing too bad, but they have several burns, especially the youngest. I hate to put you out when you're already so busy, but I had to bandage their burns, and, even though you and Gaius were great when you taught me how, I was worried I might have done it wrong, and I know infection—"

Merlin cut her off, knowing when Gwen was this nervous she could babble indefinitely.

"I'm sure you did it perfectly. You always do. But I'm always happy to double-check if you think you need it."

Flushed and still looking overly embarrassed, Gwen thanked him.

"I'll go wake them."

After a moment, she called Merlin over, directing him to a young boy who could not be more than ten, shirtless but almost completely covered in a neat array of cloth bandages, which Merlin vaguely recognized as having once been part of one of Gwen's dresses. He turned to her and gave his best impression of Gaius' eyebrow, concerned about exactly how many of her possessions might have been similarly "donated."

Gwen ignored the look—She was just as good at avoiding discussions about her wellbeing as Merlin.

"His burns are pretty extensive and quite painful, but nothing deadly as far as I can tell." She turned to give a large smile to the boy. "Young Matthew here has been incredibly brave about the whole thing."

Mathew looked down at his lap and flushed to his ears. He smiled, but it was clear from the slump in his posture that he was in quite a bit of pain.

After Merlin explained to Matthew why he needed to remove and wash his bandages, he took a moment to curse Kilgharrah in his head. The boy's torso was blistered horribly, and he would likely be scarred for life. Unfortunately, Merlin knew there was nothing he could do to help Matthew's pain.

Useless, he thought, all of it, but he could at least prevent an infection that would make things worse.

Merlin recruited Gwen to help clean Matthew's wounds. Gwen insisted Merlin apply the poultice he had brought to prevent infection, but he made Gwen re-apply the new bandages, watching and assuring her she had done them correctly.

The whole time, they tried to distract Matthew with simple questions about his favorite games. The boy humored them, but his persistent teary eyes made the conversation stilted and heavy.

Merlin and Gwen repeated the process for Matthew's two parents, who were thankfully covered in far fewer burns. They worked in silence, realizing quickly the adults were in no mood for small talk or petty distractions. The couple looked tired, hollow, and only half-aware they were being treated at all.

As Merlin tied off the final bandage on the father, he cleared his throat, thoroughly uncomfortable to be surrounded by such grief. As soon as he could, he stood and walked back towards Gwen's door. She followed.

"Thank you again, Merlin. I know how busy you keep yourself, but this was a huge help."

She smiled, but it was clear she was affected by the sadness of her guests as much as Merlin. He tried to return her smile as best he could anyway.

"No thanks needed. You can always ask me for help."

Gwen huffed. "Well, I want to give you my thanks anyway, so you'd better accept it. I'd say goodbye but I'm sure I'll end up in your chambers to help Gaius at some point today."

She opened the door, and Merlin stepped outside.

"Well, we'll definitely need it. I'll see you later, then."

"See you later. And say safe!"

Merlin gave an offended gasp. "Gwen, you know me. I'm a coward. I always stay as safe as I could possibly be!"

He turned and began his trek home with the sound of Gwen's incredulous laughter behind him. It was a nice sound. It kept his steps light for most of his walk until he got closer to the castle, where the damage was worse.

The street before him looked horrible. The homes had been reduced to ash and rubble. Random half-charred remnants of cookware, clothes, and other small possessions littered the pathway. The area had been quickly evacuated due to the risk of injury from debris, which meant no one had come to clean up the blood splatter and other evidence of human injury left behind.

Merlin froze, staring at the rubble ahead, and debated whether he had the time and the stomach to clean some of the mess before work. He glanced at the sky and was only a little surprised to realize he was already late to wake Arthur.

Merlin decided to leave the mess behind, telling himself it was a purely practical decision. Most days, it seemed like efforts to restore the lower town moved at a snail's pace, if not backward. Merlin wondered exactly how long his life would be dedicated to cleaning up the mess he had made and whether he would ever truly be done.

But these were maudlin thoughts. Merlin had a grumpy, overwhelmed, and hard-to-wake Prince he needed to feed and dress, which was far more important than standing around worrying over things he could not control. Not wanting to be any later than he already was, Merlin took off at a jog, keeping his eyes and thoughts on nothing but the castle in front of him.

Gwen was right. She did end up in Gaius' chambers that afternoon, but Merlin was still off serving the Prince. Meanwhile, Gaius was instructing her in how to properly prepare the materials for the burn salve they were using for the most severe burn cases. The techniques were quite a bit more advanced than what she usually used, and now was not a moment they could afford for her to make a mistake. At the same time, Gwen worried she was working too slowly, constantly double-checking her measurements and asking Gaius to look over her work. The physician did not seem to mind, however, so she continued at her cautious pace.

Gwen was slowly pouring honey into her mortar, cautious, as she was close to reaching the correct measurement. However, when the door to Gaius' chambers suddenly slammed open and violently crashed into the wall, she flinched, pushing a devastatingly large glob of honey into her mixture, rendering it useless. With a sigh, Gwen looked up to see the source of the commotion.

Merlin was home, but he did not look happy. He slammed the door shut and furiously stormed to sit in a chair by the fire.

"Our glorious King has decided to disband his Council. Effective immediately."

Gaius froze in his chopping, clearly torn between admonishing his ward for his language and shock at the news. Gwen suspected that, as a member of the Council himself, the Court Physician should not be learning such essential information from the angry rant of a servant.

Suddenly, the importance of what that information actually entailed dawned on Gwen.

"Suspend his council? Can he do that?"

Gaius nodded gravely.

"In a situation of emergency, the King may suspend his Council and declare temporary authority to act without consulting them. It is meant to be a tool for when immediate action is needed and deliberations might prevent a proper response to a crisis. Such a measure hasn't be used since the King began the purge, and… I worry what it means for him to have done so now."

Gaius slowly lowered himself to sit on his bench. He looked weary, like he suddenly felt the full effects of the aging that most days seemed to have passed over him.

Gwen was vaguely aware of the rumors that Gaius had practiced magic before the Purge, but she could never picture such an established and respected member of the court as a sorcerer. She stayed quiet, unsure how to speak about such a fraught issue, and heavy silence filled the chambers.

Eventually, Gwen turned to look at her friend. Merlin looked pale and had a distant look to his gaze. She registered the tired hunch of his shoulders and light sheen of sweat spreading across his forehead. She wondered when the last time Merlin had slept a full night was. She should have known to try harder to get him to eat breakfast at her home this morning.

After a moment, Merlin seemed to come back to himself a little.

"I think even Arthur wasn't happy about the decision, even though he would never say anything so specifically critical of his father. He was a right prat the rest of the day after the announcement, though."

Gwen frowned. If this was making even the Prince, who loved for his father so completely, question the King's decisions…

She cleared her throat.

"What does the King mean to do with his new powers?"

Gaius took a deep breath and rubbed his hand down his face.

"Based on what he proposed at the last Council meeting, I imagine he means to hunt for the person who released the dragon. He's going to start a second Purge."

On Gaius' orders, Merlin was confined to his bed that night. Sitting with his back against the head of his bed, arms curled tightly around his legs, Merlin stared unseeingly at the door closing off his room. Distantly, he was aware he was shaking, but he hardly felt any of it. His fingers tapped rapidly against the side of his knee. Was he blinking? He could not be sure.

Gods, a second Purge. As if Merlin hadn't wrought enough pain. As if he hadn't betrayed his people enough.

A return of the pyres. The witch hunts. The ability to convict anyone of a capital crime without a drop of evidence. All because Kilgharrah had broken the promise that Merlin had so stupidly believed in, confident the dragon would never hurt Camelot and threaten the prophesized united Albion.

Suddenly, Merlin had a horrible thought.

If Kilgharrah had lied about his promise to not attack Camelot, didn't that make the rest of it-the prophecy, the purpose for his magic, a future where magic was free-a lie too?

After all, if the prophecy were real, Kilgharrah would never have risked attacking Camelot or hurting Arthur, whom he had very nearly killed. At the very least, he would not have turned on Merlin, or the people of Camelot, so completely.

Gods, Merlin had been every bit the idiot Arthur always said he was, believing in fanciful words of a dragon. Kilgharrah had clearly realized exactly how eager Merlin was for the freedom of magic. Merlin had been so completely obvious in his desperation, and Kilgharrah had played to that weakness expertly.

Oh, but it was even worse than that.

It was Kilgharrah who had convinced Merlin his magic might not be something to fear—more than that, that it might give even a clumsy, stupid peasant like himself some sort of greater purpose. What any of it true, or was magic truly the corrupting force Uther and his sycophants always claimed it to be?

Merlin let out a single gasping sob. He quickly bit down on his fist, determined not to wake Gaius.

How could magic be anything but evil? Look at the pain Merlin had caused with it, without even trying.

How could he be sure? There was no one the warlock could ask. It was pointless. Even if Kilgharrah had told the truth about magic, could Merlin ever atone for the damage he had caused with it? Maybe the ethical nature of magic was irrelevant when Merlin had already wielded it to harm others so severely.

Realizing he was truly crying now, Merlin shifted moved to lie under his blanket, curling into the tightest ball possible. He slammed his pillow over his head, hoping to muffle the pathetic sounds he was making.

Destiny was dead. If there had ever been even the slightest chance that Arthur would one-day legalize magic, Merlin had utterly destroyed it the moment he cut Kilgharrah from his chains.

He would never be free.

He would be lucky if he survived the coming Purge.

In that moment, Merlin swore he would never fall for such hopeless fantasies again. He would no longer wield his magic so recklessly. He would keep his head down, try to survive, and do his best to clean up the mess he had made for as long as he was able.

Merlin curled further into himself, staring into the rough threads of his pillow. He stayed that way until he heard Gaius banging on his door, yelling that he was late to wake Arthur yet again.