When Merlin woke up again it was dark. Very dark. It must have been well past midnight.

He could make out the sleeping shadows of their captors. They were wrapped in blankets around a dying fire. They looked warm, much warmer than those in the cage were.

Merlin was cold, very cold. It was all around him. His whole body felt slightly numb. The cold sat in his chest making it hard to breath. He then realised that this intense cold wasn't just from the night air. It was coming from inside of him. The normal warmth of his magic was gone, in its place was a shard of ice.

He started to panic. He was Emrys, the most powerful warlock in centuries. Magic couldn't leave him. He turned to the dying fire after a quick glance to check the knights were all still unconscious. A simple spell, one he had done hundreds of times.

"Forbærne."

Instead of the familiar warmth that rushed through him and the glow of embers relighting, he felt a searing pain in his wrist. The gold bracelet was glowing red, burning his wrist. Merlin let out a cry of pain. His magic had never hurt him before. Sometimes he was tired after performing very powerful magic but he was never in pain. He couldn't use his magic! He was captured in a cage, Arthur needed his help, and he needed his magic. Yet this bracelet stopped him from using it. He could feel it now. The cold ran down his arm and had reduced the magic usually blazing in his chest to a small flicker. Slowly the heat from the bracelet lessened and it returned to the original gold colour.

The warlock's cry of pain had woken Arthur out of his drugged trance. "Merlin?"

"I am fine," he said, trying to keep the pain out of his voice.

"What hurt you?" Arthur asked, trying to sit up and fight off the drugs.

"Nothing, I just pulled too hard on the shackles," Merlin lied. Normally he would feel guilty about lying to Arthur, despite it being a daily occurrence, but at that moment he didn't care. He had no magic; how were they supposed to get out of this situation?

Merlin felt useless. He had always had his magic to fall back on. If nothing else was working, if things were desperate, if it looked like the end, then he had his magic. That magic got them home safely, kept them alive. The last time he couldn't use his magic he had been attacked by the dorocha, he had almost died and Lancelot had sacrificed himself. He had lost a friend on that day and was not keen on a repeat.

"Do you know who our captors are?" Arthur asked, interrupting Merlin's thoughts.

"Don't know, haven't seen them."

"Thought of a way out of here?"

"No," Merlin said. He couldn't even use magic to unlock the door.

"Have you actually done anything?" Arthur demanded.

Just discovered I can't use magic anymore and that our chances of survival have plummeted.

"I wasn't awake much longer than you."

"I'll just have to do it by myself then, thanks a lot, Merlin," Arthur retorted.

"My pleasure." Merlin even put on a little smile. It was too dark for Arthur to see, but it was the thought that counted.

There was a groan as the knights started to come around. Looking around, Merlin saw the dark figure of Leon struggling to sit up, but the effort was apparently too much and he stayed where he was.

Merlin glanced back at their captors and saw that they too were starting to stir. They were about to find out who held them captive.

###

Elizabeth felt the pangs of her empty stomach. The smell of food had been haunting her brain for hours. And it was right there; only a meter away, food. Nice, well cooked food. And she couldn't get to it. If only she wasn't chained up. Then she could reach it. She could touch it. She could eat it. She could give her body the energy it needed.

She hated Morgana for this. Normally she could go days without food before hunger was all she thought about. Elizabeth had once gone a week without food when caught by a bounty hunter. She was used to hunger, to starvation. That's what happened when you lived your life on the run. Never guaranteed food or water. That was why all three sisters carried around dried fruit and nuts with them.

However when you got caught the first thing most bounty holders or other captors usually did was take your belt. Elizabeth's belt had all the essentials on it; food, water, flint, lock pick and weapons, lots of weapons. So Morgana had taken it from her as soon as she had Elizabeth pinned down. Then she had searched her for concealed weapons. The High Priestess had found them all except the small dagger and poison in her shoes. Which weren't that much use anyway, when you were chained to a wall so that you couldn't reach said shoes.

So Elizabeth was by herself, with no hope of a self rescue and being taunted by a plate of delicious cooked food. It wasn't meat half cooked over a smoky fire. Not bruised fruit that had fallen to the ground. Not strange bugs pulled from logs that exploded in her mouth. This was actual cooked food. Well-cooked and prepared food. And she couldn't have it.

Elizabeth hated living on the run. But she could hardly remember a time when she hadn't. She was only seven when the knights raided their village looking for her mother. Their mother was a sorcerer, she enchanted potions to help prevent diseases in crops and other small things like that. Because they lived on the outskirts of Uther's Kingdom they had had a day's warning that they were being hunted. It wasn't enough.

Jane was only a week old, Elizabeth seven, and Mary was ten years old. They didn't understand what was going on. Their father took them into the woods while they waited for their mother to finish selling the last of their potions. She never came back.

After an hour waiting, father went to check what was happening. He came back and said that mother had been captured and convicted of sorcery. There was also a bounty on their heads now. They were convicted of the crime of sorcery.

Although none of them actually had magic at the time. They were forced into a life on the run. It was a miracle that they had all survived as long as they had.

The door suddenly banged open, announcing the arrival of Morgana. Elizabeth had been lost in her past and didn't hear the footsteps.

The blindfold was once again cut off. Once the spots in front of her eyes disappeared Elizabeth saw the witch standing in front of her.

"Are you going to tell me anything yet?"

Elizabeth stayed silent.

Morgana sighed and chanted a spell.

Elizabeth lost sight of the dungeon...

Instead images of Uther came into her mind. His son, with the same cold, pitiless expression.

"Sorcerers!" Uther cried, pointing at Jane and Mary.

"No!" Elizabeth muttered weakly. This couldn't be happening, Uther was dead. He was dead.

Faceless knights marched towards her sisters.

"NO!" Elizabeth cried, finding her strength and running forward.

"Restrain her," Uther commanded.

With those words more faceless knights appeared behind her and grabbed her arms.

She struggled trying to escape their grasp but it did no good all she could only scream as her sisters - the only people she cared about, the only people she trusted - were lead towards a pyre. "No! Leave them! Jane doesn't even have magic! Stop!" Elizabeth screamed. It had no effect.

She tried to hit, to kick, to hurt the knights restraining her. But it did nothing. They felt no pain. They just held her arms. They forced her to watch.

So she could only watch as the pyre was lit beneath her sisters. The flames quickly jumped up to their skin. And they screamed. In pain. In agony.

And Uther smiled.

###

Merlin sat in the cage. It would be midday soon. The bandits had broken camp before the sun had finished rising. They had been riding ever since. Merlin had tried to find out where they were going and who was in charge. So far all he had was that they were being taken to 'her' and other snippets of useful conversation such as 'before tomorrow morning' 'she will be pleased' and 'Castle by the sea'

Merlin felt like he knew who 'she' was. There weren't many women who could be spoken about with so much fear.

"Well, it could be worse," Gwaine said suddenly, trying to lift the mood.

"How could it possibly be worse?" Sir Leon asked.

"Well..." Gwaine started, "we're not dead, that's always a good start. We're not walking anywhere, which is good because I don't think I could be bothered." He smiled, his brain supplying even more reasons.

"Don't give them any ideas," Elyan interrupted darkly.

One of the bandits or Saxons or whoever they were rode up beside the cart with a whip in his hand. He cracked the whip. It found its mark on Merlin's back. "No talking!" he commanded.

Merlin hissed in pain as fire radiated out from the cut.

"He wasn't even the one talking," Arthur protested.

Merlin rolled his eyes. Why couldn't Arthur ever stick up for him when it wouldn't get them in even more trouble?

The whip came down on Merlin again. Pain shot straight to his brain but he managed to keep his mouth closed.

"What did I just say?" The guard demanded.

Arthur looked like he was about to open his mouth again, so Merlin kicked him. He got a glare from Arthur, but the Prince got the message and stayed quiet.

Gwaine looked very guilty, flinching violently at each strike. Merlin gave him a small smile to try and stop him feeling too guilty. It didn't work.

Merlin glowered at the bracelet blocking his magic. If he could just use his magic they could be out of here. But there was more than just the bracelet preventing that from happening.

But it felt good to blame it on the bracelet. Arthur caught the glare at the bracelet and looked at him questioningly. He didn't ask verbally, mindful of the man with the whip.

Merlin just shrugged and pretended it was nothing. Now he had another reason to hate the bracelet. It had made him lie to Arthur, again.

.