I really have to say, I currently have no idea where this story is going to end up. I'm literally just making it up as I go. So, whether Melrlin keeps his eyes is up in the air (though I am leaning towards him keeping them).

Just keep it in mind, kay?

Again, thank you oodles for all the lovely reviews, my loyal readers.

The nice doctors here say I don't own Merlin, but I know better!

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A man walked into the cabin.

Merlin's headache increased, as if trying to tell him something. The man looked...familiar...

Without acknowledging Merlin, the man went over to the table in the center of the room and set something down on it. Then he went over to the fireplace where a brass pot was hanging. He bent down, pulled a flint and striker from his pocket, and started to light the wood piled there.

Merlin watched in perplexity. This must be his kidnapper, for he hadn't shown any surprise at a young man chained to his floor, but he was acting as if Merlin was a chair in the corner, inanimate and inconsequential.

The fire lit, the man stood and Merlin saw he would be shorter than him by a head. He went over to a bucket in the corner. He hoisted it up and poured what looked like half of the water inside into the pot. Setting it down, he went over to the table and sat, then began to fiddle with the something he had put on the table, his back to Merlin.

Merlin couldn't hold in his curiosity any longer. "Who are you?"

The small man stopped fiddling, and half turned on the chair, so that he could look Merlin in the eye. He regarded Merlin for a moment, then said casually, "Nobody knows."

Merlin blinked, then tried again. "What is your name?"

The small man said flatly, "I have no name."

I have no name.

Memories flew into place. The servant who had come to Arthur's room, the one-eyed deer with the mangled legs, the woodsman who had seemed so normal and unassuming, right up to when he had stated he had no name the moment the Merlin's world lost balance.

Anger overrode Merlin's still-aching head. He lifted himself to his feet, hand on the wall. "You - you stole -"

He only got out a few words before his vision pitched, the floor rolling up and down in waves. His hand slipped from the wall, and he crashed to the floor amidst endless shrieks of where is it where is it WHERE IS IT WHEREISIT-

"You're powerful." Merlin heard the sound of someone talking but the syllables were meaningless noise, just more nonsense because the world had lost all sense and WHEREISITWHEREISITWHEREISIT-

Snick, snick, there was another noise but it meant nothing, the only thing that meant something was gone and it had abandoned him, his world was splitting open right down the middle and there was nothing inside, nothing at all because it had been stolen away from him and he wouldn't get it back ever and he would fail to protect Arthur -

Arthur.

Again, Merlin grasped onto his small island of stability. Calm down, Arthur needs you. Calm down, Arthur needs you. Calm down...

Several minutes passed before Merlin opened his eyes to see the small man staring at him with flat, dead eyes. "You're strong. Not many could stay sane with what you lost."

"What?" Merlin croaked out.

The small man seemed to be debating whether to reply. Finally he said, "If you practice magic, you allow it inside your soul. The bracelet removes it. Having some of their soul removed wasn't a pleasant experience for most." A faint emotion crept over the small man's face, and Merlin shuddered as he realized it was nostalgic enjoyment. "Try not to make sudden moves."

He turned back around to the table.

Merlin barely suppressed a groan as his headache fluxuated. The pressure grew until he could barely remember to breathe. If this is what it feels like Arthur I'm sorry...

He concentrated on simply pulling air in and pushing it out, blocking any other thoughts. The paralyzing panic wasn't there, leading him to believe this was solely from his headache. Within a minute the pain had lessened to an if not ignorable, then at least bearable level.

Merlin looked up at the small man. His magic was gone, he could barely stand without some kind of panic attack, and even thinking clearly was a struggle over the still clanging bells in his head. Quite literally, talking was the only weapon he had left.

"Why were you gone?" he asked. He understood that it was obvious he wasn't going anywhere, and the woodsman could have probably just left him there for hours without worry, but it was still an odd thing to do when one had a captive.

Merlin could see the small man pause, then say, "I had to get more practice."

For some reason, the word made the hairs on the back of Merlin's neck stiffen.

Something called for his attention, something that was important to his situation. Merlin thought for a moment, and it suddenly became clear.

He said it takes the magic from me...

But magic is me...

Then what -

Snick, snick.

The sound made Merlin pause, and a cold feeling of dread forced it's way into his throat as he realized what it was.

The small man was sharpening a knife.