Author's Note: It's a bit AU = Gwen's banished, Uther's dying, and Lancelot is dead. Just to keep things clear. I am mixing up the order a bit for my own devices, oh and remember, Season Five... never happened.

The stocks were supposed to be the tool of social humiliation. The person who got locked into them was subjected to being target practice. The missiles of rotten fruit and vegetables were unpleasant, but hardly lethal. The weather could add more discomfort and usually did. The odd stinging insect bite by chance occasionally added a level of torment. The teasing, jibes, and verbal abuses were expected – but only a person with to much pride was at risk of being truly hurt by a stranger's remark.

No matter what was thrown at Merlin, nothing could actually harm him. He was already his own worse tormentor so even as he was pelted, cursed at, stung, sunburnt, while being bent at an incredibly uncomfortable angle for his long lanky frame: it was his inner monologue that was doing the most damage.

Arthur doesn't really need me. I'm a terrible servant. Why am I so underpaid? Why am I the joke? Haven't I proven myself? How much harder to do have to work? What am I doing wrong? I don't want my mother to live in Ealdor! Half the spells in my spellbook I can't even afford to try. Why am I doing this? Why is George so perfect? Who could love polish so much? What is wrong with that guy? Am I going to be a loser forever?

The Gods knew just how much he was so tired of everything!

It was midway through Merlin's spiraling depression that his spirit rallied back. Even though he was at fault for going to the tavern and skipping work, he was paying for it without complaint. He did have some sense of responsibility if he were willing to face the consequences and face when he was at fault.

He may not be the best servant in the realm, but he had more work assigned AND he also was the unofficial body guard of the Prat. He barely had enough time to eat and sleep, nonetheless the long list that was expected of him daily. If he hadn't cheated, he wouldn't have been able to complete most of his assignments that Arthur demanded nonetheless attempt to do Gaius's requests.

He would study and he would sell things to make up the missing portion of income that he needed.

He would move his mother from Ealdor to Camelot to keep her from being threatened by people like Morganna. She wasn't getting younger and he wanted to be able to look out for her.

"I want to escape this moment so that I can think," was the driving thought and emotion - even without a flash of gold, Merlin's eyes began to flutter. Dark lashes slowly laced over his fathomless blue eyes. Filtering out the light of day, leaving Merlin only with his thoughts.

A rotting squash exploded into a spray of stinking liquid near his ear – spattering his face with vegetable gore, but Merlin didn't flinch. Even if Arthur himself had come up and mashed a rotting potato into his face, he wouldn't have noticed. He was elsewhere in his mind, blissfully removed from everything. He was to busy planning how he would take care of Arthur, manage Gaius, make money, and be a dutiful son. The secret warlock had closed his eyes completely - he did not even register the way his body went slack in the stocks.

He would forgive himself for not doing enough and he vowed he would never forsake his duty again.

At one point, Merlin heard Gwaine speaking to him. The knight tried his best to speak to Merlin, but Merlin kept his eyes closed and his mind focused as he carefully tried to thread his days together with magic.

It might be a good idea to talk to Kilgharrah. He might be a master of riddles but Merlin could force a yes or no answer out of him if he wanted. He might be able to narrow down the most critical times to pay attention to his Destiny.

He had been in the stocks, hadn't he? Where was this? Well it didn't matter, he had other things to worry about right now...

"... are you okay...?"

Anticipating Arthur's needs was always so damn hard, especially since the prat seemed to enjoy making work harder.

"He's trembling. Maybe he needs water?" a woman's voice suggested.

The problem would be finding the time to sleep. When would there be the time? He would have to discuss his schedule with Gaius, especially if he was going to be getting twice the amount of supplies than normal.

"Merlin?"

One thing that kept coming to mind was that if he was such a lousy servant, why give him extra duties? Mucking out the stables was the stable boy's duty, wasn't it? Was Arthur just being a jerk or was there something else to it? Merlin wasn't sure what to think of that one, but he didn't want to do it anymore.

He didn't witness the argument that broke out between the knights and the guards. He didn't feel himself being removed from the stocks and dropped to the ground. He didn't hear the worried voices or see the exchange of concerned looks. Gwaine's shaking him did not stir his awareness nor did being hauled over Percival's shoulder like a broken doll.

Arthur and Aggravaine were walking back from a very boring but successful chat with the visiting royals. In face, Arthur felt a lot more cheerful than his uncle looked, but he figured that it was because of the increasing amount of stress involved in running Camelot with his father sick. Gaius said that his father was slowly dying, that he was dying of a broken heart. He said it was just a matter of time the poison that was Morganna's betrayal, ended the King's life.

It would be nice right now to talk to Guinevere. He needed her right now, but that just couldn't happen. He couldn't need someone who had betrayed him so openly. Was waiting for him to become King that tedious? He wasn't willing to usurp his father. He just couldn't do it. As much as he needed her, he didn't want to need her.

There wasn't anyone else that he could share ideas with, even his uncle didn't seem to understand his mind. He wasn't willing to become a King who followed orders from his elders, but he needed to have some sort of counsel.

"What is going on there?" demanded Aggravaine, who began walking briskly towards a group of knights. Arthur followed his uncle closely, taking in the group of boot polishers heading towards the court physician's quarters with a limp Merlin with dangling limbs over the giant knight's shoulders.

"This boy was sentenced to the stocks a few hours ago and his punishment is not yet over," Aggravaine admonished Leon who had the decency to lower his gaze while his fellow knights glared at the black clad lord with impatience.

"Sire," Leon's gaze fell upon Arthur his voice pleading, "whether or not Merlin's punishment has been carried out to the end, he's in no condition to carry it out. We found him like this in the stocks."

"The boy is faking," Aggravaine argued glancing back and forth from Leon to Arthur.

Merlin was pale and covered with pink blotches from the uneven sunlight and from being carried in an inverted position. His head and forearms were covered in putrid vegetation, and his mouth hung slack unaware of the flies that were crawling over him. Arthur's gut twisted as he looked at his manservant,

there was something obviously wrong, Merlin would never fake fainting in the stocks. He was to proud for that. The boy was as stubborn as a goat. He was the type who rolled his eyes and did what he thought he should do rather than what he was told.

"Take him to Gaius and report to me after."

Whether or not any of the knights heard the concern in his voice, he did not care. They turned as a unit and went up the stairs that lead to the Court Physician's chambers.

Not soon after the knights had gone from view, a few roughed up, bruised and bleeding guardsmen show up to report the knights that had taken the servant from the stocks. They complained about the lack of orders and authority. They obviously did not think that Merlin's lack of consciousness mattered and Arthur heard them out, nodded frequently, and then sent them away.

"Sire," Aggravaine began.

Arthur held up a gloved hand, "There's no need. Merlin's been off for a few days. Perhaps I was to hard on him? From what he looked like, there is a chance that he's been sick. What matters is getting him back to normal. I don't want to have to train another manservant."

Aggravaine made a small noise that sounded like disapproval, but Arthur wasn't paying close attention. Side by side they traveled the corridors, Aggravaine chatting as Arthur walked in silence. His mind once again dissolving into, "I wish she were here."

They passed a young maid from the visiting kingdom, she held a large basket in her arms that was threatening to spill over with flowers. The air around her was permeated with the smell of wild flowers and the earthy smell of clipped greens. She lowered her head as Arthur and his uncle passed her, a small smile blossoming on her lips.

It wasn't until later that night did Merlin's eyes open again. His mentor's face came into focus slowly in the dimly candle lit room. He blinked several times as his mind slid into awareness. He was home. He was clean. Shirtless. The blanket was scratchy. He was on Gaius's cot. His mouth tasted like Arthur's socks and the only thing that could explain that was that Gaius must have dosed him with something really obnoxious. While the potions and medicines were effective, the contents of some of them were truly disgusting.

"...Merlin?"

Merlin smacked his lips before answering, "Gaius? How..?"

A large cool hand gently laid itself over his forehead and brushed back his short fringe, "You blacked out in the stocks, Merlin."

A knot of fear started forming in the warlock's stomach. He knew he didn't pass out. His magic acted without him to fulfill a want. He had wanted to escape the moment to think and his magic had answered his need. This was beyond catching a falling bucket of water or reflexively making a load light enough to lift without saying a spell.

"No. Gaius. It wasn't that at all," the warlock said softly to his confused and obviously stressed guardian. He caught his guardian's hand with his own and held it, partly because Gaius was fussing but mostly because he felt to off balance. He needed to hold onto someone, he'd been in the void much longer than he wished."I – I think I lost control. I think I accidentally spelled myself."

The elderly man jumped as if shocked and looked over to the corner of the room where Gwaine was sleeping. The dashing knight was sprawled in a spindly chair, his head flopped to the side.

"Merlin!"

"Sorry. I didn't realize we had a guest."

Merlin sat up slowly, his head felt heavy.

"You were in quite a state, Merlin. Normally a person would either be half dead, drugged, enchanted or extremely ill to be as...," Gaius paused as he recollected his horror when he had examined Merlin. Barely breathing, unresponsive, pale, low heart rate and with no sign of what had caused the symptoms.

Merlin wanted to get up and pace around the room. He wanted to move his blood through his limbs. He wanted to feel something. He had been so involved with his problems and he worked out solutions, but then he had realized that he was removed from himself, but not. He'd never been so terrified or desperate. He knew he would never be able to fully explain how it felt.

"I'm not ill, Gaius. I'm alright, now. I knew, but I didn't. I was distracted."

"How can that be?"

Oh how he wished he knew! He didn't know. He wanted to know. He needed to know. But there was no one who could possibly help him to find the answers that he needed.

This was one of those rare times that his magic frightened him. No, actually it was one of those times when he frightened himself. He had just purged his magic the day before, a slip up like this... no even a slip up like this should not be possible. Wishful thinking never triggered his magic before – had it?

"Gaius, I think I'm tired," Merlin said through lips that had stretched into a pained smile as his magic flared under his skin and against the fiber of his being. He wanted to say, something's wrong with me. My magic feels weird. How does magic feel weird? Has your magic ever felt weird? Hey Gaius, do you ever feel magic when you're walking around? Could you feel it when you did a spell? However, Merlin couldn't and he knew that he shouldn't. Gwaine was in the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Gwaine stir.

A small bottle was pressed into his hand. Merlin grimace was as bitter as the potion. He may have spent the day "passed out" in a void, but he still needed rest. A heavy sleepy feeling began to drag at his consciousness, inwardly Merlin sighed as he vowed to himself that tomorrow...

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Magic would find a way to survive with or without reasons.