This is short, and I am sorry for that, but I really like where it ended. Next chapter will, hopefully, be longer.

Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and/or favorited last chapter. You guys are awesome.

So, leave me a comment if you can, thank you so, so much for reading, and I don't own 'em.

Bye!

P.S. Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it. And Happy Wednesday (or Thursday depending own when you read this) to those who do not.

Merlin shouldn't have been too surprised. It was just too good to be true, Arthur actually accepting his magic. Maybe he should have left when he had the chance. Gwaine even offered to go with him, be his guard or whatever, but Merlin had stayed. He had stayed because of Arthur; because Arthur convinced him he was alright with the whole 'magic' thing. He was such an idiot.

With a humorless snort, Merlin kicked at a rock, sinking onto a moss covered log. He wrapped his arms around himself, staring broodingly at the ground, blinking rapidly, willing himself not to cry. What was crying going to accomplish? Not a damn thing.

He heard a stick snap, head jolting up. Looking around, he called, "Hello?"

"Hello," a voice replied directly behind him, startling him.

Merlin stood and turned, eyebrows furrowing, and asked, "Is something wrong? Does Arthur need anything?"

"No," the person responded, shaking his head, a grim look crossing his face.

"Are you sure…?" Something heavy slammed into the back of his head, cutting off his words. Merlin hit the ground, his vision going white, his head feeling as if it split in two, his ears ringing. Struggling to stay conscious, he heard a voice snarl, "There's no place for magic in Camelot." He was hit again, a bit harder than the first time, and everything went black.

Merlin

Percival whistled softly, moving through the woods, heading back towards camp. He had been walking the perimeter, looking out for any potential threats, trying hard not to walk up to Sir Lucian and introduce him to his fists. It wasn't very Sir like, but no one was allowed to even think about harming Merlin on Percival's watch. And, oh, when Gwaine found out…

Percival jolted back to reality when he tripped over something. Catching himself on a nearby tree, he straightened, looking down at what he had stumbled over, his heart nearly stopping when his blue eyes settled on Merlin.

"Merlin!" Percival dropped down next to the younger man, his stomach jolting at the sight of the blood pooling around his head. Whoever had hit him had obviously not stopped after two hits. "Merlin," Percival repeated feeling around for a pulse. He breathed a shaky sigh of relief when he felt a thready one against his fingertips.

"Merlin, wake up." Percival lightly tapped the young warlock's face. "Merlin, please wake up."

"What's going on?" a familiar voice asked sharply and Percival felt more than saw Arthur drop down next to him. "Is he alright?"

"He's alive," Percival replied trying to breathe through the anger building in his chest. Someone had hurt Merlin. Someone had tried to kill Merlin. Someone could have actually succeeded…

"Where is Sir Lucian?" the taller knight snarled.

"You cannot honestly…?"

"Where is he?" Percival leapt to his feet, ignoring the worried look in Arthur's eyes. "If he did this…"

"It must have been a bandit or…"

"Are you really that blind?" Percival roared. "You heard what Lucian said about Merlin. You defending Merlin made him look like a fool in front of everyone, and since he cannot harm you…"

"Percival…" Arthur glanced down at Merlin, running a shaky hand down his face, and softly said, "We need to get Merlin help, okay? Let's make sure he's going to pull through before we jump to conclusions. Maybe he can help shed light on his attacker."

"And if he dies?" When Arthur neglected to answer, Percival growled, "What happens if he dies, Arthur?"

Something akin to guilt crossed the king's face as he softly said, "We will deal with it accordingly, but first I need you to get his med-bag. Can you do that for me please?"

Percival huffed but nodded, turning to hurry back to Merlin's horse, but stopped. Keeping his back to Arthur, he snarled, "I'll tell you one thing. If he dies, gods help the person who did this to him." He then jogged towards the horses without a backwards glance; praying to whoever was listening that Merlin would be okay.