*tries to whistle* Hey, um, I see you've gathered here with pitchforks and torches.

So, um, yeah, it's been a while. Seriously, my only excuse is I just haven't felt like writing lately. But here's a new chapter... yay! Please don't set me on fire...

Anyway, thanks for reading. I am so, so sorry for the long wait, leave me a comment if you can, and thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and/or favorited last chapter.

I own no one.

Bye!

Another week passed, leaving Arthur fighting the urge to grab Merlin by the face and demand he tell him what happened, when the warlock brought up what had happened himself. Arthur had been attempting to catch up on some paperwork, his table scattered with treaties and speeches, when he heard a knock on his door.

"Enter," he called without looking up from his speech, quill still moving across the parchment, his spiky handwriting appearing on the page. He dipped the quill into his ink pot, listening to the door open, and said, "Make this quick, I have a ton of work…"

"Can we talk?" a soft, familiar voice asked and Arthur looked up, his blue eyes meeting Merlin's uncertain ones.

"Of course," Arthur said right away, putting his quill down. He gestured to the chair across from him, but Merlin remained standing, his eyes darting around the room, not staying on anything longer than a few seconds. Not expecting an answer, Arthur still asked, "Are you okay?"

"No, not really," Merlin answered honestly, surprising the blond king. He looked down at his boots, shuffling his feet, obviously searching for the correct words. Finally, Merlin swallowed and said, "He never told me his name."

"Who?" After a fortnight of waiting for Merlin to talk to him, Arthur was having a little trouble wrapping his head around what his oldest friend was saying. Was Merlin finally sharing with Arthur what had happened to him? Or was this something completely different? "Merlin, who?" the blond pressed gently when the dark-haired man neglected to continue.

After a brief pause, Merlin sucked in a shaky breath and said, "The man who had me. H-he never told me his name. In fact, he didn't say much. He, he mostly showed me things, images, and at first I knew they weren't real, but…" the warlock trailed off, leaning against the closed door, ducking his head. "Eventually I started questioning the integrity of my mind. I started wondering if these images were, in fact, falsified, or if I actually imagined everything that had happened over the past year and that, what that man was showing me, was the actual reality."

"What did he show you?" Arthur questioned softly, concern dripping from his words. The blond felt a little angry at this mystery man, wishing he was alive just so Arthur could shove Excalibur through his gut, but he pushed the fury down, patiently waiting for Merlin to continue.

The warlock slowly shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, and whispered, "I-I don't…" he slid to the floor, clenching his hands into fists. He opened his eyes, unshed tears brimming, and begged, "P-please don't make me tell you. Please, Arthur."

"Alright," Arthur conceded after a brief pause, getting to his feet. He crossed the room slowly, as if he were approaching a wounded animal, and slowly sat down next to his friend. "I won't ask you to repeat your experience to me, but you need to know Merlin that none of that, not a single image, was real."

"I-I know," Merlin replied quietly, pulling his knees to his chest. "I just, I haven't felt that powerless in years, and I-I never…" he shook his head again, closing his eyes. "I don't wish to feel that way again."

Arthur wanted to promise Merlin he would never feel helpless again, promise the younger man that'd he spend the rest of his life making sure the warlock always stayed safe, but Arthur knew he couldn't make those promises. He didn't know the future, he couldn't know what would happen, so he opted to just nod in understanding, hoping it'd be enough for Merlin.

The two men fell silent, but Merlin finally broke the silence with a soft, "I never thanked you for finding me."

"You wouldn't have been taken if we hadn't distracted you," Arthur replied sadly, a little guilty. He still remembered that day vividly, watching, fascinated, as Merlin constructed his spell effortlessly, an intricate and elegant golden stream that still baffled Arthur, too caught up in the magic to register the threat lingering around them. "You shouldn't have to use your gifts to entertain us."

"Is that what you think? That what happened to me if your fault?" Merlin's eyes narrowed, his hands curled into fists again, this time in frustration and not to keep them from shaking. "I have never, not once, blamed anyone for what happened. If anything, I should be the one to blame. I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings, I let you, Gwaine, and Percival get hurt…"

"That's absurd, Merlin, and you know it," Arthur argued sharply, startling the warlock. "Don't you ever, for one second, blame yourself for what happened. You are not, nor will you ever be, to blame. And if you ever say such horrid things again, I will make George the new court sorcerer."

Merlin's quiet for a full minute, warring emotions flickering in his eyes, but finally he drew in a shaky breath and grumbled, "George would blow up my alchemy lab."

"I dare say, George would make it more organized," Arthur retorted coolly, smirking at the aghast look on Merlin's face. "What? Have you seen your lab, Merlin? It's appalling."

"So says the man whose chambers I cleaned for eight years."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Arthur crossed his arms, giving Merlin an expectant look.

"You left your nasty, foul socks lying around, Arthur. Have you smelled your socks? They smell like wyvern feces. I thought I was going to die."

"Oh really?" Arthur couldn't fight the smile slowly spreading across his face, or the ecstatic feeling rolling through his gut. He and Merlin had not bantered like this since before the warlock had been taken; he had missed this.

"Yeah, really," Merlin huffed a sullen look on his face. He stood up, glaring down at Arthur, and said, "And another thing, you let George go anywhere near my lab, I will find a way to dye your hair purple."

"Threatening the king, Merlin? That's punishable by a night in the stocks," Arthur joked getting up.

"Promises are not threats, Arthur," Merlin argued childishly, already opening the door. One foot out of the room, he stopped, turning to give Arthur a small grin, and softly said, "Thank you."

"Anytime, old friend," Arthur replied with a half-smile. He almost dismissed Merlin, really needing to get back to his paperwork, but instead he followed the warlock out of his chambers, curiously asking, "Do you still want to show me a few tricks?"

"Really?" Merlin's face lit up, his grin widening when Arthur nodded. "S-sure," he stammered in his excitement, nearly tripping over his feet as he rushed ahead of the blond. "I can show you a real simple way of disarming your opponents."

"You haven't ever used this spell on me, have you?"

"Me? No never," Merlin answered too fast, quickening his pace. "I would never, ever do that to you Arthur. That would be cheating."

"Merlin!" Arthur yelled after the younger man, chasing after him, wondering what exactly he was going to do with the warlock.