A/N: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.

Hello guys. I feel like this is a needed chapter. It's a lot lighter than most, and because I've had a rough few days, I wanted to write something different (I write so much whump and angst it's unbelievable).

Arthur could feel his façade beginning to crumble there and then. Merlin was hurt, he was in unimaginable pain and Arthur was sat there doing nothing. He put that down to the war raging inside of his head. The offensive attack coming through as bursts of his father's voice, and the defensive struggle coming from Merlin, the knights and Arthur himself.

Experience against logic, knowledge against gut feeling.

Magic against Merlin.

So much was needed to be discussed. The length of time Merlin had been practising magic, how he used his magic and what his intentions were, but everyone was currently sat in a trepidatious silence, no one wanting to be the first to voice their opinions.

Arthur let out a long steady breath, steeling his nerves for what he hoped would be the right choice. A choice everyone would regret if it backfired.

"Alright." He said slowly, catching the attention of the captives. "We'll go back to Camelot. All of us."

The noise that followed was unlike anything he'd heard before, sighs of relief tinged with worry and panic. None knew what this meant for the warlock, even Arthur himself wasn't sure what the outcome of this would be. Would he keep Merlin's secret? He'd been told time and time again, no man is above the law, not even the king nor those closest to him, but the thought of Merlin on trial, Merlin being executed, it was far too much for him to bear.

"You're serious?" Gwaine looked at Arthur, his face searching the king's for any sign of deception or doubt, but only found reluctant acceptance.

"If we ever bloody get out of here." Arthur grumbled, tugging futilely at his metal shackles behind his back. His arms were beginning to ache, but it was nothing compared to what Merlin must've been feeling at that moment.

"Are you all alright?" Merlin was trying to inspect the knights, methodically searching for wounds of any kind.

Bloody typical, Arthur thought to himself. There was Merlin, hanging limply from the roof with wrists cut to shreds, covered in deep gashes and bruises, not breathing properly, and he was worried about everyone else but himself.

"We're all good mate, seemed Drin didn't think we were worth hurting." Gwaine immediately cringed at his words, as even he realised how tactless he sounded. "Sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Don't worry about it." Merlin gave him a slight grin, and, had he had use of his arms, he'd have waved off the comment.

"Have you had a chance to rest since…?" Gwaine stumbled over his words, tiptoeing around the issue even though it was quite literally staring him in the face.

"Briefly. I got a bit of sleep, some water that tasted like it'd come from a swamp and he gave me this piece of bread that was as solid as Arthur's skull." Merlin gave the king as soft smile, tentatively trying to ease themselves back into some form of communication, back into the familiar banter. Merlin wasn't an idiot, he knew everything had changed and most likely they'd never be as they were, but for a moment Arthur returned his smile and they were Arthur and his mischievous manservant once more.

"And how would you know what swamp water tastes like, Merlin?" Once the tease had left his mouth and Merlin's smile was widening, Arthur felt a rush of something, happiness, guilt, relief, something, sweep through him. It felt so good to talk to him as normally as they could, given the circumstances.

"We have to think of something soon. Drin seems like he could snap at any minute." Leon eyed the door nervously, proving there was a real threat to the men, as it wasn't often the elder knight got spooked.

"Merlin, if I- gave you permission… just this once…" Arthur couldn't believe the words tumbling from his mouth. None other than Merlin could make him question everything he'd ever known like this.

"Not going to work." Merlin sighed, tilting his head back so he could gesture to the cuffs. "Manacles. Magic suppressing. Haven't been able to fight back." His eyes flickered away from his friends, not wanting them to realise how pathetic he was without his magic, just another defenceless servant.

"Why didn't you use magic when they took you from the cells?" Elyan stared quizzically at Merlin, there was no hint to judgement or accusation, only perplexity. Merlin breathed out, disappointment clear in his face.

"Didn't want to get caught. You would've figured out there was something going on if I singlehandedly took out two guards whilst tied up." Merlin cast his wincing gaze to the knights, most of whom were gaping at him.

"You could do that?" Percival mused, eyes widening in astonishment when Merlin nodded, albeit with a humble nod.

"Kind of seems pointless now. You found out anyway." He shook his head, refusing to look at his friends anymore. "I was a coward. I should've got you all out, but I didn't want anyone to hate me."

"Listen to me Merlin." Merlin's blue orbs met Gwaine's kindly gaze. "We're your friends. We'd never hate you, ok? And you're not a coward. You are the bravest person I've ever met, and I've, you know, met a lot of people." He grinned, lightening up the room if only for a minute, before his expression grew sombre again. "No ordinary person could go through what you have and hold their tongue for so long." There were nods of agreement from the knights, and Arthur was notably silent, unable to contradict anything said about the warlock.

"Thank you." Merlin's grin nearly tore his face in two.

"Can I ask you one thing?" Gwaine looked thoughtful for a moment, and Merlin's stomach dropped. He really wasn't sure he was up to answering pointed questions about his magic, worried that his friends might not like the answers they were given. "Can you… turn water into mead?" His face still bore a look of seriousness, but his eyes sparkled with mirth, and to the knight's delight, the warlock's sparkled back.

"I could try." Merlin couldn't help but laugh, no matter how much it hurt, feeling like iron weights were being removed from his shoulders, weights that had been there his whole life.

"Then I shall never be sober again." Gwaine chortled, deadly serious in his words if Merlin's word ever came to fruition.

"You're never sober anyway." Elyan reminded him, as the knight sported his own grin.

"Life's more fun that way, my friend." The Irish rogue smirked.

Everyone was smiling now. As long as they had each other, they'd be alright.

Phew. Arthur might finally be beginning to look past Merlin's magic (about time).

I'm hoping to get 10 finished soon, but it's being difficult so there might be a little wait on it.