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

This would have been posted sooner, but guess which idiot managed to give herself concussion? I laughed too hard and bashed my head off a chair. One long Netflix cartoon binge watch later and I finally got this chapter done.

"What's Drin doing getting involved with someone like Cenred?" The mood grew sombre once more as Percival voiced a concern unspoken until now.

"Maniacal wannabe tyrants anonymous?"

"This is serious Gwaine!" Leon hissed, growing more and more tired of his flippant nature towards the problems facing them.

"I'm being serious, they have meetings every Thursday." Sarcasm dripped from Gwaine's tone. "How the hell are we supposed to know? Do we guess?" He gave the knight a steely glare.

"Bloody idiots. You give them one job, one bloody job and they manage to screw it up." The grumblings came from Drin as he stormed into the room, followed by a guard who flinched nervously every time his employer got a little too close. Though what Drin could physically do to someone twice his size who wasn't restrained was anyone's guess.

"What's the deal with Cenred then? You two making big plans?" Merlin croaked, as Drin leaned against the wall opposite him, his mind visibly whirling with the planning of his next move.

"Something like that."

"He's promised you something hasn't he?" Merlin looked at Drin sceptically. "There's got to be some kind of exchange going on, I know neither of you are cooperating out of the goodness of your hearts." Merlin wasn't sure either of them actually had any goodness in their hearts.

"Who I meet with is none of your concern." Drin snapped, then flicked his head in the direction of the captives. "I'd be more worried about blondie over there." But Merlin wouldn't be deterred quite so easily, the boy had a knack for prying when it'd do more harm than good.

"You want Camelot. We know. We also know that Cenred wants Camelot. How's that going to work then?" He scoffed.

"If you're so clever, you tell me, oh mighty oracle." Drin crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, and for a split second Merlin had a flashback to Arthur, only a few days before they left on their fateful hunting trip, stood with arms crossed in his room, making some indignant remark about how Merlin had made the slightest error in one of his many chores.

"You want to take over Camelot, but you have neither the manpower nor the tactics. That's why you need me, because let's be honest, you stumbled upon us by complete accident. There is no way that was a planned attack, merely opportunistic. Cenred however has the ability to raise an army. But he needs something else to make a successful attack. Someone like… me." Merlin's stomach sank.

"Those buffoons were on a simple scouting mission I ordered into Cenred's lands. They were disguised as soldiers of his to be able to infiltrate his castle. I just wanted statistics." He placed a weary hand on his forehead, regret written all over his face. "I wanted to know what would be available to me before he made a pitifully low offer. How was I supposed to know that the outfits they procured were from an old regime? The fools were immediately captured and they promptly spilled the beans on you lot. So Cenred is now aware that I have not only the king of Camelot and his finest knights in my possession, but also his sorcerer of a manservant." Drin gave them a snarky sneer, mentally cursing the fools who'd revealed his play far too soon.

Merlin hadn't been worried for himself up until now. He had accepted that Drin was stark raving mad, and that he'd most likely end his life in this room. He knew that he would never give in to his demands, and that Arthur would hopefully figure something out the free the rest of them. But with Cenred involved… the thought of Merlin being forced to use his powers against his home, against the people he called family… he'd rather die.

"I'm surrounded by idiots." Drin shook his head, pinching the slight bridge of his nose once more.

"I'm sure your leadership is top notch." Merlin smirked under his breath, and the beginnings of a chuckle left Gwaine's lips.

"You are not in any position to be making remarks like that, boy." Drin screamed and moved closer to Merlin, eyeing his handiwork up and down. "Done some damage to you, haven't I?" He prodded at Merlin's crusted wounds, making the boy emit a low hiss, accompanied by outcries of worry from the knights. "What's one more to add to the collection?"

He moved to Merlin's back, where the stab wound was becoming ever more swollen and red. His knife had appeared from seemingly nowhere, and the warlock tried to keep the scream forcing its way up his throat contained as the cruel blade was drawn across his uninjured shoulder blade, leaving a dripping scarlet streak in its wake.

"I have had it with people not following orders today. Look at yourself. Merlin the magician. Has quite a ring to it, doesn't it?" Drin sneered, looking immensely pleased with himself, as Merlin gritted his teeth through the taunt. He was more powerful than anyone in the room could imagine, yet here he was being referred to as nothing more than a fairground conjuror. Drin moved to stand in front of Merlin, just inches from his face, clearly realising he was safe to do so, the warlock had no energy to attempt a kick out at him. "And you, magician, are currently tied up," Drin wiggled his bony fingers and gestured to the Merlin's hanging body, "and, might I add, severely wounded. Just imagine the damage I could do to one of them." He moved up and down the line of nobility and commoners alike, as if he were an army general inspecting a new batch of recruits. "Do you think they'd serve Camelot well without half their faces, or only a third of their leg?" He paused at the grimacing blonde figure. "King Arthur. You could do without your thumbs, I'm sure. Or maybe even your entire head." The threat was followed by the rattling of Merlin's chains becoming more intense coupled with a vocal outburst from the warlock, which simply made Drin scoff. "You and your magic-phobia has caused nothing but anguish for dear Merlin, yet he has this loyalty to you. I don't get it." He shook his head in bewilderment.

"It's called being a friend, you ass." Merlin chuckled, catching Drin's attention whose head tilted slightly.

The warlock all day had been feeling his magic trying to reach him, as if it was trapped at the bottom of a deep well. He had been leaning over the edge, closer and closer, inching closer towards his goal. It was no easy feat; trying to access his magic when he shouldn't be able to was hurting him. His head was pounding and his fingers burned like he had chilblains, but he was so close he couldn't stop now. He only needed to distract Drin for a couple more minutes, praying that if he could reach his magic he'd be able to break these damned manacles.

Arthur and the knights gave him very pointed looks of 'what the hell do you think you're doing?' but he easily brushed them off. He was going to protect them until his last.

"Something that you'd know nothing about, rattling about, all alone in this tower. That's probably what sent you loopy, am I right Drin?" Merlin was sniggering now, watching his captor's foul face redden to a shade a rose would envy.

"You insolent little freak! You will respect me in my court!" Drin spat, turning on his heel to point a bony finger in Merlin's sallow face.

"Your court? Look around you, we're in a drafty old crumbling turret!" Merlin's head tilted back, rolling his eyes like he was back in Camelot arguing with Arthur. "You have no court, no subjects, no power, nothing! Those aren't knights, they haven't sworn allegiance to you. They're mercenaries, swearing allegiance to what little gold you can pay them!" Merlin could tell he'd hit a nerve from the way Drin's eye began to manically twitch.