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

Super long delay on this, simply because there were so many scenes that needed writing and tying together. Hope you enjoy!

"And once again, Gwaine knew before I did!" Arthur concluded his tirade by throwing his hands up in the air.

"Arthur, this is childish." Merlin stood, leaning against the table in Arthur's room, with his arms folded against his chest, taking umbrage at Arthur's attempt to chastise him like a child. They'd been here since they returned to Camelot, a good half an hour or so. Arthur had angrily thrown himself off his horse, then demanded Merlin follow him as they headed inside. As much as Merlin had wanted to stay with Elyan and help him to Gaius', to make sure he wasn't too badly hurt, the king was not in a mood to be answered back to.

"Is it really?" Arthur peered at him, narrowing his eyes at the warlock; his tone all but proving Merlin's point.

"Yes!" Merlin rolled his eyes, sighing exasperatedly. "Gwaine has a knack for finding things out he ought not to know. Neither time have I told him before you." It wasn't even a lie. He had never told Gwaine either of his secrets, but the sneaky rogue was very good at figuring things out. He was definitely smarter than anyone gave him credit for. "Trust me." He implored, hoping the King would finally see sense.

"Trust you, Merlin?" Arthur scoffed. "All you do is lie to me." The phrase was spat with much more venom than intended, and immediately he began to regret his choice of words, the heat rising to face as a chill ran down the warlock's back. There was just that lingering hurt, the emptiness Arthur felt inside that Merlin had never felt able to confide in him about his magic, and now this new revelation had brought all those feelings bubbling back up to the surface.

"Alright, all I do is lie to you." Merlin bit back, with equally as much spite. Those words had hurt, those words sounded like tower Arthur; the man who'd cut him deep with his lack of understanding, not Camelot Arthur; the man who'd patiently sat with him while he poured his heart out on a cold corridor floor. The guilty pangs in his chest he'd been feeling all day for lying to everyone were starting to mix with the hurt and anger he felt from Arthur's words. This wouldn't be happening if you'd just told him, coward. The not so small voice in his head was still taunting him. "I wonder why that is." He let out a small, humourless laugh, throwing his arms up to mimic Arthur's actions.

"Merlin, come on." Arthur started, reaching out for the warlock's shoulder, hoping to reconcile as quickly as possible. Enough time had been spent in their relationship stewing over harsh words and regrettable decisions. "You know I didn't-"

"Forget it, Arthur." Merlin held a hand up to silence him. "Think about your own feelings first, like you always do." He shrugged away from the king, and pushed past him. His head was beginning to feel fuzzy again, and the ground once more started to shift from under his feet. "I can't… I can't do this anymore." Merlin kept his sight focussed on the heavy wooden door on the other side of the room, determined to get out of the closing in room as quickly as he could.

"Merlin…!" Arthur called after him, but he'd already slammed the door shut in his face. Anyone else would be arrested for treason for doing that. With a sigh, Arthur opened the door, expecting there to be an angered warlock on the other side. However, he was greeted with nothing but an empty corridor, and the very distant sound of footsteps.

Half an hour later, and Arthur was getting worried. He'd traipsed all over the castle looking for Merlin, hoping he could apologise, and maybe finally have one more 'cards on the table' chat, this time with absolutely everything that had been going on. The warlock had been nowhere to be found though; not at Gaius', not in the kitchens, not in the armoury, the stables or the council room.

He had bumped into Gwaine, and reluctantly asked him if he could find Percival and Leon, now getting somewhat perplexed as to where Merlin could be. He had even enquired from the guard at the gates if anyone had been in or out, to which luckily no one had. The last thing he needed to worry about was Merlin leaving Camelot after the way things had ended, especially now he knew he didn't have the same defences as before.

Arthur, Gwaine, Percival and Leon met up in the corridor leading to the kitchens, an innocuous space away from gossiping maids and intrigued guards. Arthur really didn't want the rumour that they were hunting for Merlin to spread around the castle, especially as he'd probably turn up sooner or later.

"Percival," Arthur greeted the tall knight with a nod as he walked up to them, "have you seen Elyan? Is he alright?" He hadn't asked him to join them as he'd immediately been ferried off to Gaius, having received the nasty injury from their bird-like foe earlier in the day.

"I've just been down to see him," Percival smiled, "Gaius has checked over his injury."

"And?"

"Luckily it was only a scratch and didn't run very deep. He's cleaned and bandaged it, and El's back in his quarters now." There was a sigh of relief amongst the men, none wanting yet another situation where one of them was gravely ill and close to death. Elyan's wound was relatively minor, but he'd still be out of action for a little while.

"Good, good. I'll leave him be to recover." Arthur paused for a moment, weighing how best to phrase the conversation next. "The rest of you, I need your help… Merlin's run off, and I can't find him anywhere."

"He's run off?" Leon was taken aback. "What do you mean 'run off'? He's not a child." The knight crossed his arms, a deep frown on his face.

"We…" Arthur sighed, "we had words." Why did he have to say that to Merlin? Of course, they both knew it was true, but it hadn't needed saying. It'd been to hurt Merlin in that moment, because of course, Arthur hadn't already hurt him enough with words. Why was he always this tactless? When did it become so difficult just to talk to Merlin? They used to be so close, and now… now he didn't know where they were anymore.

"About?" Gwaine narrowed his eyes at the king, though there one only one reasonable answer after the fiasco that was this morning's patrol. He still felt awful about the situation he'd stirred up, but then again, maybe it'd been the push Merlin needed. He needed to learn to be open with them, not to be afraid anymore and to tell them what was wrong. He couldn't understand his mantra of never telling anyone anything.

"What do you think, Gwaine?" Arthur grimaced, stone-faced. "About his magic, about his lies, about the fact that you knew before me, again." Gods he was childish, but that fact still irked him so very much. He was supposed to be Merlin's confidant, not Gwaine, and yet, the rogue knight always seemed to be two steps ahead of him when it came to Merlin.

"He never told me Arthur, I overheard him telling Gwen!" Gwaine yelled in frustration, also feeling rather guilty that he'd pushed Merlin to this. He only ever had his best interests at heart though, wanting to make sure everyone knew how fragile he was, was he so wrong for wanting to protect Merlin when he clearly couldn't protect himself?

"Gwen?" Arthur paused, somewhat stunned. "He told Gwen? Why would he do that?"

"Because he was alone." Everyone turned to look at the maid, angrily clutching at a pile of sheets. "You need to find better places to have your 'secret' conversations." Perhaps the corridor maybe hadn't been as private a place as Arthur had thought. "I found Merlin alone and confused in this corridor. He thought he was back with that man, Drin, and was mad with fear. I helped him back to Gaius' where he told me everything."

"Why?"

"Do you have any idea how alone he felt? Not just for those weeks since he came back, but his entire time in Camelot?" Gwen chided, unsure of how Arthur could be so oblivious sometimes. In reality, she was mad at herself, for now she could see, really see, when Merlin's smile didn't reach his eyes, or when a laugh was just a little too forced. How many times had she missed it? How many times had he willed someone to reach out and notice how alone he truly was?

"Gwen," Arthur started, unsure of the right words, "I know, things with Merlin aren't fine, they haven't been fine in a long time as much as he pretends, and I see that now, I see that he's putting up walls and shutting me out. I just can't find a way through to him, no matter how hard I try. I just want my friend back." He bit back the emotion welling in his eyes. Kings didn't cry over servants. It was that rhetoric that seemed to have caused this mess, the fact that neither were supposed to be open with each other, and it had pushed them further and further apart. "I want my friend back." He reiterated with a sad nod. "Let's go find Merlin."

Percival had an idea, he just hoped to God he was wrong. There was an old lookout tower down in the west side of the castle, it hadn't been used for years, many before Percival was ever knighted, and it was the one place no one would think to look. He turned the corner, approaching the staircase leading up to it, and his heart sank to see fresh footprints taking chunks out of the inches of dust that usually coated them.

As softly as a man his size could, he crept up the many steps, following the steps taken in front of him. Eventually he was greeted by the chill of the open-built windows, and the dusky light of early eve, his eyes accustomed to the harsh torchlight throughout Camelot's corridors. He also was thankful there was the frame of a manservant sat in one of the windows, his head lazily lolled against a shoulder. It had been a constant thought whilst following those footsteps that he'd be too late, he'd arrive to an empty room and screams from below.

"Merlin mate, are you alright?" Percival called over to him, approaching him as if he were a frightened deer. "What are you doing up here?"

"I'm just getting some air, it's- it's quiet up here." Merlin sighed, taking one last look at the sereneness of Camelot in the early evening. Everyone had packed up their stalls and wares for the day, there was little of the hustle and bustle of the day, and the raucousness had not yet begun in the taverns. He suddenly turned to look at Percival with a questioning look. "Why? What did you think…?" Merlin blanched, the answer suddenly hitting him like a lightning bolt. "You thought I'd come up here to…?" He couldn't even finish the thought.

"See it from our view, eh?" He joined Merlin, squeezing himself into the unaccommodating space of the windowsill, an uneasy task for him. "You went up here all on your own, and you haven't been the most… engaged person in the last few weeks. We were just worried, that's all." He had to admit, he could see why Merlin liked this spot. You could see right to the edge of Camelot from up there, and down to the haze of the horizon where Essetir lay beyond. Merlin's home. He came up here to look at home. Percival thought his heart broke for the warlock, just a bit.

"I'm fine, Percival. I'm not going to throw myself from the tower. See how peaceful it is?" The silence that hung in the air was very pleasant, a welcome stillness difficult to achieve anywhere else. "I just don't understand how Arthur doesn't get it by now. You'd think, just once, he'd engage his tiny brain before opening his stupid mouth." Merlin grumbled, comfortingly pulling his knees up to his chest.

"He said you'd had words."

"He was right, though. Of course he was. He told me all I do is lie to him, and it's true. I can't be honest with him, I can't tell him what's going on in my life because I'm supposed to be the strong one, the hidden power in Arthur's destiny," he let out a harsh laugh, "and now, frankly, what use am I to him? I can't protect him without my magic. I'm so weak." He buried his head in his hands. "I once told Gaius that without magic I may as well die, and it's true, isn't it? I have nothing anymore."

Percival reached out and placed a comforting hand on Merlin's shoulder for a brief moment, before letting out a soft sigh, and began pensively fiddling with his hands.

"When I was younger, I broke my leg. It was bad, the physician wasn't sure I'd ever walk again and even considered cutting it off at one point." Merlin looked up, casting him a empathetic but quizzical look. "I couldn't move for weeks; I was miserable and alone in my home and I felt defeated. Even more so after… what happened." He shook his head, and bit his lip, clearly uncomfortable at the memory. "My best friend, he went out into the town one night, as we'd do on occasion. Except he was by himself, I was laid up still. He got into a fight at the tavern and never came home. I blamed myself for his death, I still do, really. If I hadn't been invalided I could've been with him, could've defended him or even stopped the fight all together." In that moment, Merlin had never seen so much emotion on Percival's features. "My point is I too know what it is to live without strength, to have it taken away from you and know the feel of failure. But do you know where your real strength comes from, Merlin? Inside your head." He tapped on his skull to make a point. "You held out from speaking to Drin when he had control over your magic, even and especially when you thought Arthur hated you. That takes a mental strength few possess. That's your strength; it didn't come from magic or power, it came from loyalty and bravery and goodness. And even if you never get your magic back, you'll always be strong. You are not weak, and you never, ever will be. Believe me Merlin."

The warlock had no words to respond to such a moving speech by his friend, all he could summon was a soft nod of acceptance as his lips began to tremble slightly. He'd not heard such kindness in quite a while, and it took a lot for him to accept the words as genuine, but Percival's words had moved him more than anything.

"Thanks." He offered weakly, and let out another short laugh, this one much lighter and full of relief and happiness.

"Now, not to worry you, but Arthur literally has all of Camelot's finest, except Elyan, who's fine," Percival clarified rather quickly before he began to worry, "scouring the castle for you, so maybe we should head back?" He nodded towards the staircase, wanting to leave his room as quickly as possible, but also as the last of the light was disappearing, and the stairs weren't lit with torches like the rest of castle. He had a feeling he could break the other leg descending those monsters in darkness.

"Arthur has people looking for me?" Merlin sounded surprised, but not shocked. He had left rather abruptly, and after quite harsh words spoken. Arthur would want to find him as soon as possible, if only to clear his own conscious.

"Why wouldn't he? I know he's a pillock," Percival almost clapped his hand over his mouth once the word had escaped, "never ever tell him I said that," he pointed a warning finger at Merlin with a cheeky smile, which Merlin returned, holding his hands up innocently, "but you do need to give him some credit for how he cares for you."

"I know." Merlin's smile dropped, a sad sigh on his lips. "I don't blame Arthur for how he is, or how I am." He looked out once more at his makeshift home, and his true home miles beyond it's walls. How simple life had been when there had just been one rather than the other. "I just hate it." He growled in frustration, yelling out into the dead evening.

"Of course you do. But sitting up here achieves nothing. Let's go mate, eh?" Percival unsqueezed himself from the window frame, and gestured for Merlin to do the same, before letting him begin to decline the staircase, following closely behind as he made sure the warlock really was alright. He might even ask Arthur to board up these stairs, in the name of safety, of course. They were a bloody death trap.

Gwaine was pacing up and down one of the west corridors when they finally made it back down to ground level. As soon as he spotted the raven-haired servant Gwaine immediately made towards him, only to skid on his heels and slow down as he approached Merlin, not wanting to make it seem like a big deal.

"Alright?" Gwaine asked nonchalantly, giving Merlin an affirming nod.

"Yeah, fine, thanks. I'm going to go find Arthur, I hear he's been looking for me."

"Could say that." Gwaine clenched his jaw to prevent himself from saying anymore. "Could very definitely say that."

"…Right. I'm gonna go..." Merlin awkwardly gestured down the corridor.

"…go find Arthur." Gwaine finished for him, an unnerving grin on his face which dropped as soon as Merlin's back was turned. "What in god's name was he doing up there?" He hissed, glaring up at Percival, the pair following Merlin at a reasonable distance, so as not to look like he was so obviously following him.

"Don't panic," Percival leaned in towards Gwaine, his voice in a low whisper, "he just likes the view." Shrugging, he carried on at a pace behind Merlin, whilst Gwaine had stopped dead in tracks.

"Seriously?" The knight held a look of immense relief, but also the residue of the worry and anger he'd felt at Merlin for just up and disappearing like that. It wasn't that Gwaine thought he should be babied or constantly monitored, but running off when he was fragile and emotional, and possibly unwell, and with Drin returning, all sorts of thoughts had crossed his mind. He imagined this was the anger parents felt when their child returned after wandering off, immediate fury followed by overwhelming relief and happiness.

"Yeah, he kind of freaked out when I mentioned I thought he might jump. I think he's okay." Percivla looked back at Gwaine, who was still stood quietly. "He's fine Gwaine, come on." He mouthed silently, nodding in the direction of the disappearing warlock.

Gwaine looked unconvinced but said nothing, instead catching up with Merlin and wrapping a playful arm around his shoulders, whistling a content tune as the three headed back.

"Sire," Leon entered the dining room and greeted the king with his customary respectful bow, "I have just spoken to Percival. He found Merlin and he's fine. He told me they were going to Gwaine's room to play cards this evening."

"Cards? I hope he's aware of how devilishly Gwaine plays cards." Arthur laughed, having been on the nasty receiving end of Gwaine ruthlessness when it came to gambling. After quite the argument about whether Gwaine should yield to his majesty's authority, or be seen as a generous leader who keeps a gentleman's word and pays his losses, Arthur had agreed to pay the knight's tavern bill for the week. He was still trying to explain that one to the treasury. "I'll leave them for tonight, probably best to put some distance between us, then we'll talk tomorrow."

"Best idea sire." Leon nodded thoughtfully. "I'll head off, if there's nothing else?"

"No, that's it Leon, thank you." Arthur smiled, and watched Leon leave the dining room, sitting himself down and hoping Cook had made something remarkable to counteract the hellish day he'd had.

"Arthur?" There was soft knocking at the door and Petch slipped through, greeting the tired king with a warm smile.

"Petch," Arthur held out his hands, "I can only apologise for my lack of hospitality, especially as you've come such a long way." He sighed sadly, regretful they'd not spent more time together since he'd arrived. He would be eternally grateful to the elderly healer, there was no way they could've staved off Merlin's infection on their own, or properly cared for him. He owed Merlin's life to Petch, a debt that could never truly be repaid.

"I understand Arthur, you have a kingdom to run. Camelot certainly overshadows Redferran. I am afraid I need to ride back this evening, I know I said I would stay the night, but I worry about the village when I'm not there, I hope you understand."

"You're their physician, they rely on you, if you feel you need to return tonight then of course, that's fine. Would you like to join me for dinner first?"

"Oh Arthur, that's too much," Petch tutted, clearly overwhelmed by the king's kindness during the day, "surely you've much more esteemed gentleman to be feeding?" It seemed what he'd heard of the Pendragons, at least Arthur, hadn't been all true, not if this was how they treated a humble villager like himself.

"Nonsense, you are here as my guest, and I can't let you leave until I know you will not be fainting from hunger on your journey home. An hour's delay, at most. It's still early, there'll be light for hours yet." Arthur lead him to a seat, and let him wearily sit down.

"If you insist, sire." In one moment Petch had managed to capture the impertinence and grin of Merlin perfectly. "Once we've eaten, I need to organise my things, but first I'd like to speak with Gaius some more, and hopefully see Merlin before I leave. See how he's doing, not that I doubt Gaius has taken the very best care of him."

"Of course." Arthur called for a guard to bring him double of whatever Cook had made for dinner, and as soon as possible. The guard had narrowed his eyes a little, just enough so as not to be impertinent, but taking food orders really did not fall under his job remit. He silently left the pair, closing the door with a quiet thud. "You haven't spoken to Merlin today?"

"No, we seem to keep missing one another. But once a patient of mine, always a patient of mine, you see."

There were too many similarities between this man and Gaius for them not to have been separated at birth, Arthur thought.

"Arthur, this food is divine. Whoever is your cook, she certainly knows what she's doing." Petch laughed, as he pushed a now empty, almost spotless, plate away from him.

"I shall be sure to have Merlin let her know." Arthur chuckled. He was not going to face Cook. He didn't care he was the king, that she worked directly for him, that she'd been around since he was a small child. When she was around, Arthur still felt like a small child. No, she scared Arthur.

"My lord, I have urgent-" The door swung open with a crash and tired-looking guard stumbled through. He regained his composure, standing upright and straightening himself up. He was about to relay whatever message seemed so important, until he noticed Petch also sat at the king's table, and began to glare at the poor man, clearly willing him to leave. "Urgent news. Perhaps we should be alone." Another pointed stare at Petch.

"It's fine, like I said, Petch is a friend of Camelot and completely trustworthy." At this the guard softened somewhat, casting his eyes to the king rather than a slightly worried elderly physician. "Now, what's the matter?" Arthur pushed the remainder of his lunch away from him, and quirked a small smile as he saw Petch eyeing his leftovers out of the corner of his eye.

"There's been reports of attacks of villages not far from the border." The guard stated matter-of-factly. "The scouts haven't reported an attack on Camelot yet, but they seem to be moving closer, and I suggest we be vigilant." Even that made his demeanour slip, just a tad, but the reports had been enough to worry him, that was clear.

"Attacks? By whom?" At this Arthur stood, a bad feeling sinking into his gut. It couldn't be Drin, please don't let it be Drin. He hadn't had time to start coming up with even a basic strategy, and did not want to be forced his hand because the old despot was advancing.

"We're not sure, the bandits have been attacking villages across the lowlands and even some as far away as Essetir. We don't know what they're after," the guard paused for a moment, either for dramatic tension or simply because he wasn't sure, "if not pure destruction." He concluded with a regrettable sigh.

"Did you say lowlands?" Arthur's suspicions were closer to being confirmed, something that made him feel physically sick. "They're mostly self-governing small villages, who'd take an interest them?"

"I am unsure, sire, but they've wiped out Hossen, Westfirth, and Redferran."

I hope to have this updated beforehand, but if not a very merry Christmas (or applicable seasonal celebration) and a happy new year to all of you beautiful people.