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

Apologetic rambles at the end of the chapter.

Petch was near collapse as soon as he heard the name of his home uttered by the guard. Arthur had managed to catch the elderly physician and prop him back up onto his stammering feet. He was mumbling something, inaudible to Arthur, but tinged with the greatest of pain.

"Nearly every house had burnt to the ground, the crops were destroyed, we…" The guard cast a rueful look at Petch, who was still struggling to stand in Arthur's protective grip. "There were no survivors." At this, Petch let out a grief-stricken, heart-breaking cry; unable to keep it together any longer.

"No." He screamed, grabbing tighter hold of Arthur's shoulders. "They can't be gone." A dry sob caught in his throat, and he was on the verge of screaming. Arthur felt the man's entire dead weight fall back against his arm, and struggling to keep him upright much longer, he knelt slowly, letting Petch sink down to his knees. "I can't be alone."

"Hossen and Westfirth the same?" Arthur breathed quietly, turning his head to the guard, who solemnly nodded. "Was it Drin?" He knew the answer already, no one else would be this malicious in their efforts, no one else would target such small communities. This had gone beyond egotistical pontificating, this was cold-blooded murder and destruction, and it scared Arthur. If this is what Drin was willing to do to his former home, to people who had done no wrong but stood up for themselves, then what would he do to the sorcerer who openly mocked him?

"We think so, sire. He would appear to match the description you gave of him." There was a crushing silence in the hall, the only sound of Petch's heavy breaths caught in a shudder as he held himself together with what little energy he could muster, before the guard spoke again, his head bowed in a respectful deference. "Forgive me sire, but if there's any more we should know about this villain then perhaps-"

"I need to see this man to Gaius," Arthur ignored the guard, with not the faintest idea of what to tell him, "can you help me?" Arthur motioned to Petch, who was slumping against Arthur in a hazy, disturbed state. The guard nodded and moved to the king's side, slipping a hand around Petch, who tapped the guard's hand in thanks, as the three rose up and began to move towards Gaius'.

Gaius added the last ingredient to the wooden cup, pouring a spoonful of powder out of one of his many glass jars into the concoction. He gave it one last stir, then tapped the spoon against the cup before setting it aside, and turning back to Petch. He pressed the cup into his quivering hands, clasping his own around them to make sure the drink did not spill.

"It'll help with the shock." He didn't know how many times he'd uttered such words, or made such a cocktail, but it never got easier. Every shaky breath, every whimper that hadn't quite been suppressed, every sob caught in a throat, it broke his heart. "Nothing can take the pain away, but I promise you, it will help."

Usually, as one physician to another, Petch may have quipped about the awful taste he knew to expect, or some joke about poisoning him and taking the place of most skilled physician in the land, but his mind could not seem to leave the last few moments. Grief has begun to sink its black tendrils into his thoughts, and he could barely see in front of him for the tears clouding his eyes. Tears he simply did not have the energy to shed.

"Thank you." He managed in a hoarse whisper, his gaze unfaltering from the unplaced stare he couldn't seem to lose. The world had lost its focus, its clarity he'd always been able to see before. Now it seemed a blur of pain and senselessness, his light becoming dark, his colour turning grey and his joy all but gone, seemingly never to return. The fine meal he'd shared with Arthur seemed a lifetime ago and a different soul within his body; even though the taste lingered in his mouth, the food in his belly, and the wine burnt into his throat.

"Let me." Gaius murmured, his hands still around Petch's. He gently moved them towards the man's mouth, and tipped the cup towards his lips, holding it steady as he took a sip, followed by a small gulp. Once the drink was finished, Gaius softly prised it from Petch's grasp, setting it aside.

He waited with Petch, sitting by his side with a comforting arm around his shoulders, trying to keep the tremors at bay as best he could. After a few moments the drink seemed to take some sort of effect as his violent shaking reduced to shudders. There was nothing on this earth that'd be able to cure those, other than time and rest, things that were out of the hands of even the finest physician.

"Has it helped, if at all?" Gaius' voice was soft and low, as if approaching a startled animal, and full of kindness. Sitting with someone who'd just lost their entire family was the smallest of gestures, but one that was enormous to Petch in that very moment. Something real and tangible he could hold onto as everything else fell away.

"Indeed." Petch breathed with a short nod, his bottom lip quivering as he flexed his fingers out of a clasp and admired his hands. They still trembled as if he'd lay in snow all night. "Though not enough to return my wits, I see."

"I know you don't want to think about this now," Arthur started, crouching down so he could be eye-level with him, "but you are more than welcome to everything Camelot has to offer. You do not have to leave, and I will see you are provided for here, if you wish to stay and make your home in Camelot."

"I have no home, not anymore." Petch's far-away gaze still hadn't broken. "Katherine was the last of my blood. I've never married, nor had children; such is so often the life of a physician." Gaius knew only too well of the loneliness of which he spoke. He'd never really had much company, nor family, before the drama that was Merlin had landed on his doorstep. "Redferran was my family, blood or otherwise, I looked after them, and they- they looked after me." At the last word, the wobble that had been caught in Petch's throat burst in a silent sob. "That wretch stole them and why? Why them?" He choked.

"Petch," Arthur couldn't help but be moved by the man's outpouring of grief. Such was an uncommon sight amongst those who lived in Camelot despite the anguish many of them suffered, "although I cannot return you your family, I assure you I will stop Drin, and I will make him pay for your loss."

A little while later, the room was filled with Petch's soft whistling snore, him having finally succumbed to Gaius' potion, and the quiet bustle of Gaius clearing up his quarters. Arthur had been sat for the last while, unsure of what to do.

Of course, by now his eyes had been growing heavy and the idea of taking to his bed and not leaving for an entire century was so tempting. Royal duties weren't to be taken lightly, or without a full night's sleep, something which had been severely lacking recently. However, he just didn't feel right about leaving Petch, even though the elderly man was sound asleep in the room, he was also vulnerable and in a grief no person should ever feel. Merlin as well had not yet returned, Arthur wanted to apologise for his words earlier and broach the situation with Redferran and regretfully, Drin, in person with him.

How was he to tell Merlin that Drin was back? There was no way to keep this from him, he'd no doubt see Petch upon his return home, and how hypocritical would it make him to lie after his almighty outburst. He just did not want to be the one to break him while he starting to put himself back together again. Every interaction was already fraught and tense, and this was Merlin's mindset believing his torturer had perished under a mass of rocks. What would he be like knowing not only that he was alive, but had decimated three towns with his army already? One of which, was the very reason he still breathed today.

"Can you damage magic?" Arthur's question caused Gaius to pause stirring the cooking pot and linger for a moment, before turning around so quickly, the king had to duck out of the way of a stew-covered ladle.

"Pardon?" His voice was just a fraction of an octave louder than it should've been, but luckily the amount of sleeping draught he'd laced Petch with to help the poor man into rest was enough to down a prize bull. "Why do you ask sire?" His voice now at a much more reasonable level, but still tinged with consternation.

"I see why you didn't want Merlin to leave." Arthur mused quietly, letting his statement filter through to Gaius. He thought back to the argument they'd had had before leaving, how fiercely protective Gaius had been of Merlin, which he'd just put down to being afraid of losing him once more, and as much as Arthur too was petrified at a future without Merlin, he couldn't fathom why Gaius couldn't let him try to carry some kind of life after his torment. Now, after speaking with Merlin, everything was suddenly clear. "He's not himself."

"He can't defend himself, and I know his mind." Gaius wasn't looking at Arthur, rather at the floor as tiny drops of stew fell from the ladle on to the ground, not that either of them cared in that moment. "Without magic, that boy would put himself between you and anything that threatened you, quite literally, I don't doubt it. He has such little self-preservation," Gaius laughed, but it was full of bitterness, "he'd die for you, Arthur, in a heartbeat. It makes me proud, to look after someone with such strong values, and yet I hate him for it too. I know it is every citizen of Camelot, every man's duty is to lay down their life for you, but how many would? Really? When faced with death, how many would put the king before themselves every single time?"

It wasn't something Arthur had every particularly concerned himself with before. His father had drilled that mantra into him since he was small, and Uther had very much believed it to be true. Arthur, however, was somewhat sceptical of the ideology, and felt quite unnerved by the idea that strangers should offer themselves up to die for him simply because he was king. Surely no fair ruler should ever ask that of their subjects.

Merlin, however, was different. He was his best friend and he had no intention of ever watching him die, knowing how close he'd come to that and just how sick that idea made him. He didn't doubt what Gaius said, not in any way, but Arthur wouldn't ever let it come to that. He'd been protective of Merlin when he thought he was a servant tagging along on patrols and missions, and even more so now. At least he hoped he'd been, there was always the lingering doubt about the situations they'd found themselves in over the years and whether he was correct in taking Merlin with him. The truth was he'd needed Merlin there a lot more than Merlin needed to be there, or at least as much as he'd thought.

"To answer your question, sire," Gaius' words brought Arthur back into the room, "I'm afraid so; think of magic as another limb." He finally placed the ladle back in the pot, setting himself next to Arthur in an effort to keep their conversation quiet, more out of manners than the actual worry that Petch would awaken.

"That what Petch said." Arthur nodded, recalling the conversation in the old man's house. "Another limb. I have to say I've never thought of it as something… integral to a person, but Merlin's magic is part of him, isn't it? It's not a skill or a learned effort, it's just him?"

"Exactly, sire. It's hard to describe just how unique he truly is, he can just… do things. Instinctually, as if you or I were to simply pick something up, so does he, except with magic. So the suppression…" Gaius sighed wearily. "We can't begin to understand how he was trapped. Not just physically, but mentally too. His magic was chained up for so long, getting progressively weaker and weaker, until he broke free, but in doing so injured himself and his magic. And yet, he's still been using it to do small things, such as helping to light the fire at the camp you made and trying to heal himself, which if anything will have been making it worse. I'm worried it's got to the point where it's irreparable."

"You think his magic could stay like this forever?" Arthur balked, ever since they'd returned Arthur had been envisioning the day that Merlin would finally be back to himself, or at least back to how he knew him. Never had he even considered any of this could be permanent.

"Honestly, I don't know sire. I can't say one way or the other. All I know is Merlin needs to keep practicing with it, now he's healed. I'll keep him doing small tasks, lifting a book or two, maybe trying some small experiments. If his power goes wrong, the results could be disastrous." Gaius breathed. "That's why I've already placed a moratorium on fire."

"Gaius, I'm back." Merlin instinctively called out. "Sorry I was so long, except - have you ever actually played cards with Gwaine? He's absolutely-" Expecting to see an elderly physician in his quarters when he pushed through the door, Merlin was taken aback to find not one, but two, as well as the king. His eyes cast to Gaius as he fussed quietly over a pot of something bubbling, then to Arthur sat at the table looking just as tired, if not more, than the last time he saw the king. "Arthur, I," Merlin's words were tumbling out as fast as his mind tried to keep up with what his eyes were telling him, as they settled on the sleeping figure of a man he had never expected to see again in his life. "Petch…? I don't understand…" If his jaw was any lower, it would've hit the floor.

"Merlin." Arthur rose to greet him, immediately grabbing the warlock's attention. He could read the king's face better than any man could, and it was screaming controlled panic at him. Whenever there was chaos, Arthur managed to keep it hidden from his face to everyone but Merlin it seemed. "Can we talk?" He wrapped an arm comfortingly around Merlin's shoulder, pulling him gently out of the door and out of the elders' earshot. "Listen, I'm sorry for what I said, the words they just…" The king trailed off, his eyes askance. "No." Arthur looked up, unable to hold in his feelings about this any longer. He was still angry that he'd had to force the truth out of him, especially with what they were now going to have to deal with. What if he hadn't known as of today? He'd have constructed a plan against Drin that very much involved Merlin and his magic. "While I am sorry for what I said, why wouldn't you tell me about something like this? I thought we weren't keeping secrets anymore." Arthur's voice was strained as he kept his volume to a whisper, trying to control his frustration with the situation. "Why won't you trust me with this?" He implored.

"It's not you Arthur, really it isn't, not this time." Merlin's eyes found the ceiling, a corner of the room that seemed to have not been dusted in centuries, a good focal point he could keep a hold of so as not to meet the gaze of the king. Honesty, he had not meant for things to go like this, once again things had just… spiralled. "I'm weak." He breathed, his haunted gaze finally meeting the king's. "I'm incomplete and useless and I didn't want you to see that. Not again. Not after last time." His voice was wobbling and hitching in his throat and it broke Arthur's heart. "I just… feel like I'm back in that tower, and it proved to me how weak I am without my magic. I should've been able to do so much, but I couldn't. I can't handle it Arthur. What good am I if I can't protect Camelot, protect you?" That was it, he breathed, that was nearly every secret he'd kept hidden. There was an almost giddiness to his confession, the last little private piece of his crumbling away in front of Arthur.

"Merlin," Arthur's hand found itself on Merlin's shoulder once more, "protecting me is not the only reason you're here. You're my family, you have to understand that. You are not weak, not in the slightest. Do you know how many men would've been crushed in that tower and betrayed every secret Camelot has? How many sorcerers and warlocks would've joined Drin in a heartbeat if it meant getting magic back in favour and taking revenge over my father's ways? You…" Arthur felt compelled to hug Merlin, to give him the physicality everyone had avoided giving him for so long. "You are so important here. Trust me." He breathed.

"Thank you." Merlin sighed. He'd not flinched from Arthur or shied away to any kind of touch near his shoulders or back, instead just let himself enjoy the moment of an unusually warm Arthur.

The king relinquished his grip, rubbing the back of his head and nodding awkwardly, to which Merlin let out a chuckle at how quickly Arthur could go from the most heart-warming words to uncomfortable about displaying emotion – mere seconds.

"So, it's fully gone?"

"No, it's not, it's just… broken, I guess? I can still cast spells; they just don't do what I want them to anymore. I can try to lift a book, and it'll fall mid-air. Like it's less powerful. That's why I didn't want to try anything out there today. I could've killed any one of you trying to take that thing down."

"I spoke to Gaius a little about it." Arthur confessed, and Merlin could do nothing but nod in acceptance. He'd caused this by lying, and then by storming off instead of having this conversation with Arthur as soon as they'd got home. "He didn't want you to go with us today. To fight the creature. I was short with him and wrongfully so, I can see how he was trying to protect you."

"It's been difficult for him, not sharing with all of you the truth, because I begged him not too. I was sure this was something we could fix alone and soon. But nothing seems to help, much to Gaius' frustration, and mine. Herbs, remedies, spells, healing magics, poultices. Nothing has made it anymore than a little better." He took a breath, gathering himself. Now was not the time to get into that side of things, while he hadn't given up completely on a remedy, there wasn't much Arthur could do for him. "Now, I believe we have more pressing matters?" Merlin tried surreptitiously motioning towards Petch with his head, but more or less it came off as if he had some kind of nervous twitch. Arthur however, was an expert in reading Merlin's non-subtleties.

"I need to know you're alright before I tell you what's happened." Arthur grimaced. "This is… an awful situation, so I need you to stay calm, okay?" Arthur caught Merlin's eye, giving him an affirming nod. This was not going to be easy on anyone, but the last thing he wanted was either Petch or Merlin getting freaked out once more. "Something's happened to Redferran."

"What?" Merlin's voice was low and hushed as he glanced over to Petch, though he suspected that Gaius had something to do with the fact he'd not fluttered an eyelid since Merlin came crashing back into the physician's quarters. "If it's some kind of incident then why is Petch not with them? Surely as their physician he-"

"It's been destroyed." Arthur urged, still in a hoarse, hushed whisper. "It's gone Merlin, I'm sorry but someone completely wiped it out. Everyone's gone. Apart from Petch, there were no survivors. He's inconsolable."

"What?" Merlin echoed, the words punching the air out of him. "Who would…?" This didn't make any sense, it was too rural and too poor for bandits, and out of any jurisdiction of kingdoms, and so small not even Cenred. "It's worth little to anyone, no one's tried to attack them since-"

The penny dropped, and Merlin nearly did too.

"We think Drin survived."

"I have nothing to say to you." Arrington puffed, having answered the door and received the sight of the knight, his co-conspirator, standing in the doorway.

"Things have changed, Arrington." He pushed his way inside the room, immediately shifting against the window to make sure they weren't detected by anyone in the courtyard. They weren't very high up, anyone could be passing through and spot them together.

"They have?" His round face lit up, his dull eyes attempting something akin to a sparkle, if they had any life left in them. "I have my place back on the council?" He clapped his hands together, a grin covering his face.

"What? No, of course not." The knight looked bewildered at the very thought, and the audacity of his asking, as Lord Arrington's faced immediately fell, his crestfallen frame becoming ever so small.

"Then, like I said-" He poured the immediate sting of sadness and despair into a seemingly nonchalant anger, raising a pointed finger.

"Do you know what will happen to you without my help, hm? What the King shall do because of your umpteenth transgression against him?" The knight finally gave up keeping watch by the window and turned to look at the man. He was a remnant of a past age, there was no place for him in this world anymore, and he needed to realise that sooner rather than later. The nobles who were canny in their efforts to keep position had already turned their hand to the new king's way of life, and how those who resisted were so much easier to spot.

"Transgression?" He murmured, his eyes searching the room as if the memory was painted on the ceiling. "I did no such-"

"You practically started a rebellion of the lords from what I hear." Arrington had quite frankly been of no help to him whatsoever, the man was callous and crass and unbelievably unsubtle. Removing Merlin from Arthur's right hand was supposed to take time, be slowly woven into the king's thoughts, not placed right in front of him, which would obviously immediately strengthen his position.

Put simply, the man was a buffoon.

"I- I, oh no, not…" Arrington's hand rubbed favourably around his neck. He quite liked it being attached to his body and would see it un-parted at all costs.

"No!" The knight's hand flew up to his face in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could not take much more of this. And he'd spent time with Gwaine. "You know that he would do no such thing. He's not his father, using the axe left, right and centre. No, we're talking banishment here."

"Banishment?!" He blustered, "But my livelihood, my wealth, my family! They all reside in Camelot." He started nervously pacing the floor.

"Is that in order of importance?" The knight raised an eyebrow, imagining that was exactly how the lord's mind worked. The awkward silence that filled the room seemed to answer that too. "Never mind." He rolled his eyes. "Now, you have eyes over the castle, correct?"

"I never-" The red-faced spluttering began almost immediately once the accusation had been thrown, incomprehensible nonsense rebuttals.

"Do not bother lying to me," He sighed, "it is a well-known fact that certain lords pay serving boys a pittance to spy for them and bring them damaging gossip." Crossing his arms, he gave Arrington a knowing look.

"Are you going somewhere with this?" He gestured to the knight, urging him to either continue or get the hell out of his chambers.

"The boy you've had watching Merlin. I need to speak with him." He'd have the answers, and it was a telling indictment that a scrawny sixteen-year-old would be more reliable and coherent than Arrington.

"Merlin?" He frowned. Arrington could've sworn he'd heard that name before, somewhere. There was just some niggling thought at the back of his head, perhaps he was the man who looked after the horses, or the one who sold fruit in the square, or perhaps he was-

"Arthur's servant." The knight reiterated, as if speaking with a toddler who was new to the idea of memory.

"Oh him." Arrington nodded slowly. "I still don't understand your infatuation with the boy."

"Again, none of your business." The figure held up a hand to try and prevent him from speaking anymore. "Let me speak with your boy and I'll talk the king out of banishment for you." It wouldn't be hard, Arthur's heart often ruled over his head, something he did admire about his king, Uther's iron fist over Camelot had been a terrifying place to live for everyone, and he for one gladly welcomed this change. "Do we have a deal?" He didn't exactly want Arrington hanging around Camelot, but he knew that the carrot often worked so much better than the stick with him, and a word or two in someone's ear and he could be posted out towards the borders, still within Camelot, still keeping his promise, but far, far away from him and from Arthur.

"Deal." Arrington nodded, clasping the knight's hand tightly and almost shaking his arm out of his shoulder socket.

"I'll be here at dawn to meet with… Peter is it?" The knight withdrew his grasp as quickly as could from Arrington's, heading towards the door at quite a pace, anxious to leave as soon as could.

"…perhaps?" Arrington shrugged, holding his hands in the air.

"Do you learn anyone's name?" Came the exhausted exhale as the door closed quietly behind him.

Hi everyone,

I posted an explanation of where I've been here a long while ago, which is being replaced by this chapter. I should stop promising you guys stuff. Life is awful and just when you think it's picking up it drops again and you're left unmotivated and depressed. A lot of things happened after I posted my update, and writing as ever was at the bottom of priorities.

But, I am trying. I have more of this story to tell.

As ever, I'm incredibly grateful to all of you.

Jae