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Chapter Text

The king held his hand over the pinned man's mouth. The other gloved hand held the red-hot iron rod to the shaking servant's flank. Merlin screamed into the leather muffling his cries, his body convulsing as flaming agony overwhelmed him. But he knew to be quieter than that, so when the hand was removed from his face, he caught the next scream as the searing iron moved a bit, pulling smoking and charred skin with it. He let slip only a whimper. He was sweating and shaking, but the bucking calmed as the rod cooled gradually.

The rod wasn't pulled away yet. Taking a tumultuous breath as his chest hitched jerkily, Merlin looked up at his king. Arthur was still, he was no longer seething. He seemed confused like he'd just woken up, and not where he'd fallen asleep.

Merlin felt uncomfortable like he was intruding on a private moment. It was time for him to go. He'd learned that sometimes, no order was spoken but he was expected to anticipate his master's desires. So the servant inched back and carefully stood uttering only a few groans. After he gingerly pulled his shirt on and made it to the door, he risked a glance back at the king still kneeling a foot from the fireplace, staring pensively at the stone floor. It was unsettling: Arthur was always alert and ready to catch his servant making a mistake. But he hadn't ruminated so deeply and suddenly since the old days, when he'd gotten caught up on matters of morality or a heavy decision for the kingdom.

Merlin turned back to the door and stepped out quietly with a wince. If he could just make it to his room without being seen by a bored knight looking for someone to hurt, he might just be able to chip away at his chores in private and make them far more manageable by morning.

When he woke up at sunrise, Merlin's eyes widened and his heart jumped into his throat. He was so overcome with anxious nausea that he couldn't get up for a moment. He'd done it again, and he was going to be punished so bad this time.

It had been hard lately to do a lot of things. If he hadn't been a physician in training, he might have thought this was the end for him. His body was always stiff, always aching. His mind was so focused on moving smoothly, standing straight, never falling, never tripping, never dropping things, always being aware but never lifting his eyes from the ground... it was all he could do anytime he was alone not to keel over from exhaustion. He wasn't allowed to eat anything without permission (which was rarely granted), and he was never allowed something for the pain. It wasn't helped by the fact that he was rarely able to sleep, what with his many chores and duties, and the nightmares.

But none of that excused the fact that he had just slept in. Not by much, barely at all really, but the king liked to wake up at sunrise. Any later, especially if a king's breakfast wasn't laid out for him, and there'd be a broken bone in it for the servant. His right arm was already fractured two times over, so it just hung uselessly at his side. He didn't have the time to put it in a wrap or a sling, and he'd probably get in trouble for it anyway.

His mind was getting dangerously close to wandering back to sleep. Merlin forced himself up and across the room.

Arthur was already awake. Merlin was halfway across the room before he realized. He knelt smoothly and bowed his head. "My lord."

"Merlin," Arthur replied groggily. He was sitting up on the edge of his bed, looking sleepy and deep in thought.

That was strange, Merlin hadn't been called anything but 'servant' or 'boy' or 'you' in a long time. Except for when he was really in trouble, when he was struck down and pinned and the iron was close to his skin and the king said his name like he was playing coy, like he knew he deserved what was coming so he should just stop struggling.

"What happened?" The king asked. Merlin just knew that there was a beating coming.

"I-I'm sorry, sire, you must have fallen asleep in your clothes last night, I thought you wanted to be alone, but I d-didn't come back to see if you needed anything. I should have thought to stop in, I'm sorry."

Arthur looked up, seemingly startled by the reaction. "That's not what I meant. I was talking about..." He paused, looking at his manservant, and he froze. "No."

Merlin was bracing himself for his punishment, but when the king stood, he ran to the window. The blonde unceremoniously shoved it open and retched. The servant was shocked and couldn't help but stare. Arthur finished and turned back to face the room, wiping at his mouth absently. He slowly, hesitantly, walked toward the kneeling man, stopping a short distance away.

"Sire?" The servant asked quietly.

"It can't be," Arthur muttered. "I wouldn't..." He shook his head. "These memories, they can't be real." He rubbed at his temples, eyes closed. Then, they opened and his arms fell to his sides. "Merlin, why are you kneeling?"

"Because you're the king," He answered, hoping it was the response the king was looking for. Mind games were not uncommon when he was angry.

Arthur seemed more upset.

Chapter Text

Gaius looked up from where he was standing, frantically skimming a text, and he seemed both relieved and upset to see the king and his ward in the doorway.

"Merlin!" The physician cried. He walked toward the younger man, but stopped short. "Merlin, I am so sorry. I failed you. I should have known."

The servant's eyes were focused on the floor. He didn't really know what Gaius was talking about, and since he was with the king right now, the only words that he needed to listen to closely were his.

"Gaius, what's going on? I woke up this morning with all these... memories, as if yesterday I had been... I remember a year's worth of time that I was someone else. Does that make any sense? And Merlin's acting strange, which isn't really that unusual..." Arthur's near attempt at making fun of the man fell flat as the frigid coil of dread in his gut grew worse. He looked Gaius in the eye. "I think I've done something terrible."

"I fear that you are not alone in this, sire." The physician replied somberly. "I believe that many of us were possessed, or even cursed. For a year. You, me, the knights... I don't know who else, I've mostly stayed in this wing the whole time, as far as I can remember. But Merlin..." Gaius looked at Merlin, who was still standing at Arthur's side with his head bowed. "I was terrible to him."

Arthur shuddered. "It's nothing compared to what I did." He took a deep breath, shook his head, then stormed over to a wall and punched it, his knuckles cracking against the stone.

Merlin flinched.

"Merlin," Gaius said softly. "It's over."

No response.

"Merlin," Arthur tried. The servant looked up in question. "Did you hear him?"

Merlin suddenly looked nervous. He'd been caught not paying attention, and he didn't know what to say.

As he saw this reaction, Arthur remembered every time in the past year that he'd felt his own face contort into a sneer, a grin, or a frown when he found a fault in Merlin's behavior and set out to... correct it. The flashbacks made him want to hurl again. He steeled himself - he had to act more like a king and less like a friend in shock - and clarified.

"Everything that happened this year wasn't what it seemed. None of us wanted to hurt you."

The servant blinked. "What?" He asked quietly, confused.

Arthur looked to Gaius. Before he could try to explain further with the bits information he could grasp, the door opened by them and the knights rushed in. Merlin took a step back. Gwaine was first, looking desperate; Leon was next, looking like he was struggling to maintain his composure; and Percival was last, his face downcast though not concealing the tears that were falling from his eyes. The servant had no idea what to make of all this.

The knights looked to Gaius first - after all, they had come to ask him about what they had remembered as well - then they saw Arthur, and each man looked guiltier and angrier than before. Finally, they saw Merlin. Gwaine knelt at his feet with his head bowed. Percival followed with a quiet sound of emotion. Leon remained standing, but it seemed to be only out of habit of remaining presentable in royal court.

"Merlin," Gwaine breathed. "My friend, I cannot apologize enough for..." He faltered. Percival released a shaky breath and dipped his head lower.

The servant was staring at the scene. He was so blown away, confused, replaying the past year in his head. "Oh," Merlin finally spoke.

The others all looked at him, their expressions ranging from remorseful to agonized. Merlin took a step back, feeling a little overwhelmed. He looked away. "You don't have to."

"Yes we do," Leon asserted. "It was like the... the Lamia. I had no control, but I felt the hate, the rage... I remember it all. I want you to know-"

"It wasn't really you." Merlin nodded, looking away. "I understand."

Everyone seemed to falter in their bravado to speak. Gaius took the opportunity to step in. "Let me look you over, my boy."

As Gaius gestured, Merlin walked over to the med cot and carefully sat down.

"If you don't mind, sire, I think that he needs some time." The physician suggested to the king. Arthur looked at the servant a moment longer, then to his men.

"We'll leave you to your work, then." With that, the band of mournful men left.

Gaius returned to his ward and sat on the stool across from him. Without being asked, the servant took off his shirt with difficulty. The physician let him do it alone, not wanting to invade on his space, then was glad he was sitting down when he saw the young man's injuries. Immediately, he could tell that his right arm was broken, and maybe dislocated as well. And that clavicle was so bruised, it was likely fractured. His wrists were darkly bruised, as well as his neck as the neckerchief came off. There were livid bruises across his chest, marked intermittently by cuts and scrapes. And the physician was stopped still by the array of scarred and still healing burns along his left flank.

Gaius looked up to his face, with the black eye and split lip, cataloging the injuries and how they must hurt, how afraid he must have been, but the boy was looking away.

Chapter Text

"Sire," Gaius nodded in deference as he stepped into the king's quarters.

"What's wrong, Gaius?" Arthur asked intuitively. The unspoken question hung in the air - 'Is Merlin okay?'

"It's Merlin," The physician answered. "He refuses to sleep and eat. I have administered all of the salves and wrappings I could, but they are near useless if the body cannot rest."

Arthur inhaled deeply and looked away. "He wasn't allowed." He said softly.

"Sorry, he wasn't allowed?" Gaius asked.

~

He was advancing toward the servant, and he felt a cold chuckle bubbling up. The boy was trembling, his breath was hitched and shallow. "You're hiding something, aren't you? Rather daring for a mere servant to lie to his king."

Merlin shook his head. "I'm not, m-my lord."

Arthur tilted his head and continued walking, slowly, deliberately. Merlin's back hit the wall behind him and Arthur was a foot away. "Sir Leon saw you do it."

The younger man inhaled sharply and his eyes shot to the door. He was panicking. Arthur loved it.

"What have you to say? Are you going to spin more lies?" The king sounded harmlessly curious, but both knew that he was anything but.

The pinned man shook his head and tried to calm his racing heart. His eyes were cast to the ground now. "N-no, sire."

"Sir Leon wanted to punish you himself, but he left the decision to me, which was very noble of him. You'll remember to thank him, won't you? For helping you end this habit of lying and stealing?"

A shaky nod.

"Good. And surely you know you will be punished, not only for taking food without permission, but also for trying to get away with it. Lying to my face like a coward."

Another nod. He seemed to be shrinking in shame, or fear.

"Excellent. Today I think I favor the whip."

~

"I'll speak to him," Arthur said, not feeling up to recounting all the times he'd terrorized and punished Merlin for even considering eating or sleeping. On the way out of his chambers, he approached a guard and quietly told him something, then continued walking with Gaius.

The walk back to Gaius' chamber was tense, but once inside, it reached a new level of anxiety. Merlin was sitting up on the cot, his right arm in a sling and his torso wrapped securely. He sat up straighter when his liege entered and diverted his gaze. He looked far too thin, too pale, too tired. Arthur stepped closer, and after a moment gathered the nerve to stand a few feet from him.

"Merlin," He started. The other didn't look up. "I know that it'll be difficult, but you should remember that you're safe now. No one will be angry if you sleep."

Now Merlin looked up. He paused a moment in thought. "I know."

"Then why don't you?"

He was struggling to find a way to say it, but it was already a struggle in the first place to speak - he still had this niggling feeling that he was going to be punished any moment for daring to speak, to make eye contact, to be resting. "I know it, but... I suppose it's just hard to believe?"

Arthur was confused. "I don't understand."

The other sat thinking, trying to say what he felt. "I know that it's over, but... I don't know. It was like that for so long, and it's hard to remember what it used to be. I know it's different now, but I don't believe it. Like instinct."

The king still looked confused. The servant tried to think of a specific example.

"Like with your knights. You train them every day, pushing them to their limits, so they're prepared for battle. They've practiced to the point that they know how to react to a blow without losing their footing, while still watching for a hit they can land. It's instinct for them after all that routine. Physical memory. It's like that."

The fog cleared from Arthur's understanding and it seemed to sink in. "Like training." It made sense, thinking about it. Whatever had come over him, whatever evil force had controlled his actions for whatever agenda, certainly seemed to have been training the servant in a way. Training him to be obedient. All those punishments, the supervision, the rules... oh, gods, all the way back at the start...

~

"Arthur, what's going on?" The jovial light in Merlin's eyes was still there, but now overshadowed by a grim look of startled confusion. "Stop."

The king yanked the servant from where he'd pinned him to the wall and shoved him to the ground. He landed on his hands and knees, then sat up.

"Don't move," Arthur ground out. Despite this, Merlin started to get up. But he stopped abruptly when he found a sword to his throat. "I said," Arthur placed his other hand on the servant's shoulder to push him back down to his knees, "don't. Move."

He began pacing around the kneeling man slowly, still holding his sword. Merlin warily watched him right back.

"You will no longer respond to me with anything but 'yes, sire' or 'no, sire', unless directed otherwise. Do you understand?"

"I don't know what kind of mead you've been-" Arthur was upon him, pulling his left arm up behind his back as far as it would go, holding him down with all his weight so the servant's chest was against his legs and he was folded. It would make it incredibly hard to breathe.

Merlin struggled, either from the pain in his arm or because his breaths were coming too shallow, but Arthur just twisted the arm further. "You have been allowed your petulance for far too long. Now you will be taught proper behavior. Or you will suffer greatly. Now, I asked you a question. Do you understand?"

The servant struggled more.

The king sighed. "I am reluctant to break your arm, since that would make it difficult for my orders to be carried out. But the first lesson's always the hardest." He pulled and twisted the arm further. Merlin yelled in pain as the tension grew and it felt like it was about to break.

"Okay, okay! STOP! Stop, stop, don't..."

Arthur stopped, knowing too that it was on the verge of snapping. "Do you understand?"

Merlin swallowed thickly. "Yes, sire."

The king smiled and released the servant. He stood back and watched the kneeling man gingerly pulled his arm forward and held it to his chest as his breaths came and went quickly.

"You will be on time. You will not make eye contact with your betters. You will address your betters by their title. You will follow commands without question and anticipate my every need. Do you understand?

"Yes, sire." Merlin looked utterly flummoxed.

"And never, ever call me by my name again. We are not friends. I am your lord and you are nothing but a lowly servant. You live to serve me. Call me anything but 'sire' or 'my lord' again, and I will cut out your tongue."

At a fierce glare, Merlin dipped his head. "Yes, sire."

~

When he tripped on the chain mail left on the floor, the king looked up in ire. Merlin hadn't dropped the platter of food, but it had been close. Arthur stormed over and knocked the plate from his hands before throwing a punch. The servant was on the ground when the next hit landed, and the next. It wasn't loud; Merlin had stopped crying out when hurt a while ago and he knew he deserved the blows. After the beating, Arthur ordered him to stand. Merlin shakily got to his feet and was handed the platter. Arthur placed a large ewer full of water on top. Merlin lifted his other arm to help support the tray, but Arthur pulled it back down.

"You will follow me on my rounds. If one drop of water spills, you will be punished. Understand?"

"Yes, sire," The servant responded, already concerned about the weight. And tripping would be a death wish.

Halfway through the king's walk through the castle, Merlin let out a small cry of panic as his muscles gave out and his arm dropped. The plate clattered across the stone corridor floor. The ewer rolled lazily in a growing puddle of water.

That time, Arthur backhanded him, took him to the cells, and locked him up. He was left in the dark without food or water for three days.

~

"I understand," Arthur said quietly.

There was a polite knock on the door and someone called, "Sire?"

"Proceed," The king called. The door opened and three servants entered carrying trays of food. Arthur stood from the trunk by the bed and gestured for the food to be placed there. Merlin stared at him in confusion, but Arthur just thanked the servants and gave them leave to depart. When they were gone, he gestured to the bed. "May I?"

Merlin hesitated, then moved over to make room. Arthur sat down and an awkward moment of tense silence passed.

"You know, I asked the kitchens to make all this food for me, but I'm not that hungry. A lapse of foresight on my part. Is there any way you could help me?"

Merlin was still staring.

Arthur shrugged and took up a fork, starting on the roasted ham. He poured himself a goblet of water - he wasn't planning on drinking wine or mead any time soon - and pushed a pair of utensils to Merlin's side of the ersatz table.

"You want me to eat?"

"Please do, or the cook will spit in my next meal for wasting food. She never liked me."

After a minute, Merlin picked up a fork with the hand that wasn't held to his chest by a sling. He hesitated then, but when Arthur just continued nonchalantly eating, he succumbed to that ever present ache in his gut and picked at the seasoned chunks of potato on a smaller plate. When he took the first bite, the flavor hit him. It was delicious. The immensity of his hunger made itself known as soon as he started, but he restrained himself and calmly took another bite. He finished half of it before he took a break. Arthur had stopped eating and was watching him. Before Merlin could get awkward and apologize or something, Arthur poured another goblet of water and placed it by him, then started on a fresh loaf of bread and some jam. Merlin drank some water, then meekly leaned forward to try some meat. The ham was glazed with something sweet, and Merlin loved it. But just two bites in and he was full. He set down the fork and took another sip of water before leaning back with a small grimace.

"Thank you, Merlin, I think we've made excellent progress on this meal. I am in your debt."

Arthur stood and Merlin moved to arrange and clear the plates, but the king waved him off. He walked to the door and leaned out, calling in the servants from earlier to take what was left over. Before he left, Arthur shot Merlin a little grin, like he thought he was so clever.

Merlin smiled.

Chapter Text

The corridors didn't seem so big and empty anymore. He didn't feel like he was being watched. It was his second week back working, and it wasn't nearly as awkward as he'd thought it'd be. He was still incredibly jumpy and wary, and more quiet than anyone would ever get used to him being, but he was used to it already. Just because he jumped at loud noises and kept aware of where everyone was and if they seemed angry didn't mean that he didn't know he was safe.

Gaius hadn't wanted him to be up and about yet, but it was so unsettling for Merlin to rest so incessantly that he had sheepishly refused to stay in bed one day longer.

Arthur had changed since the curse. He didn't raise his voice even in jest, he never threw things, and he didn't give Merlin chores for the sake of being able to. And he never called Merlin lazy, clumsy, or a servant. At first it seemed like he was just trying to tread lightly in the days after the events they'd been subjected to, but it was becoming clear that he just didn't want to do those things anymore. Any appeal of proving his worth was gone now that he'd spent a year, willing or not, declaring his power and the right to hurt others with it. As time passed, they became a little bit closer, almost friends.

Merlin opened the door without knocking - something he was still getting used to - and ducked in. He knew Arthur was still asleep, but he didn't wake him up by throwing open the curtains and cheering, "Good morning!" like he used to. He placed the king's breakfast on the table and moved to open the curtains slowly. Then, he set about tidying the room a bit. Arthur woke up to the sunlight and low sounds of Merlin moving around. He looked over and said, "Good morning."

Merlin turned and gave a nod. "Good morning." He tipped his head toward the food on the table beside him. "Would you like some breakfast?"

Arthur really didn't feel like getting out from under the warm, heavy crimson blankets. Of course, Merlin already knew that, so he brought over a plate stacked with sausages, fresh bread, eggs, ham, and cheese. While the blonde was eating, the other continued cleaning. He tried not to bend over or move too quickly, and he could only use one arm, but he was doing well.

Arthur watched him a bit sadly.

Merlin turned and saw him looking. "Arthur?"

The king blinked and looked away. "Yes?"

"Another nightmare?"

Arthur shifted wordlessly.

"Sorry," Merlin said quietly.

"What reason could you possibly have to be sorry?" Arthur had been challenging the servant every time he said that. He apologized too much. Merlin shrugged uncomfortably and continued bustling about.

Arthur decided to try something. "Today, George will be assuming your duties. I want you to spend the day on a hunt with the knights."

The servant stiffened, facing away from the king.

Arthur knew what he was asking. Merlin hadn't been able to face Perceval, Gwaine, or Leon since they'd apologized to him after the curse. The servant was impressively close to acting normal, but at the mere mention of the knights, he was back to being shaken. Despite being sure that nothing they had done was worse than the hell he himself had inflicted on Merlin, Arthur understood why it was so hard for him. Facing one of his abusers in a seat of power was trying enough, and on top of that he would have to face a whole group of men who had often caught him on his way to serve his cruel master, mocking him, hurting him. His friends turned torturers.

He knew that the servant was struggling between wanting to question the declaration and a lingering fear that he'd be punished for questioning his liege. Arthur intended to make himself clear. "They'll need an attendant and I've chosen you, that is all. You should go prepare the bags and steeds, you depart at noon."

Merlin hesitated, then nodded and left without a backward glance.

Arthur knew that this would be a difficult day for Merlin, but he was honestly more concerned at present with facing Gaius after sending out his unhealed patient on a hunting trip.

~

Merlin never lifted his eyes high enough to meet their occasional anxious glances, but he kept aware of the formation of their horses, lingering at the back of the group to avoid attention. To avoid being surrounded.

Their first stop was in the pursuit of an elk. The knights dismounted their horses, the servant following suit and quickly tethering them to trees and setting the packs on the ground as an ersatz camp. It only took a few minutes of tracking for the knights' lack of interest in the sport to become apparent. They weren't focused. Merlin considered that Arthur may have forced them into this trip as well.

As the servant's mind wandered for a moment, he stepped on a pile of rocks at the edge of the path. He lost his balance on the shifting ground and careened toward the forest floor.

Gwaine spun at the sudden noise and, without thinking, leaped forward to try and catch him. The knight grabbed the servant's arm, but Merlin yanked it away in panic and fell. On the way down his head hit the tree behind him.

And as he was forced to his knees on the floor, the knights surrounded him. Percival kicked him in the back. Merlin was knocked forward onto his front by the blow, and the others joined in. They kicked him and laughed at his sounds of pain. A kick met the back of his skull and the downed man yelped, earning a new bout of laughter even as he squeezed his eyes shut to block out the spinning room. He felt one of them grab his side and flip him onto his back. The new pressure on the many forming bruises was quickly multiplied when Gwaine straddled his chest. Tears began to well in the servant's now open eyes as his broken ribs shifted. Agony throughout his body clamored for his attention.

Gwaine grinned down at him, long brown hair framing the face that used to light up in joy, not perverse satisfaction at a friend's agony.

"Hey there, old pal!" The rogue knight said boisterously. Then he pouted. "Aw, poor thing, he's crying!"

Merlin was. The servant saw the knights around him, laughing at how pathetic he was and visiting more pain upon him, and he felt like his world was burning down. There was so much hatred in their eyes. He was deplorable, weak and small. Merlin felt hot tears streaming down his face and hated himself completely.

"Come on, why don't you smile for me, eh? I miss your bright smile." Gwaine ran a hand through the servant's hair and grasped a fistful at the back. Not painfully, but possessively. "Smile for me, Merlin."

The pinned man couldn't do it, he knew he couldn't. He was afraid of being punished, but the anguish crushing his heart overshadowed the desire to obey.

The knight cocked his head. "Listen here, mate, if you don't do as I say right now," here his grin faded, "I will cut out your eyes. Maybe then you won't cry so damn much, eh? Now let's see that beautiful smile."

The servant took a shaky breath, looked into his friend's brown eyes, and tried. After a moment, he did smile. It made his skin crawl and fresh tears continued to run down his face, but he did as he was told.

Gwaine's face lit up and he released his possessive hold on Merlin's hair. The knight ran his hand through his hair again, looking proud. "Well done, Merlin."

The servant's forced smile faltered. He bit his lip and averted his eyes.

"Now, I want tears again."

A new beating began.

"Merlin!" Gwaine shouted and rushed to kneel beside his friend, whose eyes were unfocused. The knight touched his shoulder, and Merlin jolted in fear. He looked at the man beside him and whimpered, scrambling away in panic.

"Woah, woah! I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise."

"Please," Merlin muttered. "I'm sorry, please don't..."

Gawain looked to the others with sorrow.

"Merlin, mate, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Listen here, mate, if you don't do as I say right now," here his grin faded, "I will cut out your eyes."

"Come on, you're safe, just, look at me."

"Come on, why don't you smile for me, eh?"

Merlin's eyes were flitting between each knight. It was hard to tell how much he actually saw, let alone heard.

Gwaine held his hands up in surrender. "I won't come closer and I won't touch you. No one is in a rush. Why don't you take a minute to catch your breath there."

Merlin was still afraid, but calmed a bit when he realized that the words were not spoken angrily or mockingly, but with concern and patience. After waiting and finding no one trying to hurt him, he swallowed past the lump in his throat and made himself look at Gwaine.

"I'm sorry I scared you," The knight said softly. "You hit your head when you fell, so it's okay if you're confused."

Merlin licked his lips. "Right." He looked to the ground in thought. "Right. Sorry."

"Do you feel okay?"

Merlin nodded, then winced. "A little dizzy."

"Okay, that's normal. Do you want help getting up? We can make camp a bit ahead, and you can rest."

"Okay."

Gwaine stood and warily moved to his friend's side to offer a hand. Merlin hesitated before accepting with his good arm.

They set up camp a short ways away and soon Merlin was sitting on his bedroll away from the fire.

"Why don't you sit with us where it's warmer?" Leon offered gently, gesturing toward the other knights sitting on logs.

His back arched as the white-hot iron seared his flank. He almost choked on the smell of his own sizzling skin. Arthur dropped the iron rod and grabbed the servant's arm, yanking it toward the flames.

"One more scream and I'll burn your hand till you're hoarse."

Merlin shook his head without looking up. "No thank you."

"Do you mind if I sit with you, then?" Leon asked.

Merlin shook his head again. The knight sat an arm's length away and looked up at the stars.

"It's nice to get fresh air and see the stars. I haven't been outside in a year."

Merlin hugged himself absently against the night chill. He debated whether to speak. His quandary made him want to push through it, to make himself talk and be more normal.

"I wasn't allowed outside," He replied.

Leon looked at him, surprised that he'd spoken. He looked back to the night sky and asked, "Did you miss them?" Now they were both looking up at the stars.

"Yes."

Though it was a simple exchange, Merlin felt much more at ease. After hearing how understanding Gwaine was with his onslaught of panic, and knowing Leon was willing to open up about the past year without pressing for assurances of forgiveness, he knew that they were once more his friends. But Percival hadn't even cast him a sidelong glance yet. Though a small voice in his head suggested that the knight might really just hate him, Merlin was sure it was something else. As Gwaine got up to find firewood, Merlin excused himself from Leon's quiet company and ventured to sit by the fire beside Percival.

Three feelings ran through his mind at once. One, he was anxious being so close to the fire. Two, he was doubly nervous sitting by Percival, whose incredible strength had been used against him so often...

The hand holding him up by the already bruised throat tightened as the knight snarled, "Arms down!" Against his body's desperate need for oxygen, Merlin lowered his arms from trying to alleviate the grip on his neck. He was thrown into the wall. His gasps and coughs were interrupted when Percival kicked him under the chin, hard. His head snapped back and cracked against the wall, the impact clouding his sight and dragging him into unconsciousness.

Merlin shook his head, trying to forget the flashback. The third feeling was what he had to hold on to. He was proud of himself for pushing, for making himself not only forgive, but also actively reach out.

"It's good that I packed food, we didn't really see any game today," Merlin said lightly.

Percival didn't respond.

The servant shifted uncomfortably. "I, uh, wanted to say I'm sorry."

Percival looked up then, staring at him incredulously. "What? Why?"

Okay, the staring made him feel much more uncomfortable now. "I'm not sure. I'm sorry that you have to feel it, I guess. I mean, you were just as trapped as I was, and you shouldn't feel guilty."

Percival's confusion turned to sorrow and he looked back to the flames. He was quiet for a long time. "I swore to never use my strength to hurt someone. To only do good. After everything I did, everything you suffered..." He shook his head desolately. "I have no right to call myself a knight."

"It's not your fault," Merlin persisted. "I'm the one who got hurt, and I forgive you. It wasn't really you. And you didn't hurt anyone else. Please don't blame yourself, Percival."

The knight was quiet again. "How can I look you in the eye after everything?" He asked softly, sounding defeated.

"It'll take time. For all of us."

Percival nodded. Merlin felt a burden lift from his shoulders as he knew that he hadn't let his fear hold him back from seeing these men as they truly were - not cruel men waiting for a chance to hurt and humiliate him, but friends who felt guilt and worry just like him.

And though he certainly would never admit it aloud, he was grateful to Arthur for making him take that first step.

Chapter Text

Upon return to the castle, the group was growing rather rowdy. Gwaine was telling a bawdy tavern story, occasionally nudging Percival and coaxing a laugh out of him. Leon was watching, laughing along but occasionally scolding them for being too loud. Merlin was at the front of the lot. He dismounted from his steed and rubbed her neck affectionately before leading her to the stables. The sun felt warm on his skin and the breeze ruffled his hair.

Then, Gwaine ruffled his hair. Merlin ducked away and gave a joking, "Hey!" He grinned. "How would you like it if someone messed up your hair?"

While the 'hunting' trip with the knights had been healing, Merlin was overly glad to be home. Fresh air and open space were nice after so long being kept in his place but he was exhausted. When he got to Gaius' chambers, he sat heavily at the table inside and tried to clear his mind. Arthur had promised him a day off upon his return and he had to remind himself that he was not neglecting his duties, he was not doing anything wrong.

He found that the sounds of the room helped ground him. The bubbling of potions, the fire crackling softly, the soft brush of herbs hanging to dry in the window.

The door opened and Merlin smiled upon seeing Gaius walk in.

"Merlin, back so soon! I assume it wasn't a very fruitful hunting trip, then?"

The young warlock raised his eyebrows. "Actually, it was good."

The physician looked surprised. "Well, that's wonderful! And you're looking chipper today."

Merlin ducked his head, ears growing red. "I just missed them."

Gaius nodded, understanding. He moved further inside, but his robes caught on the bench and he knocked into a stack of vials.

"Oh!" The physician cried in surprise. Both men watched the glass fall and shatter, potions and remedies spilling across the floor.

Gaius looked over to see his ward get up and retrieve the mop. The old man grew concerned.

"Merlin?"

"Hmm?" He replied absently as he began sweeping up.

"Why didn't you use magic to stop that glass breaking?"

Merlin froze. He didn't look up. After his pause, he continued cleaning. Not an answer, not even a shrug.

"Merlin, what's wrong?"

He still didn't answer, having finished with the mop and moving to pick up the shards of glass.

"Stop," Gaius said gently and placed his hand on his ward's shoulder. Merlin flinched and dropped the glass. He abandoned his busywork, standing and walking back to the table. With his back turned to his guardian, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his hand resting at the back of his neck. His arm dropped and he finally spoke.

"I stopped using it."

"You what?"

Merlin took a deep breath, staring ahead. "I stopped using my magic. It wasn't safe. It was like he could see me, he always knew when I did something wrong. I was afraid." He said it like a confession.

Gaius felt heartbroken hearing his boy sound so defeated, so worn down.

"But you are magic, Merlin, you can't just stop using it."

"I know. It was hard. And it hurts. Like ice, like I can't breathe." He sighed sadly. The warlock lifted his hand to the center of his chest, like he'd lost something inside. "But I had to."

"Could you use it again after all that time? Do you feel it?" Gaius was desperate to help, to guide his ward back to who he was before. He wanted him to be safe and healthy, but this was new territory.

Merlin shrugged. "I don't know. I can still feel it, almost out of reach, but I don't know what to do." He was afraid, Gaius realized. "I didn't need it because he didn't really leave the castle, and he wasn't in danger, which is all that matters, and without that..."

"You must have considered using magic to protect yourself."

The warlock tensed. "I couldn't hurt them. I couldn't control it if I did that, I might have killed them. I could have killed him."

The whip cracked against his flesh, and Merlin jerked. The lashes grew more violent for every time he remained silent. His hands were bound to the bedpost with his neckerchief as he knelt on the hard floor. He turned his face into the smooth sheets to try and keep quiet. He didn't know whether this was a day that screaming was okay or not, but he tried to keep it in. The leather sliced into his back and he felt his magic bubbling below the surface. It was straining for release. It wanted to end the pain, end the person causing it. That's why he shoved it down deeper, out of reach. He could never hurt Arthur. The whip cracked again across his back and his breath caught. No, he would die before he even considered acting against Arthur. So he bottled it all up. When the next lash hit him, Merlin screamed at not only the searing pain tearing his skin, but also the hollow ache of once again crushing his magic.

"It was for him," Merlin whispered. "He's my destiny. I had to protect him."

"Oh, my boy," Gaius sighed. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to do that."

"Gaius, will I get it back?"

The physician moved closer. "Of course, Merlin, don't you doubt that. You are a creature of magic, it is part of you just as much as your heart. And it is your destiny. You will heal and you will help Arthur do incredible good. It's written in the stars, my boy."

He placed his hand on the warlock's shoulder again. This time, he didn't flinch.

Chapter Text

"We have a number of guests arriving today."

"Another treaty?" Merlin asked, pleased at the amount of reparations Arthur had been able to arrange since the end of that year.

Arthur nodded. "It'll be King Lucas and various dukes and earls. They will settle into their quarters and then we will feast in the evening."

"Better not eat too much there or I'll have to let out the waist on these again." The servant held up the trousers he was folding. "Not much material left."

"Haha, very funny. Actually, you'll be tending to some of our guests as is needed, so don't worry about taking in my clothes."

"Taking them in? Fat chance!"

"Hey!" Arthur called, but the servant had already grinned peevishly and left the room. He really did have a lot of laundry to do before the guests arrived.

Luckily, by the time of the expected arrival, he'd finished all of it. Merlin had also managed to polish Arthur's armor and check with the kitchen staff to see if they needed any help preparing the food for that night. Now he was headed to to courtyard to stand with Arthur as he greeted the guests.

Rounding a corner, he ran into what appeared to be a stack of folded sheets.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Oh no, oh no," The pile lamented. Merlin paused then laughed lightly as a serving girl appeared from the knocked over pile she'd been carrying.

"I'm sorry," Merlin said kindly as he helped pick up the sheets.

"I'm going to lose my job, this is terrible!" The girl said, distracted.

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "I'm supposed to have all the beds made by the time the royal guests are here, and I'll never make it! They've just arrived. Oh, I'm in trouble."

"Don't worry." Merlin lifted half of the sheets off of her pile and gave a charming grin. "We'll do it together!"

Before she could respond, he led the way to the proper chambers. When they made it, he nodded to the left side of the corridor. "You take those, I'll get this side. The comforters and quilts should be folded up by the pillows."

He hurried into the first room. Wishing he could just use his magic but unwilling to test its boundaries yet, he began spreading the sheet. By the time he'd finished that room and the next, he figured he had a few minutes left. A bit more speed and he'd never even be missed at the courtyard greetings.

With a contented sigh at the last room being set to order, Merlin heard the servant girl lean in and say, "Thank you very much! The kitchens owe you a lifetime of treats."

Merlin waved graciously before she left. This was turning out to be a rather lovely day. He smoothed out the last of the wrinkles on the covers. He'd gotten a lot done and made sure everything was in order, as well as helping someone else with their chores. He should ask for a raise, he thought humorously.

The door opened wider and the manservant's brow furrowed. Was the serving girl back for something? He turned around to see.

No.

The duke waited for the guards escorting the king's servant to leave before he advanced. "What a sight you are. I was told you were somewhat of a delinquent in your master's care. While I admire that, shall we say, spirit," the noble reached for the servant's cheek, but the young man pulled away. "It is my role now to crush that. And it's not going to be very fun." At this, the nobleman smiled lecherously. "Well, at least, not for you."

Not him. How could this happen?

The duke pinned him to the wall, pulling his right arm up against his back. Merlin cried out and stood on his toes as the pressure grew.

"Now, now, just be still. This is going to hurt, and its best to just accept that now before you make me hurt you much, much worse."

The nobleman chuckled and pulled the boy's arm hard. He laughed outright when he heard the bone crack and the servant scream in agony. "Oh, who am I kidding? I'm going to hurt you either way."

"It's good to see you after so long, boy." The man walked further in. "I was starting to think that your master would never again lend you to me. But here I am. And here you are, in my own chambers no less."

"Stop fighting, or I'll break your other arm." The nobleman secured the manacles around his wrists, now bound to the floor. This man had done this before, Merlin thought blearily. His head was shoved against the stone floor from behind, and a weight settled above him. At his suddenly renewed struggles, his head was smashed against the floor until he was still.

"No," Merlin said weakly. "That wasn't him, that wasn't supposed to happen. You shouldn't be here."

"I shouldn't be here?!" The duke rushed forward and grabbed the servant by the shirt, shoving him against the wall. "I am your better, you will watch your tone!"

Merlin closed his eyes and tried to breathe evenly. "I'm sorry."

The nobleman gave a crooked smile. "You will be." He stepped back and yanked the servant toward the bed, knocking the younger man's head against the post there. Merlin cried out and brought his hands up to his head, unable to fight the momentum as he was pushed to the ground. Blood dropped from his brow as he went down. He groaned as the sling was torn from his right arm. He was shoved onto his stomach and pinned by the duke.

"Now, I hope that you don't fight this time, because it would be a shame to break this arm again. Then again, I do so miss your screams." Merlin's arms were pulled behind his back, and in the adrenaline rush of panic, the servant began twisting and bucking. Well, trying to - he was much lighter than the man holding him down.

"Oh, there's that fighting spirit I remember! Not that it did much good last time. I'm afraid you're just as weak now." The duke took hold of Merlin's right arm, pulling it up behind his back. Merlin whimpered as the healing bone was strained in the hold. "Are you really going to make me do this? You know what I'm going to do, you know you can't fight me. Say you submit."

Merlin was shaking. "N-no."

The nobleman rolled his eyes. "Maybe I ought to break both for that. Why must you struggle, hmm?"

The servant drew as deep a breath as his position would allow. "I am not yours."

"So you are your own man, is that it? Pride?"

Merlin shook his head. "Loyalty. I am not y-yours." He had to be by Arthur's side. For a year he had not been able to protect him, and now his magic was gone. He had to stay safe for him.

And, if Arthur had allowed the duke to come to Camelot, he must not remember what he'd done, how he'd sent Merlin to him.

"I don't think your little trip did much in the way of education if this is how you're behaving."

Merlin was shaking, trying to keep quiet as Arthur took hold of another finger and snapped it. The servant couldn't hold back another yell of pain.

"Perhaps I should send you back."

"N-no, sire, please, I'll be good." His breaths came fast as Arthur was about to break the next finger.

"It's not a punishment, it's a lesson. As long as you don't fight back, as long as you obey," On the last word he snapped the bone and nodded approvingly at the more contained groan of pain. "You won't be punished. Understand?"

Merlin nodded. "Yes, s-sire. I'm s-sorry."

Arthur sat back, releasing the servant's hand. "Good."

Arthur didn't deserve to remember that punishment, sending him to this man - it wasn't his fault, anyway. It was fine. Even though his time with the duke was something that still haunted him with night terrors and a near crippling fear of contact with anyone, it was likely that sending him away had hardly been a passing thought to that Arthur.

"How very noble of you, loyal to the master who raises his hand. But how can you serve your king if you're beaten half to death?" The nobleman began to pull the arm farther up the servant's back. Merlin cried out in pain. The duke shoved the servant's head to the ground with his free hand, trying to shut him up, but attention was drawn. A knock sounded at the door.

"Is everything alright, my lord?" A guard asked.

"Yes, quite alright!" The duke called. After a moment, footsteps retreated from the door.

"Watch yourself, boy, or I'll cut out your tongue," The nobleman hissed. Considering the time, he released his hold with a sigh and stood. Merlin gasped as his lungs could expand fully once more. He whimpered as he gingerly pulled his arm to his side with a wince.

"I'm sure I'll see you again before the night's out. Until then, get out of my sight."

Merlin didn't need to be told twice. He got up to his hands and knees, then stood quickly. He was out the door and walking quickly down the corridor before he could be stopped. Heart pounding, he walked and walked, not looking back. He didn't know where he was going, just away. He was fine. Completely fine.

He was far from the man's chambers before he collapsed. The warlock fell to his knees, pressing his hands to his eyes. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

"That's it, just relax, don't fight. It's okay, shhh, shhh." The nobleman held him down, kept him quiet.

He had to calm down, it was over. But it wasn't. He was here. No, this was far too much.

"What, no more struggle?" Merlin felt the slap and his head was turned with the force, but he was silent.

What was he going to do? Merlin pressed his palms harder against his eyes, as if he could crush the memories plaguing him and go back to normal. Forget everything.

The hand ran through his hair and the nobleman said, "You'll be good for me, won't you?"

He just wanted to be far away, to be alone.

"You're pathetic."

He was pathetic.

"Go back to your master, boy, you're worthless to me now."

He was worthless.

"Merlin?"

The warlock inhaled stiffly, lowering his hands and forcing himself to his feet. He turned to see Gwaine standing there looking concerned. "You alright, mate?"

Merlin nodded wordlessly.

Gwaine stepped closer. "What's wrong?"

Merlin shook his head. He couldn't speak without breaking down.

"Okay. Let's go somewhere." At his look of confusion, the knight just took his hand and led him farther down the corridor, ignoring his friend's flinch.

Gwaine brought them up the tower, to the top of the castle at the lip of the wall where Merlin and Arthur used to stand at times to look out at the kingdom. It was still light outside, and the warmth of day was beginning to blend with the cool of evening. They sat against the wall and looked at the clear sky.

Merlin took a deep breath. He hadn't known how much he'd needed fresh air, outside of those walls.

"Thanks," He said quietly.

"I think we both needed a break," The rogue knight said.

They sat in silence for a while, and Merlin was finally able to think, to push down the memories and focus. He had to go back soon, to attend the feast, standing by Arthur.

The duke would be there. No matter what, he was going to see him again. Next time, he might not get away. What was he going to do?

"I won't ask what's wrong because i know you don't want to say." Gwaine broke the silence. "But I will say that if something is happening, you should tell Arthur. He worries about you and he feels guilty for everything that happened. Don't get me wrong, that's his business and so utterly not your fault or responsibility. But if you're not okay, you can trust him. He wants to help. I fear all I can do is offer to pummel anyone who even looks at you funny."

Merlin smiled, not knowing he could do that again today. "Thank you, Gwaine." He stood, and the knight joined him. Merlin wasn't sure if he could bring himself to tell Arthur, but he did have to go to him either way. He set out for the king's chambers.

Arthur was waiting, ready to change into his formal attire. He didn't comment on Merlin's lateness, he just moved behind the changing screen. Merlin placed the traditional garb over the screen as Arthur tossed over his day clothes.

"Everything alright there, Merlin?" The blonde asked, voice a bit muffled as he pulled on his shirt.

The servant bit the inside of his cheek. What was his answer? "Yeah." No! Ugh.

"You seem a bit distracted, is all."

"Sorry I was late." Yeah, sure, bring that up. Idiot.

"Where were you?" Curiosity, nothing more, Merlin reminded himself. No anger, no manipulation, just his friend wondering where he'd been.

Merlin hesitated. He didn't want to lie. But he would not tell him. How could he? Was he really so weak that he couldn't handle seeing one person he didn't like? What made him think he could disrupt the making of a treaty just so he could feel a little less nervous? Selfish.

But a lie did not come to him. His mind slowed and he could almost feel the flashbacks building up, itching to flood back into the forefront of his mind. He focused on breathing.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked, stepping out fully dressed. "What is it?"

"Um," The servant shook his head, staring at the floor. "I don't..."

Arthur placed his hands on his shoulders. "Tell me what's wrong." His voice was calm and sure.

"How do you know something's wrong?" Merlin asked softly, feeling overwhelmed.

"Where's your sling?" The blonde said in answer. "I want to know what's making my friend afraid again," He continued, catching the servant's eyes. "I can help."

Merlin took a shaky breath. "Okay." He stepped back, pulling away from the contact. He averted his eyes. "Do you remember how I broke my arm?"

Arthur looked at Merlin's right arm and tried to remember. "I'm not sure. I didn't..."

"No, you didn't do it. I wasn't... I wasn't quiet enough one day. You were angry. You sent me away for a while."

Arthur vaguely remembered. "Where did I send you?" He asked, afraid of the answer.

"To the Duke of Arcadia."

"Right," Arthur said, thinking. "I remember." He blanched suddenly. "I wrote him a letter. I told him to do his worst." Why had he done that? His worst what? "What did he do?"

Arthur knew he'd crossed a line by asking when Merlin curled in on himself a bit. "Sorry. I shouldn't have-" And there it was. "No, wait, I remember." Arthur inhaled sharply as he recalled what he'd thought when he'd written that letter, when he'd sent Merlin to that.

"He's here," The blonde said, horrified. "I invited him." He was growing livid. "Did he hurt you?"

Merlin didn't answer.

Arthur strode over and grabbed the servant's shoulders. "Did he hurt you?"

Merlin flinched. "Please."

Arthur let go and stormed out. Merlin watched him go, feeling hollow.

When Arthur returned an hour or so later, Merlin was still there, sitting now. He didn't look up when the other man walked in.

"I'm sorry for being angry," Arthur said tiredly. "I didn't mean to grab you."

Merlin nodded, eyes fixed on the floor.

"He's gone. He'll never return to Camelot," The king continued.

"Thanks," The servant muttered.

"Please don't thank me," Arthur asked. Merlin looked up. "I am the one in your debt. You trusted me enough to tell me. That must have taken great effort. And selflessness. You have always done what was best for me and for Camelot. I now know not to trust that swine. You could have just left - you always could have. But you always stay by my side. I don't deserve that loyalty, not with how I've treated you."

Merlin stood and walked over to his friend, placing his hand on the king's shoulder. His right hand. "You are a good man. I'll always be at your side." He smiled and lowered his arm. "Prat."