"But Merlin," Arthur sniffed and scratched at his eye suspiciously. "I thought you'd be- angry."

That was a lie. Arthur thought that Merlin would be crazy. As crown prince of Camelot, he'd seen plenty, too many, knights that had been rescued from torture. If they had been returned, it was not in a good state. One of his father's knights, Sir Kay, had been tortured, and left for dead on the outskirts of the castle. He had been carried to Gaius's chambers moaning, eyes wide, and later, when he was strong enough, he would go into uncontrollable fits at the slightest touch, thinking he was going to be beaten. Sir Kay was never well enough to fight again. And he'd been captured for a week and a half, with training on how to withstand torture.

Merlin had no training. He was just an ordinary servant, a farm boy from the smallest town Arthur had ever seen. He wasn't even born in Camelot, for god's sake. And he had been hurt more brutally and for so much longer than anyone Arthur had ever heard of, dead or alive.

Four and a half months. Merlin had been missing for four and a half months. It hurt Arthur to think about how, less than two weeks ago, he had been without his idiot, bumbling manservant, who challenged Arthur, and hummed while he worked, who was the most annoying person the prince had ever come across, and yet still. Those four and a half months had been hell for Arthur. But they had been worse for Merlin.

And yet here the boy was, sitting upright against the pillows Arthur had ordered be brought to Gaius's chambers. One arm was in a sling and the other bandaged against his side. Gaius's was slowly pouring water into Merlin's mouth, who was swallowing slowly, his throat pained after severe dehydration.

Arthur was shocked that Merlin was even conscious. He was shocked that Gaius would allow him to stay in consciousness, while he was obviously in such pain. One side of his face was swollen shut and covered in layers of bruising so heavy it was almost black, except where it was a tinted green. Occasionally there was a bit of puss, but Gaius wiped it away as soon as he saw it and dabbed at Merlin's face with more strange smelling paste. Less than two inches away from Merlin's right eye there was a sticky, honey-covered bandage protecting the neat stitches Gaius had sewn to close an infected cut.

The bones in Merlin's right arm had been shattered. When Merlin was first rescued, a little over a week ago, he had been mumbling about someone dropping massive pieces of tile on him. After awakening, he had confirmed that his abductors had used rope to lift heavy pieces of rock and then drop them on his immobilized arm after he still refused to talk. The bones had fused, healing incorrectly as they never bothered to set the wound, and then later broken again, this time by sheer man force.

His entire left side was covered with harsh burns. From what Arthur saw before Merlin had been treated, they had started with a heated metal rod and then simply set him on fire. That explained why under the thin blanket his captors had thrown over him, his clothes were charred away on one side. Gaius had done his best, cutting away Merlin's arm where it had healed to his side and applying an hourly poultice.

Merlin was skinny, hurt beyond belief, and weaker than Arthur had ever seen him, yet he looked as though he were just tired. He didn't look lost or confused, he wasn't flinching at Gaius's touch, he was talking and laughing as if nothing was wrong. Arthur didn't understand. Merlin had been tortured. Everything was wrong.

"How are you okay?" Arthur asked him, awed. Gaius set the cup down and moved to his bench to consult one of his books, sensing the boys needed a moment to themselves. "Aren't you- I don't know- upset with me... Or something."

He felt stupid the moment the words left his mouth. Merlin looked up at him, confused, and for a moment Arthur thought that he was wrong, and that Merlin was completely out of it.

But then Merlin shook his head and laughed.

"I did it for you, Arthur." he said, as if it were obvious. "Everything I do is for you. I don't regret it one bit."

And that's when Arthur really started to cry.