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

I'm back! Sorry for taking so long to get this up and running again, I took a little break from writing for a while but now I'm ready to get going with our sequel! I hope you guys enjoy, this story is mostly going to be set in Camelot, and we're going to get more insights into some of the secondary characters.

Merlin runs.

Or at least he tries to, suddenly finding himself as immobile as a statue. The darkness is looming overhead, the sky filled with a thunderous wrath, as if Zeus throws lightning bolts in a godly rage. Rain begins to spit at the warlock, but he can't comprehend the tiny spatters of water hitting him, too overtaken with fear and hatred to feel anything else. He's standing in front of the man he despises most in this world, the name sour and repulsive in his mouth.

Drin.

'Ready to join me yet, boy?'

The rotten words are spat from his foul mouth, the hint of a grin on his monstrous lips. He knows. He knows that Merlin shouldn't be able to handle much more. The pain, the tormenting words, slowly they're breaking the warlock's spirit, and the warlord knows it.

Merlin holds back yet another scream as yet another oozing red cut appears on his body, the pain agonising, but nothing compared to the words entering his ears.

'You'll never be normal.'

'Freak.'

'He'll never accept you.'

'Sorcerer.'

'He's going to kill you as soon as he finds out.'

And as hard as he tries to block out the tainted words, they crawl under his skin, turning his mind against him, and soon the words are no longer Drin's, but Merlin's own thoughts.

It's killing Merlin. He's determined to be strong, to keep control, to protect Arthur, but what's the point? Why should he stay strong if there's no one left to protect?

'No.' Merlin is so accustomed to the word by now, he's almost stopped hearing it. It leaves his lips subconsciously, the part of his brain not twisted by Drin's evil is fighting back, determined to remain true to who he is.

'Sorcerer.'

The face torturing him suddenly is no longer Drin, but another face. A soft, blonde, familiar face.

'Arthur.' Merlin pleads, imploring the man he considered his best friend to let him go, to see he means no harm. He's never meant anyone harm.

'All this time. Magic. Sorcerer.' Arthur's face is full of an unfamiliar rage, so ugly on his features, and the voice is one teeming with hate and prejudice, so reminiscent of Uther.

More cuts. More harsh words. More pain.

He doesn't know how he's still alive. There's nowhere left to hurt, no more blood to be spilled, but he's still upright, alive, frozen solid and facing Arthur's fury.

'You win.' Merlin is numb. There's nothing left to say, no more protesting or pleading. Just acceptance. 'You win. End this.'

Arthur raises his sword, ironically the same sword that Merlin prevented running his king through. The monarch stiffens, readying to strike and in one movement…

Merlin awoke with a scream in his throat and sweat upon his brow. His eyes darted around the room, his mind still half in sleep and stuck in the nightmare, searching for his assailants. Though soon he realised that he was alone and back in his small cupboard room in Camelot, alive and no longer Drin's captive.

Not physically, anyway.

He sat on the edge of his bed, wincing and clutching at his stomach as his breathing began to return to normal, the more fragile wounds exacerbated by his sudden waking. He pulled the damp nightshirt from his torso, catching sight of his reflection in the window. His cuts were stitched and scabbed but healing, and the bruising had all but disappeared. He knew they'd scar, to what extent was not clear yet, but Gaius had told him wounds of that degree would always leave their mark.

Gaius tried to talk to him about the scars left elsewhere, scars that would burn deep in his mind, but Merlin wouldn't say a word about any injuries other than the ones on his body. He knew that there was nothing to be done for bad dreams except perhaps sleeping draughts, of which he was reluctant to partake. He was doing fine as he was, he didn't need to be drugged out of his mind just to sleep. Merlin was still able to function as much as his body and Gaius would permit him with what little sleep he could grab here and there, and for him, that was good enough. He would not speak of what happened to anyone, nor would he trouble them with his lack of sleep, which was his own problem to solve.

The navy sky outside indicated the presence of night, so he laid in bed awake, as had become customary since his return, until a glimpse of the sunrise appeared. He knew full well that sleep would not come again for him that morning. As soon as the first ray hit the top of the castle walls, Merlin rose, gentler than before, to get dressed.

His attire had been replaced but they weren't an identical match for the clothes he lost. It seemed silly, after everything, to miss his clothes, but they meant more to him than that. His clothes signified his life in Camelot, a time before Drin, and his nightmares, and the fact his secret was now known by five other people. Five very important people. He adjusted the outfit from his window reflection, a shirt of blue, two shades lighter than it should've been, and a brown jacket that fit slightly different to his last. He couldn't bear to replace his beloved neckerchief just yet.

The sound of Gaius moving around in the main room, making breakfast, reminded Merlin how hungry he was. He'd started to eat once more, but Gaius was still keeping strict tabs on what he ate, proclaiming he had to be gentle on his stomach.

"You're up remarkably early." Gaius raised an eyebrow as he appeared, up and fully dressed at least an hour before he would normally.

"I must have a lot of energy. Good, right?" Merlin grinned, taking an apple off the workbench and sitting down to eat it along with the broth that Gaius was making.

"Seems to be." The physician murmured, still not quite convinced.

He ladled a spoonful of weak broth into the bowl in front of Merlin, then did one for himself, sitting opposite his ward. A small smile crept over the old man's lips, savouring the moment as simple as eating breakfast with Merlin. He'd barely eaten when the boy had been reported missing along with the king, and when he had, it'd been standing at his workbench, the table feeling too empty.

"How are you feeling?" Gaius asked calmly, his eyes fixed on the food in front of him.

"I'm fine, Gaius. You fixed me, and I'm alright." Merlin sighed, giving his mentor a weak grin. The daily question met with a daily answer, a fake grin and a hurriedness to move on.

"Any improvements on…?"

"None." Merlin shook his head, reluctant to talk about it, but he knew Gaius wouldn't leave it alone. "If anything it's worse than before, you told me it'd get better." He pointed his spoon at Gaius, the physician thinking Merlin looked more defeatist than ever before.

"I did, but I said in time Merlin." Gaius encouraged. "It'll take longer than this, especially as you're not fully healed yet." He said pointedly.

Merlin's arm was no longer held in its sling, but he still had to restrict the movement in his shoulder, lest his stitches tear. There were still a few stitches to come out across his torso as well, and Merlin was still regaining his strength slowly. He'd been up and walking around a few days after having the dreaded conversation with everyone, and had barely sat down since, eager to resume what little he had left of his 'normal' life.

"So I was thinking…" Merlin began thoughtfully, mid spoonful, once there was a lull in the conversation.

"Never a good idea." Gaius smirked, raising a teasing eyebrow.

"I thought I might bring Arthur his breakfast up this morning, before George gets there." Merlin stirred the remains of his breakfast around in the bowl, the glanced up to gage Gaius' reaction.

"Merlin…" Gaius sighed, getting ready for an argument. It was too early for an argument.

"I know, I know. I'm to rest." Merlin groaned, holding up his hands. "But it's a just a tray."

"It's too much." Gaius shook his head. He was sure that Merlin could carry an empty tray, but a full one? Up all the way from the kitchens to Arthur's room? No way. It could damage his shoulder more, not to mention the exertion it would put on him.

"Ok," Merlin said slowly, and Gaius could almost see the cogs turning in Merlin's head, trying to figure out a solution, "what about if someone else carries the tray to his room, then I take it in?"

"Now you're just being silly. I'm sure Arthur can manage fine with George for a little while longer. You're not to work until I say you can." Gaius' tone was caring but firm. He wouldn't risk Merlin further injuring himself for something as trivial as taking the king his breakfast.

"But-" Merlin began, disappointment clouding the word.

"That's the end of it Merlin. Your stitches are coming out in a few days, but if you tear them then we'll have to re-stitch them and you'll be off work yet another fortnight." Merlin let out a resigned groan and dropped his head in his hands. "I've got plenty to keep you occupied. Here." Gaius handed him a large, worn leather book. "Take this book and memorise it." It had a peeling spine and 'The Comprehensive Guide to Medicinal Herbs' printed in faded letters on the cover. "That'll give you something to do. I shall quiz you over dinner."

If looks could kill, Gaius would never have seen another sunrise.

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