So, hey guys. This story is a sequel to another fic of mine called 'Battle Scars'. I suppose you could try to make sense of this without reading it but I recommend you go check it out first - it'll probably make a great deal more sense. With all that said and done, please enjoy!

"So where are we actually headed?" Gwaine asked in his soft Irish brogue.

Arthur finished attaching a saddlebag to his mount before turning to face the knight. The truth was, he had no answer. But he knew that wouldn't satisfy the knight; he was both concerned and angry, and he wanted his friend back, so a simple stated, "No clue," would only serve to infuriate him.

So instead Arthur only answered with, "We'll go to where we last saw Merlin, see if we can find any clues there."

For a moment Arthur thought that Gwaine was going to press him for more information. Instead, the knight shrugged and trudged off to his own stallion.

The king stared at him worriedly for a few seconds before glancing sideways and seeing Leon doing the same. They exchanged a short look full of unspoken meaning before going back to their supplies.

Once Arthur had tightened the last buckle he called out, "Listen up!"

Almost immediately, every knights' head snapped up to their king's. Not just out of loyalty, Arthur knew, or duty, but friendship.

Arthur proceeded to give one of the most heartfelt speeches he'd ever given. "I am your king; your leader; but also your friend. Merlin, to some, is just a servant. To me, he is more than that. Yes, a servant, but a loyal, giving servant at that. And a friend - perhaps the first true friend I have ever made. And I, more than anyone, should know a true friend apart from a false one. And to anyone who has properly met Merlin, they would surely agree that he is a great, great man.

"And I can promise you all something: we will get Merlin back."

He spoke with such conviction and love that, even though the odds were stacked against them, every man believed him.

They hadn't been riding for an especially long time when they came across a large body of water.

In the dusk, the water shimmered and rolled gently, and the pastel orange glow bounced off it in a way that no one could deny was beautiful.

Although they were desperate to find Merlin, the knights stopped for a moment and just gazed out over the rippling lake, each mulling over their private problems.

Arthur took the first step towards the edge of the lake, and once that tentative move had been made the others swiftly followed.

Once at the edge of the moving water, Arthur bent and scooped up a handful of the cool, clear water. He splashed his face with it, then rubbed his palms together to rid them of any dirt, finally dipping them in the water. Elyan was the first to copy his example, washing the dust and grime off his hands first, then his face.

Checking that no one was within hearing range, Elyan asked a question he'd wanted to for a long time, "How slim are the chances of getting Merlin back?"

Arthur inhaled sharply before answering. "Very. But if you asked anyone what the chances of a common-born man becoming a knight were three years ago, they would have said there was no chance."

"You made that happen, Arthur."

"So I'll make it happen again."

Elyan started to respond but was cut off by Gwaine's yell of, "Arthur!"

Both men looked up. Elyan stared, dumbstruck, but Arthur rose to his feet quickly and sloshed towards the centre of the lake. Then he too, stood speechless.

Freya gave him a gentle smile. Shyly, she proffered her arm forward, and introduced herself, "I'm the Lady of the Lake - call me Freya."

Moving slowly, Arthur grasped her hand in his and bent to press his lips to it softly.

As she moved, she radiated a faint golden glow, and her skin literally shone, like she had flakes of sunlight embedded in every patch of skin.

"Arthur." Then, clearing his throat he continued, "We're looking for our friend-"

"Merlin," Freya finished. At Arthur's look of surprise, she shrugged. "He is a…friend of mine."

"You're friends with him? You know him?"

"Very well," Freya said, smiling. "We were slightly more than friends, once."

Arthur paused for a moment, unable to comprehend the idea of someone like her fancying someone like Merlin. He hurried on. "Do you know how to find him?"

"Take the path you feel is best. You'll know where to go from there."

"Thank you…?" Arthur said, more than slightly confused.

Freya smiled again. Arthur turned to walk back to the others. When he reached the shore, he looked back but saw only the lake, looking as beautiful and serene as it did before.

Arthur opened his mouth, ready to ask a hundred questions, but then closed it again. He knew no one would have any answers.

Merlin hadn't really bothered to keep track of time, or of where he was going – or rather, being taken. His mind was slapped back into sharp focus, however, when he was shoved to his knees in front of a face he never thought he'd have to see again.

Morgana Pendragon, sitting regal and haughty on a stone throne, smirked happily down at him.

"Merlin," she said disdainfully.

"Morgana," he replied, voice positively dripping with disgust.

The witch studied him for a few seconds, then stood and strode towards him quickly. The shoes she was wearing were heeled, and every time she took a step they let out an ominous-sounding click.

She looked well – too well. Her face was deathly pale, as always, but there was a hint of colour outlining her cheekbones. She was still as slim as he remembered her being, but not unhealthily so. And there was no sign of the injury she was meant to have.

"I know," she said suddenly, crouching so she was at Merlin's level. "About your magic."

Merlin's brain went into overdrive. He didn't know what to say. What if Morgana was calling his bluff? Eventually he settled for saying, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Morgana laughed softly. It echoed around the shadowy room in an overlapping cacophony of chuckles.

Then, suddenly vicious, she snarled, "Don't play games with me, Merlin."

He refused to answer and stared at her with unblinking, icy eyes.

"Fine then," Morgana snapped, when it was obvious she wasn't getting an answer. "Have it your way. Men!"

Merlin felt his arms seized. He kicked out, which did nothing but have his legs restrained as well. His mouth was forced open and his nose pinched shut. A liquid, lumpy and thick, was poured down his throat. It tasted of nothing but as soon as it hit his stomach, it burnt.

"Enjoy having no magic," Morgana cooed in mock-sympathy.

In between short breaths, Merlin gasped, "What – was – that?"

"Mutul. It's a poison; it will bind your magic like a rope. You'll find yourself without your precious magic. And you will be nothing more than a pathetic serving boy."

Morgana sashayed away, yelling over her shoulder as she did, "Take him to the dungeons!"

The henchmen bodily began to drag him out of the room. Merlin, too weak to properly resist, felt his consciousness slowly slipping out of his hands.

Cliffhanger! D: please review, constructive criticism is welcomed. Thanks to Autumndragon for her beta'ing.