A/N: RAWR I was aiming for over 4000 words but I didn't quite make it! Disappointment of the year! I'm sorry. Better than last chapter though, in terms of length! I was gonna have this up like Saturday but I spent a few hours dancing around alone to Born This Way by Gaga... Then I played some harp... Then I wrote a song. SO! Here we are! I'm gonna start writing every morning though so you can expect a new chapter at least every week, typically twice a week. That sound okay? Okay. Well... Enjoy.

P.S. So sorry for the multiple updates! I didn't save my last minute changes :S It won't happen again... 3

Chapter 2
~*~*~*~

"Stupid prince with his stupid horses and their stupid shi—urghhh," Merlin's stomach roiled with nausea. The stench of the stables was overwhelming, and that was just for the first few minutes. Merlin had been in the stables mucking out horse dung and sludge for the past hour. Who knew horses could produce this much of a mess?

Merlin took a peek around, and after seeing no one was around, he turned to the mess and intensified his gaze. His eyes turned to a honey gold glow and the hay and waste gathered into piles. All around, fecal matter hovered into the air, weaving between shocked horses, tossing into the near wheel barrel.

Just as Merlin's magic began waning from the room, someone came walking into the stables.

"Merlin, I was told the oddest thing," he halted as he witnessed the sorcery before him. "What in the name of—" he exclaimed, causing Merlin to whip around in surprise.

"Gaius!" He breathed a sigh of relief. If that had been the prince or a guard…

"What did I tell you about magic?" Gaius scolded, "What if it hadn't been me that caught you? You're going to get yourself killed!"

"I'm sorry, Gaius, but I can't just not use magic. It's who I am. I can't forget who I am just because of some wicked tyrant." Merlin exhaled.

"Merlin, your mother was a dear friend of mine. She asked me to take care of you. I can't let you go and get yourself burned at the stake. Magic is forbidden in Camelot. You mustn't take these chances, especially now that you will be working so closely with Prince Arthur, himself."

Merlin sighed, "Heard about that already?" he said, looking at the ground.

Gaius looked at him sympathetically. "Merlin, you're playing with fire in a wooden house. Promise me you will not use magic again." At that, Merlin grew agitated.

"I can't do that, Gaius! If it's between life and magic, I'd rather die! Without magic, I'm just a nobody. You can't possibly understand what that's like!"

Merlin glared at his guardian before storming furiously out of the stables, leaving behind an exasperated Gaius. He stomped on to the outer gates of the city, and to the trees beyond, gathering anger as he traversed the thick forest. After thirty minutes of treading in the same direction, Merlin stopped and closed his eyes. He listened and he felt.

He listened for the eerie hum of magic. He felt a slight tension in the air, and followed it for another hour.

When Merlin opened his eyes, he was once again at the ominous lake, and his rage dissipated into the thirsty atmosphere. He really enjoyed his visits here. The dense crackling of magic around him truly made him feel alive. It was as if the water, the earth, the trees, and the sky were a part of him, and he could sense every leaf, every rock, and any obtrusion in the consecrated area.

It was pitch dark, but he could feel his master in the same position she stood before.

"I've done as you've asked," he called out to her, "I've become the prince's manservant." Nimueh eyes widened.

"His manservant, you say? My, my, this is better than I had expected. Excellent work, my child. You now have easy access to the royal palace. Soon, the Pendragon dynasty will die at your hand," she chuckled darkly. Merlin hesitated.

"And then the killing will end?" he questioned, "The persecution?"

Nimueh's lips curled up at the corners. Her frosted eyes bore into him.

"Of course, warlock, that is what we all want," she smirked. Merlin looked pensively to the ground for a moment.

"So, what do I do now?" he asked, at last.

"First, you must study," she said, "I will teach you to harness your power. You will be trained in the ways of the Old Religion, so that you may slay the Pendragons with your magic." She approached him with a thick, black ancient book in her outstretched hands. "This is the Tome of Umbra, a spell book of tremendous knowledge and power." Merlin's eyes were lit with curiosity as he took it from her cold arms.

"This is incredible…" he mused aloud. "Where do I even start?" he asked her in wonder.

"The elements," she commanded, stepping backward. He opened the bindings and flipped to the appropriate section. The words were written in a language Merlin hadn't seen before, but immediately recognized. "The first incantation, Emrys." Merlin looked up at her questioningly. "Today, child," she barked. He placed the tome on a nearby rock before holding his palms toward Nimueh hesitantly. He swallowed and took inhaled deeply.

"Exuro fluo" he recited. Merlin felt a warmth in his hands, but nothing ensued.

"Not even a puff of smoke?" Nimueh scoffed, "Again!"

Merlin recoiled a bit at her tone before muttering the foreign words again. This time, the heat on his hands was accompanied by a lively flame climbing his palm and licking between his fingers. Merlin looked at his hand with shock and smiled triumphantly, relinquishing the fire.

"You do realize that was terrible, don't you?" She spat, "You are absolutely pathetic. The great Emrys can't even cook a boar with his miserable excuse for magic. Do it right this time."

"This is my first time trying!" Merlin yelled back, turning red, "What do you expect?"

"I expect you not to whine, and to cast a simple spell when I demand. What are you waiting for? Now!"

Merlin's glare alone could've burned through his master when he braced his arms once more. "Exuro fluo!" he shouted. An immense surge of power coursed through his body and his eyes flashed bright red before sparking to the typical golden glow of his magic. A burning torrent of fire erupted from his palms, cascading toward Nimueh and flaring like a waterfall blasting against shoals. A constant stream of flames bombarded her; the priestess could not be seen behind the stretching blaze. When Merlin finally released his arms, he was panting with exhaustion. He could sense that Nimueh had not moved, and briefly wondered how she survived. As Merlin calmed from his rage, he realized something was different. The air had chilled significantly; the edges of the lake had a thin layer of ice and frost, but the area where he had been aiming was thick with steam. Merlin shivered and looked up at Nimueh, who was encased in a faint blue field which faded as she spoke.

"Excellent work, Emrys. Fire is an element of rage. It is catalyzed by your anger but not produced. Do you know where the flames came from?"

Merlin shrugged, "My magic?"

"Do you notice anything different?" she asked, ignoring his guess.

"It's gotten pretty cold. It's kind of odd, really. I mean, I just produced a beam of fire and instead of being hot, it's gotten cooler."

"You did not 'produce' anything, warlock. Were you not listening?" she pressed irately, "The Old Religion is bound by certain rules. Magic is a function of the world, which is a function of balance. We do not create or remove with magic. We transfer or shift. The fire came from the heat in your surroundings; that is why your side of the lake has frosted over, and where you struck me steams. To burn a tree, you must cool the air, so to speak. To chill a pond, you must heat the air. To save a life, you must take a life. This is why you've come to Camelot. This is the lesson you must learn. Do not hesitate when the opportunity arises to end the Pendragons. Their lives are the balance to the death of our kind. You have the power to reverse the scales, their deaths for our lives. Do you understand?"

Merlin drank in her words and saw their reason, yet something still felt off about it. He knew she was right, he knew what he must do, but it would never sit well with him.

"I do," he responded, "Thank you, priestess. I should return now, I must see to the prince."

"Very well, Emrys. Do see that you look over that tome, and come back for training on the morrow."

Merlin approached the towering stone turrets of the royal palace and informed the guards of his business in the castle. He received directions to the prince's quarters and went on his way through the massive halls. In his entire life, Merlin had never seen such a grandiose building. Despite having several stories, the rooms and halls had high ceilings, adorned with intricate artwork depicting beautiful women and bountiful fruits. Although the stone castle looked cold and intimidating from outside, the inside was warm and comfortable with the orange glow of torchlight. After standing around in awe, Merlin realized that his tardiness would be detrimental to his plans, so he found the winding stairs.

Merlin rushed up the steps, not noticing when a familiar face turned the corner, and stumbled right into her.

"Guinevere!" he breathed, "Sorry, are you alright?"

"Oh, yes I'm quite alright," she said, smiling, "And please, call me Gwen."

"Well alright then, Gwen. What are you doing here?"

"I should ask you that question. I'm the Lady Morgana's maid, remember?"

"Ah yes, that's right. Well I've actually wound up as the prince's servant," he sassed, "Lost a wager with him."

"A wager?" she asked, "What, a fight? Well thank goodness you came out alive!"

"No, not a fight," he said defensively, "Although we did have a fight, but I didn't lose that one."

"Really?" she inquired with an odd tone, "It's just that you don't really look like one of these muscular types of fellows."

"Gee, thanks," Merlin said, affronted.

"Oh no, I'm sure you're stronger than you look," she offered, "It's just, Arthur's one of these rough tough save-the-world type of men and, well, you don't look like that." Merlin looked at her with a lifted eyebrow, entertained at the irony of her statements. He looked around conspicuously before leaning in to her ear.

"Can I tell you something?" Gwen nodded. "I'm undercover," he whispered with amusement. She looked at him quizzically and laughed as an afterthought.

"Well, you shouldn't leave Arthur waiting, he can get a bit cranky, after all," she said, leaning back. "I shall see you later then," she said, continuing her path down the steps.

Merlin watched her step down, smiling to himself, before remembering he was in a hurry, and running up the stairs, two at a time.

He arrived in front of the prince's quarters, out of breath, and knocked.

"Enter," he heard from the room. Merlin opened the door to the most beautiful chambers he had ever seen. He stood, gaping at the ornate artwork along the walls and ceiling. He turned his view the beautiful furniture; dressers, stained mahogany and adorned with delicate carvings, a table that looked as though it was never barren of fruits and snacks, and a bed that looked more comfortable than clouds, with a model prince atop it, looking right at him.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my new friend, Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed with a leer, "What exactly are you doing here?"

"You know why I'm here," Merlin snapped, "Sire," he added sweetly.

"Well maybe I need a bit of a refresher," he teased, "Tell me, what is your business in the royal palace, peasant?" Merlin gawked at the very forward attempt of humiliation.

"I am your manservant, sire," he forced himself to say. Merlin found himself blushing furiously. He didn't know why, it wasn't as though he was really that embarrassed by the situation. But he certainly didn't want the prince to see, so he shot his gaze to the floor, hoping Arthur had missed the transgression. But alas, he did not. Mistaking Merlin's reaction for shame, he smirked.

"That you are," he jibed, endlessly amused. "And how did you enjoy the stables, servant?" Merlin glowered at his arrogance. If only looks could kill…

"Is there anything that you need, sire?" he asked, growing tired of Arthur's games.

"Ah yes, in fact, I need you to scrub the floors. The future king can't be forced to live under such low conditions, after all."

"Milord?"

"What?"

"Your floors are spotless."

"Are they now?" Arthur looked to the floor, paused a moment, and spat on the pristine tile. "Oh look! A spot." Merlin stared in disbelief. Arthur raised his eyebrows, giving his servant an expectant look. Merlin sighed, fetching a wash bucket and mop from outside and returned to the room to tend to his duties. "Oh, and Merlin? Make sure you scrub the entire floor, not just that spot."

Merlin proceeded to mob up the floor, starting from Arthur's spit, working his way to each corner of the enormous room. "Prat. 'Should just kill you now," he muttered quietly to himself whilst finishing up his job.

"Merlin, I heard that," Arthur said. Merlin froze. Did he just get caught? He may have to kill him now. Merlin considered the vicinity of the guards outside Arthur's quarters and whether or not he'd be able to escape if they heard. Then his mind drifted back to his mission. How would he kill the king after eliminating his way into the palace? Security would probably be doubled after such an attack. Merlin's thoughts were interrupted. "You may want to watch your tongue, lest it gets cut out," Arthur warned, "You're lucky I don't take you seriously, Merlin." He laughed at the prospect of the likes of Merlin making an attempt on his life, "As if you could pose any sort of threat to me."

Merlin exhaled with a combination of relief and annoyance. It was a constant suffocation to feel so powerful and important, yet be perceived as such an insignificant creature. Merlin had never hated a man more in his life than he hated Arthur Pendragon. Being the son of a raging tyrant should not constitute such pride and nobility. The prince was really a frail insect next to Merlin, yet he acts as though he was a towering goliath, and Merlin was a mere garden gnome.

Merlin sank into a spiraling digression into primitive fury. The longer he slaved away for Arthur, the angrier he became until—

"Oh, Merlin? You've been tracking in dirt from your shoes this whole time. Take them off and start over," Arthur commanded.

Merlin's eyes snapped wide and flashed blood red for an instant, and he felt a distinct heat of magic surging through his body to his hands. He gripped harder onto the mop and seethed.

"Hey, do you smell smoke?" Arthur sniffed the air. Merlin's eyes snapped to his face, then to his hands. He noticed a little plume of smoke drifting up from under his finger and dropped the mop in shock. "What happened? What did you do?" Arthur snapped. He got up from the bed. Merlin looked down to the mop and saw that his handprints were burned into the staff. He quickly picked it up and replaced his hands on the singes just as Arthur walked over and looked at him suspiciously.

"N-nothing, sire," Merlin stammered, "It just got…" he panicked as Arthur placed his hand on the mop between his with an inquisitive look. Merlin felt an odd spark when Arthur's skin touched his. His heart, which had been racing with adrenaline, skipped an extra beat and he took in a small, sharp breath.

"Cold," the prince finished for him.

"Yes, must be a draft," Merlin improvised.

"Indeed. Well Merlin, I have a council meeting to attend. See that you finish this up before I get back. I better not see you again tonight." Merlin sighed his consent and Arthur strolled out of his chambers, leaving Merlin with his mop.

When he was alone, Merlin's anger returned to him. He perused Arthur's elegant room, scoffing at how utterly spoiled the brat was. Browsing through the prince's armoire, he saw rack after rack of handsome formalwear, formal-looking casual wear, and even fancy sleepwear. Merlin rolled his eyes and moved to Arthur's night stand and opened the drawer. He rifled through a couple rings and a few keys and stopped as his finger passed over a certain key. He felt the familiar sensation of an echo in his mind and heard an unfamiliar voice.

Merlin

It felt just like when Nimueh contacted him in the dungeons, yet the voice was difficult to decipher. It was deeper and rough, almost inhuman. Yet just as soon as he heard it, it was gone. Merlin looked around in confusion, and found himself looking back at the key. He had to know what it was for. It was different from the others; it was older, cast iron, and large. Something about it seemed familiar to him but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

He decided to leave it for now, and finished up cleaning the floor magically as he left Arthur's chambers.

Back in Gaius' quarters, Merlin was laying on his bed, thumbing through the pages of the Tome of Umbra. In addition to various elemental manipulations, there were also incantations for stimulating illusions, inflicting disease, and telepathic magic. Beyond mere incantations, the book held the secrets to a myriad of arcane rituals, from raising the dead to capturing life.

Merlin held a certain fascination to the book's knowledge, but couldn't help but notice that it was all for the purpose of harming others. Was that all magic was for? Was he given his gift just to bring retribution to the Pendragons? He had always felt that magic was a part of him, a quintessential quality that made him special. He never imagined that the sole purpose of his existence was to be a weapon.

He recalled the moment in Arthur's room where he had nearly lost control, how he had nearly gotten caught, how willing he was to burn the prince to the ground. He knew that was something he'd have to do eventually, but for some reason, he thought it wasn't something he should relish.

Merlin's contemplations were bouncing around in his mind, and were beginning to form a painful headache. He dismissed his thoughts and placed Nimueh's book in the niche under a loose floorboard beside his bed. His questions starting buzzing up again until he heard a knock on his door.

"Merlin?" it was Gaius, he sounded gentler than usual, "Can I come in?"

Merlin sighed before giving his consent. Gaius walked over to Merlin and sat on his bed, holding something out of view in his hands. He place in on his lap and revealed it was an old blue book with gold bindings and designs.

"Merlin, about our conversation this morning—"

"I don't want to talk about that, Gaius." He scooted away. Gaius gave an exasperated huff.

"Would you just listen to me!" he said, "I just wanted to apologize. You were only wrong about one thing: I do understand what it's like."

"You did magic?" Merlin gasped, "Does Uther know?"

"Actually he does, but I was once his close friend and when he banned magic, I stopped practicing it and he let it go."

"So you just gave up on a part of you just to bend to his rule?" Merlin asked in an acidic tone.

"Magic was never a part of me, Merlin. I wasn't born with the gift as you were; it was just something I studied." Merlin opened his mouth to interject but said nothing when Gaius raised his hand, "However, I do realize that as it a part of you and whatever your destiny is, you are special for a purpose, and that purpose is not to deny your birthright." Merlin smiled at his words, but before he could thank him, Gaius raised his hand to stop him again. "That's not all. I want to give you this," he said, handing the blue and gold tome to his ward, "it's called the Book of Magus, and I believe you have more use for it than I." Merlin looked ran his hand over the ornate cover.

"Thank you, Gaius," he said emotionally, "Really—I, I don't know how to express how much this means to me."

"I understand. You're welcome." He stood and walked over to the door and paused. "Oh, and Merlin? If I catch you using magic to do Arthur's errands again, Uther will be the least of your problems. Be safe." And with that, he exited, leaving Merlin to his readings.

Merlin fetched the Tome of Umbra from under his floor and sat it next to the Book of Magus. He stared between them for the longest time, thinking about his guardian and his master. He had been impacted in such different ways from the both of them, and he wondered what Gaius' book would have in store for him.

He put the dark book back under his floor and opened his gift from Gaius. Flipping through the pages, he saw useful spells that were neither for the purpose of harming nor helping anyone, unless specifically intended. There were small incantations to unlock doors and specific uses of telekinesis; and powerful magic for slowing time and conjuration, including a ritual to duplicate small items.

Merlin

That beckoning, inhuman voice sounded in his mind again. Merlin jolted and looked around his room before he realized what was happening. He looked back at the book to the duplication ritual. He recalled the last time he'd heard the voice and was hit with realization. He picked up a small parchment and copied down the ingredients needed to complete the ritual and put away the book.

Merlin lied back down on his bed, his mind buzzing with everything that had happened today. With busy thoughts, he eventually drifted into a restless sleep.