Me: Again, I apologise for the wait guys!

Merlin: …

Me: He's sulking.

Merlin: I am not!

Me: Oh, really? Then why haven't you said two words to me since I posted Chapter 3?

Merlin: …

Me: See? Now cheer up! For all you know, everything might be just hunky-dory by the end of this chapter.

Merlin: And will it?

Me: Erm, probably not. No. Enjoy!

"I've seen this picture lately

It's clear and devastates me

Reflections of a world that cannot save me

A role that's captivating" - Dec Burke 'Signs of Life' (this is an awesome song - check it out!)

Mirror-Merlin placed his hand against the thick oak that formed the door to the prince's chambers.

"Ic i ácyme wiδer beadumægen." His eyes flashed gold yet again. A light pulsated out from his fingers and enveloped the door in a shimmering glow. No one was going in or out.

He withdrew his hand and flexed his fingers, a slight buzz lingering at the tips. So much power.

Grinning widely and evilly, he advanced down the corridor, pausing only to remove the ridiculous red scarf from around his neck when he caught his refection in a mounted mirror. Still clutching it in his hand he made his way to the stables.

Hay was piled around the walls, keeping dry and protected from the outside elements. The horses were all locked into their stalls, settling down for the night. Only one stable boy was still working.

He looked to be eleven or twelve, with brown hair that fell into his eyes. When he heard Mirror-Merlin enter, he looked up from sweeping the floor and smiled.

"Hello, Merlin."

Ignoring him, Mirror-Merlin raised his hand and directed it at the hay.

"Bryne." The boy reeled back in terror as fire sprang up. He stood, stunned, watching the gold fade from eyes that, until moments ago, had been familiar. The blistering heat brought him to his senses and he rushed to free the horses. The frightened animals were bucking and throwing their heads, whinnying for their release.

Startled cries were turning to screams in the courtyard as people began to notice the flames. They intensified as the first of the horses bolted, knocking aside anything in their path.

As he slid open the last catch, the young boy realised he was trapped. The horses may be able to leap over the inferno but he was surrounded on all sides by walls of fire.

Panicked, he retreated until his back was against the wall. The flames crackled and licked at his feet. The smoke and heat were unbearable. He felt his consciousness slip away from him. Taking a last gulp of air, he curled up and let his world go dark.

In his final moments of coherent thought, he saw a figure through the smoke…

Concealed in the shadows, Mirror-Merlin watched the progress of his distraction appreciatively. People ran for pails of water, the injured prodded their burns tentatively and, most importantly, knights ran to and fro in an attempt to organise chaos and fight the flames.

Unnoticed, he slipped away and retreated back into the castle. The corridors were deserted. Every available hand was trying to stop the fire from spreading.

Everything was going according to plan.

And it was because of his perfect execution of said plan that the throne room was unguarded when he reached its doors, despite the king being still inside.

With a smile, he pushed open the doors.

Arthur, with a sense of triumph, dragged himself back up into a sitting position, conveniently close to his sword's blade. He had wriggled his way across the room, feeling absolutely ridiculous, with the sole aim of escape.

His face set in grim determination, he twisted so that the ropes binding his arms were set against the edge of the weapon's edge. Rolling his shoulders, he heard a satisfying sawing sound and he doubled his efforts.

He would break free and he would get to the bottom of whatever the hell was going on.

Merlin sat in the dark, feeling uncharacteristically melancholy. He wondered what was going on outside, what was happening to his friends.

He groaned and put his head in his hands as horrible thoughts occurred to him regarding what his evil twin might be doing to the people he cared about. Gaius, Gwen, Arthur…

A pang of guilt echoed in his stomach.

He would never have the chance to tell Arthur the truth. Never have the chance to explain. He had never even admitted that they were friends and now, well now he felt sick that his last words to him had been tainted with annoyance.

In fact, he was fairly sure that he had said he hated him.

Would Arthur even believe that it wasn't Merlin, the real Merlin, who was out there hurting people?

Uther sat in his throne, contemplative. His mind wandered to thoughts of his son. Arthur was so like his mother. One day he would make a great king. A better king than him. And yet he worried.

So many times, too many times, the boy had travelled to the brink of death over the past years. How much longer could he survive?

The creak of ancient wood broke through his stupor. The doors widened and, assuming it was a knight, coming to inform him that the fire had been successfully extinguished, the king stood.

Instead, a boy walked into the room, his head held high. It was Arthur's servant. His brow furrowed as he tried to remember his name. Marvin? Melvin? Something along those lines at any rate…

"Yes, boy? Do you have a message from Arthur?"

"Not quite." A grin flashed across the young, pale face and his eyes glowed gold.

With a startled cry, Uther's hand leapt to the hilt of his sword. With a lazy flick of his hand, the sorcerer pinned the king back down into his throne.

"Arthur's a little tied up at the moment, I'm afraid. And I'm happy to inform you that the stable fire is still burning away cheerfully so we're unlikely to be interrupted by anyone else, either."

Quelling the panic he felt as he considered what might have happened to his son, Uther spoke clearly betraying no sign of emotion.

"What do you want?"

"Something only you can give, sire." He made the title sound like the lowest insult.

"What makes you think I'll agree to anything you say, sorcerer?" he replied, matching his tone to the same level of contempt.

And the boy's eyes met his.

A shudder ran down the king's spine. There was something beyond malice in that glare. Like he was seeing into his soul and turning everything he saw there into a black pit of nothing. Like he could kill you with just those eyes.

It was then that Uther felt the first tendrils of fear creep around his heart.

Me: Hope you like! The last bit was a shout out to Cooper 101 - she really likes Evil Merlin. This is a forward warning of another long wait. Hopefully I'll be able to get the next chapter up in about a week.

Merlin: This is getting ridiculous. I'm surprised no one's actually tried to kill you yet. Especially when you consider your sadistic obsession with cliff-hangers.

Me: I know! It's not my fault, though.

Merlin: Yes it is.

Me: No it isn't.

Merlin: Yes it is.

Me: No it isn't! And if you keep arguing I swear I will start writing you with pigtails.

Merlin: You wouldn't!

Me: Try me. *glare*

Merlin: (muttering) Maybe if you didn't waste your time with song fics…

Me: Merlin! Pigtails! Hush!