Well, life has an annoying habit of getting in the way of writing! Thank you to everyone who is still sticking with me and I hope you like this next chapter!


Arthur didn't know what had hit him.

Literally.

The last thing he remembered was attempting to escort Merlin out and his servant babbling on about things changing colour and heating up. Arthur had dismissed it; Merlin always had a theory on the go.

Now he was coming around with a groan, sprawled against the wall. Arthur gingerly pushed himself upright, tenderly feeling the back of his head. There was no blood, but a reasonable sized lump where he had hit the stonework. He could also feel a bruise throbbing on his cheek. If it wasn't for that bruise, he would have said he didn't know what happened.

He did know… he just didn't believe it. Since when had Merlin had the strength to deliver a punch so powerful?

Arthur knew what his father would do. He would call for the guards and have Merlin thrown in the cells, at the very least. But Arthur couldn't be bothered. Merlin would never change and would most likely give the guards the slip. Arthur still hadn't worked out how he had remained in Camelot for the entire time Catrina had the guards on his tail. There was clearly more to Merlin than Arthur had acknowledged.

Arthur didn't have the strength to deal with his servant right now. Instead, he fell into bed and sank straight into sleep, hoping to wake up and find it was a bad dream.

The black mark on his face indicated otherwise when he rose the next morning. When a servant he didn't know brought him his breakfast, Arthur was determined to get answers. But the young man bowed and hastily retreated before Arthur had even thrown the blankets off. Feeling thoroughly put out, Arthur stabbed moodily at his sausages and tried to work out what was going on. He had never seen Merlin that angry before, nor had he suspected Merlin even knew how to punch properly. Arthur wanted to forget what his servant had been talking about before, but he couldn't. Was Merlin right? Was there magic at work and this time, it was his servant who was the target?

It made sense. Everyone knew the two of them were close, despite Arthur's best efforts to appear otherwise. Merlin had constant access to the Crown Prince, plus he knew Arthur's schedule better than anyone. He also – Arthur was loathe to admit – knew Arthur's feelings. He would be a perfect target. Get to Merlin, and an assassin would have a clear route to Arthur.

Arthur dressed in his training clothes and waited for Merlin to turn up. He never did.

Arthur refused to go and look for him though. Merlin had hit him; it was up to his servant to come back to apologise. Arthur was not going to chase after him. If he was wrong about an enchantment, he would look a fool. And if he was right… Arthur knew he would need his wits about him and right now, his mind was clouded and confused. Training would set things to right.

He heard the gasp of surprise when his men saw his face and Arthur regretted not putting his helmet on before he arrived. Leon understood his expression though and quickly took control, dividing the men up and sending them on their way. When the pair of them were alone in the middle of the training field, Leon fixed Arthur with a look that meant the prince knew he had to say something.

"I got into a fight," he admitted quietly.

"With?"

Arthur took a breath. "Merlin."

"Sire!" Leon glanced around, looking for the servant. This time, it was Arthur who understood Leon. If Arthur had a bruise this dark, Merlin should be a mess in comparison. "Is he with Gaius?"

"I didn't touch him."

"My Lord?"

Dropping his voice, Arthur told Leon what happened. He trusted his knight not to act rashly and sure enough, Leon stared off into the distance thoughtfully when Arthur finished.

"You think he has been enchanted?"

"It makes sense. His behaviour, his anger…"

"Have you ever considered that, well…" Leon trailed off and looked away. Arthur stared at him before he realised what his knight was trying to say.

"You think I deserved it?"

"No!" He looked back at Arthur and sighed. "You can be hard on the boy, Sire."

"It doesn't explain where his strength came from." Arthur refused to admit that Leon was right. This couldn't have been the first time that Merlin had wanted to punch him. But he knew Merlin; the servant would topple over in a thunderstorm. There was no way he could deliver a knock-out blow without warning. Leon nodded.

"Will you tell your father?"

"Are you mad? He'll execute him before he even considers looking for the source."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Find out for myself. Come, I must train." Arthur beckoned Leon forward, wanting a proper workout to clear his head. He often found his moments of inspiration came while he was working his body.

He trained for the allotted time, but no sudden clarity dawned on him while he traded blows with his men. Arthur wasn't sure he felt a lot better as he stalked towards the castle, collaring the first servant he saw and ordering a bath to be drawn in his chambers. He knew better than to expect Merlin would have returned. He wondered if his servant was even still in Camelot. If he was enchanted, Merlin could be anywhere.

The servant was efficient – far more so than Merlin – and Arthur didn't have to wait long until he was sinking into the hot water and washing away the grime from training. Once he had bathed, Arthur decided he would go to Gaius and see if Merlin was there. If not, he would be able to share his theory and see if the physician had any words of wisdom to help. Then he would locate Merlin and do whatever need to be done to get the clumsy idiot back to himself again. Arthur refused to admit the silence in his chambers felt uncomfortable without Merlin's usual chatter annoying him.

He finished bathing, dressed and made sure he buckled his sword around his waist. For good measure, he slipped his dagger through the belt as well. If someone was enchanting his servant to get to him, Arthur knew he had to face the possibility that his life was in danger. Again. But for now, he wanted to make sure he focused on getting his servant back. He planned to torment Merlin for all eternity about his punch, but for that to happen, he needed the man where he could see him.

Arthur softly opened his door and slipped into the corridor beyond. As his door shut behind him, he paused, his heart thudding uncomfortably hard. He knew he needed to see Gaius – it was the best starting place for figuring out what was happening to Merlin (not to mention the servant was most likely to be there). But unease trickled down his back, making him shiver even as he carefully examined the corridor. No one was there, not even the guards on their patrol. That was nothing out of the ordinary, but it put Arthur on edge.

He took a few paces down the corridor before stopping again. He was convinced he had heard something. He strained his ears, listening, but the corridor was silent. Deciding his nerves were making him hear things, Arthur set off again. And promptly stopped.

He knew that voice. Merlin's cry echoed in his ears even as Arthur spun on the spot. For a wild moment, he couldn't figure out where the noise was coming from. Then his gaze fell on the door the other side of his room and he cursed himself for a fool. He had already suspected the girl, knowing he had witnessed her rage in the night even if Merlin didn't believe him. Arthur couldn't help but feel that Merlin was now learning for real that Arthur had been telling the truth and she was not to be trusted.

Arthur hurried back the other way and stopped in front of the door. Then he drew his sword. She had appeared a meek girl apart from that moment of rage. But having seen what he had, and knowing that magic had to be involved (Merlin was pathetic, but Arthur was sure even he could overpower a girl), Arthur knew not to underestimate her. Part of him wished to shout for the guards, but he knew the element of surprise may be the only thing that could keep either him or his servant from being killed.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur stiffened his resolve, tightened his grip on his sword and kicked the door.

Unfortunately for him, it was locked from the inside and Arthur overbalanced, not having expected the resistance. He was suddenly glad for the lack of guards. This time, he rammed his shoulder against it, knowing he no longer had the advantage. On his third collision, he felt the door give and managed to regain his balance before charging in.

He wouldn't forget the sight that greeted him.

MMM

Merlin struggled with everything he had against the bindings holding him down. He tried reaching for his magic, but all he encountered was a wall of anger. He was furious and although he knew the pendant burning on his chest was responsible, it was hard to control himself. The fact that the anger was cutting him off from his own magic only fuelled his hatred for everything, which tightened the restraints over his power. Try as he might though, Merlin couldn't calm down.

Clarissa sat on the edge of the bed, unperturbed by her prisoner snarling at her. She had used a small knife to cut Merlin's shirt away, dipping her fingers in the paste and drawing symbols across his torso. Merlin noticed she was careful to avoid touching the pendant, but considering his position, there wasn't a lot he could do in order to take advantage of that. He refused to ask her what she was doing, his anger making him bite his tongue and glower instead.

It didn't take long before he started to get an idea though. The completed symbols appeared to glow the same red as the pendant for a moment before fading into his skin, a dark brown in contrast to his pale stomach. Merlin didn't understand what the symbols meant; they were unlike anything he had seen before. He knew it couldn't mean anything good though and as a second symbol faded, he felt a strange pull in his abdomen.

He jerked, grunting with the strange sensation. Clarissa looked at him and smiled. She looked exactly as she had before; wide-eyed and innocent, her smile full of warmth.

"It's starting," she said softly. She put the pot to one side and cupped Merlin's cheek, forcing him to look at her. "It's going to hurt, Merlin. I need you to be strong."

"Go to hell," Merlin spat, using the pendant as an excuse to forgo his usual manners. Clarissa picked up the pot again and began tracing more runes with greater speed. Anticipation seemed to radiate from her but Merlin was too busy focusing on the tugging sensation in his gut. He felt like something was trying to claw its way free and from what Clarissa had said before, he had a good idea of what. His magic was taking the only escape granted to it right now.

Merlin could feel sweat beading his forehead and a whimper escaped him before he could hold it back. He tried pulling back from Clarissa, but both her touch and his bonds kept him in place. Merlin went back to struggling physically, but it was no good.

He felt momentary relief when Clarissa stopped with the runes. Then his eyes went wide as she began drawing corresponding symbols up her own arms and across the top of her chest. Merlin could feel his magic straining in her direction and knew whatever power she was wielding; it was strong enough to challenge his own.

"Don't do this," Merlin grunted. The feeling of his magic trying to escaped helped; it gave him something to focus on rather than the anger. He took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself. It didn't work.

"I'm sorry," Clarissa said calmly. "But I need your power."

"Why?" Merlin snarled. "What reason could you have for being such a-,"

"Come, Merlin," Clarissa chided. "I know you don't want to insult an innocent girl."

"There's nothing innocent about you, witch!"

Clarissa sighed. She put the pot down on the edge of the bed and eased herself further on. Merlin struggled, but she had tied the ropes well and without his magic, he couldn't free himself. Clarissa traced one of the runes she had drawn, her expression wistful.

"I have the potential for so much more," she whispered. "I can control magic as powerful as yours. But the magic… It slips away from me, like a draining goblet. I have to keep refilling it if I want to remain strong."

Merlin stared at her. If that was the case – and he had no reason to suspect otherwise – how many other sorcerers had she killed for her own benefit? How many had been trapped by their emotions, either falling in love with her or controlled by a hatred they couldn't master?

"You understand, don't you?" Clarissa continued. "You can feel it now; the frustration at being trapped and not being able to use your power. I know what I am capable of, but it is denied to me. Tell me you understand?"

"What I understand," Merlin said carefully, "is that you are putting power over the lives of innocent people."

Focusing on her explanation, learning why this was happening, helped clarity return to Merlin. He still felt angry, but he ignored it, concentrating on understanding her motives. If he didn't think about his magic, if he didn't consider how angry he was, he could ignore it.

"Honestly, Merlin." Clarissa let out a small laugh as she stood, reaching for the pot again. "Do you expect me to believe that you are innocent? That you haven't killed?"

"That's different," Merlin spat. He was nothing like her. Everything he had done was to keep Arthur safe, to fulfil his destiny so magic-users wouldn't have to fear for their lives under Arthur's reign. He took no pleasure in it and it had never been for his own benefit.

As the anger flooded him again, Merlin jerked. This time, his limited movement was enough as his leg caught the pot just before Clarissa could get a grip. It fell off with a clatter and Merlin knew by the look of outrage on Clarissa's face that the contents were running across the floor.

Clarissa turned to him, her hand outstretched. Instantly, the pendant on his chest erupted in a fiery heat and Merlin cried out, his head thrown back as he twisted, trying to free himself from the torment. Pain radiated from the spot where the pendant touched him, spreading through his body. Drenched in sweat, Merlin groaned as he tried to move away, but there was nowhere for him to go.

After a few moments – that stretched a lifetime – the pain faded as the pendant cooled. Merlin gulped down erratic breaths, struggling to calm his thundering heart. The pain had driven away the anger though and as Merlin lay there, panting, he knew his thoughts were his own.

Before he could react – or even attempt to reach for his magic – the door shuddered in its hinges. Both Merlin and Clarissa looked at it as it shook again. Merlin smiled, knowing someone was trying to gain entrance. He wasn't in this fight alone.

Clarissa snatched up the pot, her hand disappearing into it as she strained for the last remnants of her potion. She used her sleeve to knock the pendant out of the way and began tracing a final rune on Merlin – directly over his heart this time. Merlin twisted and moved as much as he could, but Clarissa never faltered as she drew quickly.

Merlin didn't know if she had completed the ritual properly, but already could feel his magic reacting to this incomplete symbol. He bit his lip, determined not to give her the satisfaction of crying out. If she completed this, if she took his power… Merlin had no idea what would happen.

The door burst open violently, crashing into the wall. Clarissa whipped around but her position meant Merlin couldn't see who his saviour was.

"Get away from him," a dangerous voice said. A voice that Merlin knew. A noise escaped him, halfway between a sob and a laugh. It didn't matter that Arthur had no idea what he had walked in on. He wouldn't let Clarissa go through with her plan. Merlin was also acutely aware of his position and knew Arthur wouldn't let him forget being tied to a bed by a girl, either.

Clarissa moved faster than Merlin would have given her credit for. She sprung from the bed and across the room, snatching up a knife as she did so.

"You're the honourable Prince of Camelot," she mocked, eyes glinting with previously-hidden malice. "You wouldn't hurt a girl."

Arthur twirled his sword around his hand. "Put the knife down."

"She has magic!" Merlin cried. He didn't know what powers Clarissa possessed without the ritual being complete. But she could control the pendant, so was far from helpless. Arthur glanced at him even as Clarissa pointed at the pendant again.

The last thing Merlin saw was Clarissa advancing on Arthur, her knife ready. The prince wasn't watching her, though. He was staring at Merlin, horrified as the servant's body bucked and a hoarse scream escaped Merlin's throat at the pain the pendant was causing, greater than even before. He knew he had to warn Arthur, he had to do something to protect his destiny.

But it didn't matter how much he wanted to. His body obeyed only the pain and darkness descended on him.