Step 4: Never do magic in public. Unless you are in danger. Or the King is in danger. Or if anyone is in danger. You know what? Just don't get caught using magic in public.

When I first came to Camelot, Gaius told me never to reveal my magic. My closely guarded and literally deadly secret. For the most part, even though Arthur is essentially King, I do that. No one other than my mother, Lancelot, and Gaius know about my magic or the whole Emrys thing. But never use it in public? If you don't have a grand destiny to keep and don't really care about other people, this is a great strategy to use. However, if you aren't a cold and callus person, the guilt will kill you long before the pyre does.

So I only use my magic in public if Arthur is in trouble (which is far too often, since the wanker manages to annoy everyone he comes across). Let's be honest, it would really muck up my grand and glorious destiny if Arthur got himself killed. Plus, his sheer obliviousness eliminates most of the risk that comes with using my magic.

Of course the exception to that rule is if Gaius or my mother is in trouble, I mean, they are family. My mother raised me and Gaius taught me how to control my magic. If I didn't use it to help them, that would be rude, ungrateful. So I only use it in public if Arthur, Gaius, or my mother are in trouble.

So you should keep your list short like I did. The more you use magic, the greater chance of being discovered. Of course, in full disclosure, I have also used it in public for some other people. You know, Gwen was in trouble, Lancelot was in trouble, Will was in trouble, Gili (that guy from the tourney) was in trouble, the knights are always in trouble, Gwen's dad, fighting all the evil villains that try to take over Camelot or rule Camelot or burn Camelot to the ground.

Okay. Let's start this over. Don't ever get caught using magic in public. That works.

Six months after Morgana's invasion, the Wyverns came. Arthur was away for his annual "inspection of the forests of Camelot", where the prat pranced around the kingdom with his knights and dashing manservant to check in with the royal game wardens across the kingdom. In reality, it was an extended hunting trip, designed to give the crowned Prince a break from castle life. Merlin thought he wouldn't take it this year, since his father was still ill from the whole Morgana fiasco. Arthur felt the same, but surprisingly his council insisted. Merlin privately wondered if that was on purpose. Arthur's uncle creeped him out.

As it was, Arthur decided to shorten the trip from two weeks to one. The knights of the roundtable (as they had begun calling themselves after their brief soiree in the caves) and Merlin himself would accompany him. Of course then smallpox decided to make an appearance and Merlin was one of the first in the castle to contract it. He was lucky that way. A week before the hunting trip was set to depart, Merlin began to ache and had a high fever. He thought it was just winter sickness, until he began to vomit consistently. Within 5 days he went from perfectly healthy to bedridden and not expected to make it through the night. After that point, his memory was a bit fuzzy. He thought he remembered the knights, Gwen, and Arthur taking turns at his bedside while Gaius fussed over him. He also remembered dancing unicorns inviting him to the marriage of Agravaine and Morgana, so he didn't quite trust his memory.

While Merlin was recovering, Arthur and the other knights left for their tour of the forests. Gwaine stayed behind, officially to catch up to Arthur with Merlin once he was recovered. Unofficially, Gaius told him Arthur had been insistent on leaving someone to watch over his "lazy dollophead manservant who purposefully contracted a disease to avoid hunting cute fluffy things". Which was grossly unfair and untrue, but Gaius had seemed amused so it was likely the clotpole was actually concerned about him. Or Gwaine had refused to leave. Either was possible. Whatever the case, three days into Arthur's hunting trip Merlin laid in bed, counting the stains on the ceiling for the hundredth time.

"Merlin?" The sorcerer could hear the door to his room crack open cautiously, a head full of tussled dark hair peering in impishly.

"I would tell you to leave, but I know you wouldn't listen. You do know you aren't supposed to be around someone with smallpox. It is contagious". Which technically, he wasn't anymore. Gaius had to use magic to heal him (the fact that he had been forced to use magic was bit more disturbing than Merlin himself was willing to admit) so he technically no longer was ill. But the rest of the castle couldn't know that. Everyone knew those with smallpox were contagious for at least two weeks after they contracted it and he had two days left on the clock.

"Nah, mate. If I don't bless you with my presence, we all know you'll die of boredom". Which was a valid point.

"Not at all, Gwaine. I have expanded my game to determining the cause of each ceiling stain" Merlin stated seriously. Pointing to a greenish-blue tinted circle, he explained, "I do believe that one was the cough medicine for Arthur, about a year after my arrival".

Gwain grinned, "And, pray tell, how did it end up on the ceiling?"

Merlin smirked, "I may have added a bit too much sedative. I only wanted a bit of a break to catch up on my workload. Unfortunately, the sedative was reactive with the active ingredient and the whole thing exploded straight up to the ceiling. Gaius was not pleased".

Gwaine chuckled, slapping Merlin painfully on the back, "I bet you got the eyebrows of death for that one".

"Yeah" Merlin admitted, then frowned, "Gwaine, really. If you insist on being in the same room as an infected patient, could you please refrain from touching the aforementioned contagious patient?"

The horrible man (truly, horrible) just shrugged, "Eh. I figure if I haven't contracted alcohol poisoning by now, I must have the best immune system in Albion. A little thing like smallpox would never be able to survive". He leaned in, as if sharing a secret. "You do know more than half my blood is mead, right?"

Merlin couldn't help it. He laughed.

"There it is. You have been much too dour of late".

"I was dying, Gwaine! Excuse me for being out of sorts!"

Gwaine chuckled, but it was halfhearted at best. Merlin instantly felt bad for bringing that back up.

"Sorry, mate…"

Gwaine waved his hand, "Don't worry about it Merlin. You just…you didn't see yourself". The man swallowed heavily, "You were so pale and cold and Gaius was certain you wouldn't make it".

"You're right, Gwaine, I didn't think…"

Merlin's apology was interrupted by something screeching outside his window.

"What the…"

Gwaine leapt to the window, head sticking out as he took in the scene below. "Merlin, mate, stay here".

"I wasn't planning on going anywhere. What is going on? What was that?"

Gwaine shoved open the door to Merlin's room and rummaged around in Gauis's room. "Gwaine?"

The knight returned dragging their eating table, then shoved it on its side to block the window. He reached around the corner of the door frame and snatched something long and shiny.

"Wyverns are attacking the bloody town. Trashed the Rising Sun. That can't be allowed, right mate?" Gwaine clasped him on the shoulder, then handed him the object. A sword. No, Gwaine's spare sword. The one Merlin used when his friend misguidedly tried to teach him self-defense. "Hold onto this for me".

"Gwaine".

He sighed. "It looks bad out there. Just, I don't want you to be defenseless if they get in here. Even your ridiculous luck won't be able to help you if a wyvern decides you look tasty".

That certainly wasn't true, but if the sword made Gwaine feel better Merlin would take it. "Thanks, Gwaine".

"Welcome, mate. Stay here". With a flounce and a wink Gwaine was gone to fight the beast.

Merlin snorted and muttered to himself, "Stay here. Not bloody likely. Arthur would come back and Camelot would be razed to the ground".

The warlock quickly dressed himself and moved the table back from the window to peer into the courtyard below. Gwaine was right, it was a mess out there. Luckily, as the last surviving Dragonlord, Merlin just needed to get somewhere he could command the things to leave.

Merlin stuffed on his boots and threw his jacket on. At the last minute, he strapped on the sword Gwaine had given him. Could never be too careful.

Merlin's first thought was to climb up to the top of the castle to the north tower, opposite the town. But after one flight of stairs it was clear that Merlin wouldn't make it. Even though he was healed by magic (his magic, which was an addition to the problem) he was still exhausted. So down the stairs it was.

Merlin hated the bloody stairs.

By the time he reached the bottom, he had tripped at least 5 times, been ordered back to his room by three palace guards, and managed to spill something all over his jacket (and he hadn't even been carrying anything). He slammed his back into one of the columns as a wyvern shrieked past him, flying into the castle gates. Merlin took that opportunity to run around the edge of the courtyard, avoiding the area where Camelot's knights were desperately holding back the beasts. Merlin chose an alleyway at random. Clear line of sight, out of the way, hidden from prying eyes. Good enough. Merlin's eyes blazed gold as he shouted in the language of his brethren, ordering the beasts to depart. They hesitated, screaming in furry and defiance to the invisible orders. Merlin chuckled wryly. He wasn't born yesterday. These fledglings were disobeying him. No more. He gathered all his remaining strength and roared again, no sign of weakness or fatigue present in his voice. He was commanding, strong, and unyielding. They would cease their attack. They would return to the camp they were sent from and burn it to the ground. They would leave the land of Camelot forever.

The wyverns had no choice. They left, screeching for the blood of the invisible commander, for the blood of the one who had sent them, for the blood of the innocent and of the guilty. They would only receive the pleasure of burning Morgana's hideout to the ground. Merlin had ensured it.

He fell to his knees, world spinning around him. His voice was spent and his headache was back. But he had to move. The knights would investigate the strange roaring sound and would sweep the town to ensure no foes remained. Merlin could not be found here. The warlock unsheathed Gwaine's sword, plunging it into the ground in order to stand up. He allowed himself a moment to sway on his feet, then started shuffling around the side of the courtyard. He could do this. He could do this. He could…

"Ahem".

Merlin whipped around only to be greeted by a cloaked figure standing in the alley behind him. Oh please no. He couldn't deal with any more evil sorcerers tonight…

But as the figure stepped into the light, the shadows disappeared and left an old lady in their place. Merlin recognized her as one of the vendors in the market. He'd bought flowers from her to give to Gwen (on behalf of Arthur of course). His heart stopped in his chest, sweat dripping down his brow. She had seen. He was caught. They were going to burn him alive and Arthur would return to his charred body hanging on the walls...

"Erm. Hi?" Way to go Merlin. One word. Great start. He should beg for mercy. It wouldn't help but at least he would have done everything he could. "Um, could you, maybe, not, like, talk about the fight? Not that anything was unusual about it. You didn't see anything right?" Great Merlin. If she wasn't suspicious before she certainly was now.

"Lad, I didn't see anything. I also didn't hear much. I'm deaf in my right ear, you know". The woman tugged her cloak further around her, winking once before she hobbled off into the night. Merlin sagged against his sword, leaning against the wall to collect himself.

That was a close one. Only due to Merlin's quick thinking and great power as a warlock did he remain safe…

Bollocks. Who was he kidding, he was only safe because he managed to find the one person in all of Camelot who wasn't afraid of magic. He really needed to be more careful.

He huffed, then dragged himself toward the castle. He had hundreds of stairs to climb before Gwaine returned.