The next morning Merlin was up early. He felt all right – not great – but he would live. Dressing in his clothes, he raced from his room and into the castle. Striding through the halls, he tied his red neckerchief about his neck. Seeing Arthur, he slowed.

"You're up early," he said, falling in step with the Prince. Passing a beam, he heard an ominous crack. Looking up, the warlock acted on instinct as the beam fell from the ceiling.

For some reason he couldn't sleep more than two hours at a time. At about the sixth or seventh time he woke up he simply gave a sigh, giving up on getting any more sleep. He rose up from his bed and got dressed in a simple dark grey shirt and pants, along with the best looking pair of work boots he had available. The sun was just starting to appear on the horizon when the Prince left his chambers. It was still way too early for breakfast; he even doubted anyone would be in the kitchen so there really was no point in heading there.

He had just rounded a corner when he stopped, almost running directly in to his man servant.

Wordlessly Arthur looked the younger man up and down. While he still didn't look completely healed, he did look better than he had the previous day.

"Couldn't sleep. Had a lot on my mind." Arthur replied.

Together the two of them proceeded down the hall. They had just passed under a beam when something happened that Arthur would never forget. First there was a crack and then an inhuman moan as the large, old beam cracked and pulled away from the ceiling to fall towards the ground below; the very ground the two men were currently occupying!

Arthur didn't know what to do. His body felt completely frozen as his eyes tracked the beam, watching it get ever closer. Then he heard Merlin speaking and just like that the beam was turned in to nothing but the finest saw dust he had ever seen; it rained down on the two men lightly coating their clothing and hair.

Throwing his hand up, he shouted, "Bracen!" Merlin's eyes flash gold and the wood explodes into dust particles, which falls around them.

Shaking, Merlin lowered his hand as he eyes turn back to their normal hue. He stared at Arthur, shocked at what he had just done. Sweat formed on his brow and he wavered on the spot, but Merlin didn't budge. "I…" he began, but stopped. The warlock had no idea what to say.

The Prince had left Gaius and Merlin alone to talk shortly after the physician returned. Merlin needed his rest; anyone with two eyes could see that he was still very weak which was why Arthur didn't stay. Instead he had retired to his own chambers for the evening.

The Prince blinked before looking at Merlin with part disbelief part betrayal shining in his eyes.

"I…"

Merlin was a sorcerer! How could that be?! He was always so…clumsy and foolish but now…

Arthur didn't know what to say; didn't know what to think either. His father's words that sorcerers were evil and wanted nothing more than the destruction of Camelot came in to his mind. It was what he was brought up to believe; that any and all people who knew or practiced magic were evil and should be eliminated. But…this was Merlin. Surely he…

Finally the Prince opened his mouth to speak. The words he spoke sounded like words of anger and perhaps they were but he didn't mean them to sound the way they did.

"You are a sorcerer?! Just like all of the others?! What was your great plan? Bide your time until you won the hearts and minds of the people in this castle and then murder us all with your magic?!"

It was clear that the fact Merlin had just saved his life had slipped from Arthur's mind entirely because all of the words he was speaking was what his father had drummed in to him.

Arthur opened his mouth to continue but stopped when he heard the sound of guards yelling at one another and then there was the sound of running feet. Apparently some of the guards had heard the beam break.

The Prince was torn, knowing what his father would want, but even though he felt hurt and betrayed by the fact that Merlin didn't trust him enough to tell him he had magic, Arthur didn't want to see the young man being burned at the stake either.

"Run. Merlin. Get out of Camelot!" Arthur ordered. He made it sound as if he were banishing the young man but that was not the case. He didn't want the guards to find Merlin and that was the reason he had told him to run, but Arthur didn't not have the time nor the presence of mind to clarify that.

Merlin stood there, shivering and shaking. His hands hung limply at his side as the sounds of the falling beam echo through his mind. The memory of the creaking and moaning was so very fresh and so very loud to his inner ear that it was as if the event was happening right then and there, but the warlock knew it wasn't. The beam had already fallen and he had blown it up in front of the Prince of Camelot. There would be no hiding his gift. There would be no way to lie about it. Arthur had seen. He stared at Arthur as he waited for the blonde-haired man to respond. His brow furrowed and lips quivering.

Standing, there, the warlock could feel his body weakening by the minute. He could feel the fever creep back into his lanky body with vengeance. His temperature raised enough to cause a sweat to break out on his pasty face, which made the wood powder stick and coat his brow, cheeks, and nose. He could feel his throat try to close, thus he found it hard to breath with ease.

When Arthur finally responded, Merlin found himself wishing Arthur hadn't and that he was still waiting to hear the Prince's reply. The words were like little daggers to his stomach. They made him sick and faint at heart. He actually staggered back and had to rest his hand against the cold, stone wall to keep himself upright and not lying flat on the ground or curled double.

"No! No, I'm not. I'm…I'm a warlock. I was born with magic. I can't help who I am," Merlin replied. His voice was husky and thick – it didn't sound like his own. "And I'm not. I'm not like the others, Arthur. I don't want to hurt anyone. I…I just wanted to protect you. I didn't…don't have a plan."

Hearing the guards, he stiffened. Hearing the demand, Merlin nodded. Was he being banished? It felt like it. Without wasting a moment, Merlin ran off.

Taking a deep breath the Prince let it out slowly as he listened to Merlin's footfalls fading until he couldn't hear them anymore. He had seen the crushed look on the warlock's face and for the briefest of moments Arthur had entertained the idea of telling Merlin to wait, but he hadn't forced himself to say the words and now Merlin was gone.

"Arthur, are you all right," Leon asked. "What happened?" He looked around at the white powder. "It looks like it snowed in here. Come, sire, you had best get checked out." He led Arthur to the physician's quarters, where Gaius was reading.

"Huh?" Arthur asked, turning to find Sir Leon standing a step behind him.

He looked up with Leon and Arthur arrived. Nodding to Leon, he said, "I'll take it from here. Come here, Arthur."

"I shall go look for the sorcerer who made the mess," Leon said, leaving.

Shivering, Merlin stumbled out of the gates of Camelot as fast as his feet would carry him. His lungs burned and his throat felt like it was closing up. Even with the breeze hitting his face, the warlock was so hot and sweat coated him.

With his foot catching on a root, Merlin went flying through the air. He landed; face down, in a mud puddle. The warlock stayed there, laying completely still as he tried to breathe with ease. It wasn't working. Finding tears of frustration and fear prick the corners of his eyes, he reluctantly pushed himself off the ground and continued running when he heard baying dogs, men shouting, and the clatter of horse hooves.

After about an hour, he stopped. Leaning against a tree, he took in pained and shallow breathes. Chills shook his body and fever made sweat roll down him. Worn out and weak, Merlin felt his body give up. With eyes rolling back into his head, Merlin's eyelids flutter down as he collapses to the forest floor.

Hearing a sound, Freya poked her head out of the little hiding spot she had found. "Merlin," she whispered, dashing forward. Kneeling beside him, the druid rested a hand on his forehead. The dark-haired woman hastily removed her hand and knew that his temperature needed cooled down, lest he burn out.

"You're burning up," Freya sighed. Cautiously, she lifted him and carried him to the nearby lake. Getting in, she lowered the unconscious warlock into the water so that all, but his head was submerged. As she stroked his hair off his forehead, she hummed.

Hearing the noise, Merlin opened his fever-glazed eyes. Freya's face swam in front of him and her dark locks haloed her head. "My angel," he whispered as a pained expression crossed his face.

"Shh…rest. It's all right. I'll protect you," whispered Freya. As she spoke, he closed his eyes.