The elderly physician mixed one of his noxious medications into a hot cup of water before downing the nasty mixture. To say that his nerves had seen better days – would indeed be an understatement. He smacked his lips together once before undertaking the task of putting together a stomach lining breakfast. He would need every ounce of strength that his body could summon in order to see this day through. It was just yesterday that he thought his whole world had turned to ash, but Merlin defied death – again.

The first time Merlin had defied mortality, he had not even been living in Camelot for more than a few weeks. King Bayard had been visiting. There had been that business with the chalice and the Mortaeus flower petal poisoning. Nimueh had noticed Merlin. He had thwarted her plan to bring Uther to his knees by tampering with the water supply with an Afanc so she had sought to remove him from this life. Arthur had felt honor bound to repay his servant's loyal act of drinking the poison himself by seeking the antidote from the caves of Balor. However Nimueh had been waiting for him and had tormented the young Pendragon. By the time he had returned, King Uther had been livid. His son had disobeyed him and he threw his only son into the dungeons. Even though Gwen smuggled the plant, which had been crushed by King Uther and trodden upon, Gaius had delivered the antidote moments to late. Merlin's heart stopped and his breath ceased, his boy had died. As Gwen dissolved into grief and Gaius's heart had been ravaged by grief, Merlin awakened far more pertly and alert than should have been possible.

Gaius never revealed to Merlin those extra details and even though Guinevere had seen – she had not realized what had happened. Merlin had died and Merlin had lived.

It wasn't long after that that Aulfric and his daughter Sophia, two Sidhe in mortal human bodies, had come and had tried to buy a ticket of immortality for Sophia. Merlin had been able to follow them to Avalon without any spell or enchantment. Avalon, the gateway between this world and the next that only few would be able to glimpse on their way to the other world. Avalon – where no mortal was allowed and no human sorcerer could possibly hope of visiting. Yet Merlin had been and he hadn't even the wit to be impressed or awed. Instead he appreciated the Sidhe for their beauty and magic - and then swiftly categorized them as a threat to Arthur's well-being.

The second time, had been just yesterday. Merlin had been dead at the time when Arthur lay him on the cot. For some reason, Gaius denied it. He had pressed cool cloths against the burns and had sent Gwaine off for water. He prepared to treat Merlin as if he were still living as if compelled unreasonably – and then the boy began to breathe again. This time there was no cocky little comment as Merlin... By the gods themselves, it shouldn't have been possible. There was no magic being able to thwart death itself, but Gaius had just witnessed it for the second time.

It was frightening.

Merlin's strength had recovered enough for him to transform and behave very badly in front of Gwaine.

The boy was instinctively attuned to magic and quickly mastered every spell he dared to learn. His studies did not make him more powerful, but they did help the boy focus his magic. There were less incidences of spontaneous magical happenings and that was reason enough alone to allow Merlin to continue his studies of the banned practice. The saving Arthur part, the birth of Albion? That was all a bonus. Enabling Merlin to control his great power was a must - even though the boy had lately been wondering about his magic and his destiny. Even though the boy was convinced that he needed tighter and more precise mental and emotional control over himself in order to keep his magic from manifesting something, Gaius was sure that Merlin was a good boy. Merlin might sometimes refer to himself as a monster or a freak, but Gaius knew better. There was no one more dear or brave than his boy.

He wanted to deny that Merlin had died from the poisoned chalice. He wanted to say that he had been mistaken about the boy's functions ceasing, but the evidence was there. Now thanks to yesterday, he was more sure about it.

Gwaine lay on one of the cots, handsomely posed, deeply immersed in potion enhanced sleep. The young knight's company had been a comfort last night. It was nice to talk about Merlin openly. Most of the conversation, Gaius bragged about Merlin's selflessness and his greatness. He spoke about all sorts of things that related to the boy, but he did not mention the unnatural resiliency. That was not a topic that the elderly physician wanted to talk about with someone who just discovered Merlin's magic.

Magic itself was hard enough to explain without having to delve into the unknown factor that seemed to shroud Merlin himself in mystery.

One thing was certain, Merlin was badly injured. If it was his destiny keeping him alive, then it was Gaius's job to keep him from being permanently damaged. Even men who were not whole could survive and Merlin deserved more than to just serve and survive. What Gaius wasn't sure of was whether or not he should mention this to Merlin. The boy was reckless. He might assume that he could always defy death and if he was wrong – Gaius would be shattered. It was bad enough Merlin was always willing to offer his life for Arthur's. He would have exchanged himself in an instant without hesitation. Gaius decided not to tell him. Merlin didn't need to know.

Gaius woke Gwaine after he had finished making breakfast and then went to check on the boy who had been occupying his thoughts. It was a relief to see that Merlin had transformed back into himself during the night. He looked – better. In face, Merlin almost looked normal. The boy was shivering under a sheet even though the room wasn't all that cold.

"Merlin?" Gaius sat on the side of the bed and shook the shoulder of his ward, "Merlin? Wake up. How are you feeling?"

A groan answered him, "Did I over sleep again?"

"I think you have the day off, Merlin."

Merlin sat up and yawned. He stretched his long limbs and frowned as his room came into focus. Most of his injuries were already mostly healed much to Gaius's dismay. This would not be to explain, however since the storm was magical... The boy shivered as a look of self conscious clarity flashed in his eyes, "Gaius, why am I naked?"

"What do you last remember, Merlin?"

It wasn't helpful to answer a question with a question.

"Uhm, I was walking back from... Oh you don't know. There's a green spot in the woods. I think it's my fault. I purged my magic there a few weeks ago, yknow so I could think about something unpleasant and well...," Merlin shrugged his shoulders as he reached for a shirt. "Anyway, we were walking back in the snow. I admit, I was upset. I mean seriously Gaius, I could feel my own magic outside of my body. It was gross. My magic wasn't gross. The fact that it felt alive and disembodied was the gross part. It's hard to explain."

Gaius shook his head as Merlin got dressed while chattering at his normal breakneck speed.

"Anyway, everyone else started to run. I don't know why. That's when things started to get a bit fuzzy. I still don't feel right and I think it's getting worse. Gaius, why does your breath smell like valerian root? Are you feeling jittery?"

"Merlin, you got struck by a bolt of lightning from that storm. That's why I drank some valerian how can you smell that? I think it's natural for me feel a bit rattled especially if the boy I treasure like a son goes and spontaneously transforms into a cat in front of someone who's trying to help me treat your injuries. You put on quite a show last night."

The boy froze in the middle of pulling on his socks. His eyes closed. "Who?"

The question was quiet and laced with panic. Gaius sympathized knowing what this would mean to his ward, "Gwaine. You turned into a cat. You hissed quite a lot. You even tried to hide under the cabinet. You scratched him, so I say the bath he gave you was enough of a punishment for your behavior."

"Gwaine gave me a bath..."

"In cat form, yes. He did. However that is not the point. While injured you revealed your secret. You weren't aware of it?"

"No. I wasn't. Of course I wasn't. I didn't... Oh gods, Gaius. Did he say... I mean is he okay? About magic, I mean...me," Merlin was practically panting as he tried to control the panic attack.

"He'll keep your secret. He is your friend, Merlin."

Merlin's eyes were filled with dread. He had always wanted to tell Gwaine, but he had decided that telling him would be a bad thing. It wasn't time. He could get into trouble if he knew. There was so much wrong about Gwaine knowing that Merlin couldn't even begin to process that he knew without Merlin being in control of it. It was bad enough when Lancelot discovered him!

"So.. uh..." the young warlock's brain was overloading. He was already sucking his bottom lip and looking around the room nervously.

"You need to get back into bed. I'll bring you your breakfast. You were severely injured just last night and now you seem to be fine. Merlin, this is going to be extremely difficult to explain," lectured Gaius. "Your skin is almost back to normal. I can barely see the burns."

The boy shivered, his anxiety was reaching new heights. Gaius thought he was imagining that those familiar blue eyes were flickering with flashes of gold, but nothing obviously magical was happening. He didn't know what to make of it and right now it just didn't matter.

The druid leader Iseldir had met Arthur twice and survived the tale. It was decided that it was time for the druids to approach Camelot for the magical community was suffering thanks to the efforts of King Uther. Iseldir refused to speak to anyone, but Arthur and he waited patiently even though he was under watch. He had been offered a room that had once been the quarters of Camelot's Court Sorceress, Nimueh. He and one other druid accepted the offer, but it was far from ideal. Guards were placed inside and outside the room. They were far from welcome, but they were not under arrest, yet.

The druids had requested an audience with the young Pendragon and refused to discuss matters with anyone else. Aggravaine had tried to intimidate them into conversation, but the trickster had to admit defeat. Druids were stupidly stubborn.

Arthur wanted to see Merlin. From the moment he woke, he was desperate to see his friend. His pride refused to be obvious about this desire, but he wasn't fooling anyone – especially not George. George reminded him that there were druids in the castle and that Arthur had to decide whether or not to see them or arrest them. The manservant stand-in was normally politeness to a fault, but even Mister Perfect was showing signs of stress. He hadn't been rude, for sure, but the manner with which he spoke to Arthur was more like a governess to a petulant child.

The Royal Pain decided that he would break protocol in order to expedite things along. Technically he wasn't supposed to grant audience to a criminal. George had decided – on his own – to put the druids up for the night. The druids should have been placed in the dungeon or on the pyre, according to his father's laws. However, Arthur did not agree with punishing those who were peaceful. He'd talk to the druids and then he would have them leave.

Arthur recognized Iseldir immediately although his expression did not betray his familiarity with the druid. Iseldir had been the druid leader who led the camp where he had brought the boy Mordred. He was also the druid who relinquished the Cup of Life.

"I was under the impression there were more of you," said Arthur in greeting to the druid clan leader and his female companion. The woman was much younger than the druid leader, but they held hands. It was an intimate action, but there was no tenderness on either of their faces. Both looked at him apologetically. It filled the young warrior with a sense of foreboding and here he was facing them alone. Sure the guards were there and George – but George was not Merlin. Arthur felt naked without Merlin at his side.

The druid looked at George, who was standing behind Arthur's left shoulder, curiously. It was as if he to were looking for Merlin, the wise druid took a calming breath. He bowed his head slightly - in a gesture of respect and said, "Greetings Arthur Pendragon. I come in peace. As you might have already surmised, this visit is about the weather."

Arthur hadn't been in Nimueh's old room before, but he strode across the room and sat down in a chair at the table. It was near the window where he could still see the wicked weather that had harmed his friend. He gestured for the druids to sit with him.

"If only the weather was a neutral topic. As you can guess, it has most of Camelot in a panic. My manservant Merlin was injured yesterday. Tell me, is it your doing?" asked Arthur, already knowing the answer was no. The druids were a peaceful people, they would never lay a magical siege, but Arthur wanted to push for answers and his brain struggled for a way to wring them out. Unfortunately, the better questions and phrasing parts of his brain were concentrating on keeping a level head.

Iseldir shook his head sadly. He was a mere druid, but his hair was like a silver slightly curled halo. With his appearance he could be a king or a saint, there was something holy and worldly about him. Arthur's encounters with him had been brief, but the man was honest, direct, and fearless – and yet incredibly peaceful. However, seeing that the handsome features were grim only alarmed Arthur. Normally members of the magical community came to Camelot to threaten or menace and he was used to that. This man wasn't capable of it. In fact if Iseldir had been insulted or intimidated by the accusation that he had been responsible for the storm – it did not show.

His voice was soft but firm, "No, Arthur Pendragon. This storm is pure magic. No sorcerer could conjure – or hope to conjure something like this. Many clans came together and I was the one elected to impart this information. It brings me no happiness or satisfaction. This storm is of your father's doing."

Arthur swallowed the lump that formed in his throat as his mind flashed to the unicorn that he had killed and the painful lesson that he had learned. The young royal sighed and firmly commanded the guards to leave the room. They obeyed, but not without frowning and dragging their feet. Arthur pursed his lips together for a moment, his mind not on the druid, or his father, but the victim of the storm: Merlin.

"What can I do to stop it?"

Iseldir, in grim honesty, answered, "Nothing. There is nothing you or your father can do to reverse this storm. There is only one person and one person alone who could possibly do anything about it. You need him. His name is Emrys."

Emrys, great. That name – again.