Merlin was exhausted. Not because of the work that Arthur had him doing, or the errands he ran for Gaius, or even from his duties as a secret warlock trying to protect the King of Camelot. No, he was exhausted simply because of George.

As the young warlock trudged up the stairwell to the physician's tower, his body ached, and his head throbbed. It wasn't as if the training Arthur had forced upon him was awful, it was simply that the man was right, and George was beyond dull.

The man couldn't seem to discuss anything besides his work, his love for his work, and the desire to do more work. Merlin was convinced he could get George to talk about something else during the first three days. It became painfully obvious however, after day four, that the other man knew of nothing else but dedication to his job.

Of course, it didn't help that partway through his week the warlock had begun to feel rundown, and now at the end he was downright miserable. His body moved sluggishly with each step he climbed, and he resisted the urge to groan as his shoulder shoved the physician's door open.

"Merlin, is that you?" Gaius called from above, and the boy barely glanced up to see his guardian rummaging through his stacks of books on the balcony above him.

"Yeah, I'm home." The warlock answered, dropping onto a bench and resting his head on his arms as he closed his eyes to try and block out the piercing light of the fireplace and candles.

As he waited for Gaius to finish, Merlin's fingers began probing at the scab on the back of his neck. It didn't hurt like it used to, and it wasn't a fresh cut anymore either, but the healing wound had begun to itch and was annoying at times.

He supposed he should feel lucky, given the fact that Gaius and Gwen had stopped him from killing Arthur like Morgana had wanted, but he still shuddered when he thought of the snake crawling under his skin.

"Merlin?" The question came from Gaius who stood right next to him now, and Merlin lifted his head and grimaced at the elder man staring at him with a single arched brow.

"I think I'm getting sick." The boy explained, his head throbbing a little harder as he spoke as if to make sure he didn't forget why he felt ill.

"Mm, sick of your training?" Gaius laughed, patting his ward on the shoulder as Merlin sat up with a frown.

"I'm serious, Gaius. I feel like I've been trampled by all of the knight's horses."

Setting a book down on the table behind him, the physician let out another low hum. "Would you like a sleeping draught? Perhaps all you need is a good night of rest."

Slumping forward with his chin in his hand, Merlin rubbed one of his eyes and nodded. "Yeah, I'll take one." Gaius' eyebrows both shot up, and the warlock furrowed his in response. "What?"

"Nothing, you just must not be feeling well after all to take me up on my offer. Usually it's as difficult as pulling a thorn from a creature's paw to get you to take any sort of medicine."

"What can I say? George really takes pride in his work, even when training." Merlin groaned, taking the offered vial in his hand and pulling out the cork stopper.

"Don't you want dinner first?" Gaius asked, pulling a bowl closer as Merlin shook his head.

"No thanks, I'm not hungry. I think I just want to sleep."

Tipping the vial's contents into his mouth, Merlin swallowed the liquid and set the vial back down, ignoring the now blatant concern on his guardian's face before he stumbled up the steps to his bed. Collapsing onto his mattress without even changing his clothes, the warlock pushed off his boots with his toes and heard them drop to the floor before he buried his head in his pillow and shut his eyes.

He'd expected a restful night, between his exhaustion and the draught he was given, but of course things never worked out in his favor. Merlin's sleep was fitful, with too much tossing and turning, and far too many groans as he tried to get comfortable.

He had awful dreams, where large gusts of wind blew in from his windows and threw his clothes around his room and tore the pages out of his books. He dreamt that the ground shook beneath him, sending shockwaves throughout his chambers and rattling the glass panes in the window above his head.

He had nightmares of his candle, the one he never blew out the night before, burning too high all around him and scorching his shelves and burning the edges of his desk.

Finally, around dawn, Merlin fell into a dreamless slumber and managed a solid two hours of rest before he was jolted awake by dishes clattering in the other room. His blanket and pillow fell off his face as he sat up, and Merlin blinked wearily at the chaos of his bedroom.

His room, in the simplest of terms, was destroyed. The warlock had never been the tidiest of housekeepers, he would admit that any day, but he'd never been this bad. Merlin couldn't even see his floor from all the clothes, books, and assorted collections spread all about.

His wash basin had fallen to the floor and now lay in two pieces in front of his wardrobe, and his desk smelled faintly of smoke and was charred from where his candle had tipped over and lay half melted.

Rubbing a hand against his eyes, Merlin shook his head to himself as he surveyed the mess. Had his nightmares actually not been just dreams after all?

Throwing his feet over the side of his bed, Merlin dug his toe into a pile of clothing before hearing a loud, angry screech from behind him. Turning, the boy spotted Archimedes sitting in his open window, where one of the glass panes was also cracked now, and the bird looked angry.

Since their connection that saved the creature's life, Merlin found he was very in tune with the bird and what the owl felt. Just like their pain was often shared and connected, so were their emotions, and right now Archimedes was furious. In fact, he was furious with Merlin.

"What happened?" The boy questioned, climbing back onto his bed and reaching for the owl who bit at his fingers once they were within reach.

"Hey! What was that for?" Merlin demanded, pulling back and gaping at the owl.

Archimedes' feathers were ruffled all along one side, making him look as if he'd been caught in a windstorm. One of his talons was also missing, leaving behind a small stain of red, and his left wing had ash smudged along the edges of his feathers.

"Come here." Merlin called, holding out his arm as the bird flew over and landed on his shoulder. "What happened to you?" He asked, beginning to smooth out his feathers as the owl leaned close and nipped his ear.

"Ouch! Stop that!" The warlock chided, pulling away and brushing off the soot from the bird's wing. "I get it, I did this. I'm just not sure what I did, or even how." Merlin sighed, jolting again as another loud clang echoed from the next room. "I have a bad feeling that that's my fault too." The boy whispered, rubbing his eyes again as Archimedes tilted his head before taking off through the window and out into the morning sky.

Huffing out a sigh and sniffling, Merlin dug his way through his clothes and changed before venturing out into the main chamber. Gaius stood next to the fireplace, stirring something that smelled similar to their soap. The room seemed fine, however there was no breakfast waiting for him, and Gaius' cot was still set up in the corner with his blankets piled haphazardly on top.

"Morning." Merlin said tentatively, stepping down into the room as the physician glanced at him with a sour expression.

"I see you're awake." The elder remarked, his irritated tone not lost on the boy as Merlin paused beside one of the work benches.

"Yes." The warlock said slowly, wondering what he'd managed to do to make his guardian so angry. "Did something happen?" He asked, watching Gaius as the man let out a short laugh.

"You must be referring to your tantrum last night."

"Tantrum?" Merlin repeated, confusion swelling up as he scratched the back of his neck and sniffled again.

"That's all I can think to call it when you're up at all hours of the night, door locked, destroying your room." Gaius snapped, pulling away from the fire and giving the warlock a full view of the dark shadows beneath his eyes.

Gaius looked almost as bad as Merlin felt, and the boy shrank in on himself under his guardian's harsh glare. "Gaius, I didn't—"

"I want that room completely cleaned later on today, Merlin. And I want you to repair everything that you broke, I mean it."

Shaking his head, Merlin placed a hand on the table. "Gaius, I was asleep. I took that draught you gave me, remember? I didn't throw any sort of tantrum, I swear."

"Then how exactly do you explain all the noise throughout the night? Or the disarray when I checked on you this morning?" Gaius demanded, placing a piece of bread and two cold bowls of leftover soup on the table between them in a gruff manner.

"I don't know." Merlin sighed, scratching his nose as he sat down and picked up his spoon to stir the thick meal in front of him.

As Gaius joined him, the warlock was seized by the sudden urge to sneeze. Before he could think to react, the sneeze left his mouth, and each of their bowls and the loaf of bread went flying across the room. The bowls shattered against the wall, and the bread flew into the fire where it caused the flames to shudder and cinders to fly into the air.

Both of the men sat in stunned silence staring at the mess on the floor before Gaius slowly turned to look back at Merlin who carefully reached up to wipe his nose.

"Merlin?"

"Yes, Gaius?"

"Why did your sneeze send our food flying into the fire?"

"I don't know, Gaius."

Reaching out his hand, the physician rested it against the warlock's forehead before letting out a soft 'tsk' sound. "You have a low fever. Perhaps you should stay home today."

"Arthur would never stand for that." Merlin sighed, reaching up and playing with the edge of his neckerchief. "He expects me to be perfect now after all that training."

Gaius arched a single, stern brow at the boy, and the warlock rolled his eyes. "Well, more than I was last week at the very least."

"While that may be true, it's not safe for you to be running about the citadel if this illness is the cause of your magic acting strangely."

"I've had fevers before," Merlin frowned, reaching across the table and picking up an apple. "It's never done this to my magic any other time."

"Which is exactly why you've got to be more careful. You don't know when or where it will flare up, or what might even be the cause of it." Gaius insisted, watching the boy as he pushed himself up from the table.

"I'll be fine, Gaius. Honest. I'm just tired, and a bit sore. I feel fine otherwise." Slipping the apple into his pocket, Merlin adjusted his neckerchief before he leaned over and coughed into the sleeve of his arm.

As he did, the fire across the room roared to life, flames three feet tall spilling out around the edges of the stonework and consuming the caldron hanging inside. Moments later the fire died back down, and aside from a few new scorch marks on the mantel above, it was as if nothing had happened.

"You saw that, right?" Merlin pointed, turning in surprise to his guardian who nodded once.

"You cannot go into work today." Gaius reiterated, and this time Merlin nodded along.

"No, I can't. But what am I meant to tell Arthur?"

"That you're ill." Gaius spoke incredulously, looking at the boy as if he'd lost more than his control over his magic that morning.

"You're right, I know. I suppose I ought to try and find some way to fix this." Merlin sighed, rubbing at his nose as he fought back the urge to sneeze again. He had enough trouble already, the last thing they needed were more flying plates. "Should I go talk to him? If I don't come in soon he will likely come here trying to find me, and you know how he'll act if he has to do that."

Gaius frowned at the question, folding his arms across his chest and thinking for a moment. "You don't look very ill, so I'm not convinced he will believe that as an excuse if you were to try speaking with him in person."

Before Merlin could respond, a knock sounded at the physician's door and both men paused their conversation as it was pushed open.

"Morning, Gaius. I needed to ask if you—" Arthur strode inside the room reading over a scroll, but his own words cut themselves off as he looked up and found the two men staring at him. "What's going on?" The king asked suspiciously as Merlin shook his head quickly.

"Nothing." He and Gaius spoke at the same time before Merlin met his guardian's knowing eye.

When the warlock looked back up, he found that Arthur's eyes had narrowed, and he was looking between the two of them with a question on the tip of his tongue. After a moment however, it became clear he wasn't going to say anything, and instead turned to face his servant.

"At least you're awake, Merlin. I need you to sharpen and polish my blade before tonight."

"No!" Gaius and Merlin's voices melded together once again in the shouted objection, and Arthur's shoulders straightened before the warlock was fixed by his glare.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm afraid Merlin is coming down with an illness, Sire." Gaius cut in, raising a placating hand while Merlin nodded once in solidarity to the statement.

"Yes, I'm aware." The king uttered dryly, shooting an accusatory look towards the boy as Merlin's brows shot up high.

"You are?"

"Yes, I am. It's called laziness and it's been afflicting you for quite a long time."

Pressing his lips tightly together, Merlin knew he'd lost. "I'll be alright, Gaius." The warlock said softly, resting his hand on the table between them while the physician barely shook his head.

"I'm certain you won't be." The elder said just as quietly.

"Well?" Arthur prompted, urging the boy to hurry while Merlin swallowed once.

"Coming." He nodded, tapping his fingers nervously against the table before a shudder ran through him.

As it did, the room began to shake, the ground trembling beneath them as vials shook inside their cabinets and the remaining plate on the table clattered about.

"I should get going!" Merlin said, hurrying out of the room as he listened to Arthur's questions fading behind him.

The warlock made his way towards the king's chambers without incidence, and as he stepped inside, began looking for the sword that Arthur had spoken of. Finally spotting the blade in its sheath beside the man's desk, Merlin was just reaching for it when three successive sneezes caught him off guard.

By the time he'd finished, a torrent of wind had blown through the chambers like a hurricane, leaving bedding spread throughout the room, the wardrobe hanging open, and paperwork scattered across the floor.

Groaning, Merlin left the sword where it was and hurried to gather all the leaflets together. Dropping them absently on Arthur's desk, the warlock moved to the bed and was digging through the bedding when he heard someone's throat clearing.

"What are you doing?"

Shifting the heavy blanket to the side of his head, Merlin peeked out and offered a sheepish grin to the king. "Cleaning?"

"Stop wrecking my things, Merlin." Arthur huffed, stepping over a sheet in the middle of the floor and striding over to his desk.

"I'm trying." The boy muttered to himself, depositing the bedding onto the mattress as Arthur began shifting through his papers.

Dropping the pillows on top of the messy mound on his bed, Merlin felt a tickle in the back of his throat and tried swallowing quickly in an effort to get rid of it. All the motion did was delay the inevitable however, and the fireplace that had barely been alive moments ago suddenly roared to life with his cough, sending hot cinders flying as Arthur leapt away with wide eyes.

"What the hell is going on today?" The man demanded, brushing at his trousers where some of the cinders had flown over to him.

"I have to go." Merlin said suddenly, dropping the last pillow and walking over to snatch up the sword.

"Merlin, clean all of this up!" Arthur yelled, throwing his arms out and gesturing at the disarray his chambers were in.

Instead, the warlock ignored him and hurried out of the room, holding back another sneeze. Clutching the sword close to his chest, panic surged through the warlock. What was happening to him?

Slipping inside the armory, Merlin tucked himself away in a corner, propping Arthur's sword across his legs. This had never happened to him before. He'd been sick countless times, so why was his magic acting up like this now?

Burying his face in his hands, Merlin's skin warmed his fingers, and he closed his eyes tight as he tried to will away the ache in his head. He sat in that way for several minutes, until the sound of laughter from outside filtered into the room.

Jerking his head up, Merlin listened to the rowdy sound of the knights filing into the room to store their weapons away. Shrinking back against the wall, the warlock listened to several of the men poking fun at one another as equipment clattered against tables and benches.

Without a moment of warning, Merlin sneezed again, and the shields hanging on the wall flew across the room while the racks of swords tipped over and spilled the blades into the dirt. The noise made the warlock wince, and he listened to the surprised knights picking up the supplies as their jokes faded around them.

After a few more minutes the men left with their confusion still palpable, and Merlin pushed himself slowly to his feet. Nowhere was safe for him it seemed, everywhere that came to mind shut down immediately by more trouble and chaos he could cause.

Shivering, Merlin drew his arms around himself and looked up at the low ceiling as an idea began to form. There was one place where he was sure to be left alone, and where he wouldn't risk hurting anyone. The tower. And perhaps while he was there he could find a way to get some answers as well.

Keeping to the empty corridors whenever he could, Merlin crossed through the citadel until he reached the winding stairs that led to the old court sorcerer's tower. The boy's body shuddered again, and the ground trembled beneath him, forcing the warlock to keep one hand against the wall as he climbed higher.

When Merlin finally reached the top and entered the tower, he immediately made his way to a small table in the corner that held a basin of water. He'd brought it to the tower only a couple of nights before, leaving a window open as well so that Archimedes could come and go as he pleased.

Of course, there was another reason for the water, but Merlin barely dared to even think of that reason most of the time. Not after that day in the woods. That massacre. All those bodies..

Shaking his head, Merlin crept closer to the water basin until he drew the courage to lean over and peer at his own reflection. Only his own blue eyes were not the ones staring back at him. Instead, darks eyes and a face with scales glittering along one side looked back.

"Hello, my apprentice." A voice spoke within Merlin's mind, the words twisting around inside and making the boy cringe away from himself.

"I'm not your apprentice." Merlin spat, gripping either side of the table as he leaned over to stare into the bowl.

"Aren't you? You're here, asking for advice, speaking with me as a friend."

"This isn't a social call." The warlock growled, his fingers pressing hard into the edges of the wood, hating the way Ralcade knew exactly why he was there.

"I've been waiting for you to reach out, you know." Ralcade practically sang, his voice sending shivers down Merlin's back as the boy glared. "After our adventure together in the forest, I truly thought you'd have come to me sooner. You had to have had questions, I'm sure."

"It wasn't—" Pausing, Merlin caught his breath, hesitating only a moment before he turned away from the bowl and sneezed, causing a whirlwind to blow through the tower and rattle the old windows. "Tell me what you've done to me!" The warlock yelled, throwing an accusing glare into the bowl where Ralcade stared back at him with an almost bored expression.

"Perhaps you should sit down, Merlin." Ralcade encouraged.

"No! Just tell me what you've done and how to remedy it!"

"Sit down, Merlin." Ralcade enunciated firmly, glaring right back at him.

Huffing out a frustrated breath, Merlin grabbed the basin and moved it to the floor in front of him as he sat down and drew his legs up underneath himself.

"Do you remember that cave in during the winter? When you came to meet with me, right before that snowstorm struck?"

"Of course I do." Merlin scowled, digging his fingers into the fabric of his trousers. "That was when you forced your blood into me. That was when I nearly died."

"Yes, but to be fair, you are often facing death." Ralcade shrugged indifferently before his reptilian smile returned. "However, I am glad that you remember. That was an important moment for us."

"Give me answers, Ralcade. For once, stop throwing around your useless words and tell me what I want to know." Merlin ground out, gripping the edges of the basin in a threat he knew the sorcerer understood.

"I was dying," The man sighed, his eyes briefly drifting shut. "One can only live for so long before their body gives out on itself. Despite my magic, despite the power I held, it was something as simple as human weakness that ruined me."

Merlin remained silent as the sorcerer continued with a frown.

"I was over two hundred years old, did you know that? And then one day, my body began to decay. It became difficult to walk, to breathe, to exist. And so, I knew the time was coming that I needed to find my next path. I needed a new vessel, one that was strong enough to sustain all the power I had grown to accumulate over all my years."

A wave of ice rushed through Merlin's veins, and his hands went numb as he tried to swallow. "Me." He croaked, and Ralcade smiled.

"Yes, Merlin. You. I combined my essence with yours, just before my body disappeared into the shadows entirely."

"Get out of me." Merlin spoke in a horrified whisper, disgust creeping up his throat until he thought he was going to be sick.

"I can't do that." Ralcade's reflection shook his head. "My power, and therefore my life, are tied to you now."

"I don't want it." Merlin shook his head while his hand rose absently to the scar on his arm that still looked as fresh as the night he'd gotten it.

"Don't you?" Ralcade asked, tilting his head just a fraction. "Think of all the things you could do, Merlin. That we could do together."

"You're the reason why my magic is messed up." Merlin snapped.

"I'm also the reason that you're so much stronger." The sorcerer clicked his tongue, and Merlin shook his head again vehemently.

"Fix what you've done to me, Ralcade!"

The man's reflection let out a long suffering sigh before fixing the young warlock with a pitying gaze. "You were a victim of magic used by the darkest of powers recently, yes?" He asked, and Merlin flashed back to how many times he'd nearly killed Arthur just a few days before.

"Yes."

"There's your problem. Those powers mixed with my own dark magic residing within you. The residual energy left behind is at war with my own, all the while you are battling them both, so desperate to get away from it all. I'm sure the whole thing is quite uncomfortable for you." Ralcade said sympathetically, but he didn't actually look as if he cared at all.

"How do I stop it?" Merlin demanded, his mind reeling and suddenly weary from their conversation.

"Rest. Or, you could just accept my power." Ralcade offered simply.

"Never." Merlin snapped, causing the sorcerer to sigh again.

"It's not so bad, Merlin. I don't understand why you resist it so."

"You want me to become evil! Why would I want that?" The warlock scoffed, fighting back the urge to sneeze again.

"No, I want you to reach your full potential, and sometimes that means breaking the rules and creating your own instead."

"I won't hurt the ones I love." Merlin spoke, his voice like iron as the reflection in the basin sneered back at him.

"You see what will happen the longer you resist, don't you?" Ralcade asked, barely giving the boy a chance to look confused before he continued. "Your magic will continue to grow stronger, and the more you fight it, the weaker your mind and body will become."

Merlin still did not respond, and Ralcade's eyes glimmered with a darkness that made the boy feel ill. "The more you fight me, Merlin, the easier it will be for me to take over." Letting go of the basin, Merlin fell back, hearing a low chuckle resounding in his mind. "Either accept the gift that I'm giving you, let me guide and teach you until my work is done, or surrender your body to me and let me take control."

"Never." Merlin said again, though he worried his voice was too quiet to hold the authority he'd tried to put behind it. "You can't just take control of me. I will fight you. I will fight you every moment until I've rid myself of you."

"How will you fight when you barely have control over your own magic anymore?" Ralcade cackled. "You could have been stronger than me one day, Merlin. But now, I am the one who is stronger than you."

As Merlin leaned back over to peer into the basin, he saw Ralcade's eyes flash with gold. In the middle of the tower wind began to gather, swirling and growing stronger until particles of dust and debris began to mix together. A massive storm was brewing right there in the tower, and Merlin shied away as the heavy wind started to pry pieces of the stonework from the walls and old wood from the rafters.

The warlock ducked his head as a glass pane shattered and pieces of the broken window flew straight towards him to join the rising storm.

"I will rule Camelot one day! I will rule all the kingdoms, and you will help me Merlin, or I will tear you apart from the inside out!" Ralcade's voice boomed inside the boy's head, adding a thunderous mix to the storm cloud that was eating away the tower he'd grown to love.

Panic and rage grew within the warlock, and a guttural scream broke free from Merlin as he kicked his foot out and knocked over the basin of water, ridding himself of Ralcade and his infectious image. As soon as he did, the storm broke apart, littering the floor in shards of glass, broken beams, and chunks of wall.

Heavy breaths escaped Merlin as he looked at the destruction around him, and his head began to shake. "No, you won't. I won't let you." He whispered to himself, though he knew somewhere, somehow, Ralcade could hear him.

Pushing himself to his knees, Merlin bent down and carefully picked up a broken piece of glass, placing it gingerly in his open palm. His heart was beating erratically, but for once, his own reflection looked back at him. His own pale face, scared blue eyes, and tousled black hair.

He was weak and dizzy, and a piece of him wanted to collapse along with the rest of the broken pieces of the tower. But another part of him knew better. He needed to be strong enough to defeat Ralcade. He had to be strong enough to defeat him.

Dropping the piece of glass and staring across the tower, Merlin choked on a cough rising within him. None of it was over, he knew that now. In fact, he had a sinking feeling it was all just beginning. And here he was, too far in over his head once again.

A/N

Have we broken Merlin down enough? How will he manage to protect Camelot, and Arthur, and himself? Maybe he will need help.. maybe he will need a friend.. one who knows EVERYTHING.. Stick around for a few more chapters, because we are going to be diverting from canon JUST a little bit, and I promise it will be worth it!

Now for an author life update.. I know I've been slow with this chapter, and maybe for the next few as well. I'm having to say goodbye to my cat that I've had since I was ten, and it's breaking my heart because my family got her at three months old. She is nearly seventeen years old now and I have been crying over the decision for days. So either I'll be slow posting or very fast, depending on my feels that day. Thanks for understanding, and for reading as always!