A/N:

I didn't get kidnapped by life again yay! Thanks to all reviewers, new followers and of course persevering followers, I always get that warm fuzzy feeling when I hear people are enjoying my story. Bit of a warning this chapters a bit of a whopper (about 4000 words) and not sure how it happened. But anyway,

Enjoy!

Ilandrae

Disclaimer: I just bought a really snuggly blanket but still no ownership of Merlin.

CHAPTER 12 – MARKED WITH GOLD

Ameldry Town Center

Leon's mind was blank. As the golden glow faded from Art's eyes and his hand fell to his side, Leon stood there mouth gaping like a fish. His mind just wasn't processing the act that Art, the Prince and future King of Camelot for that matter… had magic.

How had he not known? He'd know the boy since he was born, taught him everything he knew about wielding a sword, archery and woodcraft too. How was it possible?

As the knight tried, and failed, to formulate any words at all, Art cast a sad smile in his direction, "Yeah" he shrugged as if in way of explanation.

A small, choked peal of laughter rang out across the village. Mel looked up from where she clutched Merlin on the ground, her mouth arching in a small smile despite her tear streaked face.

"That's what you say?" she said amused despite her grief, "You just revealed that you have magic, you, the prince and future king of Camelot, which even an ignorant peasant girl like me knows is the most magic hating kingdom in the land by the way. Your deepest, darkest secret was just revealed to the last two knights of King Arthur's round table and you say 'yeah', as if someone asked if you needed money for the marketplace."

Shrugging, it seemed Art was as lost for words as Leon was in the current situation.

After another few moments Leon managed to stammer out a single word, 'H-h-how?"

Art looked to the ground, "I've had it since I was born. Mother kept it a secret because… well you know how Camelot is about magic."

Leon's brain was still whirling at the revelations, putting pieces of the past together just like when he'd realised Merlin's gifts. It was then that it became apparent, while Percival had been shocked just as speechless as he had been, there was one warlock who most definitely did not.

"How in the name of Camelot did you know?" Leon demanded as he walked over to Merlin and helped him and Mel to their feet.

Merlin accepted the offered hand, smiling as he stood shakily with an arm around Mel, "How do you think I knew he was following us yesterday? His magic was like an incessant whine in my brain."

"And you didn't tell us?"

"You don't just go blabbing that someone has magic," Merlin said defensively, "Every magic wielder has the right to tell whomever they want when they want. Besides," the warlock flashed a wicked grin, "I thought this would be more fun."

"Wait," Art stalked over to them staring Merlin dead in the eye as he spoke, "You knew about my magic?"

Merlin smiled at the boy, "You have talent Art, and more that a bit of power. But you're untrained. Your magic, immature, is flying free and uncontrolled. It's easy enough for anyone who practises magic to sense it." The warlock pulled a face, "If they bother to look that is. That hedge mage Ceador really was an idiot back at the castle if he didn't even bother."

Unlike most of the times the insult was used, it was not endearing.

Merlin took a deep breath and Leon saw the warlock take one last glance at the tavern keeper, his friend Eran, before looking around the ruined village.

"We have to help them clean-up," Leon saw the fatigue on Merlin's face as he spoke. He got the idea that their powerful friend was more exhausted from his grand display of magic than he let on. He recalled seeing the man collapse as the magical chaos had faded. As if his legs just suddenly refused to stand.

The warlock was a figure of power here, one that could not falter. But the knight saw the worry in his friend's eyes.

"Great One," a burly, buff man limped towards their group, one of the villagers. He was a blacksmith by the looks of the charred heavy-duty apron he wore.

"Declan," Merlin said quickly rearranging his fatigue into a smile. He stood a little straighter the small girl still by his side doing the same, her still teary eyes looking steadily at the brawny man.

"I'm sure everyone agrees when we say thank you," Declan said gratefully, "and we share your grief for Eran." He looked at Mel, "We know he was more than our leader," he looked back to Merlin "and we know you two were close"

Merlin smiled in thanks and Mel gave a teary nod, "You will be good leader Declan. I know you helped Eran as it was."

"But now it seems Great One, that we could use your help. With you aiding us, the village could be repaired by the morning."

Leon was amazed! Did these people not see how exhausted Merlin was? He had just saved everyone. It seemed that he just gave and gave, never resting, and they expected more? He was just about to say so when Merlin, as if sensing the less than polite words Leon was about to vocalise, shot him a sharp look. Leon snapped his mouth shut.

Then he remembered what Emrys, well… Merlin, had said at his cave days before:

I have helped Camelot enough!

He had named numerous enemies of Camelot taking credit for their defeat: Morgana, Nimueh, Morgause, The Great Dragon and Agravaine

I have helped and helped and helped!

Did Camelot ask anything less when Merlin had served them? Unnoticed Merlin had risked his life repeatedly and received no credit, not thanks in return. It seemed he still did so much and expected so little. Merlin could not help himself even after all these years.

The warlock turned back to the blacksmith and gave him a wane smile.

"For tonight I think we should just move the dead. Then I suggest that everyone takes a rest for the night. We can begin clean up in the morning after everyone has had a good night's sleep, I am sure everyone needs it."

"Indeed, great one," Declan said, "The inn is undamaged, you and your friends can stay there for the night."

"Thank you, Declan," Merlin said and the others also voiced their thanks.

So, they began the grim task. The bandits were piled in a field for their corpses to be burned. The villagers were carefully prepared for the funerals that would be held in the coming days. They found the bodies that had been withheld from the villagers in a mass grave near the bandit's camp. They too were removed with care and prepared.

Merlin did his best to help, but Leon and Percival seeing his exhaustion did what they could to bear the brunt of the heavy lifting.

Art and Mel remained with the children who had been freed from the tavern, tending to any wounds that they had and offering comfort.

After the grim task was completed, the group headed off to the tavern. Leon saw Mel stick by Merlin leaning in to whisper to him.

"Emrys… I don't think I can be alone tonight. Not without Papa"

The warlock smiled and whispered back, "You can stay with me tonight ok?"

"Thank you," was the small reply.

They reached the tavern, bedding down their horses in the stables before they entered the large building.

"The rooms are upstairs," Merlin said.

Suddenly the warlock staggered forwards, catching himself on the bar counter.

"Merlin are you-" Leon started but Merlin interrupted him.

"Probably best to just put me to bed," with that his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his legs collapsed beneath him in a dead faint, Percival hurriedly catching him.

The moment the sun crept over the horizon and peeked into his room Percival's eyes opened. Blinking off the last of his sleep he swung himself out of his bed, the wooden floorboards creaking under his bare feet.

As he began to dress and get ready for what he felt would be a mentally draining day he decided he would check in on Merlin before finding Leon.

After the warlock had collapsed the night before they decided it was best to just do what he said. Percival had carried Merlin to a room upstairs and put him in a bed. He had been surprised, as he lifted the previously lanky man, to feel the muscles that he now boasted. Nowhere near the size of his own, but he understood how the warlock had wielded his sword, which was by no means a toothpick, with such ease against the bandit leader that afternoon.

Percival buckled on his own sword as he exited the room he had been given and approached the door to Merlin's room. He was surprised to see he wasn't the only one who'd had the same idea.

Percival smiled in question at Art. The boy stopped his nervous pacing to lean against the wall, embarrassed.

"I wanted to see if he was awake but…"

Percival finished the sentence in his head. No Pendragon, even one as young as Art, would ever admit to being nervous or scared of anything. He had always thought Art's bravery bordered on stupidity but the revelation of his magic the day before made everything much clearer.

But now he only wondered… how on earth had it come to be… and why had Gwen never told them? Had not trusted them with the secret. But Percival was a practical man, they would not have answers until they returned to Camelot… so he saw no need to worry over it now.

Percival reached for the door handle but paused as footsteps sounded down the hall. He was not surprised to see Leon also approaching the door where they stood.

"We're all a bunch of mother hens aren't we?" the red haired knight said jokingly before motioning for Percival to continue.

Turning the handle, Percival opened the door a crack and peeked into the room.

He was greeted by Merlin's grumpy, impatient look, "Wondered when you were actually going to come in. Finished your morning chat?"

Percival grinned, opening the door wider so they could all walk in.

Merlin was seated in the bed, propped up on pillows with Mel was curled up next to him still sleeping soundly.

"Are you feeling ok Merlin?" Leon asked concerned but still quiet, trying not to wake Mel, "You kind of surprised us last night."

Merlin shrugged apologetically, it was only when Percival saw his red ears that he realised the man was a little embarrassed about it, "I overreached myself a little too much yesterday. Too much magic, too few limitations on the spells," he muttered the next sentence under his breath, "If Alice and the others find out I'm going to spend an hour getting wacked with staffs and bushels of sage…"

Percival had no idea what he was on about, but Leon spoke again, "We need to help the villagers clean-up"

Merlin sighed, "I know. But I can't do any big magic today. I really shouldn't do any magic, at least until I can visit my cave. I don't really feel like draining my life force or spontaneously combusting today."

Again, Percival was a little confused about what Merlin was talking about, but a small voice piqued up.

"Then don't," Mel sat up with a yawn.

"Hey Mel," Merlin said comfortingly "How are you feeling?" when the girl just gave a small smile and rubbed her eyes he said "I have to help though Mel. The village expects me to, otherwise it will take three times as long to repair the village"

"Get him to do it."

There was silence for a few moments. Then all eyes turned towards the person that Mel had nodded to.

Art's eyes were wide with terror and he strangled out a single word "W-w-wh-what?"

Mel was deadly serious, "He has magic. You can tell him what to do, he can do the spells."

"B-but I've n-never re-really done magic on purpose" Art started to blabber, "It just happens, I have no control, no training. I can't." But his excuses stammered to a stop as he saw Merlin nodding thoughtfully.

"You know" the warlock said, "that might just work."

"So, I won't be able to perform any of the spells myself Declan," Merlin was saying to the buff blacksmith "However, as you saw yesterday, Art has magic too. I'll be talking him through the spells, the village should be finished in no time!"

Art, the boy in question, simply stared at the ruined house in front of him. Magic? He was actually going to do magic on purpose?

His ears tuned back to the conversation in time to here Declan say uncertainly, "If you say so Great One" Art could hear his doubt, and he couldn't blame him.

He was just a boy. Sure, he was the Prince of Camelot, the son of the great King Arthur. Sure, he had magic. But he had never actually used it intentionally. Now apparently, he was going to repair the village?

Suddenly he realised that Declan had left, and Merlin was studying him. His eyes intently searching Art's expression; one that Art was embarrassed to admit, most likely showed his terror.

Merlin knelt down. A person that Art had only ever imagined, a figure of awe and courage, kneeling before him, Art cast his eyes down.

"Art, look at me" Merlin's voice was soft, concerned and Art's eyes were drawn to his intense gaze, "What are you afraid of?"

"Mother said the first magic she saw me do was when I was only about two days old. I levitated some feathers and was playing with them. When she realised it was me, she was terrified. She dismissed all the nurses and the maids, caring for me entirely by herself, she was so scared that someone would find out." Still his eyes never left Merlin's, "All my life she's told me, to hide it, to never use it, just in case. We never knew who was watching. But sometimes, I just can't help it. It just comes out of me. Some assassins tried to kill us once, I was so scared. Not for me, but for Mother and the magic just came out, blasting them back. Luckily, it was just us and them, and no one believed them when they said I had used magic."

And though Art felt his eyes tear up, he held them at bay, "But I guess what I'm trying to say is… I never used it intentionally, it always just happened. My magic has always been a part of me I can't control. I fear what could happen if it came out at the wrong place and the wrong time. I'm scared of magic." He broke Merlin's gaze, ashamed about the admission.

"Art," Merlin said gently "I understand."

Art's gaze snapped up, "What?"

"You think I didn't feel that way when I was young? My mother was terrified too. At least I wasn't the Prince of Camelot. At least everyone wasn't watching me. But Art, your magic isn't something to be feared. It is merely a force, like a sword. You just need to be taught."

"Can you teach me?"

"What do you think I was about to do?"

Art took a deep breath. He could do this. It was just like when he began learning the sword, practise, patience, and perseverance. That's all it took. He gave Merlin a nod.

Merlin smiled, "Ok, so Art, in my year I have gone practically everywhere. I learnt all that I could about magic and this is what I have determined. There are two basic forms of magic, instinctual and what I have come to call learnt, or limited magic. Limited magic can be performed by anyone, with varying degrees of success, based on their natural affinity with magic. It takes years of practise to learn to perform spells safely and effectively. We aren't going to do that today. Today, we will be discussing instinctual magic. Now do me a favour," Merlin sat on the ground and placed his palm on the dirt, "sit with me." Art seated himself, mirroring his teacher.

"I want you to close your eyes Art," Merlin said quietly and continued when Art obliged "Settle, your thoughts and clear your mind. Open your mind up, let all the scents, sounds and feels of the earth fill you." Something was happening, though Art wasn't quite sure what, "Do you feel it Art? The magic."

He nodded. It was like a buzz. A continuous presence all around him, he felt it vibrating against his skin, coming from all directions.

"Magic is a force of nature Art. A part of nature. Within every living thing, and some non-living, it flows and settles. Drawn more to some areas and less to others it is nonetheless present everywhere throughout the earth. Now look inside you."

Art cast his awareness inwards and he saw it. That same presence, that same power that he sensed flowing through and from the land, flowed from him to. Magic created by a spring inside him.

"Now open your eyes."

Looking into Merlin's face Art saw satisfaction, which made Art feel prouder than anything the warlock could have said.

"Instinctual magic harnesses that magic you just sensed, the magic of the land, and the magic than runs within your blood and bones. It draws that power together, into your being, and is then directed by your emotions."

"My emotions?"

Merlin nodded, "You said when those assassins attacked, you were scared." Art nodded, "The magic within you reacted to that fear. Your fear guided it into action, saving Gwen, and you. All the magic you have performed has been without incantation has it not?" again Art nodded. "Every act of sorcery you have performed Art, has been instinctual magic."

Art was beginning to understand. The magic didn't just happen, it was a reaction. Like the now almost instinctual reaction to draw his sword upon seeing another naked blade.

"So, Art," Merlin said with a grin "Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?"

Merlin's grin grew "To rebuild this house."

"Wait what? Now? But what about the spell, the incantation?"

"Don't need one. Instinctual magic, remember?"

Art still grasped for some excuse.

"Art" Merlin sighed, placing his hand on the boy's shoulders and spinning him around to face the ruined house, "Just listen to what I say."

Art's heart was pounding, seriously Merlin was asking too much. But he tried to still the thumping of his heart and focus on what the warlock was saying.

"When you look at the house, don't see the ruins. See it as it must have once been. A happy place, with a happy family. This was the home of Mrs Tailor remember her? She raised three children here. This house was filled with her memories."

Art could almost see it, the motherly, caring woman running after her children as they played in the street. Sewing their clothes, patching their scrapes and watching them grow. A house filled with peace and love.

"Now Art" Merlin continued "Think about what was taken from her. All her work… gone. All her belongings… gone. All those memories… gone. Denarag took them from her, Denarag and his men. How does that make you feel?"

Angry. He felt angry. How dare those bandits do this? Destroy everything she loved. Her husband dead, her home gone, the happy picture he had seen crumbled to ash, to the ruins he now saw before him. "But you can help Art. Use those emotions, picture what you want. You want to give Mrs Tailor back her home. For the walls to rebuild and the ceiling to raise so she can live in the house once more. You want to give Mrs Tailor something after everything that has happened."

He did. He used the anger that he felt for Denarag and his men, he used his sorrow for what Mrs Tailor had lost, he used his compassion for any person that he met. He willed the walls to rise. He felt the magic. Felt it rushing through his blood. Similar to the other times he had used it, but different. This time there was more control, more direction. He felt his eyes flare and as the magic left him. Then he watched in wonder as the ruins in front of him began to rebuild. The wood went from black to brown and stood to support the walls once more. The thatch rewove itself into the newly reformed roof and curtains sparked back into existence from where they had burnt out before.

Art looked in amazement to what he had done. What before had been ruins, now was a small single-story house in pristine condition, complete with colour coordinated drapes. As he stood there, mouth agape, he heard a choked shout of exclamation from behind him.

He felt himself spun around and was presented with the overjoyed and tear-filled face of Mrs Tailor.

"Thank you young man!" she said give him a tight hug "You have no idea what this means to me!" With that she hurried into her house, tears streaming down her face.

Art turned to his teacher, suddenly a grin spread across his face, one that was mirrored in Merlin's, "I'm a sorcerer" Art said giddily. But Merlin shook his head.

"You're not a sorcerer Art"

Art's grin died.

"What?"

"Sorcerers can draw magic from the land and from nature, harnessing it with their will. But sorcerers cannot perform instinctive magic Art, they don't have magic from within them, they can't direct it with their emotions." Merlin gave Art a knowing look, "Only warlocks can" before Art could say anything, Merlin continued on "Warlocks are magic. The magic flows within us, within our blood, stored in our bones. It is sensitive to our emotions and to our wills. Magic is a part of us."

Art could only pick up on the fact that he kept say us, "Your saying I'm a…"

Merlin smiled, "A warlock."

Art was silent, he didn't know what to say.

"You're just like me Art." Merlin said, "We're both marked," he tapped his temple and added with a grin "marked with gold."

Art couldn't get over it, the rush of power, and freedom. Never had he openly and so purposefully used his magic. He couldn't stop the smile from coming to his face every time he used his power.

House after house was rebuilt, every time accompanied by a flash of gold. Finally, as the sun was beginning to set and shadows grew from the newly repaired houses there was nothing left for Art to do.

He turned to Merlin "That was amazing, that rush. I-"

"Indeed," Merlin cut him off "But don't go getting too cocky you still have much to learn. That rush can be intoxicating, that power addictive. You must always remember that magic is a force of nature. And like all parts of nature, it's natural state is chaos."

Suitable chastised Art was silent, but inside he couldn't help feeling proud about what he had done.

"But you did well today Art" Merlin said kindly, "A good start. You can learn more when we return to Camelot."

At this Art's head snapped up, "Camelot? You're coming back?"

Merlin sighed as he looked around the town, Art saw his eyes linger on the tavern, "I don't know what it is Art. But something tells me there's nothing left for me here." He gave him a small smile "Plus, someone needs to make sure you don't blow something up by accident."

Art grinned back, joy filling him. He was going to have a teacher; he was going to learn magic. He couldn't imagine anything better.

"You're leaving" a now familiar voice said as Mel walked up to Merlin.

"Yes Mel, I'm sorry. I'm sure Mrs. Tailor will care for y-"

But she didn't seem to be listening, cutting him off, "You said knights like Percival and Leon stop things like this from happening."

"They do what they can" Merlin replied hesitantly.

"I want to see" there was a set expression on her face.

"Mel, they don't let girls be-"

"You said there's nothing left for you here Emrys." When Merlin said nothing she continued, "Well there's nothing left for me here either! You know I never really fit in. All I ever had was my father and you" her voice broke, "and now he's gone."

Guilt and sorrow filled Merlin's face, "Mel…"

"I'm coming with you Emrys" a single lone tear ran down her face as she held her ground.

Merlin sighed, "Well then… we'd better go get our things."

A/N:

I like structure to my magic so I have created a system. It's going to be explained throughout and hopefully it won't be confusing. My goal is always to stay to cannon though so I won't do anything too dramatic.

Thanks and stay strong,

I ;)