It was all happening in slow motion. Nothing more than a performance set out in front of them, detached from the real world. The curtains had been drawn, the actors had taken the stage, and anticipation flooded the room. But this was no performance. There were no actors, there was no stage, and the anticipation was nothing more than tension that choked everyone in the room.

He couldn't stop this. No one could. It was too late. Arthur's eyes were wide, cautious, afraid. His hands were raised, and though they remained steady, his breathing was fast and sharp.

"Enough of this!" Uther's voice echoed loud and stern as if in a cave, and Merlin nearly flinched at the noise. "Do what you must, take him down!"

"Don't!" Arthur now, shifting his hand from in front of him out to the side as the tip of the sword pressed against his throat in warning. "Do not come any closer."

"Arthur, you cannot allow this madness to continue!" The king was furious, Merlin could hear it in his words, and the boy's chest ached with the fear and rage coursing through him as Arthur barely shook his head, the sword never once moving from his throat.

"He will not hurt me." The words were spoken with such surety, and the warlock couldn't believe the trust that the prince held. Nor the foolishness. Arthur should have listened to the boy, fought while he could, now there was no point. The prince of Camelot stood defenseless in his chambers, with blood dripping down his neck and the cold steel of his own sword cutting into his flesh.

"Please, just leave this to me." Arthur's voice fell quiet, and steeled blue eyes shifted to the warlock. "It's alright." He spoke calmly, reassurance in his words as his hand moved back in front of him. "Just lower the sword." A simple command, but one not so easily followed.

"Please, Merlin." The man uttered softly, staring intently at the boy that stood across from him, the weapon still tight in hand. "Just lower the sword."

FOUR HOURS EARLIER

Merlin was exhausted. Between retrieving the crystal and trying to track down the sorcerer that the boy was certain Morgana had helped to release, Merlin hadn't had any time to rest. Worry and fear kept him awake all hours of the night, and even when his mind finally calmed, the dragon's voice didn't.

"Free me, Merlin! Free me as you promised!"

The words echoed inside the warlock's head, even as he made his way to the prince's chambers. There was no way that Merlin could go to the dragon again, not without freeing him as he had indeed promised. But those things he'd seen, the fire and the rage and the despair. So many images, so many emotions. It hurt him just to recall.

Gaius had told him that the future was theirs to shape, but if that were the case, then why did he still feel so scared of what might come? Trying to push the thoughts away as he neared the door, Merlin drew in a deep breath and forced a smile to his face.

"Afternoon, Sire." The boy greeted cheerfully, shoving the door open as Arthur glanced up from his desk before looking back to the papers sprawled out before him.

"Merlin. What are you doing here? I thought Gaius had requested your assistance this afternoon."

"He has," The warlock nodded, stepping towards the table where the remnants of the royal's lunch sat. "But I had a bit of time and figured I'd stop by, see if there's anything you needed."

"You stopped by to see if I need anything?" Arthur repeated slowly, looking up at his servant with narrowed eyes. "Sorry, I thought you were Merlin, but apparently I was mistaken. My servant would never voluntarily seek me out for work to do."

"Funny." Merlin mumbled, gathering together the dishes into an unsteady stack while Arthur dropped his quill and rubbed at his eyes.

"Why did you really come by, Merlin? Does Gaius have you doing something you don't want to do?"

Looking down as a bowl slipped from the stack and clattered to the table, the warlock tried not to think about the leech tank waiting for him. "Of course not." The boy spoke, though judging from the prince's scoff, Arthur didn't believe him.

"You're too easy to read sometimes. I should send you right back to him, but I do need to do some research in the library, and if you're here you might as well help me." Pushing his chair away from his desk, Arthur stretched his arms up while Merlin cradled the dishes against his chest.

"Research for what?"

Blinking, Arthur dropped his arms and began shuffling the papers on his desk around. "Just a few things your small mind couldn't even hope to comprehend, so you don't need to bother asking."

Rolling his eyes at the man, Merlin started for the door while Arthur trailed behind him. "How exactly am I supposed to help if I don't know what we're looking for?"

"I told you, it doesn't matter." Arthur snapped, walking beside the boy down the corridor. "Have you seen Morgana today?"

The sudden question surprised Merlin, and the boy's arms tightened around the dishes while they walked. "No, I haven't." The warlock shook his head, purposefully keeping his eyes on the floor. "She's stayed mostly in her chambers the last couple of days from what Gwen has said."

It was more than that though, because Merlin had purposely gone out of his way to avoid her. How could he not? With how conflicted he felt over what he'd seen and heard, he couldn't face her.

"She and my father got into another argument, though over what I'm not certain of." Arthur sighed, oblivious to the boy's inner struggles as they made their way into the next hallway. "It has to have something to do with this recent sorcerer we captured, but she won't speak to me, nor have I had a chance to speak with her."

"You could just go see her." Merlin offered distractedly, his fingers fidgeting with the dishes as the bustling halls grew more crowded.

"For what reason? Use your head, Merlin. I can't just call on her without cause. It would make me seem.. well.."

"Like you care?"

"I just can't." The blond snapped, glaring at the warlock as Merlin readjusted his hold on the dishes.

"I'm just saying that you could—"

The words the warlock was saying cut off abruptly as they rounded a corner and Merlin knocked right into a wall. Well, it wasn't really a wall, but it felt like a wall. Losing his footing as he stumbled back, Merlin fell to the floor as both he, and the dishes, hit the ground.

"Merlin!" Arthur yelled, and as the boy sat up, food and silverware and some powdered seasoning fell off his chest.

"I'm so sorry, Merlin, are you alright?" The wall, or rather the knight that the warlock had run into knelt over him and placed a hand on the boy's chest.

"I'm fine." Merlin grumbled, a wave of nausea rolling through him as he tried to push himself up from amid the mess of the prince's scattered remains of lunch.

"Don't worry yourself with him, Elacard. Merlin can't stay on his feet even on the best of days." Arthur muttered, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at the servant.

"I still should have been looking where I was going." The knight spoke after a moment, removing his hand and instead offering it to Merlin. Gratefully taking it and letting himself be pulled to his feet, an abrupt sneeze jolted the boy's body and a wave of dizziness hit him next. "Whoa, careful." Elacard warned, grabbing hold of the warlock's arm as he swayed.

"I'm fine." Merlin spoke again, though his voice was quieter this time and far less sure. A headache began to pulse behind his eyes, and when he looked up he found Arthur's harsh glare settled on him. "I'll just.. clean this up.."

"You do that." The prince snapped, turning and striding away from him. "And go back to Gaius when you're finished!"

Heaving a breath and kneeling down to gather the dishes, Merlin heard Elacard shuffling behind him as the knight watched. "Sure you're alright?"

"I am. Thanks." The warlock nodded, feeling the pressure in his head beginning to ease.

"You ought to be careful, Arthur looked to be in a rather foul mood today." The knight offered with a small laugh that had Merlin frowning.

"He's always in a foul mood." The boy grumbled, standing up straight with the dishes gathered in his arms once again.

"That must make you furious some days." Elacard smiled sympathetically, and Merlin found anger rising in his chest at the statement.

"Yes." He answered immediately before catching himself and quickly shaking his head. "I mean, no. I mean. He's a pain, but furious is too strong of a word. Sorry, I really need to get going."

"Of course. And Merlin? Don't worry, everyone has off days." Watching the knight turn and go, the warlock found himself frowning again. Sure, everyone had bad days, however his tended to last far longer and be much more frequent than anyone else's.

Carrying the dishes to the kitchen and leaving them in a heap next to the sink, Merlin slipped out the door before anyone could complain. The warlock's clothes were a mess, covered in bits of food and sauce and some sort of sugar that clung to his tunic in a stubborn manner. As he made his way through the halls, the boy passed a couple of maids and barely paused before barreling past them, irritation and annoyance bubbling up in his chest as he made his way home.

Why did Arthur always have to act like that? He knew the man was stubborn and selfish and an arrogant prat, but Merlin didn't deserve such harsh treatment. The prince was human too, not some god among men like the way he acted.

Shoving open the door to the physician's tower with more force than he intended, the door flew back against the wall and Gaius jumped in his seat at the table as his head jerked up. "Merlin, what are you doing?" The elder scolded, removing his glasses and staring at the boy in annoyance. "Must you announce your presence so loudly and—what happened to you?" The physician's chiding turned midsentence as he studied the warlock's appearance.

"I spilled Arthur's dishes." Merlin answered shortly, his voice clipped with anger as he strode through the room and shoved open his own door. Why was he so angry? He could feel it bubbling up inside of him in a way he could hardly control. Arthur always acted like that, today was no different, so why?

Pulling off his jacket and tugging his filthy tunic up over his head, Merlin dropped it to the ground and kicked it away before turning to his wardrobe and pulling out a clean blue one.

"Did something happen?" Gaius asked, stepping just inside the boy's room as Merlin's eyes cut to the physician in irritation.

"No, why?"

"You seem to be in a rather poor mood is all." The elder said mildly, watching the warlock as he tugged the tunic on and brushed out the wrinkles in frustration.

"Well, I'm fine."

"Yes, I can see that." Rolling his eyes and shoving past Gaius, Merlin's head began to throb again as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Are you sure you're alright, Merlin?"

"It's just my head. And Arthur." The boy snapped, the pain pulsating behind his eyes.

"Arthur?"

"He's on my last nerve today." Merlin scowled, catching himself by the door as the pain radiated through his skull and down the base of his neck.

Why was he saying those things? It was like his mouth had a mind of its own today. Yes he was annoyed but he sounded almost hateful.

"What has the prince done now?" Gaius asked, beginning to rifle through a few small vials on his table before grabbing a glass tinted a light green.

"What hasn't he done?" Merlin griped, pressing his fingers just above his spine as he closed his eyes and shoved his forehead against the wooden door. "I'm so sick of the way he treats me, Gaius! I'm more than the dirt beneath his boots. I work hard, I do everything he asks, not to mention how I keep his sorry self safe all the time when he doesn't even realize it! I'm sick of not getting the credit or the thanks that I deserve! You know what, the next time he's in danger I'm going to just leave him to fend for himself. I'm done."

Why was he saying all that? He didn't mean it, he knew he didn't mean it, yet the words kept pouring out.

"Merlin—"

"Why should I care about him anyway?" The warlock continued, the rant growing louder as he pulled his head away and glared towards the physician. "He doesn't care about me, he's made that clear. So what, I should do it because a dragon in chains told me to? Because apparently it's my destiny to keep him safe and bring magic back? There's no point! I'm done. I'm done with him and I'm done with it all."

He couldn't stop himself. The words were coming out hard and fast and he couldn't stop his teeth from gritting together or his hands from balling into fists.

"What has gotten into you today?" Gaius asked, his face alight with concern as he held the vial out to the boy. "Even on his worst days I've never heard you speak of Arthur with such venom. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"I said I'm fine!" Merlin yelled, shoving the elder's hand away as the vial fell to the floor and shattered, sending shards of glass and the elixir it had held all over the ground. As he stared down at it, the pain in Merlin's head rose to a new height and the warlock's eyes squeezed together tightly. "Just.. Just leave me alone!" Ripping open the door, Merlin stumbled out onto the landing and nearly collided with another person.

"Merlin?" Arthur's voice was like a hot iron searing into his head, and the warlock lurched back and squinted at the prince.

Without uttering a word, the boy pushed past the royal and hurried down the stairwell, keeping one hand running along the wall to keep himself from tripping.

"Merlin!" Arthur was shouting after him but not following, his voice fading the further away the boy got.

The pain began to wane with the movement, and Merlin found himself sprinting through the citadel, feeling the aches and throbs fade to a dull presence in the back on his mind. More than once the warlock bumped into guards or knocked into maids, but he paid them no mind, not even bothering to mutter out an apology as he kept going.

Before he realized where he was trying to go, Merlin found himself in the armory, the room filled with armor and shields and all manner of weapons, but blissfully void of any people. Walking to one end of the room and collapsing onto a bench, the boy's hands rose to his head again.

What was wrong with him? He'd lashed out at Gaius, he'd spoken such awful things about Arthur, and now he was what, avoiding them? He couldn't hope to do that forever. He had to return home at some point, not to mention he still had to work.

Beginning to massage his temples with his fingers, Merlin drew in a shallow breath. He was exhausted, he hurt, and he was angry. Rage was boiling up inside of him in an endless sea, wave after wave crashing down on him and the longer he sat there the more he felt it rising. It felt like he was losing his mind. No, it felt like his mind had split off into two different parts.

One side of him knew, logically, that something was very wrong. Merlin knew he shouldn't be this angry, not at Gaius and not at Arthur. Something was wrong with him, and he needed to go to them for help. But the other side of him was feeding that anger and that hatred, because everyone used him.

Merlin was more than a servant, more than an assistant. He was more than cleaning boots and fetching herbs. He was more than some insane destiny to bring back magic with the help of someone who hated it with everything inside of them. Someone who would kill him if he ever discovered what Merlin was. And as all of it circled through his mind, the warlock knew that it was winning against the logical side.

Closing his eyes tightly, Merlin's hands dropped from his head as he opened his eyes slowly and looked around the room. He hated Arthur. In that moment, and the next, the boy was overwhelmed by the feeling. It ran through his body and raced through his mind and with every beat of his heart the hatred ran deeper.

Arthur had never done anything for him. He'd used the word friend when he wanted Merlin to do something, to lie to the king or to help him bend the rules, but he never meant it. There was no friendship between them, there was no mutual respect. Merlin was nothing more than a servant who the prince could push around and have a laugh at.

Standing abruptly and beginning to pace the room, the warlock clenched his fists tightly together. Who was he to try and keep such an arrogant ass safe? If he left for one day Arthur would no doubt get into trouble and drop dead, so why should he even bother? Perhaps if the king lost his son, Uther would finally reconsider magic. Or, if the Pendragon line ended entirely, that would be when magic flourished through the kingdom.

Just because some dragon spewed some ancient knowledge he claimed to have didn't mean Merlin had to sit back and put up with the constant abuse that the prince put him through. Yes, he was done with that. He was done with Arthur Pendragon altogether. But the anger was still eating him alive. How was he supposed to get rid of it?

The boy's limbs were twitching, his fingers stretching out wide before curling back into fists, and his body was practically shaking with rage. He'd never felt so angry before in his life.

Something's wrong.

A small voice in the back of his head prodded at him, trying to be heard, trying to ease the anger. It was annoying. And it was trying to convince him that he shouldn't be angry at the prince when Merlin knew he had every right to be. But as heavy as it felt, the rage was also invigorating.

Stopping midstride through the room, Merlin's eyes caught sight of Arthur's sword hanging from the rack, freshly sharpened and just waiting there to be used. Striding forwards before he could think, Merlin reached his hand for the hilt of the blade before stopping.

This isn't right.

Drawing back, Merlin drew in a shallow breath. What was he doing? He wasn't actually considering hurting his best friend, he couldn't be. And yet he could picture the whole thing so clearly.

The sword in his hand, Arthur's blood on the blade. The Pendragon Prince lying on the ground, dead eyes that would never mock him again staring at the ceiling, crimson dripping from lips that would never spew another insult.

A shudder ran through the warlock's body at the vivid imagery in his mind, and Merlin felt the leather hilt of the sword in his hand as he tightened his fists. When had he grabbed it? Why had he grabbed it? He didn't want to see Arthur hurt. He didn't want to hurt Arthur at all. And yet..

Merlin's feet carried him out the armory doors without another thought, nearly crashing into a passing man as he did so. The warlock's arm slammed into the guard's shoulder, and as the man reeled backwards, the boy continued on his way unhindered with the prince's sword gripped tightly in hand.

Merlin couldn't stop himself from traveling through the citadel, making his way up the stairs and through the halls until the royal's chambers came into view. No matter what he said to himself, or how much he knew it was a bad idea, the warlock couldn't help but open Arthur's door and step inside the empty room.

Arthur was no doubt training on the field, or busy doing work for his father, so Merlin waited. Holding the sword so tight that his knuckles had long since turned white, the warlock stood near the prince's bed and kept his eyes trained on the door.

What exactly was he planning on doing? Merlin wanted to drop the sword, he kept telling himself to let go, to just let it fall, but it was as if his body and his mind were completely disconnected.

The anger that raged in him was like a fire burning in his stomach, fueling his body forward, leaving the logic in his mind to fight to keep himself at bay. Something was definitely not right with him, but he was long past the point of trying to figure out what it was.

The moment he heard footsteps outside the door the boy's body tensed, his head began to pound, and panic began to race through Merlin's mind. The door opened easily, and Arthur strode inside, pausing briefly when he spotted his servant across the room.

"Merlin? There you are, Gaius and I have been looking all over for you." The prince muttered as the door fell shut behind him. "What is going on with you today? I've been overhearing guards and maids speak of your foul mood, and Elacard told me you said quite a few things that were borderline treacherous. And why are you holding my sword?"

As Arthur made his way closer to the boy, Merlin felt himself go rigid as he tried to speak, to tell Arthur to wait or to get back, but nothing came out. "Merlin, I'm asking you a question. Answer me."

Instead of speaking, the boy's arm lifted without his consent, and the sword's point thrust out towards the man.

"Merlin what in the world are you doing?" Arthur scoffed, a smirk starting to rise on his face as he lifted a hand to push the blade away. "If this is your idea of a joke—"

Before he could continue, Merlin flicked his wrist and the edge of the sword caught Arthur's open hand, drawing blood to the surface and staining a portion of the blade in crimson. "Merlin!" The man yelled, jerking his hand away as the warlock stepped closer and held the point of the sword inches from the prince's throat.

All amusement left Arthur's eyes as he stood frozen, staring at his servant warily. "I know you, Merlin." The man spoke quietly, his voice strangely calm for the position he was in.

"No." Merlin forced out, the voice in his head screaming for him to stop as he tried in vain to lower his arm.

Why wasn't his body listening to him? Why couldn't he control his own actions? He'd hurt Arthur, cut the man with his own blade. This wasn't what he wanted, no matter how the prince treated him.

"Prince Arthur?" A knock sounded at the door, and Arthur's head turned a fraction to look. "Prince Arthur!" The knock sounded louder before the door was opening and a guard was leaning inside. "I apologize for the intrusion, Sire, but—" The man's words paused as he took in the scene before him, his eyes growing wide as he stood straight, and his hand dropped to the sword at his side.

"Leave, now. This doesn't concern you." Arthur ordered, his voice still calm and in control as the tip of the sword touched his throat in warning.

"But Sire—"

"I said go!" The prince commanded.

The guard left with a hurried bow, closing the door behind him as Arthur sighed. "You've got three minutes before my father comes barging in here. Now tell me what the hell you think you're doing." Arthur demanded, holding his injured hand out to the side as Merlin struggled to speak.

"Stop." The warlock ground out, the words almost painful as the ache in his head grew steadily unbearable.

"Have you hit your head? Have you been enchanted? Tell me what's going on because this isn't you and we both know it."

"S..top.." Merlin forced out again, fighting with his limbs to try and bring the sword back away from the prince. It wouldn't listen however, though it wasn't stabbing Arthur either. The warlock found that he was at some sort of sick stalemate between himself and, well, himself.

"I'm not doing anything, I'm just standing here." Arthur uttered quietly, his eyes never once leaving his servant's. "Merlin, let me help you. Whatever is happening, I can help. Just lower the sword."

"Can't." The smallest shake of his head accompanied the word and sweat began to drip down the boy's temple as Merlin's hand twitched and the sword pressed more firmly against the prince's throat.

"Merlin—"

"Fight." The warlock gasped, the pain in his head nearly blinding as he blinked quickly.

"What?"

"Fight.. back.." Merlin's breath came out short and fast, and he felt his resolve growing weaker.

He was losing control over himself, the pain and the rage were fighting for control over his mind and Merlin knew he was running out of time. Oh God. He was about to kill Arthur Pendragon.

"Fight." He forced out again, almost begging now as Arthur's eyes narrowed.

"I'm not going to fight you, Merlin. You don't even know how to fight. Just lower the sword and we'll discuss whatever this is." The sound of pounding footsteps echoed behind them, and Arthur's eyes closed for the briefest moment. "This is about to get a lot worse." He murmured a single second before his chamber door flew open and Uther was storming into the room.

From where Merlin stood he could see it all. Arthur standing in front of him, his arms partially raised in defense while a sword was pointed at his throat and blood dripped from his hand. Off to the boy's right and near the door stood three guards, the King of Camelot, and Gaius.

"Arthur!" Uther yelled, his eyes darting between his son and the servant before landing on the sword as Arthur stiffened for the first time. "One of the guards found me and told me what was happening after he came to check on you. He said your servant knocked into another guard down in the armory and was muttering something about finding you while carrying your sword."

"Everything is fine, Father."

"Everything is not fine! Go stop him!" With a wave of his hand Uther gestured the guards forward only for Arthur's hand to thrust out as well.

"No! Stay where you are!"

"Arthur—"

"Sire, if I may.." Gaius interrupted, taking a cautious step forward and throwing a glance toward his ward. The sword Merlin held never wavered, but the warlock swallowed thickly as sweat rolled down his neck.

Hurry.. Hurry..

"I believe that Merlin may be cursed, or perhaps enchanted. He has not acted in his usual manner today, and I assure you that on any normal occasion he would never hold a sword against the prince."

"Yet here he is doing just that! I don't care if he is cursed or not, he is endangering my son!"

"Father, I'm fine." Arthur spoke, his voice loud enough to cut through the conversation.

"You're not fine you're bleeding!"

"Merlin won't hurt me." Arthur said firmly, letting his gaze drift back to his servant's as Merlin stared in awe.

How could he be so sure? Even Merlin himself wasn't certain what was going to happen or what he might do. Another spike of pain shot through the boy's head and the rage began to build again. Even now Arthur was commanding him and his moves.

"Merlin won't hurt me."

The warlock held a sword to the prince's throat and the royal was still dictating everything he did. The sword pressed tighter into Arthur's skin and the blond winced at the motion.

"Enough of this!" Uther yelled, his voice furious. "Do what you must, take him down!"

"Don't!" Arthur shouted, swallowing once as his hands balled into fists. "Do not come any closer."

"Arthur, you cannot allow this madness to continue!" Uther scowled as Merlin tried yet again to blink the pain and fury away.

"He will not hurt me." Arthur assured, his voice lowering as he caught Merlin's eye. "Please, just leave this to me." Relaxing his shoulders, Arthur let out a slow breath. "It's alright. Just lower the sword."

Another command. Always commanding. The sword cut further into the prince's skin and a thin trail of crimson began dripping down his neck, rolling until it stained the collar of his tunic. Yet the man didn't respond, his eyes remained on Merlin's and his voice stayed in control.

"Please, Merlin. Just lower the sword." Heaving out a trembling breath, Merlin's hand shook and Arthur grimaced as the blade widened the cut along his throat.

"Go, go!" Uther hissed, waving the guards forward as the men stepped closer, slowly drawing their weapons as panic made the warlock's heart race.

"Father—"

"Arthur, this is over."

"He chose a sword!" Arthur's voice came out loud and wavering, the control slipping from his tone as fear caught in the man's eyes. Was it fear for Merlin, or for himself? The warlock wasn't sure, but his chest ached to see it.

"What?" Confusion lingered in Uther's question, and Arthur sucked in a breath as he kept his eyes trained on the boy.

Merlin knew he needed to do something. He was running out time. But time for what? What was his end goal here? To kill Arthur or to save him? God, his head was throbbing. Why couldn't he think clearly?

"What does choosing a sword have to do with anything?" The king demanded as Arthur's mouth barely lifted into a smirk similar to before.

"Because he can't use a sword."

"I don't follow." Uther scowled, throwing his hands up in exasperation as the guards crept closer.

Time. Running out of time. Magic. He could use his magic.

"Merlin can't fight with a sword. If he wanted to kill me, to truly kill me, he could've poisoned me or killed me in my sleep. Instead he chose a weapon he cannot use well and one that I am proficient in. Gaius is right, he must be enchanted."

Catching his breath, Merlin's grip on the sword barely loosened. He couldn't kill Arthur. He wouldn't.

But his magic.

"I ca.. n't hold.. it.." Merlin whispered, the rage simmering as his arm trembled.

"You've done well enough." Arthur barely nodded, grimacing as the sword cut into him further.

They were seconds away from irreparable damage, either to the prince or to the warlock himself. Arthur needed to fight back, he needed to do something. Yet all the prince did was lower his arms. Was he surrendering? A sick sense of accomplishment rushed through Merlin at the thought.

It would be so easy to end things now. Never to hear him insult him again, to mock or to laugh at him. One swipe and it would be over. Hell, he didn't even need the sword. With his magic it would be as simple as—

"Sorry about this." Arthur spoke quietly, barely giving the boy time to blink before the prince was moving.

In one swift motion the royal's arm flew up and caught the side of the sword, shoving the blade away as he lunged forward and swung out his other arm, his elbow catching Merlin's jaw. The blow jarred the warlock and sent him stumbling backwards as the weapon fell from his grasp.

For a moment the pain and the rage disappeared, and Merlin stood hunched over as Arthur strode forward and shot his fist out, punching the boy and sending him to the ground. Merlin hit the floor hard, the world spinning around as his thoughts spiraled and darkness began to creep in.

As he faded, the boy saw the guards closing in on him, and Uther's voice echoed loudly all around him. "Take him to the dungeons."

Merlin's eyes were starting to close when the guards froze and Arthur's boot stepped in front of the boy, shielding the warlock from the men. "No." Arthur's voice sounded far away, distant, and Merlin felt himself drifting away. "He needs Gaius, not a cell."

The last thing the warlock heard was Arthur fighting for him. Not mocking, or insulting, or laughing. But protecting.

Merlin woke to the scent of lavender and sage burning strong, and the soft crackling of a fire in a hearth. The cot beneath him wasn't the most comfortable, but the throbbing of his head was enough to distract him from anything else.

Drawing in a slow, steady breath as a wave of nausea struck him, Merlin opened his eyes and shifted his head to the side. Sitting in the chair next to him with his head down and arms braced against his knees was Arthur. A bandage was wrapped around his left arm and his right hand, and he seemed lost in thought.

"You really needn't stay, Arthur." Gaius' voice filtered in, and Merlin's gaze sluggishly drifted to the hearth where his guardian's back was turned while he stirred something in a pot.

"And if he wakes and becomes violent again when I leave? No, I'll wait." Arthur sighed, slowly sitting up only to freeze when he met Merlin's tired eyes. "Well, I see you're alive then." The prince uttered dryly, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest as Merlin blinked and let his eyes wander over the prince again.

He'd missed it when he was leaning forward, but now that he was leaning back the warlock had full view of the bandage around the royal's neck where the sword had cut into him. Unable to stop himself from grimacing at the man's injuries, Arthur only nodded once.

"I take it you don't feel the need to kill me anymore, then?" He asked sternly as Merlin's fingers curled into the blanket beneath him.

"Arthur—"

"Or Gaius? You didn't try to kill him, but I dread to think what you might've done after you were finished with me."

Dropping his gaze, a lump began to form in the warlock's throat as he tried to find the words. "I-I'm sorry, Arthur." He murmured, barely daring to look up only to find a smirk on the blond's face.

"Relax, Merlin. I'm merely giving you a hard time. Gaius explained you were under a spell."

Shifting his gaze from the prince to the physician, Merlin stared at the elder who nodded once. "Under a spell?"

"It's happened enough times to me that I can't exactly hold it against you. However I suppose we can both be grateful for your utter lack of competence when it comes to weaponry." Arthur stated as Merlin barely shook his head.

"But I don't understand—"

"It's not of importance right now." Gaius cut in, barely shaking his head in warning.

"Regardless of what it was or how it happened, you fought it well. I'm actually rather impressed."

"I couldn't fight it though." Merlin shook his head weakly, pushing his hands beneath him and forcing himself to sit up. Why was he so exhausted all of a sudden? "Arthur I.. I never meant to hurt or betray you."

"You didn't." Standing up from his chair, Arthur's hand ran down the bandage along his arm. "I trust you, Merlin. You wouldn't be lying here if I didn't. I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me. Or that you really even could." The man was strangely earnest for once, and the warlock was left staring as the royal maneuvered himself around the physician's cluttered space.

"Get some rest, tomorrow you'll be making up for all of this." The prince stated, his smirk growing dangerously close to a smile before he turned and strode for the door, lifting his hand over his shoulder into a farewell as he left.

Several seconds passed in silence before Merlin looked to his guardian. "Are you alright?" The boy asked warily, watching as the elder eased himself into the newly vacated chair by the warlock's side. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, Merlin, you didn't." The elder assured him, stretching out a weathered hand and resting it on his ward's arm.

"Gaius, what happened to me?"

"I was hoping you could shed some light on that matter." The physician sighed, drawing back as Merlin's fingers fidgeted.

"I don't know, but it was awful. I couldn't control myself, my body just kept moving on its own. And my thoughts were so violent, even when I tried to calm myself down."

"And you've no idea what caused it?"

Shaking his head, Merlin shrugged. "My day was as normal as ever until that happened."

"I looked through your room earlier, and that tunic you were wearing, it was covered in something."

"Arthur's lunch." The boy mumbled, dragging his fingers across his forehead. "I dropped his dishes in the hall earlier and got it all over me."

"Not just his lunch." Gaius shook his head, pulling out a small vial filled with a white powder from his side. "I managed to get a small sample, and Merlin, I have to tell you that I don't entirely know what this is."

"You don't?" Leaning closer, Merlin took the vial and held it up to the candlelight. There was barely any inside, but he did recognize it from earlier.

"Merlin, this is very old magic. From the cursed scarf you had weeks ago to this—"

"I thought you said you didn't know what it was?"

"I don't know the exact ingredients, no." The elder sighed, leaning back and folding his hands together. "But I recognized the scent. A mix of nightshade and edgewood ash, among other things."

"Ash?" Frowning, Merlin passed the vial back.

"As I said, it's very old magic. I don't believe you were enchanted, exactly, but your emotions were certainly influenced by what you breathed in. That's why I've got a solution burning, forcing it through your system. You're lucky that you were able to fight this as you were. Arthur was right to be impressed."

"I almost didn't." Merlin murmured, looking back to his lap.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean.." Taking a deep breath, Merlin looked up at the ceiling. "I almost used my magic, Gaius. I was just so angry at Arthur, and you. At everything and everyone. I know you said my emotions were influenced but that anger, it felt.. justified."

"Merlin, this is not the first time you've been targeted with magic." Gaius spoke carefully, eyeing his ward as if he expected to be attacked again.

"I know."

"First you were cursed, now this. You're lucky it wasn't worse than it was."

"I know, Gaius."

"The question that remains is who is doing all of this?" At the question Merlin froze, his breath catching in his lungs. "Do you know who is causing all this trouble?"

The boy's mind drifted back to the cursed scarf and his blood ran cold. He'd never told him. Never once had Merlin admitted to Gaius about the tower, or the Court Sorcerer, or meeting the Court Sorcerer, or the scarf. But how could he now? After all that happened, after all the time that had passed.

"N-No." Merlin spoke with a weak shake of his head. "I don't. But Gaius, that crystal. Everything it showed me, what if this is just the beginning?"

"I already told you, Merlin. The future is ours to shape."

"But something is coming, I can feel it." Merlin uttered quietly, staring at his hands. "Something big. Something.. something inescapable."

The Court Sorcerer. The dragon. And something else. Something close to him, weighing at the back of his mind his whole life. In the coming weeks he already knew, nothing was going to be the same again.

Whatever happened today, whatever had plagued his mind and taken over his body, it was just the start. The Court Sorcerer was testing Merlin, trying to see what he was capable of, and he'd made it clear he didn't care who got hurt in the process.

A/N

This is one of those story ideas that I have had from close to the beginning that I have just been WAITING to use, so I hope I did it justice! I have so many things planned for the end of the season two arc and I'm really excited for you all to read it!

I'm so glad to be back in my writing action, and I'm hoping to get one more story in before the New Year. But for now, Merry Christmas to you all, and Happy Holidays! I would love any reviews you'd like to give, and I hope you all have a great couple of weeks! ^-^