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"If I can't use magic, I might as well die."
Merlin storms out of the room and flops on his bed. What does Gaius know, anyway? If he'd ever used magic, it was over twenty years ago. He's lived his life as a Physician, catering to the brutal and the demanding like the King and his sodding son. Merlin doesn't have that luxury. He can't just sit idly by and watch as the ones with power treat everyone around them with such cruelty.
He's only been in Camelot for two days, if that even, and it already feels like a lifetime. He won't survive here, and he knows it.
His thoughts divert towards Arthur. The Prince. Merlin releases an exasperated sigh, annoyed with himself for being intrigued by the prat. The bloody Prince who harasses innocent being, but then he has the audacity to tell Merlin that there was something about him that was just-- Just what? Merlin has no idea. Of course, there's something about Arthur that's just...so, also.
He's a fool, Merlin is. He needs to stop his train of thought before it goes anywhere. He closes his eyes and groans again. Why did his mum have to send him all the way here to Camelot?
Gaius walks into the room, no doubt to yell at Merlin some more.
"Merlin? Sit up and take your shirt off."