Title: Heads and Tales: Prologue
Author: Hermitknut
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: PG at the moment, might become PG-13 or even 15 at a later date.
Warnings: Slash.
Summary: Merlin and Arthur; two names that are heard together throughout history. But both are falling into easily laid traps as well as love, and it seems that they might not ever reach their destiny.
Disclaimer: Not mine – if it was then I wouldn't be posting on here, now, would I?
Mylan frowned in concentration as he sat cross-legged in his tent, trying to relax. The sounds of the children playing and the other druids working faded and blurred into a background hum as he sank into meditation, the fumes from the potion on the ground before him enveloping him gently.
After a few minutes the surface of the potion shimmered from black into the outline of a shadowed face. Mylan tried to draw his focus closer, to get more detail from the picture, but there was a call outside and his attention shattered. Trying not to feel annoyed, he got carefully to his feet and made his way out of his tent.
Outside, the little camp had gone very quiet. Standing at the edge of the forest was a young man, a bundle of clothes on his back. His posture was hesitant, nervous, and Mylan could see why: the other druids had stopped everything that they had been doing to stare at him warily. Mylan took a step forward, and saw the boy's head turn towards him. He raised his hands peaceably.
"Welcome," Mylan said calmly. "Are you lost? We are more than happy to help you on your way."
There was a pause. Mylan knew that there were those who disapproved of welcoming every stranger with open arms, but he believed it was the only way to convince the rest of the world that their kind were not the evil murderers they were seen as.
"I'm not lost," the boy said quietly. "I was looking for you…" he hesitated before continuing unsurely. "I have nowhere to live, and I was wondering if…" he trailed off again, looking a little scared. Mylan glanced around at the others, wondering what to say. They were normally happy to take in strays, but it was getting more and more dangerous to trust strangers since Uther Pendragon's latest wave of witch-hunting.
"Why should we trust you?" a voice from the back spoke up. The boy turned to look, but couldn't pick out who had spoken. He shrugged nervously.
"It's your decision," he said softly. "If you won't take me in, I'll just travel onwards."
He was more confident than he appeared, Mylan thought, but it was more as though he had rehearsed these words than as though he actually knew any more than he said.
"Why take shelter with the most hunted people in the land?" Mylan asked gently, curiously. "What have you left behind, that this is a better and safer place?"
At this the boy gave a half-smile.
"I flee Camelot, and King Uther," he said quietly, "for he will not have sorcerers in his kingdom."
Mylan raised his eyebrows and heard a flurry of whispers among the rest of the druids. This changed things.
"You're a sorcerer?" he asked curiously, surprised. The boy seemed decidedly ordinary – and although Mylan knew that appearances could be deceiving, he still found it hard to believe that the boy had any kind of magic.
The boy nodded. Mylan made his decision.
"Then you are welcome here," he said. "Come through, we'll find you somewhere to stay."
Jethar volunteered to share his tent with the newcomer, and Mylan gave him a grateful if unsurprised nod. The two boys were around the same age, and would hopefully get along well. As everyone made their way back to their tents and their tasks, Mylan realised something with a start. He turned and called after the boy.
"What is your name, friend?" he asked. The others were quiet, listening. There was a pause and then the boy gave another nervous half-smile.
"My name is Merlin."
*
Just a brief prologue - reviews are deeply, deeply appreciated and will be replied to. Thanks!
Hazel
