Magic is not good or evil. Magic simply is. It exists in the world to help balance it. The wielder always thinks that he is doing what is best, and thus thinks he is a force of good. The people, then, are left to judge his decision, and can proclaim it to be evil. But who are we to judge what the ultimate Truth of the situation is? Should the opinions of the masses outweigh that of an individual? The winners write the events of history, but should they be crowned the ultimate bringers of wisdom and truth?
Also – Merlin isn't mine =.
He could feel the cold wind all around, searching for a way to get inside his warm bundle of clothes. He could feel the trees sway without breakings, the water seemingly rushing to some end. He could feel it as clearly as he felt his arm wrap around him, trying to keep him warm in the cold night.
His mind was set, that much Emrys knew. No longer could he live with the Druids, staying out of sight, and following their rules, and simply existing.
He loved his tribe, loved the people as if they were his own, and perhaps if he was a little younger when they found him, he would've never thought to question this lifestyle. Perhaps then, he would be content with staying here forever. He still remembered that night in the woods. He had wandered away from his village, his mother, and gotten lost. Scared, young and alone, he tried to make heads or tails of where he was, but nothing seemed to give him even an inkling as to which direction he could take.
When the darkness seemed endless, he curled up under a tree, hoping that the night would be kind to him, and morning would see him back home. Instead, he heard a voice calling out his name.
He followed it, allowing the comfort it brought to guide his way. The voice belonged to a dragon, and though he knew he should be afraid, he couldn't find it in his heart to fear the creature. Instead, he let its majestic grace envelop him. The dragon spoke words the young sorcerer couldn't quite understand; he was only a young boy at a time. But the warning stuck with him, and he found himself unable to forget a single word that it said.
Just as the dragon said, a few moments after it took its leave, a young Druid had came out of the woods, offering Emrys shelter and a place to call home. They told Emrys that this would be a place he would be safe, but most importantly, a place he was free to be himself. They offered to help him with his magic, to enhance and better his abilities without the constant fear of exposure and isolation.
He went willingly; the promises were too great to ignore.
And he stayed, for many years, content and happy in his new home.
But all of that changed tonight.
You, the dragon had told him, you have a great destiny ahead of you. You are but one side of a coin, and to be whole, you must find the other half. One day, you will find yourself at a crossroad. And that's when you will have to make a choice; a choice that will decide your path. That which has come to past cannot be undone, and yet not all hope is lost.
Last night, he was woken up by a commotion outside. Someone was being brought it; a solder wounded by bandits that sometimes roamed the forests looking for easy pickings. Early in the morning, word spread like wildfire – the man was none other than Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther, prince of Camelot.
To help him would be to help Uther, a man responsible for the slaughter of many innocents. To do nothing would be murder. Everyone seemed to have an idea as to what they should do with the poor prince. A council was gathered to decide his fate.
Emrys spent the day away from the commotion of the campsite. Instead, he found the stream that he often visited when he needed a place to get away from everyone, the dragon's words still ringing clearly in his ears. He knew that whatever the council would decide, he wouldn't like it. But how could he turn his back on the people that gave him a home? The people who had sheltered him, and accepted him just as he was, ones who never seemed to ask anything of him?
What troubled Emrys the most, however, wasn't the choice in front of him. It was the fact that no matter what he thought, or how he tried to fool himself, he knew he had already made the choice. He knew he would help Arthur, he just didn't know why.
And that was unsettling.
When he was certain that almost everyone would be asleep, Emrys made his way back to the camp, making his way towards the tent he knew the prince would be in. He didn't cross paths with anyone, and he was thankful for that one, small favor.
He spotted Arthur on a bunk in the corner, looking pale, but alive. His chest was bandaged, but it didn't look like he was too badly off. Quickly, he cast a silencing spell around them, and went about trying to gather some basic medical supplies, just in case the prince got worse before he could get him to Camelot.
Upon finding everything, he walked over to Arthur, shaking him awake.
Emrys had to keep Arthur down, because the second the man's eyes fluttered open, he was trying to sit up, and would've surely ripped open the stitches.
"Prince Arthur, I mean you no harm. I want to help you get out of here, but you're still hurt, so you have to be careful."
Arthur was gaping, and not quite sure whether he had died, or perhaps simply hallucinating, because there, in front of him, was Merlin.
He was resisting every urge in him not to hug the boy, demanding to know what had happened, where Merlin went off to, and why the bloody hell he disappeared in the first place. Luckily, his mind caught up with him before he had a chance to act, realizing the way Merlin had addressed him. Prince Arthur. He couldn't remember his servant ever calling him that when they were alone. Not to mention him saying that he meant no harm. Of course he didn't, he was Merlin for god's sake.
Later, he told himself, the questions can come later, after they're out of whatever mess they seem to be in. For now, he simply nodded, getting up slowly. He could feel his shoulder coming alive, feel where the arrow went through his skin. It had hurt, and Arthur tried his best not to focus on the blazing heat that seemed to spread throughout his chest.
Silently, he took the shoulder Merlin offered as help, not trusting himself to utter a word. The pain was making his head swim, and Merlin's reappearance didn't help clear it any. He tried not to dwell on it. Maybe it was a fever playing tricks on him. Maybe they gave him something that was making him see things as they weren't.
Don't get your hopes up, he told himself, instead focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.
Left.
Right.
Left.
Right.
Arthur wasn't sure how long they had walked for, but when they finally reached wherever they were going, he happily slumped against a wall. Upon closer inspection, he realized that they were in some sort of caves. Arthur knew he should pay more attention, attempt to secure some sort of weapon, anything to not be as defenseless as he was now, but he couldn't.
"I'm going to place some protective runes around the camp," Merlin said, handing Arthur a sword, "I don't know if you feel up to it, but at least this way you have something to protect yourself with just in case."
Arthur took the weapon, placing it next to him. As Merlin turned to walk away, Arthur called out to him. A familiar smirk crossed warmed Arthur's heart, though he should've known better then to expect comfort in a cave in the middle of nowhere.
"My name's Emrys," the boy said over his shoulder, before making his way farther into the woods.
Arthur was glad the Merlin, or Emrys, couldn't see the look of utter confusion on his face. For once, he was at a complete loss as to what was going on around him. Why was Merlin acting like he didn't know Arthur? Why was he acting like a complete stranger?
He thought back to almost a year ago, when Merlin had first gone missing. One day, Merlin was just… Gone. No one knew where he went, or what happened. The servant had simply vanished from Camelot. Arthur went on searching parties (of course, Uther wouldn't allow his son to go off on a search for a servant, but the king didn't protest to Arthur taking his knights out for a hunt in the woods). Many of them would get "sick", which of course meant that Gaius would tell them to rest, and not be bothered (which would in turn lead to sneaking out of the castle and searching for Merlin).
It was after the first two months passed that Arthur was told the full extent of Merlin's abilities, by a very reluctant Gaius, who was convinced by Lancelot that the prince should be made aware of Merlin's enemies. Arthur searched even harder then, the thought of Merlin being stuck in a dungeon and tortured for his power haunting him every night.
But as the months rolled by, the hope of finding Merlin alive had seemed to grow dimmer and dimmer. It would be foolish of them to not consider the alternatives – that Merlin had left of his own free will, or that he had been killed. No one questioned the servant's loyalties, of course, but time lessened their hopes of seeing their friend alive and well.
This time, Arthur was out on a routine patrol. He had three guards with him, since their only task had been to investigate a disturbance and report back. They were attacked from behind, and the battle had mostly been a blur to Arthur. He could remember killing the last of them before blood loss must've overtaken him. After that, he could only remember Merlin waking him up.
He was starting to nod off by the time Merlin returned, and had to force his eyes to stay open.
"How are you feeling?"
"I feel like I should be asking you the same question," Arthur answered back, trying to sit up a bit straighter. Cave walls were definitely not made for leaning against. "Merlin, what's going on? Where have you been?"
Merlin reached over, checking to see if Arthur had a fever.
"You don't seem to be feverish," Merlin commented, mostly to himself. "I'm not Merlin, my name is Emrys."
"Yes, I know, that's what the druids call you, Gaius told me."
"Gaius…" Merlin muttered, the name sounding familiar. So did Merlin, for that matter, but he couldn't quite place where he had heard them before.
"You've been missing for a year now," Arthur continued, "We've all been worried sick."
Merlin shook his head, "Listen, you must have me confused with somebody. My name is Emrys, and I've been with the druids for the past ten years."
"No, your name is Merlin. The Druids called you Emrys. And don't give me that look, I'm not crazy, nor am I feverish."
Merlin looked the prince over, trying to figure out what was going on. "Are you sure you're not simply confusing me with this 'Merlin'? Some people do look alike."
"I've known you for three years, there's no way I'd confuse those ears," Arthur said in reply.
"I'm pretty sure I'd remember meeting the prince of Camelot…"
"Merlin, you didn't just meet me," Arthur said, "You were my servant, my friend."
Merlin laughed, "Now I know you're sick. Why would a prince be friends with a servant?"
"Well it surely wasn't your winning personality. Your skills as a manservant were almost nonexistent. Your coordination also seemed to be lacking. And some of the excused you made, dear god, I can't believe I didn't think to question them."
"Oh, don't be such a prat," Merlin joked, but quickly noticed the sudden change on Arthur's face, "Sor-"
"Nothing like that, you've said worse," Arthur explained. "It's just been a long time since you called me a prat."
"First time you met me," Arthur looked up to meet Merlin's gaze, "I was being a major prat. You called me out on it, and I send you to the dungeons for that. Our second meeting the next morning, you stood by your words, challenging me to a fight. It was the most stupid thing ever, but there's was just something about you I couldn't shake. You saved my life that night, and my father decided that the proper reward for that was for you to be my manservant."
"You're not making this up, are you?" Merlin asked, noticing how sincere Arthur looked. Arthur shook his head. "But I'm a sorcerer!"
"You hid it well," Arthur answered simply. "I didn't find out until after you were gone. It didn't really matter, you were my friend. You can't change who you are, and magic is a part of you. It makes you, you."
Merlin shook his head, "But I don't remember any of this. As far as I know, I've been with the Druids for the past decade, and today's the first time I've met you!"
"Then why did you help me?"
Merlin stayed quiet. He didn't have an answer to that question. All he knew was that he was willing to help the prince without hesitation, and if Arthur wasn't lying, well that urge suddenly made more sense.
"You need your rest," Merlin said instead, "Helena is a powerful healer, but even she can't beat the power of rest."
Lying down, Arthur tried to get comfortable. A part of him wanted to stay awake, to keep talking to Merlin, trying to get him to remember. But his body did need the rest, no matter what magics the Druids performed. He was certain Merlin needed time to think, as well. So he let his eyes close, hoping that the morning would bring some good news.
Merlin, on the other hand, stayed awake, watching over Arthur as he drifted off to bed. He stared off into the darkness, hoping it would bring some clarity.
He wished he could just disregard everything Arthur had said. He could find a ton – well, a couple, of reasons why Arthur would be lying to him. But his gut was telling him that it was the truth, and as such couldn't be ignored. But only one set of events could be true. He couldn't have spent his life with the Druids and been Arthur's servant at the same time.
If Arthur was telling the truth, then for the past year he's been missing from Camelot, and his memories were probably true. But that would mean that the Druids had used some kind of magic on him, something to alter his memories, and it was hard to believe. They were so kind to him, why would they do something so evil?
Merlin shook his head, trying to physically knock the thoughts out of his head. There had to be an explanation for this, he was sure. For now, all he could do was get the prince to Camelot. After that, he will figure out where he'll go from there. For now, he really should be sleeping.
He reached out with his magic, checking that all the runes were still in place. Adding a simple alert spell, he too settled on the floor of the cave, closing his eyes.
Hope I didn't confuse anyone too much with switching from using Emrys in narrations, to switching to Merlin.