AN: This plot bunny just popped into my brain and wouldn't go away. Yes, even when I set my cat on it.
Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter or Merlin. Don't sue me, because there's no way you'll get any decent money out of it, even if you magically won.
With that out of the way, enjoy the story! (HintHint-REVIEW!-HintHint)
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Of Swords and Scars
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- Prologue -
It had just been a perfectly ordinary day.
In retrospect, Merlin was to realise that it was, obviously, that wonderful type of ordinary day where everything inevitably goes to hell. He really shouldn't have expected anything different, judging by past experiences. After all, he'd had a lot of those types of days.
They weren't, in fact, attacked by any evil sorcerers, nor by any of the vicious magical beasts which always just happened to lurk right where they were going. They hadn't even been hunting. Not that Arthur wasn't itching to – the (relatively) new King hadn't been out of the castle since his half-sister invaded it.
That was precisely the problem.
The Southrons really had made a complete mess of the armoury, not to mention depleting the food supplies to almost half their original amount; many of the houses in the Lower Town had been completely burnt to the ground, and most of the horses and livestock had been killed or freed by fleeing enemies.
It really was just petty vengeance on their part, Merlin couldn't help but think. Most of the knights were fine, despite some being kept in a dungeon for a fortnight. They were having the time of their lives, hunting the stragglers of Morgana's forces. It was the servants who had the most work to do. Rearming the castle was bad enough, even without Arthur deciding that now would be the best moment possible for a wedding. Merlin could see why Arthur didn't want to wait; but it didn't stop his back aching something awful even as he stood tall to honour the new Queen.
Which is why, after a month's toil rebuilding Camelot, organising a royal wedding and the not-insignificant task of cleaning the royal prat's chambers, Merlin thought he was perfectly justified in taking some time for himself on his day off.
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As the morning sun gently illuminated the castellated towers of Camelot, a cool spring breeze rustled the straw-thatched roofs of the buildings in the Lower Town. Most of the work rebuilding the peasants' homes had been completed, or at least finished to the extent in which they were now inhabitable; nevertheless, those passing through could still see some of the burnt-out shacks left over from the invasion. The streets were bustling, filled with people; one could easily miss a single skinny figure wading through the stream of workers towards the citadel.
Many approached the young manservant as he darted through the city gates, and Merlin greeted every one cheerfully by name. He had made it a point upon arrival in the city to get to know everyone he came across, and remained on friendly terms with all manners of people. Even the guards, recently returned from hiding out in the Forest of Ascetir, gave him a friendly nod as he passed by. Merlin returned the nod; although he couldn't help but think that they might not be quite so friendly if they ever discovered how many times he had knocked them out.
This excursion, unlike the many times in which he had snuck out of Camelot, was for quite an innocent purpose; by Merlin's standards, at least. Under pretence of gathering herbs for Gaius, he had spent the morning searching the woods for certain herbs which he needed for his own studies. After a full month spending his every waking moment hard at work, he was looking forward to completing an experiment he had planned for months.
A slammed door and a shout of greeting were his only acknowledgement of his mentor, as Merlin sped past the physician towards his own room. Gaius had enough work to do, being the Court Physician. It was a miracle that he himself had recovered so well from his month of incarceration. He and Merlin had barely seen each other over the past four weeks; but Merlin knew better than to interrupt Gaius when he was tending to a patient.
Merlin sprang up the stairs to his room, closed the door behind him and leaned against it to catch his breath. After a moment's rest, he staggered over to the stool before his desk and collapsed onto it, dropping the herbs onto the desk. He reached down under it, and pulled out a wicker basket; out of which he retrieved a small leather pouch, which he regarded for a moment.
He hesitated slightly. This was not something which he had simply copied out of his Book. Merlin had prepared this entirely by himself; an experiment never attempted before. This was one thing he really did not want to mess up – especially considering its purpose.
Then he shook himself, and undid the ties on the pouch with his long, pale fingers. The contents spilled out onto the desk.
Two thin metal rings rolled to a stop, along with a tiny sand glass which he had procured from Gaius. The rings, one of silver, the other gold, he had bought with his savings from the town blacksmith. He gathered the items into his hands with great care, and placed them on the left side of the desk. He then stood, and took from one of the shelves above his desk a mortar and pestle. There was already a thin powder in the base, from the herbs which Merlin had previously prepared in the little free time he got. This, he poured into another bowl, and replaced with leaves of comfrey gathered that morning, which he ground into a thick paste; he whispered a small enchantment as he worked, to dry the paste into another powder.
After roughly half an hour's work, Merlin stopped. With aching hands, he poured this new powder in with the combined herb powders he had previously prepared, shaking the bowl slightly to mix them together. He pulled from another shelf a small bottle labelled Essence of Bladderwrack (Two gold pieces it had cost him!), along with a thin glass pipette out of a wooden box. Carefully, he dripped exactly three drops of liquid into the powder. He then took the bowl into his hands.
This was the most important part.
Quietly, he began to chant.
"Cume þoden. Hine on ylde eft gewunigen wilgesiþas, þonne wig cume…"
His eyes were burning. The power was building; hot fire burning through his veins. The magic strained against his will – it wanted to act now. This was why he was the first; the sheer power hurt. He had to channel the magic into the powder…
"Astyre! Bedyrne ús! Astýre ús þanonweard æ!
With a gasp, he released the flood; the power thundered through him; he was on fire! It was threatening to spill out into the air; with a monumental effort he contained it, controlled it; it flowed through his hands into the bowl…
The powder sparked, and then burned a brilliant white. The bowl glowed red-hot; he released it with a gasp, so it fell onto the desk (thankfully not breaking!); he sat there, watching as the powder cooled, his chest heaving.
He had done it.
With shaking hands, he tried to pick up the small sand glass and nearly dropped it. More carefully, he grasped it in his left hand (Don't squeeze too hard or it'll break!...). The top was already open; he'd seal it up afterwards. He painstakingly poured a small amount of the powder into the sand glass, careful not to spill any of it. The excess, he emptied into an unused glass vial, on which he drew a rune of protection with his finger. Best not to leave any of it lying around.
Then he gathered up the two metal rings.
The silver, he held in place around the sand glass; the gold, around the outside of the silver. He had been careful to ask the blacksmith for the golden ring to be slightly larger – to fail, due to such a small mistake, would be unthinkable… he carefully pictured the desired result in his mind, and spoke.
"Ic geáne!"
A small part on each end of the silver ring fused to the hourglass, leaving it free to spin; the gold ring fused in the same manner to the silver; a small blob of gold poked out at each end – a miniscule knob, with which to spin the device.
It was complete.
Merlin sat back, exhausted; nonetheless, he felt an enormous smile spread across his face. This was it – the culmination of a year's research, experimentation, failures and breakthroughs… and he had finally done it. He felt a giggle bubble up inside him; it broke through his lips and grew into a full-out laugh. Hah!
CRASH.
The slamming of the door opening took him entirely by surprise – out of instinct, long habit and unspoken fears, he caused the book on the bed to fall shut and the sheets to cover it, and looked up.
Oh, of course. Of all the times King Prat could choose to barge in, it would be now.
"Merlin! Of all the days you could choose to be your usual lazy self, it would be today! I had a meeting this morning; you were meant to wake me up! Or was that too difficult for you?"
"Arthur-"
"-I swear, sometimes I think you must have been dropped on your head at birth; you had to choose today to forget-"
"Arthur-"
"-I mean, really, how difficult is it for you to remember one simple thing-"
"ARTHUR!"
Arthur stopped, a look of mingled fury and surprise on his face.
"It's my day off!"
Silence.
Arthur looked abashed. "Oh."
"Yep."
"I must have, er, forgotten, then-"
"Yep."
Now he was looking extremely embarrassed.
In all honesty, Merlin couldn't blame him. The servants might have had a lot more physical work to do; but Arthur, the King, the one in charge of everything, had been spending every waking moment fending off enquiries from the stores managers and armoury masters, and organising the offensive against some straggler Southrons who had been camped out in the Forest of Ascetir, and reassuring the people of Camelot, and preparing to marry Gwen, and everything else under the sun, practically. Really, Merlin was surprised he hadn't gone mad. It had been painful enough just watching him.
That didn't stop him from being annoyed at the lack of an apology.
"Is that all, then?" he enquired patiently.
"Er, well – are you busy?" Arthur asked, rather sheepishly.
Merlin looked at him blankly. What was he supposed to say? He could hardly admit to- don't panic. You're used to this, remember?
"Well, I was looking forward to spending a little time with Mary in the kitchens-"
"Alright, alright!" spoke up Arthur hurriedly. "I've got no interest in – well, that-"
Merlin could hardly stop himself from snorting. It was a good thing for him that Arthur paid so little attention to the names of kitchen staff. Flirting with the cook, Mary, would be like asking a Questing Beast to bite his head off.
"But seriously – I mean, what are you doing there? Those herbs, I mean-" Arthur started towards the table.
Merlin could barely stop his eyes from widening. "No, no, no, you don't want to look at that-" he darted up, trying to put himself between Arthur and the desk.
"Oh, come on, Merlin, I'm only curious. I mean, that gold sand glass thing-" Arthur's hand reached out.
"No, Arthur!"
His hand knocked the sand glass.
It started to spin.
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To be continued.