723249 FINAL DRAFT
The Return of The Once and Future King
Evie Buxton was not a normal girl. It wasn't that she didn't live a normal life; at seventeen she had her daily routine set and it was doubtful that it was much different than anyone else's. Except one slight detour she took on her way to college every day. That probably wasn't normal.
But, then again, Evie was not a normal girl.
Evie was what the majority would call delusional and the minority would call psychic.
If you asked her, she was just overly attuned to the workings of the world.
Unlike most people, Evie could still feel the remnants of the Earth's magic from eras ago humming beneath its surface. Like a sixth sense, she could feel magic buzzing in every life form - from the trees to the rivers to the ground she walked on; magic was at the core of everything.
But, for Evie, that was normal.
As was the man she visited every day.
Now, to the rest of the world, this man was not normal either.
He lived in a rickety old hut that barely appeared to be holding itself together, next to an ancient lake that people were weary of going near - rumours of spirits chasing people away in the same way they chased the wind as it brushed across the lakes surface. Alone in his hut and rarely ever venturing into town, the man lived in a state or perpetual loneliness; people assumed he was at least a little bit insane.
Evie thought different.
Where to the rest of the world the man's hut was dilapidated, to Evie it was an unbreakable stronghold held together by the memories and magic of a man out of his time. Where to the rest of the world the man was lonely, to Evie he was content with how he spent his life. Where to the rest of the world the man was insane, to Evie he was magic; she could sense it like electricity in his skin, the magic of the Earth singing in tandem with his own.
There was one thing about the man that Evie actually considered strange though, one most seemed not to notice, probably because they avoided him like a cat did water; he never aged. From the moment she had met him ten years prior the man had not aged a day; his appearance remained that of an old man, long white hair and beard never growing, no new wrinkles ever finding purchase on his skin, back always slightly hunched. It was as if the man existed in a state of unexplainable stasis.
This was a fact Evie had realised when she was still just a child, marvelling at the magic that was always flitting about in her peripherals and fascinated by the man she knew to be magic. It was also this fact that had prompted her trip to see him that first time.
The first time she had visited the man she had found him sitting by the lake, bare feet resting by the edge but toes never touching the water, and long hair remaining perfectly still despite the wind. She had thought he looked as if he were in a bubble, and for the ten minutes she had stayed and watched him watch the lake, nervous energy fluttering through her body, neither spoke a word.
Actually, neither spoke a word for at least the first twelve visits, though she did eventually move on from watching him to sitting beside him and joining in his vigil of the lake. The silence between them was companionable, comfortable for those first twelve visits - like they had found kindred spirits in each other.
But, as their silent friendship grew, so too did Evie's curiosity.
On her thirteenth visit they spoke for the first time. 'Why do you sit here keeping watch over this lake?' Evie had asked him, voice bell-like in the calm of the area. She kept her eyes on the lake.
The man's eyes had flicked towards her very briefly, before moving back to their watch, 'Because I am waiting.'
'But you've been here for years.'
'Far more than you will ever be able to wrap your mind around, my dear.'
The conversation had ended there but the next day they spoke again.
'Why are you waiting?' This time she had looked at the man as she spoke, childish need to discern his emotions winning out over the quiet respect that had kept her eyes averted before.
A small, nostalgic smile had quirked his thin lips upwards, 'Because I must.'
His vagueness did not actually answer her question at all so instead she asked, 'Why must you wait?'
'Because I will need to be here when my time for waiting is over,' he replied, amusement in his tone that she suspected was directed at her.
Correctly believing that she would not get a straight answer on the subject, Evie had not spoken of it again until she reached the age of fourteen and her curiosity forced her to once again throw caution to the wind.
'What are you waiting for?' her question was slightly out of the blue.
The sad smile from all those years before returned to the man's face, 'Someone very important to me.'
'Who?' she asked, voice almost a whisper as her anticipation grew.
'A friend, a brother,' he answered her, and although the answer was heartfelt Evie could feel herself deflating; that still didn't satisfy her curiosity. She couldn't explain it but a part of her knew there was another, far heavier answer that the man was avoiding uttering, as if he were afraid his hope would be for nothing and saying the words would break the spell he had been living in for an uncountable number of years.
Another couple of years passed before Evie found herself posing the question once more.
This time, as she asked her question, she forced their eyes to lock so that he could not look away, so that he could not lie to her. This time it wasn't just a want for the answer, it was a gut-wrenching need that ripped through her with such a burning desire she almost felt nauseous.
'Who are you waiting for?' she asked, and this time the way the Earth buzzed in anticipation of his response, sucking in a breath and holding it as if everything depended on this one, simple answer, was something she could sense with a strength she had never felt before.
The man studied her for a moment, eyes intense, and it was only in that moment that she realised his eyes were both old and young; they were eyes that had seen far more than their fair share.
'I am waiting for my King,' the man finally replied, voice soft and longing and full of a suffocating sadness. Evie felt the world almost cry in relief as the words left the man's lips. The fact that he had been avoiding the true answer to her question because he had been afraid to make his reason real was more apparent than ever before.
Evie never once bought up the subject again on her visits; having received her answer she felt as if she had done her duty, as if now it was her turn to wait.
She did not have to wait long.
As if her question and the answer she had received had set the cogs of fate in motion, it was only a year later that Evie's waiting came to an end.
She had a part time job as a waitress in a coffee shop that had a small TV playing in the room's corner and, this particular day, her attention was drawn to the news. She stilled in her task of wiping down the tables as the News Anchor's words caught her attention, instilling in her a sense of despair that made her heart stutter in pain.
'Breaking News: Tensions in Iraq are running high and people are fleeing the country with an unprecedented urgency. Last week Britain sent in humanitarian aid to help in the escape and relief efforts of the Iraqi citizens; not a day later a hundred of our people were captured by Iraqi rebels. I warn you now, the video you are about to be shown is distressing; earlier today, on live broadcast, the rebels executed all of their hostages.' The screen flicked over to the recorded atrocity, and Evie's eyes were unblinking as she watched it, the slight tightening of her mouth the only indication she was affected by the clear cruelty being displayed. Barely a minute of the event was shown before the News Anchor was back on screen and talking again, 'Until now no contact had been made by the rebels and tensions continued to grow, but with this new act of aggression it seems the rebels are gunning for war.'
Evie sighed and turned the TV off with a flick of the remote, her eyes drifting closed and her lips quirking into a wistful, ironic smirk as she muttered into the silence of the closed shop, 'Now would be a really good time for the return of The Once and Future King.' Shaking her head, she sighed again and went back to closing the shop.
As she was locking the door she felt a presence, one that made the Earth's magic leap with an overzealous excitement, come up behind her. A brief flash of thought simmered in her mind as she unfalteringly finished her task; Was this the reason she had felt magic's unusual anticipation all day; felt it hovering just beneath the Earth's surface, hushed whispers of a new age - of hope and freedom and peace - spreading through its ranks?
'Excuse me,' the presence said, his voice a pleasant baritone that set the magic crying with joy. His voice resonated with something within her and she turned, her eyes shooting up to his face. It was a beautiful face, flawless in nature and framed by a head of pure golden hair. His clothes were simple, jeans and a shirt that accentuated his muscles fiercely, but he held himself like a knight. Stunningly white teeth were exposed as he lifted his lips in a tentative smile
'You're him,' she said, awe and certainty in her voice; suddenly the increased energy of the world's magic made sense, 'The Once and Future King, you're him. You're...reborn?'
He tilted his head in an act that would have indicated confusion if not for the amusement dancing in his crystal blue eyes, and his charming smile dipped into a smirk that would have been arrogant on anyone else.
'I'm looking for my Warlock,' he said, and again the magic jumped at his voice.
She swallowed and blinked and then, 'Come with me,' she said, anticipation beginning to overwhelm her, the situation not even striking her as odd. He followed without question.
She led the golden man to the old man's hut, the energy of the magic growing so exponentially with every step nearer they took she thought she might drown, if not for the fact the magic also made her feel like she was breathing for the first time.
At the edge of the clearing to the lake she stopped, gesturing the golden man to continue on by himself. This was a moment she was not meant to be a part of; she was an observer, nothing more.
The old man was still sat by the lake, but as the golden man approached his head raised as if he could sense who was nearing him. Slowly, the old man uncurled himself from his position and stood, back cracking in a way that only accentuated how long he had spent waiting by that lake.
Just as slowly he turned to face the golden man.
Their eyes locked and the magic stopped its dance, frozen as if this one, epic moment would sway its course for the rest of eternity.
'Merlin,' the golden man said and suddenly the old man's appearance was changing, the wrinkles shedding off him to reveal young and unblemished skin, the long white hair shortening and melting to a deep, chocolaty brown, the slight disalignment of his spine straightening out until he stood strong and firm and proud once more.
'Arthur,' he said and the magic began to sing again, chorusing in such a profound display of joy Evie's breath caught in her throat.
The golden man reached out his arm and clasped the now young man's forearm. The young man did the same and both nodded in a sign of respect, so many emotions flitting through their eyes that one was not discernible from the other.
Then the golden man was pulling the other into a tight hug and the energy burst from its confines, permeating the air around the men in swirls of indescribable colours; a dizzying kaleidoscope that left Evie both reeling and laughing as it washed over her in a powerful display of love and life and freedom.
Evie felt the magic of the world hum and she closed her eyes and breathed in its utter delight.