A/N: Okay, here we go again. This is a re-write, I apologize to anyone who had gotten into the first one, but I'm going a different direction with this. I'd like to say a couple of things. First off, I do not own Merlin, obviously. Second, as you can probably tell by my writing, I am an American. Merlin is a British television show. Now, as a responsible fanfic writer, I have done copious research in preparation for this fic, but it just doesn't compare to actually being a native to the culture I'm trying to write about. That is why I ask all of my British readers, if you see something that I've written that causes my characters (all of whom are supposed to be British) to seem anything but, please let me know via review, and I will go back and change these chapters accordingly. I do not promise to change major plot points, but if my character says something American, and a British person would say it a different way, please, PLEASE let me know! :)
Additional Note: Thank you to the reviewer who told me about the proper use of the word 'mum'. I really had no clue, and edited accordingly. Thanks!
Thank you, and I hope you enjoy the story.
Cameron breathed in the moist breeze that blew over the lake, smiling a bit to herself. Cool moisture settled over her skin, and she shivered slightly, though not from the cold. She had seen lakes before, but this one was special. Nothing was floating in it. No empty beer cans, no stray wrappers blown about by the wind to get caught in the tall reeds around the lake. And yet, it was natural, the grass around it grew tall, the rocks were just that, rocks, there was no order or symmetry to their placement. No tatters of black cloth or plastic that usually betrayed the waterproof lining of a false water feature. This was a natural lake.
And yet, it didn't seem to be home to any insects. No turtles poking their heads up, no ripples indicating the presence of a fish swimming too close to surface. It was perfectly still. Quiet. Clear.
She needed that right now.
Joggers would occasionally pass by on the sidewalk in front of her perch on the old picnic table, completely oblivious to the thirteen-year-old girl sitting there, or to the beauty of the lake. Which was just as well for Cameron, as it meant she got to enjoy her peace and quiet in solitude.
Well, so she thought.
She wasn't sure how long the old man had stood there, staring at her, but when Cameron looked up, there he was. Staring. He wore torn jeans and a tired blue jacket, though it wasn't yet that cold outside. His long white hair and white beard told her he was probably a pikey of some sort… if he had had a job, surely they would have made him trim his hair or shave. The girl shifted uncomfortably, looking back out at the lake, hoping the man would take the hint and go away, but he didn't move. He just looked. Finally starting to get creeped out, she turned her brown eyes on him, trying to look as menacing as she could. She hoped the idea of direct confrontation would scare the strange old man away.
Instead, he seemed to take it as an invitation to come closer. Slowly, purposefully, he walked up to her perch on the table, gazing at her intently. "You see it, don't you?" he asked her, by way of greeting.
Cameron frowned, her unease growing with each passing moment. The guy smelled like he hadn't showered in a while, which matched the look of his clothes all too well, and only his very advanced age served to quell her fears that he was some kind of serial killer. Still, he was creepy, and Cameron had a feeling she probably shouldn't talk to him.
And so, she did.
"See what?" she asked bravely. She was not going to be cowed by a creepy old man, she found this place first, and she wasn't going to leave it. She had moved here a week ago, and this was her favorite spot, and she knew better than to back down. She lifted her hand to the water. "All I can see is the lake," she said, never taking her gaze from the old man. She wasn't leaving.
The old man seemed to nod to himself, and for a moment, Cameron thought that he might leave now. However, she was proven wrong when, instead, the old man came to sit down beside her, looking out at the lake as though they were old mates. Cameron wasn't sure whether to get up or exclaim loudly, or both. But something within her caused her to stand her ground, and she resolved not to move from her spot (it was hers, damn it!), but instead to continue sitting as if the old man wasn't there. She was still thinking this, when he spoke.
"Not many can see the lake," he said, causing Cameron to glance at him incredulously. "Some people can feel the breeze come off the water, and some can almost catch a glimpse, but most people just walk around it and ignore it," he explained, as though he were giving a lecture she had unknowingly signed up for. "It's hidden, here, from the rest of the world. But it can never hide from us. Not from creatures of magic."
Cameron's heart had fallen into her stomach as the old man spoke, and, for the briefest of moments, she began to wonder if it wasn't best just to leave after all. The old man was obviously mad, and while Cameron generally thought most rules given to children for their 'own good' were absolute rubbish, perhaps there was some sense in avoiding mad raving lunatics. And this man seemed to be one of those, with his talk of magic.
But, either from foolish rebellion against good sense, or from mere curiosity, Cameron decided to answer the crazy old man. "There's no such thing as magic," she announced dutifully, thinking that perhaps now, that she has refused to play along, the old man will sod off.
The abrupt, somewhat painful-sounding laugh indicated no such luck. The old man shook his head, his laugh becoming a chuckle, then just raspy breathing. "That's like saying, 'There is no sky,' or, 'There is no earth,'. Magic is a part of life. If you're still breathing, there's still such thing as magic," he pointed out, as though she had said something utterly foolish. He gestured then to a middle-aged woman walking briskly down the path, not casting a look in either their direction, or the lake's. "Go ask her, then. Ask if she can see the lake. Twenty pounds says she doesn't," he said, shrugging.
Cameron looked him over, dubiously. "Do you even have twenty pounds?" she asked, earning a glare from the old man.
"Just ask," he said. As she wasn't budging, he said simply, "If you ask, and she says she sees it, I shall go away and leave you in peace," he promised solemnly.
The offer was too good to pass up.
Pushing down the nervousness that began to arise from the prospect of talking to a complete stranger (which she was already doing, why was she more nervous to talk to the normal looking woman than the deranged lunatic that came to sit by her?), she pushed herself up from the table, and rushed to meet the woman.
"Excuse me, quick question, please?" she asked, as politely as she knew, which she admitted to herself may not be much.
The woman barely cast her a glance. "I really haven't the time," she said, but Cameron, giving up on politeness, headed her off.
"That lake, over there, do you see it?" she asked directly, preferring to risk the wrath of a busy woman than to go back to the crazy old man empty-handed.
The woman, for her part, seemed almost not to answer her, then gave an exasperated sigh. "What lake?" she demanded, probably hoping Cameron would go away as fervently as she had wished it of the old man.
Cameron blinked. "That one right there," she said, pointing to the lake not five meters away. The woman glanced in the direction she indicated, then turned to give her a withering look.
"There is no lake. I don't have time for games, excuse me," she said, and quickened her pace, leaving Cameron behind.
Gazing out at the lake, Cameron felt as though ice water had been poured over her spine. It was here, it was real. She didn't realize she'd forgotten to breathe until she started to get light-headed, and drew in a deep breath, her eyes never leaving the surface of the water. The calm, unbroken surface, unaffected by wind or litter or time. Slowly, she took one step, then another, toward the lake. She never moved her gaze, not even for a second, lest it disappear and prove she was going mad. Or would it prove that she wasn't? Gingerly, she knelt on the grassy bank, her fingers in the cool grass, it seemed real enough at least. One hand reached down, almost reverently, to touch the surface of the water…
Cool. Wet. It was water, and yet, it felt hot in a way, like those gels you rubbed into your muscles when they were sore, or toothpaste, or throat lozenges. Her hand tingled, like it was asleep, and she pulled it back quickly, gazing at the spot in the water she had just touched. Too quickly, the ripples eased, the surface becoming glassy and still, once again, and her reflection…
Wasn't her reflection. And it smiled at her.
And it disappeared.
"It's quite something, isn't it?" the old man's voice said, from her right, and she spun her head to see him there, sitting right beside her, as though he'd always been there. He made no movement, exuding calm, merely staring out at the water. Even so, it was everything Cameron could do not to run, not to bolt away on the spot. Her eyes wide, breath panicked, she stared at him for a long moment before she spoke.
"What… the hell?!" she demanded breathlessly, wrenching a wry grin from the old man, who glanced sideways at her, a spark of mirth hidden in his tired gaze.
"Magic," he said simply, gesturing to the lake. "The lake of Avalon is one of the few places left on earth where it can still be felt, and then, only by those who already have a connection to it. Like you…Cameron," he said, turning to gaze at her intently.
A shiver went through the girl, every instinct screamed at her to back away, to demand how the old man knew her name, to run back home and never come to this park, to this lake, again.
And yet, her eyes were drawn to the old man's, like magnets, and she could barely breathe, and answers to questions she didn't know how to ask whispered to her, too quiet for her to make them out, but insistent enough for her to understand that this moment, what was happening right now, was of utmost importance…
She felt like she was wearing a blindfold she couldn't rip off, no matter how much she itched to do so.
One question surfaced in her mind, slowly, as if her mind were the lake and all the questions she should ask had been stuck to the bottom, out of reach. The question, the first she asked, wasn't the first she thought she would have asked, had she had all of her wits about her, but now, in this moment, in this rare glimpse of reality, or illusion (she couldn't decide which), the question insisted it alone was the most important. Finding her power of speech after a frantic moment, she asked, "Who are you?"
A glimmer of surprise in the old man's eyes, an unseen, knowing smile behind them, and the weight of years and years and years as he regarded her silently for a long moment. "Oh, I've had many names. They say to know someone's true name, is to have power over them. Before I leave you for good, you'll truly know my name," he said to her, solemnly, as though he were bestowing upon her a gift.
Cameron blinked at that, silent for a moment. "Too daft to answer a simple question, then?" she asked, eyebrow raised.
With a sigh and narrowed eyes, he shook his head. "Call me Emrys," he grumbled.
"Magic, that how you know who I am, then, Mr. Emrys?" she asked, pulling glibness around her, a tenuous anchor to the reality she had abandoned the moment she approached the lake. She may have been caught up in the moment, in over her head, faced with impossible realities, but she absolutely refused to make it turn her into a twit.
The old man, for his part, merely grunted, getting up from the ground with great difficulty. Cameron merely sat there, watching him, until he finally managed to stand. Her gaze never left him, and she waited, expectantly, unwilling to relent until her question was answered.
But the old man didn't seem to be interested in answering, instead, he just began to walk away. For a moment, Cameron felt a twinge of loss as he did so, and frowned. "Come on, then," the old man called over his shoulder. "Ye aren't going to learn anything sitting there on your bum!" he said as he walked.
She didn't seem to remember getting up, but was soon following Mr. Emrys, her pace quickening to catch up. "Learn what?" she demanded. Good sense said, 'go home, forget all of this, don't follow the crazy bum to whatever dark alley he may try to kill you in,'.
Cameron never listened to good sense…
