The first fanfiction I ever started, and completely my own. I'm insanely proud of this one. It's completely finished already, so no chance of it losing momentum.
Constructive criticism welcome, any and all reviews will make me incredibly happy. This is a bit of a mystery, so I'd love to hear theories as we go as to what you think is going to happen. The clues are there, if you're looking.
Arthur always complained that Merlin was scaring off the prey, but Merlin knew that this bothered Arthur less and less every trip – a low success rate gave him the excuse to stay out for longer. Despite protests to the contrary, Arthur enjoyed taking Merlin with him for hunting: having the time to bully him helped Arthur to take his mind off his problems. This time it had even been Merlin's idea, bizarrely enough: Arthur had been so stressed lately as Prince Regent, and Merlin could tell he needed a break.
"Hey, idiot?" Arthur called out to Merlin from several feet ahead.
Merlin raised his head questioningly at Arthur. "You reacted!" crowed Arthur.
Merlin rolled his eyes. "You know, they say that talking to yourself is the first sign of madness."
There was a brief moment of friendly silence, while Merlin awaited Arthur's next offering. Surely enough: "Merlin, do you think character is influenced by your friends?"
What others might take as a deep and meaningful question, Merlin recognised for the set up it was. And still he took the bait, because Arthur looked so happy. "I suppose so – I definitely think the Round Table –"
"Do you know a lot of idiots, then?"
A long-suffering sigh, as if Merlin was an absolute saint to put up with Arthur. "Just you, Sire."
And then, because nothing could ever go well for long, a man appeared from the trees up ahead. "I will have your head, Arthur Pendragon!" the man spat, and Merlin immediately tensed, ready to defend his prince.
The stranger was clothed all in black, and wore no recognisable crest. His clothes looked new, and the absurd thought that he had bought them specifically to look menacing for this moment flashed across Merlin's mind. He spoke with confidence and the promise of violence, but he didn't seem to have a weapon, so Merlin assumed that he was a sorcerer. To fight this man with magic he needed to conceal himself, so he did just that, ducking behind a large bush as Arthur drew his sword and went to confront the man.
The sorcerer said the words of a spell unfamiliar to Merlin, and Arthur must have been frozen in place by magic, because he was looking down at his feet in confusion, and barking out threats. Mercifully, he didn't turn to look for Merlin, all of his attention taken up by the enemy sorcerer.
The sorcerer clearly hadn't spotted Merlin, as he began to circle Arthur theatrically, gesticulating wildly as he spoke. "You and your father, with your hatred and ignorance, have brought a dark time upon Camelot. Users of magic have been persecuted cruelly, innocents have been slaughtered, children have been murdered. Well, I say no more. You are my prisoner now, and Uther will come for you. And when he does, I shall kill you both, and take the crown for myself." The sorcerer had walked all the way around him, so that Merlin crouched between Arthur and the oblivious sorcerer.
"The people will never follow you," Arthur declared, full of defiance.
"Perhaps not willingly," the stranger conceded, "But they will learn to fear me, and then they will follow."
Arthur shook his head fiercely, and replied, "The people will not fear you, as I do not fear you. You shall not prevail."
"You should fear me!" hissed the sorcerer, walking underneath a large tree. "I could crush you like this –" he hit the tree with the side of his fist for emphasis.
Merlin took his opportunity to eliminate the threat without alerting Arthur to the use of magic: he muttered a spell from his hiding place, and a branch fell from a tree, crushing the sorcerer. Merlin was dimly aware of Arthur behind him, laughing and exclaiming, "What a stroke of luck, eh Merlin? You can come out now." But Merlin's eyes were still on the dying man, who hissed "ælfsidenne" and pointed his hand towards Arthur, before slumping over in death.
It was as though fire had erupted from the sorcerer's hand, but it had none of the energy and brightness of natural fire. The flickering flames were black as death, and seemed to be taking, rather than giving, energy, in a twisted parody of ordinary fire levitating two feet off the ground. The hairs stood up on the back of Merlin's neck, as he felt an unnatural chill, and a deep fear gripped him. This was seriously dark magic, and the burning curse was headed with impressive speed towards Arthur, whose back was turned, calling out for Merlin. Merlin knew no defence against this curse, no shield that would block it, and Arthur seemed impossibly distant. He called out to Arthur, who didn't respond: he hadn't heard Merlin's warning. There was only really one thing he could do.
He jumped, and the terrifying darkness of the fire was upon him, until he was trapped inside his mind and all he could see was night and his bones were stone and his heart was burning with an icy cold pain and he was falling and falling –