A/N:
Okay, so chapters 1-5 were written in 2013-2014. I went on a short hiatus...that lasted two years...and then another year after that...
So chapters 6 and on will be written recently. (As recent as recently can be. Oops?)
Read on, brave fanfic warriors!
Enjoy!
-x-
Sun beams shone in patches through the canopy of tree leaves, gracing the morning dew adorning the grass below with beams of light. The horse he was riding maintained a rhythmic pace; he focused more on that, and the rich greens and browns of the forest, than what the man clad in royal reds riding in front of him was saying. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back whilst a gust of wind caressed his hair and clothes. He let his eyes flutter open to reveal deep cerulean eyes, studying a flock of birds flying through the dawn sky and the sun painting the colours of a new day. Fallen twigs and leaves crunched beneath him as he trotted along listening to bird song; it was a pleasant enough day, except—
"Merlin, do you ever listen?" Arthur's voice erupted beside him making him jump out of his reverie, and he couldn't help shooting a cheeky smile at Arthur's back, even though the older man couldn't see it as Merlin was trailing behind the royal prince. Arthur was in a remarkably good mood—they were doing a hobby of the prince's, of course, but he, himself, didn't want to partake in this, ah, 'hobby.'
"Sorry, Sir Prat, I couldn't find it in me to listen to your pratty self prattling on," Merlin weakly bantered, as the servant—oddly—wasn't in the mood to talk, only to listen. Humourously enough—listen, not to the Prince Regent, but to the birdsong and the buzzing bees, the water rushing in the streams and the wind whistling through the trees.
The sun was shining, the breeze was wonderful, the sky was now coloured in vibrant blues as the sun had risen during the long trot to the borders of Camelot and Essetir. A beautiful day—apart from when Arthur's 'game' ran fearfully away from him as Merlin always seemed to make far too much noise, alerting the animals—they were hunting. Merlin hid a scowl; he hated hunting. The lanky servant knew that this border patrol had been an easy excuse for the prince to take out his frustrations on tiny woodland animals.
The prince had been more and more stressed, what with his father's health declining. The King had never been known to stay in bed with a simple sickness before; Arthur wasn't that oblivious, he had seen through Gaius' attempts to downplay how serious the King's sickness was. Merlin smiled despite the gravity of the kingdom's situation and wiggled his fingers, feeling the magic flow through them—correction, Arthur was quite oblivious.
Merlin ignored Arthur's loud, exasperated sigh in favour of absent-mindedly running his fingers through his horse's coarse mane. Arthur spoke again, with an irritated tone, "I had said, stop the horses here, Merlin, we continue on foot. Get my crossbow—" Merlin ran a hand over his face as the royal prat continued his spiel, "—and my bow and arrow, the game bag, skinning knives…" he droned on, listing more things Merlin would have to take off the horse's saddle bag and pile onto his back.
"Yes, your majesty." Merlin sneered at Arthur, cutting him off whilst hopping off of his horse quickly, albeit not gracefully.
"Oi, you're in a right tizzy. Why is that?" Arthur questioned, his brow raised at the unusually bitter manservant. Merlin sighed irritably, considering whether he should just ignore the question and grab Arthur's hunting equipment or answer him. Azure eyes flickered to expectant pale blue ones, "Well?" Merlin almost chuckled at Arthur's tone. The blonde had never been one for sharing feelings, but had always been one for getting what he wanted: in this case, it had to do with Merlin—and, apparently, sharing feelings.
Merlin shrugged, and opted to continue packing the sack full of hunting supplies as he began to speak. "You know," he paused, shoving the crossbow into the bag with out any sense of care for the weapon—at which Arthur winced. "You're not the only one I run around for, yeah? I'm Gaius' ward, and he does expect me to work for him to make up for living with him, even if I am his nephew."
Arthur masked his surprise at Merlin's statement. Gaius was his uncle? I had known that Gaius was like a father figure to Merlin, but I had never thought… interesting. I suppose it would be obvious to have moved into a new city with a family member rather than a stranger with out any blood ties at all. Arthur then noticed Merlin had stopped speaking again; as most of the arrows had fallen out of the quiver, and the lanky manservant was awkwardly cradling the quiver, trying to not let the remaining arrows spill out as well whilst stooping down to collect the separate projectiles upon the forest floor.
Arthur almost laughed at his manservant's normal clumsiness, but Merlin deliberately interrupted his urge, "And, I was out most of the night picking moonglow and greenwarish, the first of which can only be harvested in the moonlight, else it won't have the correct healing properties, as it is, as Gaius constantly reminds me, 'imperative that you get the herbs at the correct—'"
"Merlin," Arthur cut the gangly boy's babbling rant in half, "If you're going to shirk your work because you didn't get a little sleep, then maybe you should stop complaining altogether. Stop acting like such a girl, Merlin," Arthur taunted, giving a wolfish smile towards his manservant.
"You're the one who asked, I didn't realise you would feel the sudden need to regress into pratification," Merlin mumbled, having successfully placed all the arrows into the quiver and quiver onto his back along with the various other hunting supplies Arthur had asked him to bring. Arthur indignantly mouthed the last few words Merlin had uttered, all the while wondering what that meant and what had gotten his manservant in a bitter mood.
Merlin continued mumbling things under his breath—about stupid and oblivious royal dollop heads and how he really didn't get any sleep at all. Arthur pointedly ignored this, stalking ahead of his manservant, willing the skinny man to shut up before he alerted the fine stag he was currently targeting.
To tell you the truth would be to tell you I saved your ungrateful arse, yet again, from some farfetched magical attempt at your life from Morgause. And as we speak, Morgause is more or less pounding into Morgana's seemingly innocent head different and creative ways to strip Uther of his life or crown—or possibly both. That and gathering Gaius' damned special moonglow herbs that can only be harvested at moon light and at the sand bed of a lake just outside the city of Camelot—you're lucky I got you up in time, you clotpole.
Merlin's thoughts furiously circled in his head as he absentmindedly passed a bow and an arrow to Arthur when the blonde signalled quietly for the weapon. He watched Arthur gracefully ready the bow, drawing the nock back on the string, and he turned away the moment gloved fingers let go of the fletching of the arrow. Merlin winced when he heard the sickening sound of the arrow head embedding itself into the flesh of the stag. Arthur stood up, and handed Merlin the murder weapon and made to go over to the corpse.
Suddenly there was a flash of dark green robes darting through the corner of his vision. Merlin's eyes whipped in that direction, tracking for any further movement.
Familiar magic enveloped his senses.
Merlin's head snapped back to Arthur, who hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. The blonde was crouched down next to the stag, holding his hand out toward Merlin asking for his hunting knives and game bag. Merlin grumbled and shook himself out of his stupor, looking anywhere but the lifeless stag on the ground, its limbs in broken directions that really shouldn't be possible with its joints that would probably be painful were it alive, and glassy eyes so full of pain and fear. Merlin shoved the sheathed hunting knives into the bag, and clumsily threw it at Arthur, the bag landing just short of the blonde's outstretched hand. Arthur gave a scowl before snatching the bag and dragging it towards himself.
Merlin looked to the long-since dry river bank that marked the boundary between Essetir and Camelot to distract himself from Arthur making quick work of carving the game. The warlock-in-hiding smiled, if he continued this way past the border for a few miles he would run straight into the quaint town of Ealdor, his hometown. He wondered how his mother was faring without him, but the wonder was stopped short as a flash of dark green robes danced across the corner of his vision once more.
He looked back to Arthur to find the game already in the bag—most likely cut as clean as he could in the short amount of time that Merlin had had his back turned, and was standing curiously, staring past the game at his feet to something in the distance. Upon examining the scene in front of him further, he found that Arthur was staring at an opening to a cave.
Just within the border of Essetir, off to the side of the dried out river bed, lay a rise of rocks like a miniature cliff side—maybe only four or five feet fall—and around that, past a stretch of many green plants in a clearing, was the mouth of the cave. It wasn't obvious, nor was it hard to miss—it was simply there. As were the many trees, none really more noticeable than any other, not in a forest full of trees that simply were. If you weren't looking for the man-sized gap in the rise, it could easily be missed. What really caught Merlin's eye, though, was the soft magic coursing from the worn-out runes that had been carved just above the mouth of the cave—also easily overlooked if one were unobservant. The magic that was being emitted from the runes was weak, as if it had been placed there many years before, but Merlin could easily tell by the magic it gave off that it had been placed there by the druids.
There was another flash of the dark green hue.
Merlin jolted forwards, feeling the magic presence behind him that had been keeping only to the edges of his senses before. Turning his torso and head, he saw a hooded figure clad in dark green druidic robes. Wrinkled hands that had seen their fair share of years poked out of the large sleeves of the robes, carefully pushing back the hood that so recently covered the man's face. Merlin was met with the soft face and light green eyes that gave the hooded figure's identity away as Iseldir.
The druid chieftain smiled. "Emrys," he greeted gravely, though warmth was evident in his tone. Merlin turned to look at Arthur, but the prince was gone, the full bag of game in the prince's place. Merlin cursed softly, having almost had a panic attack before he caught the telltale Camelot colours over the Essetirian border and halfway towards the cave, oblivious to what was going on behind him.
Turning fully around towards Iseldir, Merlin gave a polite bow in acknowledgement before saying, "I should really follow him, lest he gets in trouble. I mean, he really shouldn't have crossed the border in the first place—such could be seen as an act of war towards Essetir, and who knows what kind of magic that cave holds... I should—"
"Emrys," Iseldir admonished. Merlin gave a sheepish smile to the wise druid, and nodded to him in acknowledgement, silently urging him to continue. "The cave is necessary. My ancestors placed it there for the very reason of pushing destiny forward, and I am bearing their initiative and vision forward. Without this, everything you have done will be for nought, as Arthur's vision will remain clouded by his father's hate for magic—even if he does feel guilt and remorse for the druids his father has ordered him to siege without mercy. You may return to Camelot, to your mentor; Arthur will not be back out for a while," Iseldir spoke, voice deep, raspy, and full of untold wisdom.
Merlin messed with the hem of his jacket sleeve, thoughts racing. "What if someone were to ambush him in the cave—like a mercenary or, God forbid, a group of bandits? They are everywhere! I can't just leave him here; I should really stay here and watch him..." The warlock finished his rant, looking upon Iseldir as he neared the end, speaking with enthusiasm and much emotion.
"Do not fret, Emrys, for that cave is protected by powerful magic," Iseldir said. Merlin gave a disbelieving look, not being able to pick up powerful magic around his person. The druid elder continued with a knowing tone, "Even if it doesn't feel powerful. Only non-magical folk can enter, and even then they can only enter if they are pure of heart and intention."
Merlin looked pointedly at the cave, disbelieving, "A counter spell," he said simply.
"There is not a counter spell, as you would have to know the first spell in order to say the second." Iseldir said, simply.
Not necessarily, Merlin thought bitterly. I don't feel comfortable leaving Arthur unprotected.
"The cave is used for ancient druid practices, and the type of protection spell is so old the counter spell has been lost, as druids teach magic to their youth through oral tradition. We do not write things down; so much knowledge in written words is too powerful. Also, the spell was not made to defend against an offensive attack; any magical or non-magical attack would be useless. Arthur will not be unprotected."
Merlin's head snapped back to Iseldir's profile as he spoke the last few lines. Merlin scowled, and looked to the ground beneath his feet, seemingly in embarrassment.
「You were reading my thoughts.」
「You speak loudly, Emrys. Learn to be able to control your mind. Druids rather close to us would be able to hear your thoughts being broadcast.」Merlin glanced back up at Iseldir's now amused smile. He felt smaller than the druid chieftain; the man had so much knowledge, so much wisdom.
"Again, do not fret, Emrys. Though you were born with magic, not everyone was born with the knowledge of how to control it. You have power, Emrys... you are power. Knowledge and wisdom are two different things—where as knowledge is plentiful, wisdom is very scarce. You do well to be worried about your other half." Iseldir smiled at Merlin once more, and as he finished speaking, all was silent.
I have a feeling something is going to happen, Merlin thought. It is never so quiet, and nothing can be so calm. It is almost as if the forest itself is holding its breath in anticipation.
「You are correct, Emrys. Destiny is speaking.」Iseldir's reply was cut from Merlin's attention, as a powerful surge of magic shook Merlin out of his maelstrom of thoughts. Merlin's head wiped back to the cave, which was engulfed in white light, he heard whispers of a woman's voice before all he could see was white, blinding, powerful magic.
「 Destiny is speaking.」
