Chapter 1

The lift came to a stop on the third floor and an old man with a long white beard stepped off carrying a weeks worth of groceries. As he walked toward his flat he pulled a key from his pocket. Just before he reached the door his neighbor walked out into the hall. He was hoping he would run into her sometime this week, he wanted to talk to her about some things.

Mrs. Finch was the kindhearted, 73-year-old widow who lived in the flat next door. She was always looking out for her neighbors and she had been the first one to come and introduce herself after he moved in.

"Oh, hello Ed. How are you this lovely evening?" He had to remind himself that he was going by Ed these days. It wasn't his name but when you've been around for nine hundred years, give or take a few decades, you find that its easier to have multiple identities.

"Good, good, and you?"

"Oh it's been great. My daughter brought her children over this afternoon and we had a grand time. I see you did some shopping."

"Yes, my grandson is coming to stay with me for a bit. I thought he might like some of that instant microwave food that the university students always seem to want."

"Oh how lovely." She exclaimed with a smile.

"Yes, quite."

"Is he going to stay long?" She asked kindly.

"For a year or two, I just thought I'd let you know because he will be coming and going at odd hours and I didn't want you to worry about him being a burglar or something." She didn't seem to detect the deception in his voice so he continued. "He's attending university to become a physician you see? And I needed some help around here, so I figured if he lived here he wouldn't have to pay rent and I could get the help I needed."

"Is everything alright dear?" She asked with genuine concern scrawled across her face.

"Oh yes, everything's quite alright I'm just getting on in years and my daughter doesn't like the idea of me living here all by myself." He lied smoothly. He was, in fact, in very good health for someone his age, it was highly unlikely that he would die any time soon.

"What's your grandsons name? If you don't mind my asking?"

"Merlin" He answered with a smile.

"Well that's unique. I don't think I've ever met someone named Merlin before."

"It's a family name. I tried to talk my daughter out of it. You know, give him a more modern name like Alex, or Colin. But she's always been stubborn and once she makes up her mind there's no reasoning with her." Yet another lie fell from the man's lips easily. He actually liked the name Merlin, it was, after all, the name his mother had given him when he was born. And he definitely preferred it above any of the other names he had given himself over the years.

Merlin's heart ached slightly with the thought of his mother. He missed her terribly. She had died hundreds of years ago along with every other person he'd ever cared about. He wondered, not for the first time, why anyone would want to live forever? It wasn't all it was chalked up to be. Honestly, it was quite lonely and he would never wish the fate on anyone. Merlin shook the thoughts from his head and tried to resume his role as Ed, the soft-spoken, octogenarian who was, at that moment, having a lovely conversation with his neighbor.

The conversation ended soon and Merlin took his groceries in and put them away. He was glad he had run into Mrs. Finch she would prove to be very helpful in killing Ed and bringing Merlin's new identity out. He had used this game play for quite some time. He would move into a new town as a young man in his early twenties and then slowly grow older like everybody else. Once he reached his eighty's, or at least looked like he'd reached his eighty's, he would stage his own death and then start over. Some times he would make up family, a son or daughter that lives far away, a wife who died several years earlier, a brother who was married and living in the states. It was only recently that he came up with the idea of creating a grandson or great-nephew who was going to live with him for a while. That way he could stay in one place longer because the people would think he was two different people and it also helped him fake his death easier if he had "another person" telling his neighbors that he was in the hospital and the doctors didn't expect him to live much longer.

He "died" differently each time so as not to raise suspicion. He'd lived through enough witch hunts to know that people didn't take kindly to sorcerers. Merlin had a personal knowledge that people were afraid of things they didn't understand and, as the last living sorcerer, he knew that all the people without magic wouldn't understand him. As a result they would fear him. Fear causes people to behave rashly and when people behave rashly someone ends up injured or dead. Merlin had spent his extremely long life trying to avoid that outcome. Though some days he wished he had died back in the 6th century along with all of his friends, at least he wouldn't be alone then. But he knew he couldn't, he had to wait for Arthur. If he had known he'd have to wait this long for that royal pain in the ass. . .

It hadn't always been that way. There was a short time in his life when he was revered and respected for his title as court sorcerer. He had worked hard for that respect and had lost a lot of friends in the process. He didn't do it just for himself though, at the time there were hundreds of sorcerers who were being persecuted for practicing magic. A tyrannical King was seeking revenge for the death of his beloved wife. He had asked a witch to help his barren Queen conceive an heir but he didn't know that for the witch to give life to the child she would have to take a life away. So the King got his son but lost his wife in the process. He became bitter and his hatred for magic grew everyday until it consumed his every thought and action. In his mind anyone practicing magic was evil and should be sentenced to death. He did his best to instill his son with those same ideals.

Merlin was born during this time and he spent his entire childhood, hiding who he really was, in fear of being executed. He could vaguely remember the first time he saw an execution. He was 6 and his mother had taken him into town with her to buy some material for new clothes. He had never been to town before, mother usually left him with Will's mother, while she went into town. Merlin had never seen so many people in one place and he stared in wonder at the large crowd before him. They were all gathered in the middle of town and there was a woman on top of some wood.

At the time Merlin didn't know that the wood the woman was standing on was a pyre. A man got up in front of all the people and announced that the woman had been found guilty of practicing magic and she was sentenced to death. Then they light the wood on fire and watched the woman burn. That was when the nightmares started. Merlin often woke, screaming, from dreams of being burned alive. To be completely honest even after fifteen hundred years he still had nightmares of burning at the stake. His mother tried to reassure him, but the young boy believed that he had done something terribly wrong and he was going to die because of it.

"Merlin you didn't do anything wrong. Did you choose to have magic?" His mother would ask when he expressed his fears of being an evil sorcerer.

"No, I didn't choose it. I was born with it mother you know that." He had answered.

"Magic is not evil child, and it's not a curse. It is a gift, you are special Merlin."

"I wish I wasn't special." He grumbled. "If it's not evil why is it against the law?" At 6 years old Merlin was still struggling to understand his so-called "gift". He just wished he could be normal like all the other boys his age.

"It's against the law because the person who makes the laws doesn't have magic so he doesn't understand it." She stated simply. "Tell me this Merlin. Is a sword evil?"

"No mother a sword is not evil." Merlin answered in a confused tone.

"What about a pitch fork? Is a pitch fork evil?"

"No."

"But you can use a sword to kill someone can't you?" Merlin couldn't quite figure out what his mother was trying to say. Maybe she has gone mad he thought.

"Yes, that is what swords are for"

"You could use the same sword to protect someone could you not?" Again Merlin answered with a yes.

"You can also use a pitch fork to kill someone if you wanted to. But that's not what it's made for. The pitch fork was mad to help farmers move hay." Mother continued.

"I don't understand mother. What does this all have to do with magic?" Merlin asked exasperated.

"Magic is like the pitch fork or the sword." Merlin stared at his mother like she had grown a second head. She definitely wasn't making sense anymore. "What I mean is, magic is a tool. It's meant to be used to help and protect not to harm."

From then on Merlin tried to believe his mothers words. Tried to believe that he did have a special gift. He still couldn't help but wonder if he was in fact cursed though.

Merlin was in his late teens when he left his mother and moved to Camelot. Mother had been worried that the people in their village would learn of Merlin's magic if he stayed much longer. The last thing a mother ever wants to do is bury her only child. So she sent him to live with an old friend who might be able to help him learn to use his powers for good. That is when Merlin met Arthur.