Yo!
I had been toying with this idea for a while. It makes me thinking, what if Uther have someone who guided him through his life, and there is no one better than Merlin when it comes to protecting and guiding the Pendragon.
Enjoy!
Deep into the woods of the dark forest, a young man cursed as he tripped over a thick root. Tattered red cloak barely protected him from the coldness of the night and his left hand is pressed heavily over a wound that is visible under his torn blood soaked chain mail.
It was supposed to be a normal hunting trip for him to let go of some steams but a band of dopey bandits just have to come out from their holes and ambush his party. He was the only one that came out alive and victorious but not unscathed.
The young man hissed when the wound gave a rather painful throb, leaving behind a gnawing ache over his injured side. He swept aside his golden blonde lock, inadvertently smearing more crimson liquid over his forehead.
He leaned against the tree, swearing under his breath when another gust of chilly wind blew pass him. He is lost, cold, hungry, filthy, tired and most of all, injured. If those pitiful rats had not been a pile of severed carcasses, he would have hunt them down and finish the deed.
The blonde sunk to the ground, feeling the fatigue and blood lost began to take its toll upon his weakened body. He tried to fight off the sweet temptation of slumber but it was proven to be a futile battle when he felt his consciousness slithering away at every passing moment.
How laughable, he, the Crown Prince of a mighty kingdom, who is supposed to ascend the throne upon his Father's fall and bring the kingdom to its golden age of prosperity, is dying inside some uncharted forest, lost and cold.
It will be the joke of the century, a Crown Prince dying due to his own incapability to fight against a band of bandits.
He let out a tired sigh. But he couldn't find himself minding the death that awaits him. His life inside the castle had never been a happy one.
He is always under the scrutiny of other power hungry mongrels that seek to bring him down to his knees and strip him bare of him authority. His Father always placed a high expectation on him, believing he would be the perfect heir for the throne.
All of that had always weighed him down, pressuring him like none other could and it drove him over the wall whenever his Father would frown in disdain at his unsatisfying action.
The blonde closed his eyes, feeling something, something akin to peace flooding his veins. It may be selfish of him to die here, abandoning his people, his duty, just to run away from the world but he can't find it in himself to care.
Leaning against the trunk of the tree, he closed his eyes, slowly succumbing himself to the embrace of the darkness.
Maybe it is alright for me to act this selfish for this first and only time.
With that thought in mind he sluggishly let his consciousness slips away from his loose grasp.
A pair of closed eyelids scrunched up tightly and the owner's lips twisted into a grimace. The eyelids flutters open to reveal a pair of stunning azure eyes to the world.
The blonde blinked a couple of times, trying to adjust his eyes to the brightness of the sunlight that touched his face.
When he finally regained his sense, he noticed that he is in a rundown yet cozy cabin of some sort. He shifted, feeling something rough rubbing against his bare skin and touched it. He could make it out as a fur blanket of an animal and himself lying in a cot.
"Where am I?" He questioned himself.
"Aren't I supposed to be dead is some ditch or something?"
He touched the bandage that covered his injured side, tracing the well tied cloth rather dazedly.
"Well, you would have if I had not found you."
The blonde jerked when he heard the new voice, his battle honed instinct forcing him to sit up and reach for the nearest projectile to be used as a weapon.
"Woah! Easy there lad, you will only open up your wound."
The teenage blonde eyed the stranger warily, feeling edgy when the man suddenly approached him.
The man raised up his arms in the universal sign of peace and surrender, proving himself harmless to the uncoordinated blonde.
"Who are you?"
The teenager demanded; tone firm and strong despite his physical condition. He scowled when the black haired man chuckle.
"Is that how you talk to the person who had just saved your life? I do not know what your parents had taught you but it is common courtesy to introduce yourself first before asking other their names."
The blonde bristled; feeling insulted at the rude jibe from this measly peasant, and immediately sits up to confront him. But he immediately doubled over when immense pain coursed all over his system.
He faintly heard the raven swearing and felt a pair of warm hands touching him.
"I told you not to do anything rash! Now look at what you had done! The wound had reopened!"
The man unfurled the blood soaked bandage, discarding it away to focus on the bleeding wound at the blonde's side.
The blonde felt himself swim in and out of consciousness, mind buzzing from the intense pain that assaulted his body. He could vaguely feel something cool and soothing flood his system, it lulled away the pain and he is grateful for it.
He heard the dark haired man whisper something about "Clotpole" and "Prats" before submitting himself to slumber once again with a gentle hand carding his hair.
So...how is it? I hope I kept them in character.
Leave a review, I want to know your opinions! Constructive criticism is welcomed!
Ciao ciao!
Y.L