Thunder and footsteps clap noisily together. Their disharmony is deafening and distressful, and the icy rain that roars outside the parapet walk is like blistering fire, but it continues to pour. Hot breath mirrors mist but dissipates quickly, only to return with each airy pant. It is fast and sudden when boots slide to a determined halt, and the clumsy feet inside nearly betray their body and topple. However, steadfast loyalty to purpose proves a strong opponent to the threat of gravity. Therefore, it is with privileged and ecstatic glory that nimble hands push open the decorated wooden door to the threshold of royal chambers.
Spiteful indignation greets the young sorcerer with a look of malice. "Merlin, you do realize that doors are made for knocking on, right?"
"Sorry," a sheepish retort hung with exhausted pants.
"Oh, well pardon for my rudeness if you're so 'sorry' about it," mocking words exclaimed, "now what is it you want? I was about to lay down to rest."
"Well, uh."
"Come on Merlin, spit it out. You're wasting my time."
"Right. Well I've been practicing this spell..."
"Oh, here we go."
"Hear me out! I think it would be a lot of fun."
A look of idle trepidation and inquisitiveness swimming in cool blue eyes suggested weary curiosity. A crack of lightning illuminated the room with striking electricity, adding effect to the expression painted on the prince's face. "All right. What is it, Merlin?"
A look of amusement crossed the younger of the two. His cerulean eyes sparkled with the dance of firelight, and his grin spread until his clean white teeth shone.
"What? What's with that look?"
"Time travel."
"What?"
"Time travel. Don't you want to try it? You know you've thought about it before. Imagine what it's like. The future. The past."
Hostile disbelief unhinged the blond's tight jaw. His light brows furrowed slowly, as if he were distracted by thought. "That's impossible," he muttered, tense body frozen by perturbation loosening until he regained the ability to move, to which he dismissed the proposal with a fleeting swipe of a skilled hand.
"But it's not!" Merlin insisted, "I've practiced on objects, and it works! I've placed books days in my future and found them in the same spot at the exact time I asked for. It really works. I think I'm ready to travel myself, but I didn't want to go without you."
"Oh, you think, do you? You know what I think? I think this is absurd, and you've gone mad. We can't time travel, Merlin. What if something goes wrong?"
"But it won't!" the warlock insisted, his head shaking enthusiastically as if to reinforce his point, "I promise."
Interest dipped in to the blue waters of Arthur's chilly eyes. His curiosity battled with blinding reason until finally his expression hardened. Defeated, Merlin's icy cobalt hues magnetized to the floor. "Fine. I'll go by myself," turning on his heel, he began a discouraged tramp toward the chamber door.
Only seconds passed before an objection rose with a demoralized tone.
"Wait."
An inevitable smile stretched across the younger boy's face, He pivoted once more, greeting his master with a look of satisfaction.
"Where would we go?"
"Wherever you'd like. Though I think the future's more interesting, don't you?" persuasiveness added height to his words. He lifted his brows in patient expectation.
"...I suppose you're right."
"So we'll go?"
"Not just yet, Merlin. I thought you sorcerers couldn't manipulate time. What's changed?"
"Oh, that's an easy one. I looked in to the crystal."
"The crystal. That clarifies everything, thank you. What crystal?"
"The crystal of Neahtid. It gave me some power over time."
"Oh, and I'm supposed to do this because some sparkly jewel gave you powers?"
Merlin thought a moment, then nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that's pretty much the deal."
"Very reassuring."
"Are you going or not?"
A silence embraced the air and overcame it with a wave of dangling tension. Arthur leaned forward to grip the edge of his table, using it for support. His head slumped, resting between his shoulders limply, as if lifeless. Merlin passively observed his master's stance, the glow of his blue eyes lightly touching hunched shoulders. His fleeting concentration was broken with a deep sigh.
"When do we leave?"
A vast smile curled the ends of Merlin's lips. He met cool blue eyes which created an icy fire with his own, and replied calmly, "we could leave now."
"Right now?" Arthur protested, "Shouldn't we make an excuse for being absent first?"
The warlock shook his head, replying plainly with, "No."
"No? What do you mean no?"
"We can come right back to now. Or five minutes ago," he grinned, "there's no point."
"...All right, that's fair. And you swear you'll get us back?"
"I swear," Merlin replied with a winning smile, "when do you want to go to?"
Arthur paused. The air felt delicate, as if it were a wine glass dangling precariously from a thread as red as death. He had a tendency to regard each decision he made with a sense of seriousness, but the fragility of this tense moment almost made it hard to breathe. How far in his future did he want to see? Surely, to be safe, not too far. A low number of years would satisfy his servant, then they could go back.
"Six years from now."
"You got it," Merlin offered his hand to Arthur, to which he questioningly took, and began a low chant in a foreign language. Once striking blue eyes glowed a powerful auburn, their hues like fire. Merlin's voice grew louder, and Arthur had been tempted to hush him for fear of being caught, but was quickly robbed of the chance.
He felt as though the wind was knocked out of him. Dully aware of his twisting and convulsing body, his mind raced, filling with a thunderous hum. It became hard to intake air, and he was reduced to near hyperventilation. Feeling himself being pulled this way and that was maddening, and he closed his eyes to the blinding rushes of color and light around him. Each limb tingled, and the current of time's substance seemed to halt to an eerie calm. A ringing pierced his ear drums, and he felt the twinge of an oncoming headache in his forehead. His hand was empty, indicating that him and Merlin had been separated. A slap of lightning came from not so far away. It was still raining. He was outside, he knew now, and laying upon cold, wet cobblestone. Droplets kissed the pale skin of his face.
"Arthur."
"Hm?" he muttered, eyelids fluttering drowsily.
"Arthur, get up."
His eyes slowly came open to find Merlin leaning over him, a shallow gash on his cheek trickling blood. An expression of fear had gripped his fair features. Arthur sat up, distressed by the warlock's frightened stare.
"I messed up."
"What do you mean you messed up? Where are we?"
"I don't know," was the dismissive reply he received. Merlin looked around, gazing in to a tall torch above their heads which threw an orange glow upon the dark ground beneath them. It seemed to hang from its post, a feature he had never seen before, and appeared almost artificial. There was no dance of flame, but the light came anyways. "I took us too far."
"Well take us back!"
"Okay," he hastily retorted. His hand found Arthur's once more, and he helped the prince to stand, beginning a new spell. With his eyes closed in concentration, Arthur couldn't be sure if they had glowed the same as before.
The muttering ceased. They hadn't moved, both could tell, but Merlin's eye cracked open as if to be sure. Confirming his suspicions, he tried again.
His efforts were to no avail.
"...I can't," he whispered, a thick, sorrowful remorse in his voice, "My magic. It's gone."