It was a time of celebration. All over Camelot, people were merry, singing and dancing as they welcomed in the new year. But, inside the great castle of King Uther that looked out over the entire kingdom a servant boy named Merlin was ill at ease…
"Cheer up Merlin". Prince Arthur clapped the smaller boy on the shoulder and thrust a goblet of wine into his hand. "The look on your face could turn milk sour".
"Sorry" Merlin muttered to Arthur's retreating back. As much as he wanted to join in the celebrations, he couldn't shake off the ever-increasing feeling that something or someone was watching, spying; and with malicious intent.
Gwen appeared from the crowd to stand at his side. "You look lovely" he said, and they both blushed, grateful towards the king for calling for silence to begin his customary speech. Merlin's thoughts were far away as he tried to identify the source of his growing unease. He felt oddly uncomfortable, tugging at the neck of his shirt. Why did no-one else notice the heat? It was uncanny, so warm on a midwinter's night. And then, all of a sudden, he was burning.
It was fire, blazing like ice from his veins, was midnight shining bright as day from his eyes, was music singing silently through every fibre of his being. It was true power.
He became vaguely aware through the haze of magic that the king had fallen silent mid-speech and the whole court had turned to stare at him. He wondered why but didn't really care, too occupied with testing his new-found powers. A gasp rose from the crowd as, with no more effort than breathing or blinking, Merlin rose gracefully from the stone floor and into the air. The hall was lit with brilliant light and golden patterns spun gently across the walls as every inch of him glowed with the magic coursing through him. And yet, despite the magnitude of the power running through him, despite the fact that he was invincible, he was almost on the verge of panic. He could sense his memories, emotions, thoughts, dreams, all slipping from his mind. He could feel his humanity, everything that made him who he was disappearing. The tiny part of him left inside his brain screamed silently as he realised what was happening but it was too late. He couldn't move, couldn't do anything but watch as the thing wearing his body like a cloak spoke and addressed the king.
"Well, well, well. Uther Pendragon. I must say, you've aged well. Command suits you.
There could be no doubt that Merlin wasn't Merlin any longer. The voice issuing from his mouth wasn't in fact, one voice but many, a jarring, discordant multitude woven into one. Merlin didn't know it but his body no longer looked the same; it was just a shining light, too bright to look at, hovering in the air. But Merlin saw the colour drain from Uther's face as he started at the sound.
"Nim" he breathed, ghostly pale as the rays of gold cast odd shadows across his face.