Disclaimer: Mr Bruckheimer & Touchstone Pictures absolutely refuse to play ball and part with them. They're still not mine, although not for the want of trying ... Lucan though, isn't the character who featured briefly in the movie – I just really loved the name – and belongs to me.
Warning: Strictly and completely AU. Contains strong language, shape-shifting and slash. This will contain angst and hurt comfort, so you have been warned …
A/N: After experiencing a severe case of writer's block the 1st time around & deleting this, I've decided to bite the bullet and have another crack at it. Personally, I blame Lucan - see my icon and you'll soon understand why :) - for this lapse in judgement and the fact I'm too weak-willed when it comes to resisting temptation !
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The Wolf and the Mage
Prologue
? pov:
Ever since I can remember, I've always been aware of my tribe's traditions. To an outsider, or anyone unfortunate not to have Celtic blood flowing through their veins, they view it as myth rather than custom. But for my people, it's stark reality and not the stuff of legends. Something which has proven true time and time again. Over generations. Something which we, the Woad, can no longer deny.
What am I talking about ? I'm talking about when the youth of our tribe come of age. When they discover what fate has in store for them. When they learn whether they're destined to be notoriously fearsome warriors, or something completely different ... Something far rarer. Something mystical. When magic is finally released and begins to flow through your body and you discover hidden strengths and traits. The ability to heal. To possess second sight and be a soothsayer. To be able to transform into the guise of another mortal or shift into the likeness and take on the characteristics of any living creature, as well as communicate with them. All those things can be seen as gifts. Something to be treasured. Revered.
Yet there's also a darker side to sorcery. One which involves hexes, curses, necromancy and blood. Unless it's treated with care and respect, it can also corrupt the soul. For all magic, unless used selflessly, comes at a price. And once evil takes root, the price becomes far too high to pay ...
Ten years have passed since I came of age. Since I changed from the naive and callow youth of sixteen summers and became the man I am today. Fate decreed I wasn't meant to be a protector of my people. To be a mighty warrior. And even though I'm not a fighter - I prefer to talk my way out of trouble and rely on my intelligence and gut instinct to stay alive - like all of my brethren, I'm more than capable of defending myself should the need arise. And whether I choose to rely on those traits, my blades or garrotte to do so, depends entirely on the situation I'm in ...
Yet my greatest means of defence is the one I rarely resort to. And considering my parentage, it's hardly surprizing that I possess it - it'd be more of a shock if I didn't ! I've vowed that it's something I'll never abuse, even though I'm more than proficient and intrigued by it. It's my greatest strength yet if ill-used, has the potential to be my weakness. My downfall. And this asset ? It's magic ...
So, who am I ?
I'm the only mage amongst my peers. Call me what you will. Warlock. Enchanter. Healer. Shifter. Thanks to my bloodline, there's no doubt I could be anything else.
And my name ?
Lucan. Bastard son of Nimue, a sorceress of immense skill and power and Merlin, the greatest wizard ever known. And having to live up to the expectations of being a direct descendant of theirs, means just one thing ... I'm buggered before I start !