Chapter 1 – The king, the boy and the assassin
Beta: BlackBandit111
Words: 2446
I don't own Merlin
The King sat on his throne. The room was dark, doe to only a few candles were lit, and therefore laying his face nearly completely in shadows. The few servants and guards in the room almost didn't dare to breathe, let alone move, although they had been standing in the same positions for hours. The King didn't have rumour for tolerating laziness or failure, and right now his men were laid.
That didn't bode well for anyone.
The King tapped his finger on the armrest. He liked his throneroom; it fitted his mood, but even kings had dreams. He wanted the throne of Camelot and its riches and the power it would grant him. With the Pendragons out of the way, no one could contradict him anymore.
The thought made him smirk.
He was rather young for a king, only in his thirties, but he already had more battle experience than most people ever would get in their entire life. He had dark hair and taunting eyes that just made him look even more intimidating.
2 years ago he had managed to gather a small army of mercenaries and kill the former king, even while outnumbered 1 to 20. It had been a quick but bloody battle which the former king would have won if it hadn't been for one thing.
Magic.
That was a power the King had discovered was very useful in war. A powerful sorcerer could sometimes be as good as a hundred soldiers, sometimes more, so he always made sure to have a few fighting in his army, loyal only to him and ready to fight to the death if called.
He was proud of himself, but not so arrogant that he didn't know that peace wouldn't last forever. That's why he needed to take Camelot, and why he was waiting at the moment. If they didn't arrive soon, he would give into his boredom and restlessness and get some entertainment for himself. He had a few prisoners he hadn't given a visit for a while.
Finally the doors burst open, and a guard stumbled in, quickly bowing low before the King. The King straightened in the throne and glared at the soldier, daring him the bring bad news. He could nearly hear the other man swallow a lump.
"T-they found him, my lord," the man finally stuttered.
The corners of the King's mouth twisted a little. Good news indeed.
He nodded at the guard, and gave him his next order. "Send for Sir Eadric and tell him his experiment has arrived. Hurry, or you will be entertaining the wyverns tonight."
The guard bowed again, and with a quick, "yes my lord" nearly ran back out of the room.
Fear had always been the King's favourite weapon.
The door creaked open and in marched a figure donned in a black cloak, blending him into the shadows. Not only was the man one of the most feared assassins in the five kingdoms, an excellent warrior, and had the ability to get his job done unnoticed, he also was a powerful and skilled sorcerer.
The King wasn't a complete fool. He knew that Eadric only stayed as long as he was paid in plenty of gold, and as long as no one bid a higher prize on the King's head. That was one of the reasons for him knighting the sorcerer; not that the man possessed any loyalty towards the King, but as sign from the King that he would keep his promises as long as the assassin finished the work.
None of them said a word as they waited. It was the time for their real plan to be set in motion.
It wasn't long before the doors burst open again; this time it was three men who entered. Two guards were dragging an unconscious boy over the floor, his messy hair falling into his face. It was difficult to see any details, but the King guessed that the boy couldn't be any older than twenty, probably a few years younger.
The King raised an eyebrow unimpressed. Eadric apparently shared his first impression as he growled, "Really? You are away for weeks to find a man, and then you bring me a child!?"
The guards laid the boy down on the floor and took a step back, when the assassin continued, "… What use could I have for him?"
The King himself was more than a little annoyed, but quickly relaxed again. He knew his men wouldn't dare to play tricks with him. They would have some kind of explanation. They better had a good one.
He took a closer look at the boy. He was tall, but lanky, with raven black hair and pale white skin. He didn't look much of a fighter.
"S-sorry for the wait, my lord" one of the guards stuttered. "We found him near the border of Camelot, close to one of the outlying villages. Sir Miley said he was who we sought, and performed a sleepingspell on him. He hasn't woken up yet."
"Hmm …" The King eyed the young warlock. He did look a little like his dear old 'friend', just much younger, and with paler skin and higher cheekbones. Maybe … Yes, that had to be it.
They may not have been able to find Balinor himself, but his son would work fine as well. He would also be much easier to persuade into joining them, inexperienced as he had to be. They needed a creature of magic, a person whose soul and life-source was magic, and a son of a dragonlord was such a 'person'.
"Maybe this could even prove useful. Uther wouldn't even know what hit him." The King grinned.
He gave a nod at the assassin, who stepped forwards, holding two twin bracelets in his hands. They were called the Regebat de Animus; their original name lost hundreds of years ago just as the bracelets had been, until the King had discovered a secret hallway under his castle a few weeks ago and together with Eadric found a chamber with magical artefacts.
The assassin crouched down to the boy, and lifted his left arm while placing one of the bracelets around it. Then he took a few steps back and placed its twin around his own limb. His eyes flashed gold and he began to chant loud and clear in the tongue of magic. The bracelets first glowed white, before slowly disappearing.
The King looked at the boy as he began to twist and shake. The boy gasped and his eyes snapped open, unseeing and golden. A glow appeared around him and moved slowly over to engulf the knight too, linking them together.
The light disappeared and the boy stilled once more. The King turned towards the sorcerer, who stared blankly at the wall for a second before turning around again.
To all other than the King, he still had a blank expression without the tiniest bit of emotion in his midnight black orbs, but the King thought he could see the hint of something more. Was it surprise … or even … awe? But it disappeared as soon as he met the King's eyes.
The assassin gave a nod and turned around, signalling to the guards. They began to drag the limp body out of the room.
It had worked.
He waited until they had all left the room.
"Burl!"
A young servant garbed in black rags hurried from a corner, and bowed low, his beak-like nose nearly touching the floor. "Yes, milord?"
"Be sure he has everything he needs," the King replied, "and tell Sir Harold and Sir Miley to meet me here later."
He did not as much as to look in the direction of the servant. "Of course my lord." The servant bowed again, and disappeared out of a hidden side door.
Two hours later, the King was on his way the see how the assassin fared with his newest project. He entered without even thinking about knocking. He was the King after all. The man in question sat with closed eyes on a chair in front of the boy. His had a slight frown on his brow.
He looked up when the King entered, and smirked.
"Well?" the King asked the knight, without betraying his inner nervousness. If it hadn't worked properly …
"He is indeed who we seek." Eadric answered calmly "He has lived in the village all his life, so he will not be recognized. It is unlikely anyone would recognize him as Balinor's son, and knowing Uther, he wouldn't. He has always been blind and lucky for us that will now be his downfall."
The King could see the pure joy in the assassin's eyes by the mere thought of getting revenge on the King of Camelot. He signalled for him to continue.
"He has unfortunately never been trained in magic, but that doesn't mean anything. I can control his magic perfectly because he is a creature of magic and it runs in his blood and through his whole body."
"Just like we talked about ..." the assassin seemed lost in thoughts now. "I was right in the other theories too; I can send him orders through my mind, and I will be able to control him completely in a small matter of time." The assassin let his fingers run over the wooden armrest of his chair. He got a glint in his eyes that even the King couldn't place. "I will begin to train him in mortal-combat tomorrow. He could be really useful, also after Camelot has fallen." He smiled cruelly.
"Give me a year and you will have an excellent assassin. All have a weakness; it is my job to find his. He shouldn't be too hard to break."
"I will give you seven months," the King countered, but the assassin was no longer listening. He walked over to the young warlock, and placed his hand on his brow, while he began to mumble words in another language, ignoring the King once more.
Cenred knew he shouldn't say anything and thought it was a good moment to retreat, so he left the room.
Nothing could take away the first taste of victory through; this was going to be much easier than he had first thought.
Eadric looked down at the warlock. He had finally woken up after two whole days; Miley must have used a more powerful spell than he first intended to. He cleared his throat and waited for the warlock to look at him.
"Good," he began to address him, "The next few months I will to train you in the art of fighting. I will teach you to fight with a sword, the best way to throw a knife and how to shoot perfectly with a crossbow; you will become an excellent fighter." The boy didn't say anything and was just glaring at him. He ignored it, "You should be grateful for such an opportunity! Not everyone is granted such a chance!" The boy looked away, not very impressed or excited at the thought of learning the best ways to kill others.
"Well what do you say?" Eadric taunted with a grin.
"I will never fight for you!" the boy hissed quietly, but the little edge of fear betrayed him.
The assassin just laughed. "You don't have a choice in that matter." He turned away from the warlock and took two knifes from a little table, facing him again.
"The rules are simple; I attack you and you defend yourself. Don't worry, I have enchanted the blades; if they hit they will not make any physical damage, you will just feel the pain." He smirked.
He was truly enjoying this.
He threw one of the two knives over to the warlock, and took a fighting-stance. "Go on, defend yourself!"
The warlock didn't move a muscle. "No."
The assassin just shrugged.
"As you wish."
In one swift motion he was beside the other, and plunged his knife into his shoulder. The warlock screamed in shock and pain, and collapsed to the floor. As soon as the knight pulled the knife out again, the pain stopped.
The assassin looked down as the warlock laid on the ground, now breathing hard, and continued to smile.
"Defend yourself." He said again. The warlock just shook his head and got up again, but didn't reply. The assassin sighed, but his eyes and wide grin showed just how much he enjoyed it.
Then he stabbed him in the shoulder again.
This time the boy's voice broke, and he just laid flat on the ground, his eyes pressed hard together and his breathing ragged.
This continued for a few minutes. The sorcerer would attack, and the warlock refused to defend himself. In the end the warlock barely even whimpered at the pain.
When the boy didn't even try to stand again, the assassin stood up and took the two enchanted knives with him over to the table.
The warlock gave a little sigh in relief.
The assassin-turned-knight called for the guards; it was enough for today. The boy couldn't take so much, and they didn't want to break him completely; he had to be able to think a little for himself.
When the guards had hauled the boy out of the room and towards his new chambers, Eadric began to retreat to his own room.
He knew that Cenred only desired the throne, and for now that was fine, but if the King got in the way for his plan, he wouldn't hesitate to kill him.
Cenred and Uther had an army, but Eadric had magical abilities and, in time, would have the son of the last dragonlord bound to him. If played the right way, his cards would be much better than theirs.
He would succeed, and no one would be able to stop him.
Many miles away, in a large cave under the great castle of Camelot, something began to move. The beast opened his eyes and snorted. He could feel it; after twenty-five years he could finally feel it. Destiny had been awoken and was about to begin. But even the ancient creature could feel that there was something wrong, and destiny had changed. Words claimed another meaning and the players of fate were walking different paths in life; the goal may never come to pass.
He shifted his position, and a low rumble escaped his throat.
The time for magic to be free once more was nearly upon them, but if it would come with Albion and peace, or war and death, that hadn't been decided yet.
That was Emrys' own choice.
All new names mean something in old English and will tell something about the OC's looks, past, present etc.
Names:
Harold: leader of an army
Eadric: Power
Burl: Cup bearer or butler
Wiley (here used Miley): trapper or hunter, devious person
Regebat de animus: control of the soul (soul as thinking, feeling, willing, intellect, understanding, soul) according to Google translate (Latin)
