Title: A Different Type of Pendragon

Chapter One

Rating: T (just in case of future chapters)

Summary: Magic comes in many forms, big and small. When Shakespeare is on the run after being caught poaching, Merlin has a chance to develop William Shakespeare's power over words and bring a sort of magic back into the lands of Elizabethan England.

Authors Comments: This story takes place right after the season 5 finale of Merlin and continue on into the age of Shakespeare. I do not own any rights to the characters in the fine BBC Merlin television series, although they own my heart. Enjoy!

Those first few months after… After that day were the hardest. Merlin did not want to return to Camelot – to face all those friends who had laughed with him, fought battles with him, trusted him. He just didn't have the energy to lie to them anymore. Merlin was a sorcerer, and he would deny his true self no more. He felt drained, like Arthur's passing had taken with it a part of himself. No. Camelot no longer needs me. Gwen would never have use for a warlock. And so he staid by the lakeshore, not moving, until men sent from Camelot had found him. By that time Merlin had nearly starved himself and had to be returned to Camelot on a stretcher.

Merlin noticed little as Camelot changed around him. Magic returned to Camelot, and with it came prosperity. His true abilities were known and even revered. But Merlin did nothing but lay on his bed and stare straight ahead, all his purpose gone. The friends who stood behind him after discovering his magic started to dwindle as Merlin never left his room in Gauis' chambers. Then he was jolted awake.

It was a crash- not that unusual sound, but this time it was different. This time Merlin felt the crash, and with it great pain. Gaius. Merlin tried to sit up on his bed but his body refused; he had not tried to move in a long time. But he needed to get up. Something was wrong. Merlin groaned and with great effort lifted himself to a sitting position on his bed. He tested his legs but they seemed nearly useless. Quickly scanning his room, Merlin's eyes flashed gold as the staff sitting by the door flew to his hand.

Merlin hobbled from his room, entering to see Gaius strewn on the floor, motionless.

"G… Gai…. Gaius. No." Merlin murmured, his voice creaking from lack of use. Merlin quickly drew aside his friend and cast down his staff as he sat beside him. There was a groan from the prone form.

"Mer…"

"Gaius don't move. I can help. What happened?" Merlin questioned, tears already forming in the corner of his eye. Somehow he knew. He knew that his friend was preparing to cross the vale to the spirit world.

"Merlin… Don't bother, my time has come. I am glad that you are with me as I die."

"No," Merlin growled, taking Gaius' head into his lap. "No."

"This is an… ill… that cannot be … treated."

Merlin was now crying freely as he inspected his old friend for injuries. There was blood coming from Gaius' temple, which must have been matched by bleeding inside his head as well. Merlins eyes flashed gold as wind stirred in the room, although he didn't notice it. The walls of the chamber seemed to groan, sharing Merlin's pain. Merlin balled his fist, striking the floor in desperation. There was nothing that could be done here. Except…

Merlin closed his eyes, concentrating. He murmured the words to an ancient spell. His eyes flashed gold, but as he looked up it was apparent that the spell had done Gaius no good. He repeated it, all of his anxiety and love pouring into the spell. Still, there was no effect.

"Gaius. Gaius, no." Merlin begged, his throat clogging with emotion.

"Mer … lin. Son. It is my … time. You must … not loose," Gaius words were now barely audible, as his face started to relax into death's calm embrace.

"Faith, son. Faith."

Merlin held Gaius close to him. Friend. Father. Mentor. All of these were now gone. He keened, rocking back and forth as all of the pain from the past few months exploded out from between clenched teeth.

"Faith, son. Faith."