Well, it's been almost a year. Whoops. I did say my updates were going to be sporadic, but I don't actually intend to leave it this long again... Forgive me? Aaaanyways, here's a sort-of continuation of the last one (officially, it isn't; realistically, it totally is). I'll just let you readers enjoy this slightly less action-heavy post before I start rambling again.

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, I do not claim to own Merlin, I do not intend to own Merlin. Surprised? I hope not.


The dim candlelight illuminated a young man with dark hair and prominent cheekbones writing furiously on a sheet of parchment, dipping the nib of the quill in ink every so often. He muttered under his breath as he wrote, pausing to check a list sitting off to his left before continuing his scribbling. As he set yet another finished piece aside, the table wobbled, sending a precariously balanced stack of books over the edge. Panicked, the young man dove for the tomes in the hopes of avoiding the undoubtedly loud sound of multiple heavy objects striking the floor.

Fortunately, his ever-helpful ability to perform the impossible kicked in with a flash of brilliant gold, leaving three perfectly still volumes of The Encyclopaedia of Medicinal Herbes and Plantes and two of The Arte of Brewing.

Unfortunately, one flailing arm managed to knock the bottle of ink sideways, just barely missing the 'finished' pile and letting the dark liquid splash onto the warlock. The glass jar clinked as it hit the wooden surface.

"Oh, for the love of…" The ink dripping onto the floor, a nearly silent tap-tap every few seconds, was heard over an irritated sigh.

The sound of shuffling steps came from just outside the old, cracked door.

"My dear boy, what are you doing?" A weary voice came, exasperated but not at all surprised. The wizened man opened the door to Merlin's room, revealing a tired face who had obviously been asleep moments ago. The one in question winced.

"Sorry Gaius, I was trying to be quiet," he smiled apologetically, contrite. His mentor sighed and raised an eyebrow, but his eyes were tender.

"It's alright Merlin, but you really should be getting to bed. Arthur won't be happy if you're late again," Gaius admonished, inwardly amused when Merlin just grinned.

"Maybe not on the outside, but we both know he's secretly grateful for the extra sleep these days," the manservant said lightly. "And you would be as well Gaius, go back to bed, I promise I'll be done soon."

The Court Physician narrowed his eyes.

"Done what exactly?"

Merlin gestured to the stack of letters, grateful he was blocking most of the inky mess from his mentor's sight.

"I'm writing letters for the druid camps and unaffiliated sorcerers living in and across Camelot's border. I'll deliver through magical means, of course, I'm not going to risk trying to send them by courier or merchant. Besides, it'd take ages for them to get anywhere," Merlin frowned, "I'd bring all of them in person if I could but I haven't quite mastered the teleportation spell yet so I won't have time for each one."

"When on earth did you learn how to teleport?" Gaius' eyebrow rose.

"I've heard it enough times, I managed to piece it together pretty easily. The hard part was figuring out how to control where I end up, apparently, you have to have been there before otherwise, you'll end up who-knows-where," the warlock grimaced, recalling his first few disastrous attempts.

"And you've been practising a dangerous spell, in Camelot, without telling me? Merlin!"

"I had to learn sometime Gaius! It's incredibly useful, and it's not that hard once you get the hang of it!"

"That's not what I meant and you know it!"

Merlin smiled innocently, faltering in the face of Gaius' eyebrow, which had nearly disappeared into his receding hairline.

"I'm careful, and I usually practice while I'm out picking herbs so I'm well away from the city. Honestly, Gaius, everything's fine! You have nothing to worry about," Merlin spread his hands appealingly and attempted a reassuring expression. Gaius let out a heavy breath.

"My dear boy I always have something to worry about when it comes to you, just please, do be careful," the mentor said tiredly, though there was a hint of fondness in the tone. A forgotten thought came back. "What are you writing to the druids for anyway?"

"Oh, well, you remember that one sorcerer?" Blank stare. "No, no I suppose you wouldn't. The one who smashed his nose open and put all the knights to sleep. Ernie, I think… well, I'm hoping that maybe if everyone knew what Arthur was, they might stop attacking Camelot. I mean, at the very least it might stop some of the weaker ones. Fewer deluded people taking up my spare time the better, I suppose!" The warlock said with a hint of desperation; the aged man could see signs of prolonged fatigue and could tell Merlin was getting pushed just a little bit too close to the edge.

"Do what you have to do Merlin, just try not to get yourself killed," Gaius gave the boy a pointed look.

"Thank you, Gaius, I won't, good night."

"Good night, Merlin."

The door closed softly, Merlin waited until everything was silent before glancing down at his ink-stained person and the overturned bottle. A bit of magic had little dark droplets speeding back into the bottle, leaving no trace of the spill.

"Four more," he whispered, getting back to work.


The setting sun cast a soft but brilliant glow over the forest surrounding Camelot, illuminating the trees with golden light that painted a dazzling picture of the landscape; a sight which Merlin longed to enjoy if only he'd had the time.

Not that he did, of course. Merlin strolled to the edge of the forest, glancing back furtively at the city gates. One of the guardsmen was asleep.

Merlin snorted, readjusting the satchel in which he stored collected herbs. Well, would store collected herbs, except that it was already occupied by near three dozen painstakingly-written letters addressed to various magic-users in and around Camelot.

Which he would now spend the entirety of the night delivering in the hopes of ensuring that the onslaught of displeased and misguided sorcerers might subside a bit. Hopefully.

Wonderful.

Merlin walked into the darkening woods, navigating the familiar terrain with a caution born from years of experience with bandits and slave traders and scarier things that make errant wanderers disappear without a trace. He didn't go too far, just enough to make sure there weren't about to be any witnesses to his slightly less than legal activities. The spell was incanted with brows furrowed, eyes shut and a general idea of the destination.

Then the warlock disappeared with barely a whisper of a breeze and a slight pop of rushing air, leaving no indication he had ever been there.


Suddenly appearing several metres in the air and over a cold stream is apparently very, very, conducive to panicked druid women launching terrifying spells at one's person.

Fortunately, the only thing they'd been washing had been their laundry, a fact which Merlin was eternally grateful for. Nevertheless, when an unknown man teleports through some of the strongest wards in existence, there is usually cause to worry.

"Ah! Ow! Nononono, ow! Wait!" A reflexive shield of blue light shimmered and materialised, blocking the next volley of magic. The warlock cowered; soggy, slightly startled from the rapid transport and unwilling to blindly lash out. As his eyes refocused and his orientation returned Merlin managed to stand up straight just as numerous robed figures slid down the slope, stopping at the shore. They took threatening stances and while Merlin knew the druids were a peaceful people, he also knew that they wouldn't object to rendering him unconscious, wiping his memory and dropping him off at the walls of the nearest city.

"Hold on! I'm not here to hurt you!" He held his hands up with the backs of his hands facing the druids and adopted a non-threatening look. The shield came down. "My name is Merlin, although some of you, especially your leader Iseldir, may know me as Emrys and I'm here to see-"

The moment of hushed awe and disbelief tinged with suspicion that came with the name ended rapidly, drowning out the rest of his words with dozens of voices. Suddenly the crowd parted, allowing the druid chieftain to step calmly to the edge of the water. The figure smiled.

"Good evening, Emrys," Iseldir said respectfully, bowing his head. Merlin grimaced at the deference but nodded in acknowledgement.

"Hello Iseldir, I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time," Iseldir's kind face displayed serene curiosity as he nodded and waited for Merlin to drag himself out of the water. As Merlin reached the edge, his eyes lit up and his clothes steamed slightly and dried. The assembled druids tittered at the silent use of magic, some of the younger one's eyes widened in shock and awe. The warlock shifted awkwardly and hurried his pace slightly.

"We shall speak somewhere more private," the druid leader murmured and set off into the camp, Merlin ambling along after him. The two drew many stares as they passed, though not unkind ones and whispers began to break out. The obvious attention unnerved the younger of the two, accustomed to blending in as a servant. A faint blush appeared on pale skin.

"Peace, Emrys. Your discomfort is not their intention, nonetheless many consider it a great honour to be in your presence," Iseldir spoke up, a faint twitch of his lips belying his mirth at the muted glare shot his way.

"Still makes me uncomfortable," came the muttered reply, preceding an even fainter "and my name's Merlin."

Iseldir gave no acknowledgement to the weak protest, drawing back the pelt hanging in the doorway to a tent. Merlin figured it was the druid leaders, the lack of distinction from the others was of little consequence for the druid people who rarely acknowledged such things anyway.

They ducked through the entrance, allowing the pelt to fall back into place and plunging them into darkness. Merlin started slightly as he felt a wisp of magic brush by his cheek, and drew in a short breath at the warmth.

Then, a flicker of light within Iseldir's iris cued seven lights softly appearing, suspended perfectly in place equidistant from the centre. One of them pulsed a mellow orange beside the young warlock's face, who simply stared and reached up to softly brush his fingertips through the nebulous cloud.

"It has heat," his eyebrows furrowed, "why does it emit heat?" Merlin's head tilted in confusion, remembering the brief explanation his magic book had provided on magical illumination. One which was clearly incorrect if what he was witnessing was any indication.

"This version requires a fair bit more power than most in order to keep them perfectly still, which means they are constantly draining and utilising my internal magic instead of the ambient magic in the air," Iseldir explained, smiling at the curiosity in the young man's eyes, which at the moment showed understanding.

"That makes sense, why do you need them still?" Merlin drew back from the light, turning to inspect the simplistic but cosy living space. Earthy greens, oranges, and browns were predominant in terms of colouring, and while there was little for furniture, many furs and small storage compartments lined the tent. In the centre lay a thick, furry mat of some sort, while a small raised space was set aside for writing. Runes lined the sides of the thick fabric walls, some Merlin recognised, but others were unfamiliar. Protection, Warning, and Silence were among them.

"I suppose I do not, but I find the constant use of magic strengthens it, and while I no longer use it in ways that I once did, many of my more ceremonial duties require precise control," Iseldir sat down with his legs crossed and an open expression, "now let us speak, Emrys."

The warlock followed suit, his gaze still focused on the suspended light, and fidgeted slightly, though not necessarily due to outright discomfort.

"I may need some help, a favour really, I guess…" Merlin looked to Iseldir at that, "I need to know the locations of the magic users living within Camelot, as well as the other druid camps."

Iseldir raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Not that we do not trust you Emrys, but might I inquire to the reasoning behind your request?" the Druid Leader gazed at him, studying. Merlin let out a breath and his fatigue became even more pronounced in the dim lighting,

"I want it to stop. The assassination attempts, the destruction, all the vengeful magic-users making messes and giving the rest of us a bad name," the warlock's eyes were narrowed, frustration apparent in his posture. "It's becoming ridiculous, no, it is ridiculous, how many I have to stop each week. I can't imagine how Arthur survived before I came because there hasn't been a week that I haven't caught an assassin of some sort sneaking into Camelot, and there've been a few in his bedchambers!"

His hands were clenched now, knuckles white with tension. The druid leader sat calmly, waiting for the youth to relieve his frustrations.

"I am so sick and bloody tired of the sheer ignorance of these people! I get that not everyone can sense magic like I can but why anybody else can't see what I do in Arthur is just annoying!"

Iseldir's eyebrows rose at the statement, he jolted in surprise. Merlin noticed and fell silent at the uncharacteristic act of the usually unperturbed man, who peered at the young warlock for a few moments.

"Emrys, I believe the reason that the Once and Future King may be targeted so often is because you are one of the few currently capable of glimpsing his destiny," Iseldir spoke slowly, but assuredly, "actually, there are very few who are aware of your identity beyond those who have met you in person. Your magical signature is extremely remarkable and unique, even the weakest hedgewizard or hedgewitch would feel something of note. A druid such as myself will trust your judgement as we trust in the prophecies, but the average sorcerer knows very little and is even less willing to believe in the son of Uther Pendragon.

"There are, however, creatures possessing a very profound and prominent connection to the Old Religion, and by extension, magic itself," Merlin frowned here, but set his questions to the side, "you have already met the Great Dragon, correct? He is one such creature and displays that in his knowledge and innate understanding of the will of the Old Religion, as well as his sense of Balance."

"Balance, what does that have to do with anything?" Merlin, couldn't help but feel confused as to why the cryptic lizard's ability to stay upright would have anything to do with the present discussion. Iseldir chuckled.

"All things existing in the natural world but remain in equilibrium for proper order to be maintained. Should this balance be upset, the Old Religion will attempt to compensate for it. The Slaughter, or Purge, was one of these upsets. Your birth was a direct result of the deaths caused, an attempt to right the balance if it will, though your coming has been foretold for many a generation. Your use of the Mirror of Life and Death also reflects this, a life for a life for the balance to be maintained.

"It is mainly magical creatures that have this capability, though there are a few such as yourself who are adept at sensing this phenomenon, such as Anhora the Keeper of the Unicorns and to a very slight extent, Nimueh the former High Priestess."

At this, Iseldir paused.

"It is your connection to the Old Religion, Emrys, which allows you see what Arthur shall become, and why those of you who have met you have such great faith in your word. You are utterly unique in the sense that you are the embodiment of Magic itself, a champion of the Old Religion. You, along with Arthur, will be the one to restore peace and balance to Albion."

Merlin had nothing to say to Iseldir's declarations; his thoughts were spinning in all directions, trying to make some sense of what he had heard. With a dry mouth, he voiced the only question he could think of.

"Why me?"

Iseldir fixed him with a piercing stare.

"It is a rare, that with the power you possess, one would choose to defend not conquer. That is all I have for that matter, Emrys, it would be wise to consult those belonging to your heart for the answer to that question.

"Now, I believe I may have a suggestion to resolve your plight."


The moon was just starting its descent when a tall figure appeared under the shadow of the forest just outside of Camelot. The breeze ruffled and whispered at his arrival, before settling once more.

The young warlock was grinning as he willed his footsteps silent and wandering gazes away from his presence. If he skipped a little bit, well, there was nobody around to tease him for it anyway.

He had a plan.


No, I don't really know what I'm doing, but I think I might know where I'm going. Do any of you guys ever get the feeling you don't have enough room or time to tell everything you want to tell? I just got a feeling of incomplete from this one. Fortunately, there will be another unofficial follow-up so you guys won't be so confused. Maybe I should just get on that actual full-length fic I've been wanting to write for a while. Maybe I'll do a crossover, who knows? Suggestions are welcome.

Constructive criticism appreciated, flames not, if you've been on this site for any length of time you know the drill. Tell me if I've done something wrong, or if I'm doing something right, I'll respond to reviews in a PM (behind already on that, but you'll get a reply eventually).

Have a great day/night (I know there are at least a few of you prowling the abysses of fanfiction at four AM on a school night...)!