Kilgharrah sensed the boy immediately. His magic called out, singing into every inch if the earth around him. The dragon wasn't sure why he was so special, not right away, but he kept his senses open to the sorcerer. As more time passed, Kilgharrah was sure that there was something different about the young man's powers. It called out to him like none other did, melding with his own like nothing Persephone could ever devise. He was a servant of Hades, like Kilgharrah himself. He was kin.
Destiny was a strange force, weaved into the fabric of mortals and immortals alike. Some could foresee, but few could understand a strand in Fate's thread, let alone the full design. Dragons were beings granted with understanding of many things, in comparison to others at least, yet even they faltered in full comprehension. Fortunately, it didn't take much insight to learn the boy's name.
"Merlin," He called out, his power brushing that of the warlock's, "Merlin."
When the young man finally stepped out before him, Kilgharrah thought he'd made a very foolish mistake. If it wasn't for the hideous scarf like cloth around his neck, the Great Dragon would've bowed; Hades would never lower himself to wear such a garment! At the same time, however, Merlin looked strikingly like his master, so much so that the dragon could only come to one conclusion.
Yet would not Hades have told his creations? Kilgharrah had no great pride in his status, for he was still mortal and now chained, but surely Hades would want a being such as his son celebrated amongst all. Probing further, he found stores of power locked away, amounts of which he couldn't fully fathom. So this was why the boy was a secret; he unconsciously backed up, puffing out his chest and arching away from the godling. If Kilgharrah knew one thing, it was that messing with the gods only brought trouble; he wouldn't mention anything to the lad if he could help it.
Destiny fully knew who she chose to be named Emrys, no matter how wary the Great Dragon was of his master's son. Regardless of his caution, it was time for Merlin to hear of his calling with the Once and Future King. After moving past his initial wariness, the dragon found the whole situation quite amusing as he heard the vehemence in the 'warlock's' voice. Hades' son indeed!
Kilgharrah couldn't stay any longer without laughing his hide off. Raising his wings, he pumped them down hard, taking him up. Only then did he let the stoic mask fall. Merlin would be back.
The moment Merlin killed Nimueh was the first time he bathed in his powers. Darkness clouded his emotions, pulling him deeper and deeper into the bliss. Her life force was his to command, and he willed his mentor back to him, pulling his soul back to where it belonged. Merlin felt the darkness fall around him like a blanket, warm and soft and safe. It was as though he was death itself, choosing who lived and who died, righteously ruling over all life. If he fell any farther, he imagined he could see himself on a throne.
It was only the drops of rain that brought him back out of the blackness, hitting against his skin like spikes of ice. For a split second, he was furious; what dare pull him from the beckoning darkness? As soon as his vision focused, he ran to Gaius. He could not fully shake off the effects of Nimueh's death, couldn't forget the safeness of the endless night. He knew he would forever fear that monster lurking beneath his skin, dragging him down, down, down.
It was the monster he almost became, the silent threat, that no one could ever understand. What could he say to Gaius? There were no words to adequately describe what happened. The most disturbing thing was not that he killed Nimueh, but rather that he enjoyed it so much. Even looking back, he didn't regret it.
Even the rain did not ignore the scene it fell upon. The lord of the waters saw the impossible, the young boy so like his father, bringing a dead man to life, for he commanded not life to enter him, but rather death to not take him.
Poseidon did not neglect to tell Zeus of the boy those several years ago, though he did mislead him. Gods father bastards all the time, and Zeus merely laughed at the notion of Hades siring one. Poseidon felt he had done what he needed to, he just 'forgot' to mention that this was no demigod bastard. Zeus would desire any of his brother's children dead no matter the circumstances, but was less likely to act upon a simple stray. What threat were they, after all?
Yet watching his nephew, the mighty god wondered if he was wrong in not disposing of the babe when he had a chance. Even bound as he was, the fledgling god was powerful, though going by his expression, quite unsettled by the fact. The power he had commanded in those few minutes seemed out of place in the lanky boy, though so did Hades'. It was a miracle that his nephew hadn't lost himself; he supposed that his rain had done its job.
The god of the seas could only fool himself so much, but he hadn't reached that point yet. He had brought the lad back from that dangerous ledge because the last thing the gods needed to deal with was a crazy immortal. He did it out of selfishness, not pity, and surely not out of love.
At least, Poseidon was content to pretend so for now.
Hades wanted to scream. How could anyone be so stupid, so reckless? The pathetic witch tore open the veil, letting his more hateful people run rampant upon the earth they all resented. Poor Cailleach was panicking, running in circles trying to stop them from leaving. Oh how she hated being alone, watching those whom she was meant to help willingly leave her.
It was part of the reason the veil required a sacrifice for both opening and closing the tear between the realms. If Cailleach was going to be alone for an extended period of time, she demanded more souls to keep her company. Hades had agreed to this, knowing the pain of loneliness himself.
The mortal witch was becoming dangerous in her own way, and Hades could no longer ignore this fact. She carved a path of destruction everywhere she went with no sense of the true harm she was doing, whether to the balance, or to herself. In her quest for the petty human throne, she would forsake her own sanity. Hades would have to keep an eye on this one.
Though, he wouldn't act upon it directly, not unless he had to; it wasn't his job to clean up every one of the mortals' messes.
The dorocha sent chills up Merlin's spine, their screams haunting him deep into the night. The warlock knew he was being paranoid, but it felt as though they had marked him as their target. Every scream was a vengeful roar against him, every breeze coming to take him away. When he felt his magic falter in their presence, it was enough to make him fall apart. What use was he to Arthur if he couldn't face this?
Yet his fear of them was nothing in comparison to his loyalty to his true king, and for his king he would accept their embrace.
"Merlin!" Arthur screamed, but his friend could no longer hear him. The cold consumed him, and he was plunged into darkness.
When Hades felt his son's life falter, he collapsed. It was if someone had torn his legs out from under him, the pain rushing forward to embrace him. Frantic, he sent out his power, searching for the remains of his son's presence. When he found him, Hades breathed in relief, for his soul was intact.
Of course, the dorocha could harm his son no more than they could harm him, but for a moment Hades was not a god with rational thought and incomprehensible knowledge. He was a father worried for his son.
The danger had not completely passed, however, as Merlin could not access the power to fight them off. He would not die, but the dorocha had pulled him from his mortal body. Without guidance, Merlin would never be able to find his way back.
There was a way for Hades to talk to him, to explain to him what he needed to do, but was a connection he dared not try if he wanted Merlin to remain hidden. Yet, why would he protect his son from his family, only to let him suffer at the hands of other forces? Reaching out again, he made the connection.
The young man was lost in the hazy gray of the void. Shapes circled him, lightly brushing up against the edges of his vision. He couldn't feel anything. There was a roaring in his ears, annoying and impossibly loud, yet he could do nothing. He felt like nothing.
"Merlin." His name, somehow spoken, broke the bindings around him. The shapes dissipated, and Merlin identified them as the dorocha. While he was suspended in air, he was able to move; the action seemed to be controlled more from this own thought than any physical action. Did he even have a body anymore?
When Merlin righted himself and turned to face whomever called his name, he was rendered speechless.
"Hello, my son." Hades swallowed emotionally, averting his eyes from the deep blue that pierced him as acutely as they had many years ago.
"Balinor was my father." Even as the words left Merlin's mouth, he knew them now not to be true. Here, in the unworldly domain, Merlin felt truth permeate him. "No. No, I don't understand. If you are my father, than Balinor..."
"Balinor was one of my household guards, Hunith, as you can guess, is not your mother. She was a servant, charged with protecting you." Hades could see something break inside his son, but it was necessary; where else do beautiful things grow, if not in the fertile ashes of destruction?
"Why send me away?"
"You were in danger. Merlin, please, I beg of you, believe me. If I could have kept you, raised you as the son you deserved to be treated as, I would've! I would've sacrificed anything to do so, but I would not endanger you. Never could I be so selfish."
"You would rather me live a bastard than die a son."
"You aren't a bastard, Merlin, you never were. I claimed you as mine the day you were born." The following silence was awkward, as neither knew what to say to comfort the other.
"Where are we?"
"We're in the void between the worlds of the living and the dead. The dorocha, spirits cursed to remain here, pulled you from your body."
"How are you here, then? How do you even know this?" Merlin realized he knew nothing of his father; even his name eluded him. "Who are you?"
Hades smiled sadly.
"It's better if you don't know."
"For me, or for you?" The words were harsh, but Merlin couldn't bring himself to care. He wouldn't be abandoned, not now; the truth was too close to not pursue.
"For both of us. I'm not-" Hades paused. What could he say to his son to explain? "I'm not someone many would be proud to have has their father. I'm the reason you're in danger every second of your life, the reason why you will always be hunted. As long as you don't know who I am and, by extension, who you are, you might stay hidden for a while longer. Even now, this connection I've forged is in danger of being noticed. We need to get you back into your body."
Merlin shut down, prepared for what was ahead. His father was dangerous and secretive, not unlike Merlin himself if he was honest; there was nothing he could do to change that. The warlock donned his emotionless mask, and coldly stared down his father.
"What do I need to do?"
If you had asked Merlin what had happened next, he would not remember. He wouldn't remember his father's calm voice guiding him back to his body, wouldn't remember returning to the mortal realm. All he knew was that one moment, he was shrouded in the gray world, and the next he was freezing.
Poseidon had felt Hades' connection with the boy as soon as it had been forged. He had been keeping tabs on Merlin's whereabouts, but when he felt his brother's presence, his full attention snapped to Merlin.
The young man was dying.
Well, not quite. Hades' son was no less immortal than any of them, but his soul was slipping from the mortal realm, thanks to the dorocha. He would be lost between the worlds, carried by the spirits there for eternity as his body stayed comatose, his power lost with him. For a moment, Poseidon thought that it was for the best, that it would save his nephew from the inevitable destruction that lay ahead of him.
He should have known his brother was foolish enough to save him. Merlin wouldn't die now, his spirit safely back in its safe confinement, but it would be a while before he was fully recovered from the attack. In a moment of empathy for his nephew, Poseidon commanded his vilia to heal him, an act he hoped his brother overlooked.
Hades hadn't.
"Why did you save him?" His brother stood in his hall, tall and awkward, demanding answers to questions Poseidon tried to ignore.
"I have no answer for you, Hades. Go home."
"No, no I can't, not without knowing why. You know where he is, but how long will you hold your tongue?"
"As long as he's not a threat."
"To whom? Zeus's ego?" Hades was becoming irrational in his worry.
"I'm not our brother! I won't kill him just because he's your child, but if he threatens the balance of power-"
"What balance is there when one being controls all?"
"An imaginary one that your boy might shatter, if he's not careful. We can't afford that! You know the measures Zeus would take to ensure that he remains the one on that throne. Not all of us can oppose him so blatantly and get away unscathed."
"None of you ever try." Hades walked a thin line, now that his brother held the fate of his son. If he pushed him too far, Merlin would suffer for it.
"Please, Hades, just go. Your son is safe, isn't that what you want? You know my conditions; all you have to do is keep your son in line." Hades hated being at the mercy of his brothers, but there was nothing else he could do.
With a billow of his black cloak, he sauntered from Poseidon's throne room, sulking back to his dreary realm. Hades wondered if he was always destined to be angry and dark, or if the underworld shaped him into the grim leader it needed.