Eyes on fire
When he arrived, Uther thought he was just another sorcerer.
He gave him the usual sentence. Burned alive on a pyre.
The king wanted to personally watch this sorcerer as he went up in flames. Something about the way he looked, unhurried and carefree, as if taking a walk in the woods, not a care in the world. How dare he. Did he not know he would die just like the rest of his evil kin?
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When the sorcerer was tied to the pole and the fire lit, he did not burn.
The fire whirled and twirled around him, forming shapes and figures to the dumbfounded audience. The flames cackled and the chains sucked away his magic, but the sorcerer did not burn.
He stood there, a small smile at his lips as the fire danced.
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He had him beheaded.
The ax, and any others after it, broke.
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He had him drowned.
He always floated, no matter how heavy an object they tied to him.
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He had him poisoned, both publicly and privately.
He downed the concoctions with nary a sound.
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He starved him of food and water, while locking him in what was famously becoming known as his cell.
He never dropped an ounce of weight, never looked the slightest bit thirsty.
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He tried to kill him in his sleep.
An invisible barrier always kept him from even touching him, let alone harming him.
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He deprived him of basic comforts. Taking away his bed, clothes, blankets, and the bucket that served as his toilet.
He was always found with new clothes, blankets, beds, and buckets the next day.
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"What is your purpose here sorcerer?" Uther pressed himself against the bars, his face twisted into a snarl.
The sorcerer got up from where he was laying on his bed and bowed. "Your Highness."
He raised his head and gave him a small smile. "I only want to help."
"Who? The rest of your evil kind?"
"Not just them." He looked him straight in the eyes.
The king glared into the sorcerer's eyes. The sorcerer stared back calmly.
Uther was the first to look away, and left.
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A spell is cast on his guests as the sorceress' eyes flash gold.
He is unable to move as a knife heads straight for his only son.
The knife heads straight for the prince only to stop mere inches from his eye.
The disbelieving crowd watches as the knife turns in midair and plunges itself in the shocked enchantresses throat.
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He looked at the sorcerer, face unreadable.
The sorcerer looked calmly back.
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His son entered a tournament and won match after match.
He glowed with pride, even though he didn't show it.
His son's final match came, a man named Sir Valiant.
He watched as his son met blow after blow with little effort.
He watched as Valiant came close tried to swat his son with his shield.
He watched as a blur seemed to shoot out of the shield, unnoticed by all but his practiced eyes.
His watched as his son was struck, and stumbled out of the way with none of his usual grace.
He watched as a particularly powerful jab grazed his son's side.
He watched as his son fell and didn't move.
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"Can you save him."
The words were spat out of the king's mouth, his knuckles white against the bars. His eyes were hard, but filled with poorly hidden desperation.
"Yes."
Silence.
"I am willing to let you go, if you save him. You will be banished, but alive." It was the only compromise he could give.
The sorcerer's eyes bored into him. "I'll stay here as long as magic is illegal in Camelot. Even if you let me go, I'll just come back."
The king's eyes flashed with hatred. He turned to leave, berating himself furiously for even contemplating-
The sorcerer's words stopped him. "Uther."
He whirled around. How dare-
The sorcerer raised his fist and his eyes flashed gold. His hand opened and revealed a simple black stone, that glowed bright blue, before fading.
He gave a small smile. "I never said I wouldn't help."
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He placed the stone on his son's chest as he struggled to breath.
It glowed a bright shining blue, and his son's troubled breathing instantly stilled, a peaceful expression on his face.
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He didn't thank him.
But food was allowed back in his cell.
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When a deadly plague entered his kingdom, he immediately thought of the sorcerer in the dungeons. This was obviously his plan all along. Lull him into a false sense of security and slowly kill his kingdom when he wasn't looking.
He goes to the dungeons only to find the sorcerer not there.
His eyes widen and he turns to yell at his incompetent guards, striding through the halls at an angry pace.
He crashes into someone, and it was only his years of training that kept him from landing on his backside.
The sorcerer stood in front of him, covered in mud and carrying a huge egg.
He stared dumbly as the sorcerer casually handed him the egg and walked passed him, tracking mud the entire way.
The king broke out of his stupor and ran to the sorcerer's cell. He was sitting there, clean, as if he never left.
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The plague ended the next day.
He made no mention of what happened, and continued on with his life at court.
He ignored Gaius's knowing looks.
He ignored Arthur's questioning gaze.
He ignored Morgana's suspicious glances.
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Bayard, the king of a small kingdom, arrived at his kingdom to celebrate the peace between the two kingdoms.
He, his son, and his daughter raised their chalices in tribute.
He was talking to Bayard when screams broke out. He turned to find his son on the floor, the chalice rolling out of his hand.
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"It's fatal."
Uther's heart stopped in his throat. He couldn't speak.
Gaius continued. "There is a known cure but-"
"But what?" There would be no buts. His son was a crowned prince, future ruler of Camelot. He would get this cure even if he had to go to hell and back to get it.
Gaius hesitated. "There's a flower grown in particular caves that are known to cure this type of poison, but the journey there would take weeks to and back."
"Then I shall ride out with a company of knights immediately." Uther stood up and made as if to go. Gaius's words stopped him in his tracks.
"Sire, Arthur only has a few days before the poison reaches his heart."
Uther's heart stopped. "So there is nothing we can do to save my son?"
"Sire-"
The door opened. Both men faced the intruder only to gape.
The sorcerer stood in the doorway; clothes torn, hair disheveled, with scratches covering his face.
And in his hands he held a beautiful red flower, the size of his palm.
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Arthur stared at the sorcerer, who was playing with the fire in his palm, making it into figures and shapes. The sorcerer dispelled the fire and stood up to bow. "Your Highness. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
"Why did you save me?"
The sorcerer smiled. "Why wouldn't I?"
The prince fell silent, and watched the fire in the magic user's palm as it danced and weaved around his arm. The sorcerer seemed content to use magic in front of him, and even made a few sparks come out of his hands and hover over the fire dragon that twirled around his torso.
He broke the silence. "My name is Merlin."
The prince's eyes shot up from the fire dragon to meet hopeful blue eyes. He gave him a hesitant smile.
"My name is Arthur."
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Merlin was taking a leisurely walk in the forest, one he took every few days.
There was only so long he could stay in his cell and he felt that he needed to stretch his legs every few days.
Things were coming along nicely. He had managed to anger and confuse King Uther, met and somewhat befriended the Once and Future King (though it was still an ongoing process), saved the prince and Camelot, successfully introduced non-harmful magic to the kingdom, and was now currently smuggling convicted sorcerers and magic users out of the kingdom through the use of misdirection and illusions.
From what his faithful minions (he loved calling them that) had told them, none of the guards, knights, or the King had noticed when the magic users were replaced with glamoured mud golems. It was such a useful spell and he thanked Avalon every day that the druids showed it to him.
They were very understanding and willing to help him with his plans. He wouldn't know where he would be without them.
But, he mused, peace through non-resistance would be their sort of thing.
End