Wow. I never dreamed I would get so many reviews for the last chapter- a single glimpse of Merlin's eyes opening actually seems to have succeeded in driving half of my readers mad! (Or, at least, more mad than you were before). If that's what one line did, I wonder how you'll take this...
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin
Chapter 7
Deep beneath Camelot's castle, a pair of normally blue eyes snapped open, flaring gold.
Merlin frowned. By now he was used to the familiar tug on his magic he had come to associate with Arthur being in danger, but the frequency with which the dangers were occurring seemed to be increasing at an alarming rate. Besides, Arthur was in Camelot right now. And if the time was anything to go by, then he would probably be training with his Knights. What reason would he have for the tattoo's protective spell to react?
The young Warlock glanced up at the mock sun hovering somewhere near the centre of the ceiling. Or rather, the orb he liked to think of as a mock sun. Merlin had come up with the spell after discovering, in a rather unfortunate manner, that having a fire for a light source in such a confined space- even with a smokeless flame- led to rather alarming difficulties in breathing. That was certainly not an experience he wanted to go through again. Instead, he had developed a small sphere of light- a spell he had perfected over time. Originally, the orb had simply turned dark at sunset, and begun shining again at sunrise. Now, as far as Merlin was aware, it perfectly mimicked the light levels outside, as well as the movement of the sun and moon across the sky. It was, even though he said so himself, a rather ingenious creation. He was sure anyone would agree. Once he got to talk to them.
Shaking his head, Merlin pushed aside all thoughts of his own genius, instead focussing on the matter at hand. Arthur. If someone was trying to kill Arthur inside of the city, then that could only mean one thing. Morgana and Morgause had kicked their plan in to the final stages. Because, other than the odd minor tingle at feasts and the like, there hadn't been any life-threateningly ill intent towards Arthur inside the city walls for at least the past four months.
Merlin wasn't stupid. He had made a lot of advancements with his magic in the time he had been in his cell. He had been able to keep an eye on what was going on in the Kingdom, and was also able to sense the faint tinges of magic trailing throughout Camelot. He was well aware that a large group of magic users were on their way to taking control of the throne. What he couldn't work out- not without being closer to either the source of the enchantment working it's way towards the kingdom's core, or at least some of it's vessels, was just what the intricate workings of the spell (or spells) were. There was no way he could analyse it. Or, at least, none that he knew of. And he knew a lot more about magic than he had six months ago. His magical knowledge up until then had all been based on need- things that were necessary to protect Arthur, and Camelot as a whole.
But all of those words- spells he had bypassed because of more urgent matters, or because he just hadn't had an interest in them at the time, pages he had skipped over in his quest for more relevant information- they were all there, all buried deep within his memory, just waiting to be explored.
And explore them he did. For months he had meditated on every word, delving in to the deep recesses of his mind so that not a single one would be left behind. He knew them all now, as intimately as a person knows their greatest friend. And, in return for his acknowledgement, they had aided him along the path of his destiny. He had experimented, thinking up spell after spell, binding each precious nugget of magic to his power. Never before had he been able to stretch his magic to such varying limits.
It was exhilarating.
And spells weren't all he had discovered. Merlin had wondered, ever since he had discovered that he was supposed to be the most powerful magic-user of all time, why it was that larger spells tired him to such an extent. It had never quite seemed to add up.
The truth was, it had all been through his own incompetence. He had been so used to instinctively using his magic that he had been too blind to realize that he had only ever dipped his toe in to the immense pool of power he held within him. A pool he had now discovered to be almost limitless.
The strange thing was, he would probably never have discovered this without spending such a long time in solitude. It was actually kind of ironic- that Uther, who had been intending to wipe out his magic, had actually been the one to give him the means to increase his abilities to such a degree.
And yet, behind the thrill of all of these new discoveries, there was always a bitter thought, a constant presence in his mind.
'Arthur needs me.'
Because, yes, he was enjoying the time to discover new aspects of his power, but the need was still there. The need to be out there, protecting the people of Camelot with his own two hands, instead of stuck in a tiny cell. To be able to walk along the streets, conversing with any person he so desired.
The need to be free.
Yeah. I'm still not going to be nice enough to tell you anything else about how he's doing physically. *shrugs* What can I say? I'm evil.
Review? I gave you Merlin- surely that's worth a review :D
