Chapter 2- Offers from a New Enemy
Author's Note: I can see people asking "You say this is Merlin fic? Where exactly is Merlin, then?" Thus, here is where Merlin makes his appearance.
BTW: ladylillith, I read your review, and can I just say, I am so happy to have finally found another person whose favourite Merlin character is Mab. She rules, no contest. And Merlin was a hypocrite of tremendous proportions ("Yes, it was wrong of you to meddle in other people's lives, you're evil. Now excuse me, I have to cast an illusion spell over a complete lecherous lunatic so he can sleep with someone else's wife and kill her husband, make sure they have a child, and then I'm going to steal it off them. Yes, I am a paragon of virtue, me."). One of my pet rants, that one. Anyway, on with the show…
Merlin sat in his hut on the outskirts of what had once been Pendragon Castle, before it had been pulled down and the stones used to build Camelot. There was nowhere else for him to go- he didn't have the heart to return to his old forest home, where his birth mother and foster mother had died, knowing that his love, Nimue was forever trapped in a magical reflection of that very place, created by the woman who had created Merlin, Queen Mab (Merlin had no mortal father. He made up for this by having far more than the usual number of mothers). Neither did he wish to return to the ruined city of Camelot, abandoned on the day that King Arthur- Merlin's old friend and hope for the future- had fought to the death with his own son, Mordred, and Merlin had fought to the death with his own mother, Mab. The irony of that hadn't escaped Merlin.
He certainly couldn't return to court- the lords and nobles that had been happy to have him there whilst he was placing Arthur upon the throne no longer wished to associate themselves with a Pagan wizard, particularly as a number of them were attempting to gather support amongst the other nobles to seize the throne of Britain, now that Arthur and his only child were dead. Britain was once more in the midst of civil war, threatening to overshadow all the good that Arthur had done in his years as King of Britain. As Mab had predicted, Arthur's reign ended in blood, and now the blood and chaos would return once more to Britain. So, even though Merlin had defeated Mab in battle, who had won really- Mab or Merlin?
Merlin knew the answer to that- no-one had won. Mab had been right about Merlin failing to drive out the Old Ways, but what good would the knowledge do her? She had died fighting for them. Or as good as died, anyway. Many people were now returning to the Old Ways for help and protection, only to find that there was nothing left to return to- Mab, the Lady of the Lake, the Mountain King, all gone. The lords and nobles who had been brought together under Arthur were now once more divided by petty squabbles. As for Merlin, he had nothing left. All the people who had been important to him, who he had loved, or hated, and who had loved and hated him back were all gone. Nimue, Arthur, Ambrosia, Elissa, Mab – none of them were left. Frik, his old magical tutor, still roamed Britain somewhere, but Merlin didn't know where, and he suspected that Frik didn't know where he was, either. They had gone their separate ways after that fateful day five years ago
So now Merlin lived in his tiny house, in Pendragon village, using his knowledge of herbs and potions to brew medicines for those who needed them, much as his Aunt Ambrosia had when he was a child, just waiting for disaster to strike the country once more.
His back was turned to the door, when he felt a jolt run down his spine, all the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He recognised the feeling, he realised with dread. It was the sudden rush of magic that came when a witch, wizard or sorcerer of great power suddenly appeared in a room. He had felt it many times in his life, because it was almost identical to what he had felt when Mab had appeared in a room.
Turning in horror, Merlin saw a strange figure standing against the door. At first he felt relief, when he saw it wasn't Mab, back from wherever she had gone after fading away, but that feeling was quickly replaced by wariness- the man standing in front of him was giving off an aura more powerful than any he had felt since Mab had died. Not to mention he looked extremely out of place there. Merlin doubted he would have looked "in-place" anywhere. Wearing strange, tight clothes, knee-high boots and a long cape, with wild, uneven hair the colour of pale straw, and mismatched eyes, the man- if that was what he was- seemed to have come from another world.
"Merlin the wizard, I assume?" the man asked, in a voice that was more of a statement than a question, with a strange smile. Merlin distrusted him immediately. Whilst he talked in a perfectly polite tone, there was a layer of calculating and sadistic nastiness that was impossible to hide.
"You know me?" Merlin asked warily.
"Of course. Everyone knows who you are. You're Mab's son." The man said laughingly. "I must admit I'm impressed that you managed to defeat her. Your ingenuity should be applauded- though I doubt she'd see it that way, she never could see much good in her adversaries. Too arrogant, that was her trouble." It took Merlin a moment to realise that he was talking about Mab.
"How do you know Mab?"
"Oh, we go way back. Nearly all of the Kings and Queens of the different realms have met. The Queen of Magic- Mab- isolated herself more than most, but I still spoke to her quite frequently. She never seemed to like me much, though. Tragic, really it was." Here the man cut himself off laughingly, "But then, I didn't come here to make small talk about Mab." Merlin stared at him suspiciously. If he had known Mab, Merlin highly doubted that he and this stranger would get on very well.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Oh, where are my manners? I'm the Goblin King. You can call me Jareth."
"Very well, Jareth," Merlin answered in clipped tones, "What do you want with me?"
"My dear boy, you sound almost as if you don't trust me."
"From my experience, anything to do with Mab and magic generally isn't trustworthy," Merlin replied, coldly.
"We weren't bosom companions, Merlin, though I must admit, it wasn't for lack of trying on my part," Jareth grinned wickedly. "She didn't like me. In fact, she detested me. You don't have to worry about that- the enemy of your enemy is your friend, and all that."
"I used to believe that," said Merlin, half to himself, remembering saying those very words about Prince Uther, before Merlin had put him on the throne, and he'd plunged the country into civil war over his lust for the Duke of Cornwall's wife. "Then I tried putting it into practice and it ended in disaster."
"A shame, I'm sure. Now, did you want to hear what I have to say?"
Merlin nodded, thinking that this Jareth may not be trustworthy, but whatever it was he had to say could be of importance.
"Good. I'm sure you will have noticed that the current state of Britain leaves something to be desired. The nobility can be so very petty when they believe there's something to gain. Such a shame that your friend's idyllic little dream of unity fell apart so soon after his death."
"It didn't have a chance to become firmly established. If Arthur had lived longer, or if he'd had an heir that was willing to carry on with Camelot and the Round Table, it would have built up greater strength and importance until the nobles would not have even though of opposing the idea of unity and peace. That doesn't make it not worthwhile, it makes it unlucky." Merlin argued. Jareth shrugged.
"Perhaps. Anyway, would you say that if Arthur were here that he would be able to stop the fighting and spread peace throughout the land again?" There was a faint sneer in Jareth's voice on the words "Peace throughout the land."
Merlin didn't need to consider the answer to that question for a second.
"Yes." A smile spread across Jareth's face.
"Then how would you like the opportunity to bring him back?" Merlin stared at him for a second. Jareth pulled out a crystal ball (Author's Note: Where does he keep them all? There certainly isn't room in his tights for spacious pockets- Anyway, moving on) and tossed it to Merlin. Merlin stared into it, watching the image settle on a man, at least 30 years old, tall, blond and muscular- a purposeful warrior. The man he had known as Arthur- his king and friend. Jareth continued talking. "Your friend is in my castle, in the centre of my Labyrinth. If you can reach him within the next thirteen hours, I will return the both of you to the world that you know, and Arthur can bring peace once more."
"I don't believe you," replied Merlin. Hadn't Mab once told him that the magic of the Old Ways could not stop death, or bring people back from beyond the grave? "You couldn't have brought Arthur back from the dead. It can't be done."
"There are loopholes to every rule," replied Jareth. "I didn't revive him from the dead. I took him out of the past, before he was killed by Mordred. My realm exists outside of "time". I assure you; I can do it, and have." Merlin still looked doubtful. Jareth sighed. "If you don't believe me, perhaps you would believe someone else if they told you what my powers can do." He took out another of his never-ending crystals out of whatever indeterminable place he kept them in, and threw it up in the air. There was a burst of smoke, and, when it cleared, Merlin was staring at a very surprised looking Frik.
"Master Merlin?" Frik said uncertainly, "Did you summon me here?" Merlin shook his head soundlessly. From behind Frik, Jareth suddenly spoke, loudly.
"Flik." Frik turned around and gave a small shriek when he saw Jareth.
"It's Frik," Merlin corrected coldly. He was really starting to dislike this Jareth.
"Frik, then," Jareth corrected carelessly, "Would you like to explain to Merlin here, that it is entirely possible for me to pluck someone from another time and take them to the Underground." It was an order rather than a request. Frik blinked stupidly a couple of times. He turned to Merlin.
"Umm, yes, it is possible. Why did you want to ask me?" he said, casting nervous glances back at Jareth, as though he expected the Goblin King to do something particularly nasty while his back was turned.
"I don't trust him," replied Merlin.
"Oh. I don't blame you. Mab didn't either; it was one of the very few things that we were in complete agreement about." Jareth scowled at Frik's impudence.
"Watch your tongue, you hideous, grovelling, snivelling idiot," Jareth growled, "Just because you were once Mab's lackey, don't think it entitles you to special treatment on my part." Frik sighed in resignation.
"Why should it? It didn't with her either. Mind you," Frik said absentmindedly, "You'd know that, wouldn't you? You didn't get entitled to special treatment with her, either." Then, he saw the thunderous expression on Jareth's face, and appeared to remember who he was talking to, and went and hid behind Merlin.
"So, Merlin," continued Jareth. "Will you take up my challenge? Remember, you could get Arthur back. End the wars and blood-spread. Bring peace and prosperity to Britain. All you have to do to enter is," He gestured, and another opening to the Underground appeared. "Walk through there."
"Don't do it, Master Merlin," Frik advised from behind him. Jareth shot him another glare, and he shut up.
"Do I have your word that you will return Arthur and I to the mortal world if I succeed?" Merlin asked, knowing that, through the custom of the Old Ways, Jareth would be bound by whatever answer he gave.
"Of course."
Frik snorted derisively.
"One more sound from you, gnome, and I'll have you thrown in the bog of Eternal Stench!" Jareth snapped. Frik visibly gulped.
Merlin stared at the opening. He knew that rushing rashly into something like this could potentially be disastrous, but he also knew that he had a duty to the country to try and bring about peace. And Arthur could bring that peace about. He went to step through it.
"What happens if I fail?" he asked Jareth. Jareth appeared to ponder the question.
"You will have to stay in the Underground and serve me," he replied sneeringly. Merlin hesitated. He was sure that nothing good could come of serving Jareth, and he also knew that he would be bound by the answer he gave.
In the end, his loneliness decided it for him. He had no-one here, not anymore. He had to do what was right for the people of Britain.
"Very well," he agreed, stepping through the entrance.
"Wait, Master Merlin!" he heard Frik call behind him. Looking back, Merlin saw that the vast desert that surrounded him in every direction except forwards (where a large Labyrinth dominated the landscape) extended behind him, too, and that the entrance now showed a rectangle of his home, standing in the middle of the desert. Frik jumped through it, quickly.
"Before you go, Master Merlin, let me give you some advice," Frik said quickly, eager to get back through the entrance before it shut. "The Labyrinth is a place of illusions. Don't always trust what you see."
Merlin saw something over Frik's head, and his eyes widened. "Frik!"
Frik continued on regardless, "Expect the unexpected, the Underground is a strange place…"
"Frik…"
"And remember, don't take anything for granted." Frik finished, "Or, better still, just don't go at all. Why do you trust Jareth to keep his promise?"
"The Old Laws- your words are binding…" Merlin said. Frik interrupted him, irritably.
"Master Merlin, did you pay no attention to your lessons at all! Those in the Three Realms of Men are bound by their words and promises under the Old Laws. And what are the Three Realms of Men, Master Merlin?" he asked. Merlin knew this answer from his time learning magic from Mab and Frik. He could answer it word-for-word.
"The Three Realms of Men are the Land of the Dead, or Anoeth, ruled over by Lord Idath, the Land of Magic ruled over by Queen Mab, and the mortal world, which is not ruled over by any one being, but by it's four Elemental Kings- The Queen of Air and Darkness (also Queen Mab), the Mountain King, the Lady of the Lake and the Lord of Fire. But," said Merlin when he had finished, "I suppose that wouldn't apply now- all the Elemental Kings are gone, and magic's all but disappeared…"
"Yes, yes, but that's beside the point," interrupted Frik impatiently, "The point is, Jareth and his kingdom are not part of the Three Realms of Men, therefore the Old Laws do not apply to them, therefore Jareth's promise is about as binding as dry spaghetti."
Merlin digested this information silently, the word "Bugger" drifting through his head many times.
"Ah." he said finally.
"So, is there any other reason you think you should trust him?"
"Umm… He isn't Mab." Merlin offered. Frik shook his head.
"Master Merlin, perhaps I have not made my point clear. Allow me to show you just how little you should trust Jareth. You remember Mab, what she did. She killed the woman I loved. She ignored me half the time, shouted at me and ordered me around the other half of the time, and made me into her scapegoat the other half of the time."
"That's three halves." Merlin pointed out.
"I am trying to demonstrate a point, Master Merlin. The number of halves is immaterial. Anyway, you will agree that I have no reason whatsoever to be biased in Mab's favour." Merlin nodded. "You will also remember that Mab had a terrible temper. A temper that made Vortigern look like Jesus." Merlin nodded again. "Now, I would like you to imagine clearly, Mab walking into a room in a rage, the enormity of which is impossible to comprehend. Now, imagine I insult her, to her face, really badly…"
"What kind of insult?" Merlin asked, trying to fathom what point Frik was trying to make whilst imagining Mab in a temper.
"It doesn't matter!" Frik said through gritted teeth.
"But what about her are you insulting? Her personality, her looks, her murderous tendencies? What?"
"I don't know!"
"I thought you said I was meant to be imagining it clearly!" Merlin said, still confused.
"Yes, but you only have to imagine that I insulted her, not what the insult was! The insult is just the means by which she gets angrier!"
"But there must be a reason for her getting angrier."
"Yes, she's angrier because I've just insulted her!"
"But how am I supposed to know how much angrier she'll be if I don't know what kind of insult it is?"
"OK. Fine," said Frik, who appeared to be trying very hard not to break something, "Imagine I insulted … her looks, then."
"What kind of insult about her looks?"
"I don't know!" said Frik, who was nearly crying by this point, "Make something up!" Merlin was still slightly confused, but he thought it wise not to push the point any further, so he imagined imaginary-Frik insulting imaginary-Mab. Imaginary-Mab glared at imaginary-Frik, and imaginary-Frik exploded into tiny, messy pieces.
"You'd be dead." Merlin informed Frik.
"LET ME FINISH!" bellowed Frik. Merlin hastily resurrected imaginary-Frik, and waited for the real Frik to continue, which he did after a second of waiting to see if Merlin would interrupt again. "Now, Mab is much angrier. Yes?" Merlin nodded, trying to prevent imaginary-Frik meeting a nasty end before Frik had made his point. "Now, imagine Mab is holding a very sharp knife. It doesn't matter what kind!" he said sharply before Merlin could interrupt again. "It just has to be sharp. Can you picture that?" Merlin nodded. Try as he might, he couldn't stop imaginary-Mab from killing imaginary-Frik with the knife many times. "My point is, Master Merlin, I would rather trust Mab not to kill me, than trust any of Jareth's promises. Do you now understand the scale of Jareth's untrustworthiness?"
The word "Bugger," returned to drift across Merlin's brain again.
"I see," he replied. Frik looked relieved that his point had finally been understood.
"So why don't you give up on this pointless- and, may I add, dangerous- quest?"
"Two reasons," replied Merlin, "Firstly, I don't want to see Britain at war again. I remember what it was like before Arthur- as should you, Frik- and if there's even the slightest chance that I can bring Arthur back to the people of Britain, then I will take it. Also …," he continued, as Frik turned back in defeat- he wouldn't be able to change Merlin's mind, he was far too stubborn for his own good- before seeing what had drawn Merlin's attention behind him, and letting out a cry.
"No!"
Merlin continued, "… the entrance is closed."
Author's Note P2: I would like to apologise for the last part of this Chapter (The "What kind of insult?" part)- Merlin does come across as rather dense- which he isn't- but this was written late at night, and I couldn't resist putting that bit in. From now on, I will try my hardest to not make the characters go OOC
Meanwhile, many reviews would be appreciated! Please!