Hey! This chapter is a little longer than average, but I think you will like it. This story certainly did not go in a direction that I had expected it to...
But Enjoy!
~Ra1n
Previously...
The Druids sat down silently, pulling Arthur back so that they were all in a tight circle.
"What happens now?" Arthur asked as Iseldir lit a candle and placed it on the floor.
"Now, young king, we must find your magic."
Oh. Arthur shifted his weight. "What if I don't have magic?"
The Druids in the room chuckled, and Arthur suddenly felt even more out of his depth than before. "Everybody has magic," Iseldir said, "It's just a question of how much."
"Well, then what if I don't have very much?"
Iseldir was fiddling with his robe, pulling something out of his sleeve. "Then we'll make do."
He revealed a small cloth pouch, cinched closed with a bit of twine. Opening it, Iseldir withdrew a chunk of red stone and placed it on the ground in front of Arthur. He then laid a silver ring, a sliver of charcoal, and a clear crystal beside it, in a neat little line.
"What are these for?" Arthur asked. He had instinctively leaned away from the objects. The Druids had moved into a slightly wider circle, closing it behind him so that Arthur and Iseldir were now seated in the center, facing one another.
"It can take an enthusiastic pupil days, even weeks, to find their own inner magic," Iseldir said, "but we do not have that kind of time. These materials may help to shorten the process."
Arthur was still leaning away from the collection of magical artifacts, eyeing them with suspicion. "I see," he said, his voice tight.
Iseldir pointed to the sliver of charcoal. "This is common charcoal. It will not harm you. It is found in your fireplace. You could go retrieve your own piece right now, if you wish." He moved his finger towards the red stone. "Calcite," he said. "I believe you have it in your own jewel stores. Again, harmless." He pointed to the crystal. "Quartz can no doubt be found in the decorations of the throne room," he pointed to the ring, "and if you prefer a ring of your own possession as a conduit, you are welcome to use it. As long as it is silver."
Arthur looked a little uneasy, but at least he wasn't leaning away from them anymore. "That's all these are?" He asked, motioning towards the objects, "no spells, no curses, no tricks?"
"None of that. Just regular, everyday materials."
Arthur seemed to relax a little more. He fiddled with his hands for a second before removing a ring. "This is silver," he said, laying it down on the ground, "we can use it instead. I do not want to take your possessions."
Iseldir nodded and took back his own, putting it into the pouch. "Very well. It might even be better, seeing as this ring has some meaning to you."
"Yes, I've had it for years."
The candle in the room flickered, and Iseldir produced a second one, placing it next to the first to make the room twice as bright. The storm outside howled against the windows, night still settled across the land.
"So the storm-it's your doing?" Arthur asked.
Iseldir nodded. "Yes. We needed to stall Morgana somehow."
Arthur looked at the window, but it was dark. He didn't speak for a moment.
"Thank you," he finally said, turning to face Iseldir once more. The Druid simply bowed his head and lifted the calcite.
"Are you ready to begin?"
Arthur took a deep breath, dragging his eyes from the window to the stone in Iseldir's hand.
"Yes," he said at last, "I'm ready."
Iseldir smiled warmly. "Put your ring back on, and make sure to remove all other jewelry."
Arthur did as he was told. It wasn't that hard-he was only wearing one other ring.
"Alright," Iseldir continued, "now please take this," he held up the calcite, "in the same hand as the ring."
Arthur took the stone. It was heavier than expected, and clicked against his ring unpleasantly. "Okay, now what?"
Iseldir sat up straight. "Magic is a part of the earth. It is a part of the sky and the air and it is a part you. It flows around you, through you, from you. But it returns to the earth. It always returns to the earth."
Arthur looked at the rock in his hand. It just felt like an ordinary rock to him.
"Calcite is a grounding stone. It is the blood of the mountains. It is what connects you to the natural world. Can you feel it?"
Arthur looked at the rock again. He supposed it was a nice color, and a nice size. It fit into his hand almost perfectly. He reasoned that it was a relatively pretty stone, if a little dirty. But it didn't feel like anything else. What he could feel were the eyes of the occupants of the room on him. A few seconds passed. Then a minute. Then another. As the time ticked by, Arthur looked at Iseldir.
"I feel nothing," he murmured.
"You need to focus."
Arthur closed his eyes. He squeezed the rock, felt it hit the ring and dig into his palm. He felt uncomfortable. He felt silly. There was nothing there, no connection. If he had magic, it was far away from him. He wasn't even sure what he was trying to feel. Another minute passed. Then another.
"There's nothing," Arthur said, squeezing the rock harder. He clenched his jaw, trying to force his fingers to feel anything but a rough piece of rock. Whatever the hell "the connection," was, Arthur wasn't a part of it. He loosened his grip, waited a minute. Tightened it again. Waited another minute. Over and over, he felt a cool rock in between his fingers, but nothing else.
Iseldir could see that Arthur was struggling. He was too tense, too stiff. They needed a different approach. No matter, there were many ways to establish a relationship with magic.
"Pendragon," he said, and Arthur looked at him, the stone still closed in his fist, suspended in front of him like an awkward weight. Iseldir reached down and picked up the charcoal, scraping it against the wooden floorboards, making dark lines in the grain. Arthur dropped his hand into his lap and watched.
"Magic is not just an energy. It can be solid, too. This is the Druidic symbol for earth magic," the symbol on the ground was sharp, with tight angles and sloping curves. "And this is the symbol that represents your destiny as a once and future king; the symbol that is the title of your prophecy."
The symbol curled intricately beside its partner within a circular frame, seeming to pulse in its wooden confines. Arthur took in the pattern, struck with its beauty. He'd never thought of magic as beautiful, yet he felt both appalled and drawn to this shape, as if he had seen it before. The stone in his lap felt heavier, warmer, the longer he studied the symbol. He was struck with a sudden curiosity; he wanted to know what it was, why the lines curved in that way, why they seemed to move.
Iseldir watched Arthur's fingers twitch, saw how the king's eyes followed the lines. He smiled. A visual learner. Iseldir had been a visual learner himself, relying on runes in his younger days rather than artifacts. Some people were drawn to materials. Others were drawn to symbols. it was only a matter of finding which one worked better. It seemed Arthur was no different than any other magic user or young Druid. "What is it?" He asked the king, who still seemed transfixed.
"What does it say?" Arthur asked.
"What do you think?" Iseldir responded, tilting back, "what do you think the title of your future could be called?"
Arthur leaned forward, resting his weight on his fists before him. "I'm not sure," he said, looking up. "You're not bewitching me, are you?"
Iseldir chuckled. "No, Pendragon. I am not."
"Then what does the symbol say?"
Iseldir folded his hands in front of him. "It should be familiar to you by now."
Arthur looked at him blankly. Iseldir sighed. It was becoming evident that Arthur needed to be walked through the entire process, not just nudged in the right direction. "Emrys," Iseldir said, "it says 'Emrys.'"
Arthur nodded, his body tensing. "Oh," he looked at the symbol again, "I should have known."
"You must remember that you and Emrys are one prophecy. Your soul is linked to his. You alone can save him, because you alone have this connection. As I told the others, you are two halves of a single whole. You cannot exist independently. You are the half of Emrys that is free, and you are the half of Emrys that can practice the magic needed to free him. And this symbol embodies all of that."
"But I have never practiced magic. All of this-" he motioned towards the Druids, the storm, the symbols, the rock in his hand, "is foreign to me. How can I recognize something that I have never felt before?"
"You aren't a stranger to magic, Pendragon. You forget that your destiny has already been foretold. You forget that a part of your soul resides in the greatest warlock to ever walk the earth. You forget that even your birth was the result of magic."
Arthur took a deep breath, taking it all in. He'd never realized how often his life and magic had intersected.
"And you feel something when you look at this symbol, do you not?" Iseldir pointed to the Emrys symbol.
Arthur nodded. "I do. But I don't know what to do with it."
Iseldir held his hand out, palm up. "May I see your hand?"
The candles threw shadows across the ceiling as Arthur placed his hand in Iseldir's, looking extremely uncomfortable with the contact. But Iseldir simply pressed Arthur's hand against the floor, over the Druid mark, the calcite trapped between. Arthur gasped in surprise, but Iseldir held his hand still. "Now I need you to close your eyes," Iseldir was saying, but Arthur was still staring at his hand, the pulse of the symbol traveling through the rock and up to his elbow. His fingers felt hot. "Pendragon," Iseldir's voice was louder, and Arthur jerked his head to look at him, flexing his fingers instinctively. "Close your eyes."
Arthur did as he was told, his eyes squeezing shut.
"Hold out your other hand," Iseldir commanded, and Arthur did, his fingers trembling. Iseldir dropped the quartz crystal into it, and his hand curled into a fist around it. "And whatever you do, keep your eyes closed."
The quartz was cool in his palm, a stark contrast to the vibrant heat coming from the calcite in his other. Arthur felt, rather than saw, Iseldir guide his hand to the floor and press it over the earth magic symbol. The crystal immediately when from cool to icy cold, and as much as Arthur wanted to pull away, Iseldir's hands kept him in place.
"Remember that you are doing this for Emrys. With Emrys," Iseldir was saying. "Remember that you are a creature of this world, and a man born from magic. Remember that this feeling is familiar. That magic is natural, not foreign. Can you feel it, Pendragon?"
Arthur gasped as something in his chest shifted, as a pressure he had never realized was there suddenly grew, his very being seeming to swell and stretch. He fought to keep his eyes shut as his head grew heavy and his fingers went numb.
"I can feel it," he began to say, the black space behind his eyelids flashing with red light, but was cut off as a sudden sharp pain shot from his wrists to his spine. He took a quick breath in, but the pain only spread, going from sharp to a dull ache, to a thick, heavy fog. The pressure intensified, and Arthur squeezed his eyes shut more tightly as his body began to shake. He felt the weight of hands on his shoulders, the warm breath of the Druids near his face and ears and the back of his neck. The pressure in his chest grew and the hands on his shoulders made his skin itch. "I-I can't-" He couldn't finish his sentence, couldn't breathe as the pressure pressed against his ribs. The lights behind his eyelids flashed more quickly, and he could hear the Druids chanting.
His mouth opened to speak, but his words were transformed into groaning as his skin crawled, it was too hot, too small- and he was distantly aware that someone was groaning- that he was yelling-when suddenly the pressure came to a peak, and he screamed, his vision bursting with light, with a hot, vibrant gold that he somehow felt inside of his bones, inside of his organs, inside of his stomach and heart and soul. Arthur had a split second of clarity, where he was aware of the Druids around him, could feel their energies and the energies of the people in the room next door, could feel the stunted pain of Merlin's magic, before he took a deep, aching breath, and the world went black.
As Arthur slumped forward, unconscious, the Druids assisted him, guiding him to the ground gently with the hands that were already pressed against his shoulders. Iseldir let out the breath he was holding, suddenly aware that the door to Merlin's room had opened, Gaius and Gwen and Percival standing in the doorway with fear in their eyes. They'd heard the yelling and had come might be angry at Arthur, but in that moment, Iseldir knew they would eventually forgive him.
"He is fine," Iseldir said, addressing the worried trio. "Just unconscious." The group looked from him to Arthur, who was lying very still on the ground. "I promise you, he will wake very soon. He has just undergone an exceptionally grueling transformation. I am sure you will understand if he needs a few moment's rest."
"But did it work?" Gwaine asked, "Does he have magic now?"
Iseldir stood and moved towards the door, gently ushering them out of the room. "Possibly. We must wait for his return to consciousness to be sure."
Gwaine opened his mouth to ask another question, but Iseldir closed the door before he could start.
He knelt before the fallen king. All they could do now was wait.
Arthur's skull felt heavy. It was the first thing he was aware of: His head felt heavy. The second thing he was aware of was the warmth buried in the center or his chest. The third was the fact that he was pretty sure he was lying on the floor of Merlin's chambers. And the fourth was-
Well, Arthur actually had no idea what the fourth thing was.
And it was that feeling- that fourth thing- that had Arthur startling awake, his eyes opening and then abruptly slamming closed again. He groaned and rolled onto his back.
What was going on?
There were seven people in the room. Arthur knew this without looking. He knew it immediately upon waking up. In fact, he knew there were seven people in this room and an additional eleven in the room next door. He also knew there were two songbirds taking shelter from the rain in the bush beneath the window, and a rat scrambling beneath the floorbirds. Everything hummed and buzzed in his chest and head with a different frequency.
And he also knew that he really didn't want to open his eyes again.
"Sire," a voice was saying, and Arthur knew it was a female Druid's voice. He groaned.
A hand was on his shoulder, gently prodding him into wakefulness. "Sire, you must get up."
He shook his head, wincing. The hand disappeared, and then Iseldir's voice rang out above him:
"You need to get up, Pendragon. There is work to be done."
Arthur shook his heavy head. "My eyes," he said, squeezing them shut tighter.
Iseldir knelt down. "Your eyes are fine."
Arthur shook his head again. He wanted to explain that they weren't fine, that when he opened them everything was too bright and too gold, that his pupils burned strangely beneath his eyelids even now.
"Your eyes are fine," Iseldir repeated. "It is your magic that deceives them."
That got Arthur's attention, and he sat up in horror, his eyes opening of their own accord before he pressed his hands over them.
There was a moment of silence, then:
"Open your eyes. I have doused the candles. It should be dark enough in here now."
Arthur hesitated for a moment, but realized he needed to open his eyes eventually. Slowly, he forced his eyelids apart.
The room was nearly pitch-black. He couldn't tell what time of day it was because the storm was still slashing against the windows. Around him, he could see the vague outline of seven Druids. They each oozed a dull golden light.
Arthur quickly found Iseldir in the mass of grey-gold. "What-" he looked around again, took in the way the runes and the rocks on the floor were also glowing faintly gold, "-is this magic?"
Iseldir nodded. "The sensitivity-that is, the gold haze you are probably seeing and feeling- should begin to fade as your body adjusts, but yes. What you are feeling, what you are seeing and understanding, is all magic." He smiled and placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Would you like to see?"
Arthur wasn't sure what he meant by 'see,' but nodded anyway. Already the golden haze was growing duller.
Iseldir pulled Arthur to his feet and lead him across the room. A small mirror was leaning against the wall, and Iseldir handed it to Arthur. "Take a look," he said.
Arthur turned the mirror and nearly dropped it in shock.
"Welcome," Iseldir said as Arthur studied his reflection.
Staring back at him was Arthur's own face-his blond hair, his strong jaw, his straight nose- but what he was fixated on were his eyes. His once-blue irises were now brilliant, glowing, and a vibrant shade of gold.