Merlin flops, settling against the moss he gathered as to not touch the chill of the dirt. Winter is passing, a bit of frost coming onto the coldest part of the night affront the blooming flowers of spring. A week of traveling has left his whole body sore. It wasn't unusual for him to travel like this, but his unusual teenage body wasn't used to the hardships of the road as his mind was.
He is sure that he's close. Another day's travel should mean that he'll be able to spot the Perilous lands themselves if the map is to be believed. The hair rises on his arms, snapping him wide awake despite his exhaustion. Battle cries pierce the air with the rumbling of feet running at him. He tumbles on his knees and widens at the several bandits rushing him in the darkness.
He's not even on his feet before they're above him. Panic grips his heart tightly into hesitating. He rolls away just as the mace slams down. Jumping to his feet, he smashes his foot deep into the man's face. Then he dashed away, taking stock of the surroundings.
Three men are now sneering at him, not expecting a boy to fight back. The moonlight his only source of sight. He wasn't strong enough to hurt them, and he was tired. There was no way he could end this quickly. "Lucky shot boy." The man spits, wiping away blood. "Come easy and we'll spare yeh."
Merlin throws them a cheeky grin. "No thanks, Sir." Dashing at them, he bluffs a swing. The man tries to grab it, but he pulls back. Kicking at the kneecap.
A snap, the man screaming in pain. He ducks under between his legs. "You little-!" He climbs onto screaming man's back, kneeing the other man in the face as he reached out.
He yells, grabbing his nose and faltering back. Merlin squeaks as his ankle is grabbed, wiping him hard through the air onto the ground with a smack. Gasping as his vision fades from white. "Damn bugger is tougher then he looks."
His body trembles with the effort to push up, but a foot cracks into his spine. "Yield!"
Merlin's heart pounds wildly in his rib cage, as a trapped rabbit would panic before being devoured.
Shrieks devour the air. Wet gurgling slurps squelching. Thump, and silence.
He dares to glance up. The men had deep cuts split through their armor, cutting to their skins. It didn't matter where the cut's where, but one wound was a finality to their lives. Their heads cleanly separated from their corpse.
The adrenaline practically useless now that the threat has passed. The horror creeping in. He did that. He killed them. All he wanted to do was leave them unconscious, but his magic wouldn't abide by that. Illy, he snatches up his bag and runs away from the sight.
He can't find it in himself to feel guilty that they are dead. They had nearly hurt him. Others might not be so lucky as to survive the encounter. The rules in this world are different from the twenty-first. His magic did that. To protect him. Without him even winded afterword. What kind of power was inside of him to do something that horrendous?
On top of the hill, he can see how far the span of the land reaches. Lush green forest stretching from hilltop to the dips in the Earth. Between two tall mountains, it all cuts off into a barren wasteland of red and orange. All paled in the moonlight. He could hear the screeches of animals vying for their own survival in the distance.
He would stay here then, and travel in the morning. Another moss bed, and the grasping of his bag close to his chest. It frightened him, but what could he do? He can't panic. Not like he did last time. His freak out in the forest had set it alight with blue flames. He tried to put it out after he realized what he'd done. The air got sucked out of the forest, the plants decayed onto a brown smudge in a wide circle. Him standing unaffected.
Merlin is glad that he listened, or else he would have fallen apart at that camp. He doesn't want to imagine what would happen to all those people. He is truly a monster. Something that shouldn't exist. Regardless, his magic forces him to live even though he's tired to move on. It's keeping him here for some type of purpose, and he would be an idiot if he didn't see what it was first.
Sleep is short and restless, but the hot, dry day calls for him to rise and continue on. Ahead, he spots a long wooden bridge over an almost cavernous river. Cautiously he approaches. No one is around despite the small, freshly put out fire next to it. While he wasn't looking, a presence appears in front of him. Quicky turning and glaring, he sees a stout man leaning against scaffolding at the entrance. Giving him a small bow of his head. "Emrys."
Merlin's face scrunches up. "Why is everyone calling me that? It's not my name."
Humor twinkles in the man's eyes. "I'm Grettir."
Seeing the greeting for what it is, he takes the man's hand and shakes it. Offering a small smile. "I'm Merlin."
Grettir sizes him up, and he openly does the same in turn. "You are not what I was expecting. Very young for someone so powerful." He brushes aside being offended. Viewing his face in a stream while he was drinking he saw that he was scarcely entering puberty. No wonder he almost got robbed.
"Before you pass, I will leave you with this bit of advice before I let you enter the Fisher Kings Kingdom. He has waited many years for this day, try not to make his time here too much longer." The tint of seriousness had him nodding. This was important to him, and he would do his best to uphold that even though he wasn't sure what it meant.
The man steps aside letting him amble onto the bridge. "Can you at least tell me-" Merlin twists around but he was already gone. He couldn't sense him anywhere. It prickled at him, hesitantly continuing on. The forest trickles off into nothingness. Hot dry air takes bits of breath in his lungs. The Phoenix sun burning brilliantly above him. Dead bundles of trees lay as far as he could see.
It feels wrong being here. Magic had been forcefully removed from this place, sapping this land, taking the life of the plants all at once. It was revolting. The castle isn't too far now. A dark, towering spire surrounded by rocks looms in the distance. That must be it. The screeches he's been hearing all day grow fainter. It is very odd.
He enters the castle at the gate with it fully closed. It would be impossible for him to lift it by himself with his current state. So maybe he could... A small twitch of his finger, the iron gate crumples in on itself as it shoots up. Merlin grimaces. He was trying really hard to be careful!
He steps inside, scanning through the corridors. Twenty rooms later, and he hasn't found a living being. It's becoming dark outside, but the closer he is to his questions being answered the more he wants to press on just a little bit longer. Maybe the King is on a bed somewhere? Like sleeping beauty?
Wow, that's a jarring thought. No one's going to understand his references. Maybe he'll just tell it as a story. Not as his own, but a quite passing story for the kids. One room he steps into has a stone door slamming behind him. He groans. Now he was going to have to find a way out.
"At last…Emrys…" There was a throne in the middle of the room. He could see an arm resting on the side. Slowly he creeps up to it, staring at a wrinkled, paper-thin skinned man. Cobwebs formed on him and the dust remains untouched. It looked like he's been there for a very, very long time.
The Fisher King's head audibly creaks as he turns his head to look at him. Hoarsely rasping out his words. "I have waited many years for your arrival, but you have questions… I will do my best to answer them for you."
Merlin crosses his arms, staring at him. Satisfied with the transparency the man gives off. "Why does everyone keep calling me Emrys? My name is Merlin." He winces at this squeaky tone. He really sounds like a brat.
"There is a great prophecy echoed throughout the old religion. It speaks about two sides of a coin. One side is the greatest Warlock to ever lived, the other the Once and Future King. Together they will unite the land of Albion." The Fisher King lets out a dusty breath. "You are the most powerful warlock to ever live. That is why you're title is Emrys. That is why you are Immortal."
The air leaves his lungs. "But why! I didn't-! It doesn't make any sense!" He paces the floor, pulling at his hair. "There are things I don't remember. There are years I spent, without hearing any of this! Then suddenly, I get hit by lightning, and what!" He throws up his hands. "I get a second chance?! What the hell did I do so wrong that I had to wander the Earth for centuries!"
He huffs for breath, the frustration all taken out of him at the realization. Horror dawning on his face. "That's it, isn't it? I fucked up, and now I'm back to do this all over again." He giggles, hysteria leaking at the edges. "I can't even know what I did wrong to fix it!"
"MERLIN!" The King booms. He snaps back, forcing himself to take calming breaths. "That is it, Merlin. Calm yourself." It's a gentle tone, but it makes him almost want to throttle the man in the chair for telling him to do something he's already doing. After a while has gone by, Inexplicably the old King starts to laugh. Or what he can only assume is laughter with how he huffs and puffs.
"Oh.. forgive me. The irony of it is getting to me. If you are as old as you say you are, it is quite funny seeing it come out of a squeaky child."
A blush crawls on his sharp cheekbones. "I did sound rather ridiculous, didn't I?"
"Indeed, but I understand. Destiny is a cruel mistress when she has you in her clutches. I do my best to serve her well so that she may let go of me when the time comes. I can teach you to control your magic. The way you move toward destiny is all on your choices, only you can shape the details."
Merlin swallows. He can't meet that intense gaze any longer, instead glaring hatefully at the ground. "I never wanted this. I don't want this. I want to go home."
"And where is your home, Merlin?" He inquires. That question takes all the resistance out of him. He cannot answer, for all of his life he has never had a home. Not after his Mom passed away. "As for your memories, It is magic's way of protecting you, as it has done for me. I have lived a very long life on this throne, but I am lucky enough not to recall each day that has passed for me."
Merlin turns sorrowful, panging with sympathy and terrible regret. "How.." His voice turns small, "How long have you lived?"
"I am uncertain. I know it has been long enough for people to forget me, and what my Kingdom used to be. That is a story for another time, I'm afraid. It is your choice to make, but you may stay here until you have reached your decision." He has already reached a decision, for it's not much of a choice in the end.
"Thank you. I'll take up your offer on teaching me." The man from the bridge walks from behind the throne, bowing gracefully as the King cracks a smile.
"I am glad. Grettir will help prepare you a room. Come to me when you are ready to start. As they say, we have all the time in the world." They share a cheeky flash of teeth.
"Right this way, Emrys." He follows him out the door- now open and trap free- down the hallway and into the room closest to the throne room.
"You know my name is Merlin right?"
A blond brow rises at him. "I will call you by your rightful title, Emrys. You deserve nothing less." With a snap of his fingers, the room becomes clear of dust.
The warlock startles at the blatant use of magic that wasn't his. He was going to have to get used to that. "It just sounds so… posh, you know? I'm still just Merlin."
Gretter hums, "Sorry for the lack of accommodations. Everyone who has left my King had stolen all they could from him. I will get you blankets and pillows, but the floor is all I can offer you for now."
He huffs. Clearly, he was dodging, but he'll leave it alone for now. He sets his things in a corner where he'll lay. "Emrys."
"Hmm?"
"I'm happy to see my King laugh again. It has been too long."
He goes to say something, but he was already gone. They were going to have to talk about the vanishing bit sometime. Days passed. Food randomly appears whenever he is, three times a day, always on time. Always with his water sack full. In his room, he has thick, wooly blankets for when he needs to sleep now. He feels awful, because he wants to be able to do it on his own, but he's not seen Grettir anywhere to tell him as such.
Mostly his days are full of frustrations and limitations.
"Emrys. Breathe. You will be able to hold back the flow. Try again."
The boy's furious expression snaps up to him, blotchy eyes streaming tears. "I can't do it! I can't stop myself from crushing a bolder, so how am I going to be able to stop myself from crushing that bird." He gasps, shivering and shuttering. He couldn't help it. It was like trying to stop the flow of a broken dam that held the ocean with your hands. Every time he tries to pick up a bolder with his magic, it instantly smashes into dust.
The bird regards him with beady black dots. "I have something I want to try, but I need you to trust me. As carefully as you can, lift it up. Do no more." He raises up his hand and delicately moves up. The bird startled tweets reach his him and he nearly panics, if it weren't for him seeing that the bird was fine. If not a little panicked.
The flow was still rushing by him, but it was not overpowering. Maybe it recognized there was life in his hands? He lets it down to the ledge, pulling back and letting out a sigh of relief. It flies away unharmed. "Interesting." Was all he had to say.
To ease himself from that stressful encounter, he goes running. It had been something for all his years of travel that had escalated into a necessity. If he needed to get out of a place really quickly, being faster than his opponents brought him comfort. Besides, he can't continue to be weak. He'll familiarise himself with his martial arts again and build his strength. He could never really gain any muscle and he still bruises as easily as a peach, but people underestimating him is a great advantage.
"I want you to create a butterfly."
Merlin shifts his head to the side. "What?" A wry grin. The Fisher King appears to be exhausted today. Perhaps that was why he was asking him to do something so simple. "A butterfly? What, you've gotten tired of me crushing rocks way bigger than me?"
"I will never grow tired of that. Trust me." With a pause, he does what he is asked. Golden dust twirling in between his palms, shaping into a sapphire butterfly with swirling golden lines. He's never seen anything like it in his life. "Please, let me see." He holds it out.
Something like admiration fills the King's orbs. Sitting straighter in his throne and a healthy flush passing on his skin. He had a lot of time to get rid of the dust, cobwebs, and griminess of the room. In a split second, he glimpses at the King he once was. Vibrant, Youthful, and Happy.
"You can do such wonderful things with your magic. It cannot create life, but you continue to do the impossible. Your overabundance of power doesn't have to be frightening. It doesn't always have to destroy."
Its wings brush against his palm as it takes flight. Glowing and shining in the light as it flies out the window. Merlin feels a heaviness lift, just a little. The King looks proudly at the boy, knowing that he did a good thing today.
A morning where they had simply talked. Merlin told him about the impossible things in the future. How humans had built multiple castles for miles without end. How they promoted peace as much as they could by enforcing laws to protect the weak.
The King told him the story of his Kingdom. Wistfulness in his gaze and tone as he recalled his loving wife. He tells Merlin about his only daughter, who's kindness lead the people to adore her. Yet his magic had kept him young, and so he had watched as his wife aged, holding her even until her last breath.
Then the King told him a war that happened because of his mistake. How war made him bitter and how he slaughtered everyone from the other side, and how his daughter ran away from him. It was until he was injured in the battle that he became cursed, and the curse that was brought upon him rotted the land. And how he remains there, waiting.
They shared the silence. Grieving for everything that they loved.
A morning when he wakes up and walks into the empty halls, he sees the dreariness of the hallways. Using his magic, he gradually fixes up the Castle. A practice in control of how much is gushing out of him. Ballard said that his magic was instinctual. Something that could be trained and calmed through use, but will react on its own if it came down to it.
When Merlin had sat down to listen to him once more, the King spoke. "I've heard from Grettir that you've been repairing my Castle. Why?"
"I wanted to make your time here more comfortable. I wanted to give you some peace before…"
The King smiles kindly at him. "Before I die. Thank you."
It took a few months to complete, and there were days where grief overtook him, and the stones beneath his palms dusted, but it was finally done. The Castle stood proud underneath the sun, whole and radiant. In the back of the Castle, a farm he had grown attempted to stay, but it had quickly burned up in the heat. There wasn't much he could do to without water, and he hated being reliant upon Grettir. If he could catch the man when he wasn't teleporting everywhere, maybe Merlin could be taught how to do that do.
"Emrys."
Well, here he is now. Putting on his best dopey grin, he whips around. "Hello Grettir! How are you today?"
As usual, the man smirks with mischief, but answers politely. "I am doing well today. How are you?"
"Wonderful!" He chirps inching a step closer.
"The King is asking for you." Thrown, he pauses. They hadn't used titles in months.
"The… King? Why?"
"That is for you to find out Emrys." He hadn't blinked yet. If he goes behind that pillar he would just teleport away-!
He jumps after the man, gracelessly tripping over his left foot and crashing to the ground as the man calmly walks behind the stone wall. He spits out the dust, sickened by the taste. He whines in laughter. Damn him for getting way again! He'll need to try a different trick next time.
He was really giving him the chase of his life. Getting up, he climbs the tower to the throne room. An odd cool breeze brushes over him before he goes inside, and he looks to the sky to find dark clouds in the far distance. Maybe this is what he wants to talk about.
There Ballard sits with an edge of gloom that he hasn't seen before. "There is something more I've been meaning to tell you, Emrys, but I had not been sure of it until now."
Merlin straightens. They haven't used titles for a while now. "What is it?"
The Fisher King beings to bemoan the past off in the distance. "My family has done their best to give what they could. Our magic has always been… overflowing. For generations what my family has given to the land, the land gives back tenfold. It is why we were given the name Myrrdin and a crown set on our heads. We have never been in need of food. Never starving from food that would not grow or had a terrible plague that would eat the Kingdom overnight. Now because of my mistakes my Kingdom has suffered."
This was not good, he could feel it. "So why are you telling me this now?"
The King turns with a hardened stare at him. "I have not died all this time because the Land did not wish for me to go, but now… It is time."
A resignation pierces his heart. "You're wanting to go." He said.
The King nods solemnly. "Yes. I assume you have seen the storm clouds outside."
Merlin's missing something. "I have."
He speaks with a conviction as if what he says is a fact of life."The Land will always recognize it's King, as will The Kings across Albion."
It clicks, and he grows furious. Merlin snaps, "I don't want it. I finally can hold my magic back, and now you're asking me to be King? No. I won't do it! I can't run a Kingdom on my own."
He speaks calmly like he expected this reaction, but with an undeniable undertone of resignation. "I do not ask you to be King. I am telling you that under your care, it has decided that it is time to flourish once more. You can choose to leave it. I would not blame you. But here it will remain all the same."
The sadness he radiates is not one Merlin can handle lightly. How could he refuse a man's last wish? But he doesn't know how to be a King. He's not a leader by a long shot, and he's never liked being in the spotlight. He wets his dry lips. "I can't- I need time to think about this."
"Of course. It will be a day before the storm arrives. After, many will come to conquer this empty place."
Merlin can't get out of there fast enough. He hid deep in his room, blocking all entry with his golden intent. Outside the air grew progressively colder and wet. He could taste the electricity and the static of magic on his tongue.
This could be his chance to protect people like him. They would never need to be persecuted for being themselves. Yet he's not a leader. For all of his shortcomings, he still couldn't take a thank you with a straight face. Not to mention that he hates politics. It's all polite words and harsh truths that aren't spoken.
The storm came that night. It's blades of rain cut into the dry soil below. The wind blew so hard even the refurbished castle creaked under the strain. So when the storm settled after the earth was a healthy, musty brown, Merlin reached his decision.
He would not have Ballard wait anymore. The King waits for him with a distant, weary gaze. "I will take care of this Kingdom, Sire." He bows low at the waist. "You have my word that I will do my best to rule properly and to give it the protection it deserves."
Merlin looks up from beneath his brows and sees the King far more relaxed.
"Each King that the Land chooses is granted the right to the Myrrdin name. As well as it's secrets. They are given freedom to build their Kingdom as their own, but creating a Kingdom from the ground up will have its own hazards. Even knowing this; Merlin of Ealdor, son of the mother Hunith; Emrys, the greatest warlock to ever live; Do you accept this Kingdom as your own?"
"I do."
"Then rise, Emrys Myrrdin. Take the throne as your own." A sweep of sorrow chokes him as The King reaches out a skeletal hand. "You are a good man Merlin. You have brought light into my life when I thought the sun had set. Now I give you a piece of advice. Remain true to your heart."
His pale hand trembles as he takes the palm into his own, laying his other on top. Merlin hopes that he can understand the words he cannot express. Maybe he does in the way that he slumps in his throne.
Golden wisps of light twirl up the man's arm. Sliding up until it envelopes him whole. The light glows so bright that he cannot see anymore, and when it dims, there is nothing left. A single tear shatters to the floor. Then Merlin is climbing to the highest point in the castle. Crisp clean air greets him at the top.
He delves deep into what he wants. Words flowing from his lips like melted butter. Hands outstretched to glittering stars. "Bebûgan mîn friðstôl ofere mîn cuman. Lâttêow ðæge pro tôhwon fetian hyldo, hûru hræd me oðtêon ðâs sê ðâ ðe wýscan hearmian."
Nothing happens, then a beam of gray shoots from his palms, rising high into the sky. It stops once it's far above the tower, and then it burst until the gray stretches into nothing. But he can feel the barrier stretch to the very edges of where his borders are.
Every day for a week did the storm rage on, and every night he went outside to see what had changed. First, it was small bits of green on every inch of earth. Then it was trees who matured within a day to be as tall as him, with crops and bushes and herbs thick and full with eatable food. By the end, it was as if the forest had been there for years. It was magical, with how vibrant green everything was. A fresh stream ran next to the castle, and the well in the castle was full.
That night in his dreams, a caged scally beast roared to the heavens. He could feel the agony and pain of being chained down when he knew he could fly so high into the sky. Then as if he knew where he was, golden orbs saw through him. "Emrys."
The morning came with warm sun, static in the air, and throbbing in his skull. He struggles to think through the pain, but there it is. More pages added to his book of memories. Hot simmering anger groveled in his gut, but it wasn't enough for him to lash out yet. "Emrys."
He groans, turning onto his stomach. "It's n't my n'me." Grettir kicks him gently in the ribs.
"My Lord, we have lessons for you today. If you are going to be King then I need to teach you proper etiquette."
"hhmmm re'lly with da tittle?"
"Yes. It is your rightful title. Come on. Get up." "Mmhk."
They spend the whole day establishing the rules of the land, exploring castle secrets, and being shown the hidden wall beneath the castle that held a fair amount of gold. How trade would work and how they could gather their wealth in case of emergencies.
Merlin is eager to implement some ideas from the twenty-first. There were a few things he found fascinating that he could make himself that helped humanity so much. Soap, baby formula, A school would be implemented for children of all sorts to learn magic, basic writing skills, how to treat wounds, farming, the law of the land, and anything else they had wanted to learn.
He understood that Kingdoms are seen in their worth by their shows of power and wealth. It frustrated him, but he would divide as much wealth he could into the truly important things. Still, he would need all the support he could get, and he would greatly offer his protection in return. He would not have any more people killed at Uther's hand if he could help it.
But first, he needs to go find someone. They needed his protection most of all, even if they don't deserve it.
He leaves the next morning, all of his belongings shifted over his shoulder and letting Grettir know that he'll be back when he arrives that night at the border. Once again will be he traveling on foot. To journey away from what he as known. Destiny is a heavy weight on his shoulders that will not be ignored.