In the years since Em came back from his tutelage with Ruadan, Iseldir had watched his nephew closely. He was the prophesized Druid of the Unwritten Vision, after all. He would need guidance, protection, and help in the years to come. If he was the Druid in the Vision. Iseldir often worried Aisling had misinterpreted his dream.
He sometimes wished she had misinterpreted it. He didn't want his nephew to carry the burden. Em had a unique brand of optimism and an undying belief in the inner goodness of humanity that many Druids his own age did not possess. The younger generation of Druids had grown up in the time of Uther, after all. Who could blame them for their cynical outlook on life?
Iseldir feared this optimism would be his nephew's downfall if he was the Once and Future King's advisor. The rulers of a nation typically did not have a high regard for the flawed race known as mankind.
Then Em came back from his time with Jarl and his men. Those monsters had beaten and whipped and maimed him, and then did the same to his sister and forced him to watch it. Iseldir expected Em to harden afterwards, to adopt his peers' outlook on life.
Instead, he was Adelina's rock throughout her pregnancy. He talked excitedly about the baby, and eventually his undying enthusiasm led to the girl's qualms about being a mother slowly disappearing. Even if her child was the daughter of the man who would haunt her dreams for years to come.
That wasn't to say Em was unaffected by Jarl's torture. He had nightmares aplenty, and sometimes he would just stare at his right hand for hours. His back was covered in crisscrossing whip scars. Emery rubbed spelled oils and lotions on them to make them less severe, but nothing she ever did could make them go away. For the first three months, he flinched whenever someone touched him or made a sudden movement.
Things slowly got better, though.
And the core things that made Em himself never went away. He still loved his family, going on walks and swims in the woods, swordfighting, and his studies. He loved his dog Bandit and that stupid sparrow he saved as a nestling all those years ago. Most importantly, he expected the majority of people to treat him decently and follow a good set of morals—except for Uther and his soldiers, of course. The common, everyday Joe—was he a good man? In Em's eyes, of course he was a good man—he hadn't done anything yet to prove he hadn't, so therefore he was.
If Em still had that mindset after Jarl's torture, Iseldir knew serving the Once and Future King would not break the boy.
It would give him resolve, a purpose. He would not get burned out, or cave under the burden of a heavy destiny.
Serving the Once and Future King would glorify Emrys.
A week after the birth of Astryd, Iseldir was getting ready for bed. He kept his mattress in the front room, while Freya and her parents slept in the back room. The temporary arrangement of Declan and his family staying with Iseldir had turned into something permanent. There weren't enough homes in Sábháilte to justify Iseldir having one to himself anyway, and he really did enjoy his housemates' company. They were a nice family, and Finnlagh was a wonderful cook. Iseldir loved Freya as much as he loved his nieces and nephews.
Finnlagh was sipping tea at the table from an earthenware mug. Declan was already asleep after drinking a bit too much of the spirits Iseldir brewed as a side hobby. Freya and several other Druid girls were sleeping over at Balinor and Hunith's in celebration of Sefa's birthday. The girl was now eight. Nature, did time fly.
Iseldir had changed into his sleeping shirt and the worn trousers he had slept in for the last ten or so years. He was getting ready to flop down into his straw mattress when suddenly collapsed on the floor. Finnlagh yelled his name.
He tried to tell her before his vision went black—
His Sight was taking over.
He saw bright golden lights, and a beautiful woman in a rocking chair. She had his mother's eyes and Enjorran's blond hair. She sang to a baby, holding her tightly. The child had those same green eyes and a dusting of raven hair.
The vision shifted. It was the same woman, standing on a rocky beach. The woman's child was gone. She looked at Iseldir, piercing him with those eyes.
"You look like my parents," he said, confused. The very fact he could talk to her was confusing; he had never spoken to someone in a Vision before. He frowned. "Are you Emlyn's ghost?" He still remembered his deceased infant sister fondly. She had been the sweetest child, and her disappearance had left a hole in his heart that had never been filled.
The woman watched the ocean waves. "I do not know who Emlyn is. All I know is that it is time, and you must tell him."
"Tell who?"
"You know who. Tell him this: he must go to Camelot, the future of your people depends on it."
"Who are you?" Iseldir took a step forward, staring intently at the woman.
She looked away. "I will be dead soon. It does not matter. Only the message does."
He woke up to Finnlagh dumping a bucket of cold water on him.
"FINNLAGH!" he yelled, sputtering. "Why the hell did you do that for?"
"You were comatose! I couldn't wake you up," she yelled right back at him. She helped him up slowly. "Are you alright? Declan went to fetch your ma."
"I was having a Vision! I am a Vates, remember?" Iseldir snapped. He saw her eyes widen in realization. "I told you Visions can happen when the Seer is awake."
"Yeah, a year ago. How was I supposed to remember right away? I got caught up in the moment." She grabbed the kettle off the table. "I'll make you tea to warm you up, you're soaked. Go change into Declan's extra shirt and trousers. They may be a little small on you, though."
"Are you calling me fat?" Iseldir roared as he went into the back room to do exactly as she had suggested.
"No, you two are just, umm, built differently," Finnlagh said quickly.
A minute later, Emery and Declan burst through the door. "Where is Iseldir?" Emery said frantically.
"In here, Ma! I was having a Vision, and my intelligent housemates freaked out," Iseldir called from the back room. "Finnlagh dumped a bucket of water on me, though. I think I may have hypothermia."
Emery grinned at the couple and rolled her eyes. "Good work, Finnlagh. I'm going back to bed. Goodnight, everyone." With that, she walked out the door.
"Love you, too, Ma!" Iseldir yelled.
Iseldir sought out Aisling at dawn. He barged in without knocking. She was eating porridge at her table.
"I had a Vision last night," he announced.
"Did you copy it down in your dream journal?"
"Of course," Iseldir said, mildly offended. He held it up.
"Don't be so prickly. Give it here." Iseldir obliged, and took a seat opposite to her. She only had three chairs.
She frowned when she got to the part about the woman looking like his parents, and it only deepened when she found out Iseldir had been able to talk to her. She looked up from the journal and rubbed her forehead with a callused hand. "Are you thinking the same thing I am thinking, Iseldir?"
"That the 'he' the woman in my Vision spoke of is my nephew Emrys?"
Aisling sighed heavily.
"I think it's time we told the boy."
"We can't send my nephew to Camelot. It would be a death sentence. His mark is right on his collarbone!"
"There are spells to remove it."
"It would be as painful as losing a limb."
Aisling raised her eyebrows. "He already has."
That shut Iseldir up.
Iseldir convinced Aisling to tell Emery about his Vision, and ask for advice on what they should do about it. After supper that night, his mother cornered him next to the chicken coop, where he was scattering the dinner scraps for the wretched birds.
"Why did you not tell me yourself, Iseldir?" his mother demanded.
"Aisling is more eloquent than I am," Iseldir began, only to be cut off by his mother—
"Why didn't you tell me you saw my Emlyn?"
"We don't know if it was—"
"Aisling said she had blonde hair and green eyes, just like your sister did." Emery's hands shook. "She had a child, Iseldir. Oh, my heart longs for what could have been…"
"Ma," Iseldir said, grabbing one of his mother's shaking hands and holding it tightly. "Emlyn aside, what do we do about Emrys?"
Emery looked at him in confusion. "Send him to Camelot, of course."
"Hunith and Balinor would never agree to that," Iseldir pointed out. "I don't want to send him to Camelot. It's a death sentence."
"It's his destiny," Emery said. "You cannot fight what Nature wills, my son."
"If I had to wager money on a war of wills between Nature and my sister-in-law, I would choose Hunith, Ma."
"You called sending him to Camelot a death sentence just now. Aisling told me you said the same thing to her."
"I did," Iseldir said, frowning. Why was his mother repeating something he'd just said seconds before? Was her age catching up to her?
Emery smiled sadly. "That boy stared death in the face and came out of the experience stronger. If Jarl did not break him, how could Camelot break our Emrys?"
Iseldir had to think on that. He pictured the boy with the mangled hand and scarred back. The boy who barely slept through the night sometimes. He also pictured the boy's ever-present smile, his undying enthusiasm for everything.
The boy was destined to free the Druids from Uther's oppression. How could Iseldir interfere with destiny?
Iseldir closed his eyes. "We'll talk to Hunith, Balinor, and Em in the morning."
He prayed to Nature the boy's parents would say no. Or, even better, that Em would say no.
For the first time ever, he wished Nature had not given him the Sight. His stupid Visions could lead to his nephew's downfall.
A/N: Hello! Long time no read. I am in the middle of running tech for a musical, and I haven't had time for anything. I love the work, but I am absolutely exhausted. I wrote this little chapter over the course of three days, I'm soooo sorry it is really short and crappy. I apologize for any grammar mistakes. I just wanted to get some content out for my lovely readers. It's written in Iseldir's point of view because he is my favorite character (besides Merlin/"Em", of course!).
Also in response to some of the reviews I got on chapter 9-
Jarl letting Adelina and Em go was not a poorly thought out plot point. When I write, I write thoughtfully and deliberately. It may not make sense now, but it will make sense later on as more is revealed in the plot.
As always, thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited. I love reading reviews!