A/N: Chapter three for you guys! Hope you enjoy
Chapter Three
Arthur stepped out of the black tinted car and looked up at the castle towering before him. It had been the better part of ten years since he had last been at the castle and it somehow seemed smaller than he remembered.
Barmoral Castle in Scotland, was the royal summer get away location. Located in the vacant highlands, it was perfect for getting away from the hustle and bustle of the busy city and prying eyes of the people.
This was most likely one of the reasons why this castle, for years, had been the Queen's favorite estate.
Arthur had spent several holidays, at the castle throughout his childhood. Despite being the Queen's second cousin once removed, Arthur's mother had been very close with the Queen and had brought him along, whenever she visited the royal family.
He had loved coming to the Scottish castle.
Some of his best childhood memories was from the time he spent here.
Arthur remembered sitting by the fire in the castle drawing room, watching the flames, while tugged up next to his mother and listening to the queen reading him stories.
He remembered playing in the gardens on warm summer days, while his mother and the queen sat on the terrace, enjoying the weather and always ready with the most delicious homemade lemonade, whenever he needed refreshments.
Arthur had fought dragons, evil witches and all sorts of magical beasts in this castle and saved both the queen and his mother on several occasions.
"Arthur!" The Queen exclaimed happy, as she stepped out of the castle doors, coming to greet him herself. Arthur gave her a soft smile and pulled the smaller woman into a hug.
"Beth." He greeted, calling her the nickname he had given her as a young boy. He pulled back a little, taking a proper look at her. The queen was wearing her casual clothes. A flower printed skirt, reaching her ankles and a light pink knitted sweater, shielding her from the cold breeze of the early fall. Her white hair was pulled back in a small bun, exposing the many wrinkles, her age and wisdom.
Beth reached up both her hands and cupped Arthur's face.
"Look at you," She said with a grin, "so handsome. If only I had been 50 years younger..."
"If that was the case, I wouldn't have been able to leave your side." Arthur answered with a gentle smile and kissed her forehead, "It's cold, you better get back inside."
Arthur followed Beth inside and after having carried his few brought belongings to the blue room he used to stay in, as a boy, Arthur joined the Queen in the drawing room.
Beth waited until the maid had left the room, after pouring them coffee, making sure said maid was long gone, before she turned to Arthur. She watched him quietly, as he took a sip of the hot coffee.
"What is this about then?" Arthur asked curiously, putting down the cup and met Beth's eyes, "Why the secrecy and need to make me come all the way up here?"
Beth tore her eyes from him and poured a little milk in the coffee, before taking the cup. She closed her eyes and let out a small sigh.
"I told you; there are eyes and ears everywhere in London." She began and put down the cup after taking a small sip, "The city is full of people who cannot be trusted. People who would betray you in the blink of an eye, to gain more power for themselves or for the ones they serve."
Arthur let out a small chuckle and leaned back in the armchair.
"What are you talking about?" He asked, for a second wondering if the old woman had gotten dementia and was delusional. Beth stood up and slapped Arthur over his head, earning a pained yelp from him.
"I'm not crazy." She said and sat back down, giving him a serious look, "and don't tell me you haven't sensed it. The people in the ministry is as crooked, as they are shallow." Beth spat with disgust, "And unfortunately my family is no better. I'm appalled at what our country has become."
Arthur crooked his head and watched the old woman he loved as his own grandmother. He could see the visible shiver as she spoke. This was something that deeply concerned her. Arthur would be lying if he said he couldn't understand her at all, because she was right.
For the past few years, Arthur had sensed something was off, whenever he attended the formal gatherings of the people in power. It had been the small things. The volatile glances and the soft whispers in the corners.
He couldn't deny the increasing poverty and gap between rich and poor. As a detective he couldn't deny the raising crime rates, which seemed to keep him more and more occupied these days.
Beth was right that something was off, however Arthur had never connected the increasing misery of the people to the nation's leaders.
"You know I'm right, don't you?" Beth asked and met Arthur's eyes. He sighed and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.
"Let's say I knew what you were talking about, then what?" Arthur questioned. It was one thing to be aware of something being wrong, being able to do something about it was entirely different. Beth held up a finger and stood from the chair. Without an explanation, she headed for the bookshelf on the far side of the room. She bent down a little and pulled in a book just below her eyesight.
Arthur stood up in surprise, when the shelf suddenly moved aside, revealing a dark room. Beth reached in and pulled out a torch. She took a lighter from one of the shelfs and lit the torch before looking back at Arthur.
"Come on." She said and nodded toward the dark room, "I need to show you something."
The dark room turned out to be a stone staircase leading downwards to a spacious room, full of books, documents and artifacts.
The walls were of old, moist boulders. The stone floor was covered with red carpets. Beth moved around in the dark room effortlessly, as if she knew it inside and out, lighting candles and torches. Arthur stood at the foot of the staircase, unable to move in mere awe of the room.
"How did I not know about this room?" He said quietly as he began to move around, scanning through some of the book and documents. Arthur should know about this. He knew about every other secret room and hall in the castle, having explored it many times, playing there as a child. Beth lit the last candle, lighting up the last dark corner of the old room.
"You do." She said and turned towards him, giving him a small smile, "You found it once, along with a friend of yours. Your mothers and I found the door open one day and found the two of you playing with the old and mind you, priceless artifacts." She said with a small chuckle and shook her head, "How you two managed to find the room in the first place, is still beyond me. Only a select few people know about it."
Arthur turned over a document and picked up one of the swords beneath them. It felt heavy and yet comfortable in his hand.
"Friend?" He then asked, putting the sword back down and looked at Beth confused. Arthur didn't remember playing with anyone at the Barmoral castle, let alone a friend.
Beth nodded and smiled, her eyes turning distant for a moment.
"The young son of one of my..." She paused for a moment before continuing, "associates, who used to visit me regularly." She said and sighed, "I believe you two were about the same age. You got along from the moment you met each other and played together, as if you were old friends." Beth chuckled again at a memory, "Knights and warlocks seemed to be your favorite game to play." She finished and went to one of the book shelves, "I've often wondered what became of the boy after what happened to his mother. No child should be left alone at such a tender age..." She said softly, mostly to herself, as she looked through the books.
"Ah, here it is!" She suddenly exclaimed, her voice completely changed from the regretful one she carried just a moment before.
Beth pulled out a heavy book and blew over it, blowing off the thick dust gathered on it, before she put it in Arthur's hands.
He let out a groan and almost dropped the heavy book handed to him suddenly.
"Here, read this." Beth said shortly and patted the book, "When you've done so, I'll be upstairs, ready to answer any questions you may have."
Before Arthur could say anything in protest, the older woman was already on her way back up from the room. Arthur sighed and looked back at the book in his arms. At first, he wasn't able to read the signs on the book cover, however with a closer look, Arthur suddenly found himself capable of tying the strange signs to understandable words.
The memoirs of Arthur Pendragon, Prince and King of Camelot
Arthur let out a long breath, faintly remembering Beth reading to him about the legendary King Arthur.
Arthur found a chair, which didn't look like it would collapse under him by the smallest gust of wind, and sat down, the heavy book in front of him.
He turned the first page and once again found himself capable of understanding the curly signs written on the dusty pages.
Well, this was gonna take some time...
0_0
It was early morning, when Morgan headed back home from the city. He had spent the better part of the night at one of the drug clubs, getting high and just letting go with the strangers surrounding him.
It had been a good night.
Granted he couldn't really remember much of it, however that was what made it good.
He still felt somewhat lightheaded and the constant shaking from the underground train didn't do anything for the headache approaching.
Morgan groaned and held his head, breaking the silence in the otherwise empty train cart. This was the dark side of the mindless relief. The headaches that felt like someone had pierced his skull with a blunt axe.
"I can teach you a trick, that will clear that pain up in the blink of an eye." A sudden voice made Morgan sit up straight, fully alert. The lights in the cart were blinking unsteady, however Morgan was able to see the man sitting across of him and recognizing him right away.
The dark eyes and red suit was unmistakable.
"You..." Morgan spat and moved back just a little, giving the man a guarded look.
"Hello Morgan." He said and gave Morgan a bright smile, leaning forward a little, resting his arms on his legs, getting a better look at the younger man.
"What do you want?" Morgan asked coldly, not at all trusting his friendly exterior.
"Why, I want you Morgan." He said and crooked his head, smiling as he watched him closely.
Morgan could feel the dark eyes once again piercing into him with a coldness that send shivers throughout his body.
"I do apologize for the somewhat... rough, treatment of you the last time," The man said and gave him an apologetic look, "Sometimes we can get a little too... overexcited." He coughed and crooked a small smirk, "And well, you're quite something, aren't you Morgan? None of us have ever felt power like yours."
Morgan sighed and titled his head back against the window behind him, immediately regretting it as it only caused his headache to worsen.
"Look, I already told the other wizards or whatever, that they have the wrong person." He said annoyed and looked back at the man, "I don't have magic. I am not a wizard!"
The man grinned.
"You're right," He said and sat up straight, leaning back in the seat, "You're not a wizard, Morgan. Your magic is much older than that, which makes you a warlock - not a wizard."
The man clarified, his smirk seemingly permanent on his face by now.
"There's a difference?" Morgan asked with raised brow, not really understanding anything of what was said.
"Oh yes." The man said, dark eyes shining in excitement, "A warlock's magic is much more potent, as it is a part of him from birth. It's magic as old as time itself. Warlocks are very rare. The last time one was known to walk this earth, was a thousand years ago."
Merlin.
The name popped up in Morgan's mind on it's own accord. He shook his head, ignoring the feeling of familiarity in him.
"So, you're saying that I'm one of those. A warlock?" Morgan asked, trying to clarify what it was all about. The man in red gave him a small nod, staring at him intently.
"You really do have to wrong person." Morgan laughed and shook his head, "I can assure you, I'm nothing of the sort. I- Do- Not- Have- Magic." He repeated, making sure to underline his words.
The man's smirk faded, as he sighed and stood up.
"You'll have to realize eventually, young Morgan." He said and dusted off his red suit, "A war is coming and you need to decide where you stand. With them or with us."
The man was suddenly standing above Morgan, his face inches from the young man, "And you better choose wisely." He hissed eyes darkening, as they pierced Morgan's, "it could mean the life or death of those you love."
The man pulled away from Morgan and held up his hand, his eyes flashed red and in the next second the train made a sudden stop, causing Morgan to fall over, onto the dirty floor.
The man looked at his gold watch, tapping it lightly.
"Well, well look at the time, five minutes to the next train passes here." He glanced down at Morgan, who slowly stumbled to his feet, keeping his eyes on the man. The man in red smirked and tsked.
"If only someone had magic, so he could stop the other train and save himself and the twenty others, occupying the two train, but alas..."
With a final look at Morgan the man disappeared into thin air, leaving Morgan alone in the empty cart.
It was only now that he noticed the sounds of other people in the carts beside his. He could hear their confusion at the train's sudden hold, and the worry as someone, like the man in red, knew that another train wasn't far behind.
Morgan kneeled down and put his hands on the train floor. Closing his eyes and concentrating on the feel of the floor, Morgan cursed. He could already feel the vibrations of the other train.