Merlin: The Heir of Annwn
By: Stella Limegood.
Chapter 1.
Prince Arthur of Camelot was afraid.
Scratch that he was petrified!
Here it was, the night of his twenty-second birthday, and his father lay there dying.
It really just wasn't fair.
'After everything we went through last year? How could this be possible?' he thought glumly as he reflected on the events that had taken place 13 months prior.
He, Merlin and Gwaine, after escaping the slave trader had been lucky enough to find the Cup of Life, amongst the druids, and just when Arthur had thought everything would turn out okay. Bam! Catastrophe struck! They'd been attacked, and lost it. Next much to his eternal frustration and embarrassment he'd pass out from a bloody arrow wound, just like a girl! A girl!
Merlin would never know how thankful he was that he hadn't been teased over it. Then as if life couldn't of gotten anymore 'delightful' at the time, he'd woken up to find Merlin and Gwaine sitting around him like a pair of wet nurses in the middle of the night, with the Cup of Life still lost to Cenred!
Who as far as Arthur had been able to tell had wasted no time, the wretch and his right hand sorceress had beaten them to Camelot by a full day, and the image of his home burning from on top of the hill was one that would haunt Arthur for the rest of his life. As would the sight of his once proud father being forcefully held down by the guards as that...that loathsome scum had gloated over his victory and worse thrown his father's secret right into his face!
He felt himself swallow, at the memory.
'My sister,' he thought, 'Morgana is my sister.'
No matter how many times he tried to wrap the information around his skull, it still felt surreal? Yet what could also feel more natural? They'd grown up together side by side. During bad thunderstorms when they were little she used to hide with him under his bed. They had nearly shared everything from toys to swords, and now all the times that his father had bent to her wishes made sense. So too did those little moments that they had felt while staring at each other back when he was a boy running around the palace hand in hand. As if they'd been able to know with instinct despite their ignorant young minds that they were related?
He'd seen other wards, met a few at court, none had been given as much freedom or as much standing as Morgana had, it had been a fact he had been proud of and more then once bragged about. She had blended seamlessly into his and Uther's family like a stream that joins a river. At times to Arthur at least, she had been the missing element of his family that had needed filling with his mother's absence. Albeit sisters and mothers are two entirely different things but they are both places that belong to that of the female gender, and even amongst royalty no perhaps simply in all human families at least one female presence is required for a sense of normality?
Before Morgana had arrived in Camelot Arthur had sensed that there was something missing in his family, something wrong, or off? At around the age of eight summers he hadn't really understood why he had felt that way?
However he had a memory from that age, of a day where he'd snuck out of the castle and joined the stable boys in a rousing game of tag when a homely port but altogether jolly woman had come and fetched the boys from their play for supper. She had been the stable boys mother and being a kind soul she had noticed him and assuming the worst welcomed him into her home to join them in a 'happy family dinner'. Something eight-year old Arthur had yet to have experienced at that point in his young life, having always been brought his meals to his rooms.
He couldn't remember the dialogue. Nor what the meal entailed per say. All he really remembered was the warm feeling in the air as the mother of the family had bustled around her little cottage cheerfully. He recalled how she had wacked one son with a spoon when he had reached for a hot bun to keep him from burning his small hand. He could still see the moment her husband had come home and she had merrily greeted him with a kiss as their children had both made disgusted faces while Arthur had simply stared, for that was the first time he'd ever seen such interaction between two people. He could relive the laughter he had shared in with the husband and his sons as she had made jokes when they all sat together at the round little table munching away at their meal, and to this day he would never forget how pleasant the whole atmosphere of that tiny peasants house had been.
Nor how heartbroken he had felt when his own father had finally tracked him down later that evening and come to take him away.
He hadn't wanted to leave, and he'd never been allowed to see that family again.
Why, was never quite explained to him, but he could guess propriety had something to do with it or maybe just petty jealousy? He recalled how he had spent the following day asking his father questions such as, "Father why don't we eat together? Or father did my mother make food? Father would my mother have hit me with a spoon? Father can we have sticky hot buns? Father what does it mean when someone's lips touch anothers? Father why don't I have a brother? Do you know any jokes father? Father would you like to come eat with me in my room?"
In response to his questions his father for one week hadn't spoken to him. Not a single word and then suddenly like magic, Morgana had arrived.
He'd never told her, but the first time she had eaten with them had also been the very first time that his father had ever joined Arthur or even asked Arthur to dine with him too.
It had been a first time for all three of them.
She had been the catalyst for their one small family practice.
Dinner together.
It had been the reason why he had been able to love her so quickly, she had somehow, 'magically' brought his aloof father closer to him. A low sad chuckle tried to escape his throat as he thought of how often they had joked during those first and many to follow meals, that she was in all but blood his sister when all along unbeknownst to them, she truly had been.
'The creator of everything must enjoy irony,' he decided bitterly as his mind churned over everything once again, 'All the more reason why I must find her.' He promised to himself, quietly, 'I want to tell her that. I need her to know.'
She had not been there during Cenred's invasion with Morgause.
A fact that he had yet to decide on being a curse or a blessing.
Instead he'd had to watch in trepidation, from his hiding spot with Merlin as her name had been tossed around between the two would be conquerors like a piece of meat between dogs.
Those two sorry excuses of humanity fighting over Morgana right in his father's horrified heartbroken face! God above if he shut his eyes he could still see the blond sorceress Morgause in her shouting match with a crown stealing, Cenred. Her loud outraged words still ringing in his head like a bell toll as she declared his 'newly revealed sister's magic' and her natural rights to the throne and how the revelation broke his father. Putting the once terrifying King Uther into a state of shocked sputtering stupor of petrified confusion. While Cenred the 'ass' had threatened Morgause that Morgana's position, like a common broodmare, would either be in his bed to give him an heir or dead in the ground, if the blond didn't watch her self!
Rage briefly flickered over Arthur's countenance once more, he could feel his knuckles clench tight like they had been that very night over that particular 'threat' by Cenred. If it hadn't of been for Merlin's frantic whispers in his ear, there was no telling what he would have done in that moment. Luckily the scum who had once been named Cenred wouldn't be given the chance to enact his plans on his sister, yes his sister, anytime soon, thanks to the valiant work of Lancelot, Merlin and Gaius.
'Served him right!' Arthur thought savagely, he only wished it had been him who had cut the bastard down but his father had needed his dire attention. And perhaps things had turned out for the best in that regard, after all Cenred had been killed, the Cup of Life was now secure in the vaults below and although Morgause had escaped with her parting words, "It's only begun!" and was still at large, she didn't seem to want his sister anymore dead then he did.
Perhaps once they caught Morgause they could through her find Morgana?
His poor lost and confused magical sister.
'Is it strange, Morgana that all I really care about, is whether or not your still alive? Would you say I'm foolish? For wishing, that you were here safe with me? So that we could talk, so I could just, have you with me. How I could have used your support these past months, or your clever counsel. Oh God my family…Gods Morgana…why?' he thought sadly.
The stinging burn of tears forming behind his eyes was a familiar sensation now, it had started the night the truth of Morgana had come out and though they had never fallen during the event nor did they now, they remained there right behind his eyes, bothering him all the same. He wasn't sure if it was manly pride or just a lack of will, but the tears just wouldn't fall? They were just stuck there behind his eyes, distorting his vision but for some reason he just couldn't let them fall? In the black parts of his soul he admitted if only to himself a fear that should he let those tears fall, then it would mean the worse had come. That once again he had lost a family member.
'Ha. What's the point of holding back now though? I'm loosing one anyway,' he reflected scathingly with dark sarcasm.
For was it not so?
A year may have gone by but the damage was done.
Morgana's fate, magic or no, remained unknown and his father as the days had passed had turned into nothing but a mere shell of his former self. At first the people had thought it was only shame the king felt for having failed them in protecting them from Cenred's forces. Particularly for the day after their nightly take over when Cenred had ordered his soldiers to fire upon the innocent by standing citizenry of Camelot, murdering children even. However, as time moved forward and the truth of Morgana's paternity became clear it was then presumed that it was grief coupled with even more shame over the lost of Camelot's 'hidden magical princess', that had brought the king so low?
Arthur knew better though. He and his father had always had a tumultuous turbulent relationship even at the best of times, but they were family, they shared a connection, and he understood his father better then most. At least he liked to think so?
He would admit to himself that there had been a time when Arthur would have treasured to know the fact that his father was capable of guilt. That underneath the façade of indifference there was a human being capable of flaw. Such a discovery could have once put him in a celebratory mood, he may have even give Merlin the day off he always promised. The thought bringing a brief lightness to his aching heart before reality took it away quickly as it had come.
He sighed to himself forlornly. The reality of seeing his father brought down so low, humbled him in a way he hadn't thought of before, it had shown him that all men, were just that, men. It had opened his eyes and finally plunged the hard fact of life in that his father wasn't only human but subject to all the same rules of mortality that he, in turn Arthur was. That they were all capable of error in judgment that they could all every person each suffer from grief, and the cruelty of making poor or misleading choices.
Everyone could feel guilty.
Everyone had, could or would make mistakes.
Being a king was no exception to this.
So maybe that was why he was praying right now?
Maybe that was why he had gone and chosen the unthinkable and could only hope that if it all went well that his father would forgive him?
He was dying after all.
His father was dying.
Just dying.
No fancy blade work being done upon him on a field of battle with some outrageous opponent, like a giant goliath. No majestic tournament duel gone completely, haywire. No foul plot at play…well…there was the assassination attempt earlier by those rotten circus performers. He would never trust a troop of clowns again as long as he lived, but still. There hadn't even been a wayward spell cast by some evil sorcerer.
No his father was just lying there! Dying. Not even a strange magical creature was within rangeee…uh…. 'Darn It!'
Thus it was that Prince Arthur of Camelot found his thoughts come round in a full ugly awful circle.
'What was I thinking? What? What was I thinking?!' chanted the ongoing rant in his skull as he stared at his once proud father now struggling to breathe because of that evil entertainer's knife.
In a really sick way this situation could have made Arthur laugh his royal pratty ass off, if it wasn't so gut clenching soul ripping tormenting on him overall. Yes. He could have laughed in a hysterical high-pitched manner at this whole terrifying affair he found himself in, if it wasn't happening to him, but it was happening to him! And curse everything he just couldn't!
After all, his father was lying there, right next to him, in bed, dying.
Dying.
Death. The end of life. Finite!
That's it!
No more living.
It was strange to Arthur how one minute his brain could process it, understand it, and then in the blink of an eye, it couldn't. It was too hard to comprehend. Too hard to adjust to the pain that the one parent he had left, the one family member he had tried so hard for, in so many ways to prove himself too, was just going to leave him.
Forever.
With so many things left unsaid, and misunderstood, it just wasn't fair, especially when today, today above all rotten days, it had seemed like for the very first time in a long time his father was reaching out to him. Just as a father.
To celebrate his birthday! His accursed birthday! His goddamn 'happy' birthday!
"It's not fair! First my mother, my sister and now….? Damn it!" hissed his dismal thoughts.
There was so much that he, still wanted, no needed from his father. So much he wished to explain and even yes still desired to ask. Like forgiveness and reassurance, for one?
Now Uther Pendragon was dying and in desperation Arthur had done the unimaginable.
He had gone to the one thing that in an ironic twist of fate his father had despised most of all to save him.
Magic.
Sodden Magic!
The word alone had brought upon Arthur's life more trouble then anything else in the entire kingdom. Scratch that make it the entire world! It had caused him countless problems. So why? Why was he risking this?! It was madness!
He had gone mad, it was a reasonable explanation he could allow himself to accept.
After all within the past four to five years alone he'd had to face witches, love enchantments, monsters in the castle like that thing in the water? ('What had that been called?' he wondered.) Beasts out of the castle like those giant spiders when he'd tried to save his friend, that weird fiasco with the Troll woman who'd nearly become his step-mother above all things! Lord the smell alone had stunk up the castle for weeks! The goblin that had possessed Gaius and given him wretched donkey ears! Those meddling sorcerers in the tournament like the ones who impersonated two knights, that snake shield thing? Those terrifying wyverns at the Fisher King's realm, which nearly made him 'soil his armor!'
Then there was the mess with the druid boy Morganahad taken a shine too, poor miserable little chap.
And oh yes!? Lets not forget there was of course Morgana herself!
All those strange nightmares that had tormented her now made perfect sense didn't they? It was all thanks to blasted bloody magic wasn't it!? In the privacy of his mind he wished he and the kingdom had understood or known about her magic a little more while growing up, to think of all those banquet instances growing up where she had made a dramatic scene, much like she had when they had gone to hunt the questing beast on the stairs, could have been reasonably explained!
He could see himself now alternatively telling the visiting lords from Kent, "Yes that's right. That is my sister, Morgana. Yes, she does have dreams induced by magic. Gauis told me she was a seer? What that entails I'm not sure but her behavior is entirely understandable under the circumstances. Is it not?"
If there existed a spell for time-travel then after the sorcerer healed his father, Arthur would have him sit down and teach him how to use it as his first magical decree so that he could say that to the one time visiting Lords of Kent in place of what had been said. Saving him a great deal of misery.
However that would require more magic wouldn't it!
Magic.
Magic.
Sodden ..effing..blasted…MAGIC!
He was developing a migraine the size of a continent that was certain.
Morgana wasn't even the end of it though was she? If anything he decided she was more like the crux or the garnish on the cake!? There had been a whole other pile of shite long before Cenred's take over with the Cup of Life? Hadn't there?
For starters there had been magical mazes, the assassin from Odin, that poor pretty shape-shifting girl in rags? The sight of her bones twisting sometimes made it to his own nightmares as did the howls she had made once she had become that cat creature?
Cornelius Sigan's Tomb being opened had been a 'joyful' occasion thanks to his own blunder over trusting Cedric instead of Merlin, leading to those gargoyles that had almost succeeded in taking his and Gwen's heads off!
Oh and before he listed more there was of course Morgause still largely at large and before her that so-called Nimueh witch he still wondered about at night? Whatever had happened to her? Nimueh just seemed to have threatened him and then disappeared? Arthur wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he wasn't going to complain over her vanishing act, it's just he liked to think that she'd lost interest and traveled far far far, far, far, far away where they would never ever meet again.
Probably not true, but it was a thought that made for better sleeping at night then the idea that she was just out there amongst the bushes of the Darkling Woods waiting to pounce upon him. At any time, any moment, magical wands in hand, on any day, any day at all, waiting for him. . ….. ? . .
..?
.
Yes. Right. Better to think Nimueh and he would never cross paths again and that she had sailed far across the sea to become a shoemaker or something. A most agreeable, reasonable.. possible. . . professional explanation.
Completely probable…..
Definitely likely…
..
.
!?..
.
.
What else had caused him trouble with magic?
Lets see, of course there was the questing beast, (that had been frightening), giant man-eating rats, (that had been disgusting), cockatrices, the griffin, ghosts in his childhood, the walking dead. Thinking about those made him fidget in his seat, 'One does not forget walking skeletons any time soon', he reflected moodily.
Speaking of the dead there had been the undead and that sleeping spell? (He still owed Merlin a good slap for that time.) Ah yes then there was the living dead like the Black Knight or had that one also been undead?
Come to think of it what exactly was the difference in regards to that anyway?
'I mean undead is dead but not dead and living dead is also dead but not dead right? Is there actually a difference or is it just a different name for the same thing?' he pondered momentarily. One of these days he really should get to the library, and ask Geoffrey a thing or two.
Oh and last but certainly not least there had been the bloody sodden Dragon for mercy's sake!
Sweet lord above the first night that creature had attacked Arthur really had soiled himself a tiny itty, bitty bit. (Which no one. No one would ever ever know.) The shear power alone of that looming monstrosity had been unquestionable and as the flames it had spewed fell from the sky like hot battering rams its might had forever made a life long lasting imprint unto his brain.
Which was that Dragons were nothing to mess about with!
Lord that huge soaring animal had frightened him more then he could say, and after the first week he really truly had thought they would all end up burnt to a crisp.
How he had supposedly killed it he would never understand? It was the one thing he really deep down had a hard time believing himself. It was just so surreal?
What's worse is that over time, a terrible thought had begun to sneak over him in regards to that particular set of memories. One that he quite honestly pushed as far back into the corners of his mind as he possibly could in order to ignore it, because he wasn't sure of what it would mean if it was true or how he was supposed to react or deal with it?
Arthur swallowed again as his mind came back to the present, his eyes glancing briefly over at the shuffling hunched red robed figure across from him in his father's chamber.
His gaze then switched back to his father, who was lying quite pale upon his bed and breathing unsteadily, his brow covered in sweat, as he struggled to live. Arthur clenched his hands together to keep them from shaking as his thoughts went to that time during the dragons attack which inevitably brought the root of his deepest suspicion and most troublesome thought to the very forefront of his mind.
There had been only one hope to stop the dragon during its fierce some attack on Camelot, one hope to save them and that had been the man named Balinor, the Last Dragon Lord.
A man who had died in his all but unspoken, best friend, soul-brothers, arms much to both their anguish.
His friend and manservant Merlin.
Merlin who had faced death with Arthur more then any of his men could count.
Merlin who had never cried or shown fear, over the death of plenty a Camelot knight during a raid or bandit attack despite having known them just by living in the city, but who had openly deeply wept and sobbed over a man that they had only just met?
Arthur was not a fool.
Nor was he blind. It was true he was often preoccupied with himself and the matters of the kingdom that his father entrusted him with, but this didn't mean that he didn't notice things.
Nor was he forgetful.
Quite the contrary in fact, he had an excellent long-term memory, it was just that he didn't like to dwell or harp over things. The philosophy he tried to live by was steeped in moving forward, because if you spent too much time on the what if's then you could miss out on the happy moments life willingly thrust before you, like for example his first kiss with Gwen.
If he was a person who dwelled on things all the time, then he may not have been able to obtain the five seconds of courage it took to touch her lips with his. A blissful gift he would surely have regretted missing should he have been too caught up in the risks of what he was doing, lucky for him though that hadn't been the case.
He had simply chosen to act rather then ruminate.
Now in reward the two of them shared a stupendous refreshingly honest (albeit secret) relationship, and he had someone with whom he could finally wholly trust.
He was proud of that, but his relationship with Gwen aside, it did not detract him from one of the biggest puzzles in his life.
Which was this: 'Why had Merlin cried so hard over the Dragon Lord?" thought Arthur, "Why did my friend act so stand-offish during the search to find Balinor? How was it that Merlin and I survived the Dragon's final attack but I came out of it lying on the ground battered up like a rag doll while he was….unscathed? His clothes only slightly singed?"
These questions raced in Arthur's mind like a ripple across a lake. A lake that on the surface looked innocent enough, it's surface clear and quiet. Simplicity at it's finest. Nothing mysterious, nothing unusual, just an ordinary quiet lake, similar to how Merlin was just an ordinary run of the mill servant, his truest and best friend in all the world, but a simple peasant lad by birth.
'The truth about Morgana and father's deteriorating health must've affected me more then I thought because I can't shake this idea?' Arthur reflected in agitation.
He ran his hands through his hair as his migraine kicked up a notch.
"I never knew my father," Merlin had said.
"Fine…I'll tell you…(heavy pause)…I'm worried about..everyone back home," he had said, the lie Arthur could practically smell, but he had been too chicken to push on it, in fear of overdoing it, cause Merlin could be so ridiculously sensitive!
The looks that had passed, between Balinor and Merlin, when they thought, he wasn't around watching close by?
"You did it. You landed a fatal blow," Merlin had told him, his unusually bright crystal blue eyes once again filled with tears, as Arthur in a state of hysterical relief and joy had easily swallowed up what only now three years later made in places no sense whatsoever!
…
.
'Am I missing stuff or am I just trying to see something in someone that isn't there? At this rate I'll end up as paranoid as my own father. Lord knows I'm already half way there...Sigh…Maybe, I'm over thinking? Trying to turn a Lake into an Ocean?' thought Arthur cynically as he stared at his hands.
…
..
.
.
"Shallow waters run deep un ifanc," came the whisper of a deep feminine voice.
.
.
"What?" Arthur asked aloud startled as he sat up ramrod straight!
"Milord?" replied the old sorcerer calling himself Dragoon in question.
"What was that?" asked Arthur his eyes traveling the room in lightning speed.
"What was what?" replied Dragoon in confusion.
"Did? Didn't you say something?" asked Arthur eyeing the rooms only doorway.
Nobody was there. The door was closed.
"No?" replied Dragoon as one hairy white eyebrow lifted itself in amusement.
"Your sure?" asked Arthur fretfully, someone had definitely spoken hadn't they?
"Of course I'm sure. I'm old not amnesic! Quit distracting me! I need to focus here," demanded Dragoon in an irritated elderly huff.
"I could have sworn," mumbled Arthur as he let the old man's haughty behavior slide for now and tried to preoccupy himself, with scrutinizing the rest of his fathers room. 'I really am becoming paranoid aren't' I?' thought Arthur pessimistically.
Shadows dimmed and flickered across the hanging tapestries with only the sound of the old man's movements for background noise as he prepared his herbs for his spells. Outside the moon shone full and bright against a myriad of stars that felt closer then usual to those who walked beneath them.
The horses in the palace stable were all eerily enough standing awake perfectly still, their heads all facing the same direction as they stood attentively waiting; but the stable hands were all fast asleep in their beds at their respective houses, too far away to bear witness to the unusual sight.
In the corridors and halls of the palace silence pervaded the air. Deep in the kitchen where the chef snored, the mice that had been scurrying around the floor stopped running even as the cat that had been chasing them paused above them only a millimeter away. Retracting it's claws, it's yellow eyes glinted in the darkness as it cast it's sharp gaze over its furry brown shoulder at the open corridor leading to the kings suit, its ears pressed back and it's fur sticking on end.
'There would be no more hunting mice this night,' it shrewdly thought.
For the guards on the night watch and the sleeping maids in their dormitories everything was as it should be, no one had been spotted sneaking around the palace. No alarms would be ringing anytime soon. It was for once a peaceful night in Camelot.
Yet, Prince Arthur's mind was ill at ease. He couldn't relax.
'Maybe it's the old man's ritual?' he thought with anxiety. The old man had set to burning the herbs and the smell of incense was a little potent for Arthur's taste. However, even that couldn't distract him from the feeling that something was happening?
Why did he feel as if there were eyes watching him from the far corner of the room, where nothing but an empty chair his father preferred, sat shrouded in darkness?
'I really must be going mad,' thought Arthur as everything appeared, as it should.
"Caw," came the unexpected comment causing both Dragoon and Arthur to jump a bit out of their respective positions in surprise. Together as one the two looked over to see the only small open window in Uther's room being occupied by a very large great black crow that had decided to perch itself there, like it owned the place.
"Well, there's that voice you were looking for," snarked Dragoon gruffly, at a surprised Arthur as he went back to work ignoring their fine feathered intruder.
Arthur stared at the black crow with its twinkling beady black eyes. "What the hell's a bird doing there?" squawked Arthur indignantly, like a puffed up rooster. If that thing left any droppings in his father's chambers, Arthur would never here the end of it!
"Caw. Caw. Caw,"replied the bird right back, with what Arthur could have sworn was a, 'Wha's it too you, goldilocks?' sort of attitude, causing Arthur to puff up even more and glare harder at it.
This course of action was then followed by the bird giving Arthur a nice sight of its' very handsome tail-feathers, and another cheeky, "Caw!"
Nobody showed the Crown Prince of Camelot such blatant disrespect!
Not even a bird!
Secretly glad for the distraction, Arthur immediately got up to go scare the thing off, but instead of flying back out the window like a good 'iddle birdie, the crow seemed to take great amusement at Arthur's actions, letting him know by raising it's small black feathered head in challenge and letting out a few more, definitely (Arthur could tell) mocking caws!
"Caw. Caw. Klack. CAW. Caw. Klack. Caaaw. CAW! CAAAW!" went the crow.
"Right. Back outside. The King's chamber's are no place for the likes of you, feather bag!" snapped Arthur.
….….
"Did ya hear that gran?! What kind of a thing to say to m'beautiful self is that!? Oh. We've got a lot of work cut out for us wiv this one," said High Prince Diaval of Annwn, as he eyed Arthur from head to toe mischievously.
"Diaval," warned the voice from the occupied chair in the corner of the room.
"What? We've been 'ere ten minutes already, I don't think they're gonna notice us anytime soon gran, might as well be part of the furniture," retorted Prince Diaval.
"Diaval," stressed the voice again mildly.
"Huh. Oh don't look now, gran, but it looks like I spoke too soon, goldilocks is gettin his knickers twisted up cause he senses us. About time someone did. Startin to feel a little left out," said Diaval, "even if is just sitting around a dingy old room like this? Where's a dustpan when ya need it? Look at these cobwebs. It's Filthy!"
No response was given.
"Although I've seen worse, member when you sent me to visit Aunt Macha? It was nothin but skulls and bones and mud for weeks. At one point I started to think m'own flesh was falling off, what a time that was," said Diaval as Arthurs eyes landed on him again.
"Are you certain he's not m'brother gran? He's look-in right at me?" asked Diaval for the fifth time, "and he's even glanced your way. Not many mortals pick up on you. I can't even remember the last time that 'appened?"
"Yes Diaval, Rwyn'n sicr, I'm certain," responded the elegantly horned figure, "Yn wir, it has been a long time since a child of dyn, sensed me. It is thanks to your brother, much of his magic has ..woven itself around him, protections spells I believe."
"Really? Huh," replied Diaval thoughtfully as he took in his disguised 'younger' sibling, "Do you think it's the aging spell or is he just …being thorough and moving slow on purpose?" asked Diaval worriedly.
Unseen oceanic eyes rose heavenwards as if to ask the fates for help.
"I mean s'okay, but you know some Dragons are a bit…slow. Like really slow," stated Diaval again a little more worried this time.
"Diaval, would you mind.." began the female voice.
"I can't have a snail for a brother!" shouted Diaval in dawning horror!
"Diaval!"
"I CAN'T! I won't know what to do? Brownies would of gotten the job done by now!" complained Prince Diaval, "Arawn's Mighty Antlers! Even turtles move faster! Now what's he doing with those twigs again?!"
"Diaval stop working yourself up into a dither!" commanded Queen Badb mildly.
"Fey don't use twigs?! Well, unless for decoration? Maybe, in place of silverware, which reminds me, hey gran did ya know that Aunt Macha eats eyeballs on sticks during Samahin? Oh! Is Blondie e're a cannibal? Are we dealing wiv cannibals gran?"
A small-exasperated groan escaped Queen Badb's lips.
"Oh I got it! He's gonna turn the King into an Ent isn't he!?" squawked Diaval perking up a bit with enthusiasm as he glanced at the still very much un-wooden King Uther, "Hm. Well, no wonder this is taking so long. Hasn't even sprouted any leaves or roots. Do ya think I ..should…. " but whatever the High Prince of Annwn had to suggest next was interrupted because Arthur had finally reached the window where Diaval was perched and begun to wave his hands enthusiastically at the shape-shifted Fey Prince.
For his part although highly affronted at being 'shooed', Diaval simply gave Arthur a few more, well deserved insults via 'caw' and flew up to a beam in the room well out of Arthur's reach. Whereupon he gave the glaring blond a few more sights of his beautiful tail-feathers just to jape him up!
"Diaval, fy annwyl, that is not very polite," reprimanded his grandmother with a muted expression from her corner in the shadows. One fine elegant eyebrow arched in disapproval.
Diaval, though still in his crow form, felt his cheeks under his feathers redden a bit at her words, so with an embarrassed cough he simply said, "Aw gran. Having a bit of fun tha's all. Goldilocks looks like a boggin doesn't he, all that glaring can't be good? You think his eyes will get stuck like that?"
A soft sigh was given in response.
"Ya know gran he reminds me of that imp who once got stuck in the palace, stealing your prize candied chestnuts. Whatever h'appen to ole Binns?"
"Diaval, annwyl, if you could find it within yourself to sit still quietly I would appreciate it, if not I will make you. Yn glir?" warned Queen Badb of the Immortal Fey softly as she kept her attention fixed on her youngest of kin and the one that fate had chosen for him to protect as guardian. Her eyes shining in the darkness like cut diamonds, as she absorbed every detail she possibly could about them, doors and paths opening and closing in her mind with every seconds passing.
"This will require a delicate touch," she thought to herself as she breathed in their aura's, both of the young males ironically enough were steeped in equal amounts of fear, although they tried to hide it well. Fear of themselves was the most dominate nuisance that would have to be nipped in the bud as was their fear of each other, but there was also a strong fear of failure.
Underlined by a fear of the unknown that she had expected yet she could already guess would frustrate her in the future when solving. Still considering how young they were she was not surprised on the contrary she was intrigued by the situation, "Like tiny saplings just breaking the surface of the earth, where as I am an old great oak," she mused thoughtfully with a rye little smirk.
The lack of faith in their choices coupled with all the fear made for an unhealthy brew. Ah, but she had been given less to work with before and dealt with much worse in the ages gone by. Nor was she unprepared or ignorant of her newest charges history. Ever since the time her youngest of kin had begun to form in his mother's womb Babd had been keeping tabs on him via her crystals and other sources. Before he was even born she had been made aware of his 'existing spark' by the very core of the Underground and what his birth would entail for all the rest of the First Kind.
She had been watching him for years through tree, stone, flower and river. Listening to his heart's cries when no one else was around him, his soul songs ringing to her all the way into the depths of the ancient tides of antiquity's shore, though he was still bound to his mortal cocoon and she to Annwn never able to cross the Borderland boundaries of the Moor, since the time of the first, Diflannu.
Dust danced a little in response to her frustrated thought.
How she had wished she could have broken free of Arawn's mighty laws so that she could truly bond and harmonize with her youngest kin. So much comfort he could have had. Alas. There were some things that even 'Time's Children' could not change.
'As it should be,' she chided to herself, 'Now though, is not the hour for inner reflection," she paused in her thoughts as her eyes gleaming from the shadows noticed how the candles around the room had begun to flicker by an unseen magical air. The shadows she was using to cloak herself momentarily twisted in response to a sudden call that to her was as frail as a newborns cry but was steadily trickling into a collected river of a deep strong masculine pitch, with a voice like a cavernous echo.
Outside playful clouds grew excited and decided to come closer down to earth to inspect what was going on, their enthusiasm grew when they recognized the young one's essence in work, (having been called by him before), in joy at once again baring witness to the actions of a First Kind. Happily the clouds let loose a beat of thunder and a loud clapping of lightning that startled poor Diaval, who had been pruning his feathers out of boredom!
"Ack! Oi! Gran! Wha' the devil is that flock of riff raff doing ere! Spookin a chap like that!" he squawked, "Trying to clean m'beautiful self up and clash! What is it wiv clouds?! If I get one drop! One drop of water on m'lovely wings I'll put those .."
"At last he begins, Diaval," interrupted Queen Badb as she stood from her chair in one swift move, power emanating from every pore of her pearlescent skin, from the top of her sharp mighty black horns to her unseen toes, her own magic rising in a soft gentle wave of warm anticipation.
At his grandmother's posturing, High Crown Prince Diaval appeared to do a complete one-eighty in personality, instantly calm he became all business. Gone was the tom-foolery that he was often known for and in it's stead was one who was second in command. Here was a being that once had led spies & armies alike.
His dark eyes still held their natural state of mirthful cunning but there was a sharp lethal focus pouring out of them now, that perhaps had been there all along deliberately veiled?
"Diaval. Your younger brawd, must be broken in gently, as his Mam asked. Thus, I have decided that we shall do this the long way. Surely you have noticed the necklace the pitw, Uther wears?" asked Queen Badb.
"Aye," answered Prince Diaval.
"Good. Then you have guessed what will happen?" pushed the Queen seriously.
"Ydy fy Frenhines. His mortal healing magic will fail."
"Diaval fy adenydd. Stand ready, but do not interfere when his 'mortal coil' breaks. Like all of us he must cross the threshold alone & unaided, so too must he complete his first 'Sillafu gan'. His first 'Spell Song'. After this great act is done and only after he has finished 'Moving the Stars' may you reach out to him for the first time as a fellow Fey & Kin."
"What of his charge, fy Frenhines?"asked the Prince.
"Arthur Pendragon, was chosen to be protected by Fey. Not since the time of Rhiannon's youth & brave Pwyll has this occurred? Therefore, whilst you help your brother with his transformations and his new state of being, I shall get to know this…..'dafaden or wart' a bit better," proclaimed Queen Badb strategicallywith an arched eyebrow.
"So…were disguising ourselves even after tonight, then?" checked Prince Diaval.
"Why yes, annwyl, we are but not entirely, no, only enough so that we don't cause too much of a stir. Although? Hmmm.." Queen Badb paused for a moment as she brought one elegant finger up to her ruby red lips as her thumb touched her chin. In a second those lips twisted up into a grin that would have sent imps running," You've given me an idea. I believe Camelot could use some new visitors, why it may even do the populace good to have say.. some 'surprises.' After all…'it has been a dream' since last we were here," said the Queen with a gleam in her eye.
Prince Diaval grinned, his night black feathers puffing up in approval, "Aye that it has Gran. Very well, as you command slow, human and my baby brother's helper it is, fy Mawrhydi."
"Good, remember what I said Diaval, ready yourself," and with those words the two Fey fell silent as the youngest of the three in the room began speaking ancient mortal words of magic. His mortal power peaking to extraordinary heights unheard of by wizards and witches, yet nothing more then a child's to the beings who had gone silent in their watchful anticipatory alertness, "Efencume... ætgædre, eala gastas cræft ige gestricaþ þis lic forod" young oblivious Merlin intoned desperately.
Above the Stars began to dance while the planets waltzed.
An Age of Absence was ending.
…...
"What is magic for?"
It felt like he had been asking that question of himself forever, more specifically he was wondering 'what 'his' magic was for?' So many times had he thought he had finally gotten a decent answer, and so many times had it been proven wrong or seemed incomplete, or inadequate? As if the answer itself contained a personality and was purposely eluding him, just to spite him?
A faint groan that was more of a harsh gasp for air pulled him back to his current surroundings. His 'old' disguised hands twiddled with the sticks and the incense again, objects that he was just using for show really. He had wanted to appear as 'mystical' as possible to Arthur so that his friend wouldn't be able to recognize him as easily. The second reason for the twigs was that he was hoping to 'kill two birds with one stone', Merlin didn't know much about the druids but he knew that they often used incense in many of their rituals, by appearing more 'druidic' and by healing Arthur's father at the same time, he would not only show what good magic could be used for, but also restore the druids standing in the young lords eyes!
It was a brilliant little addition to his performance if he said so himself, but now that his plan of action was underway he found he couldn't really take as much joy in it as he had hoped.
He was after all about to heal the King, with magic.
Nervous didn't come close to how he felt right now.
Uther Pendragon. The man responsible for killing his kind, the man responsible for his mother's loneliness and his own father's grief, the man who had caused him a life filled with torment & fear was lying on that bed right under his gaze, dying.
In some dark part of him, that he would never acknowledge to anyone, Merlin felt a sliver of smug satisfaction at seeing the Purge King brought so low. Much to his own shame he even felt a dark coil of pulsing gratification that such a sight was his to savor and remember at leisure. The irony of it, that out of all the magical beings & persons who had tried to kill the king, it was he, the one who would save him, who had saved him, that got to see him suffer so.
Oh what a sick smug writhing warm plump feeling that both tickled him pink and made him want to vomit in self-disgust, lord how it sat there gleefully squirming within him as did the stark white contrast of its alternative.
Bile rose up his throat at the duality interlacing inside him. Somehow he managed to swallow it down, as his mind reeled again in rich delightful loathing, while his heart churned in utter fretful confusion as absurd sparks of guilt flared.
He noticed that his hands were quivering a little but from what?
Excitement or agitation?
His sparkling sea blue eyes lifted from the twigs he was holding back to the bed where lay without a doubt the greatest quandary he suspected of his entire life. 'How?,' he thought as he watched the man struggle again for air, sweat pouring from his brow.
"You've shown most extraordinary loyalty beyond the line of duty."
How do you describe the feeling of sympathy or pity for one whom you hate?
One who has wronged you in nearly every way humanely possible and yet gained your respect?
How does your enemy even gain respect?
"I'm glad."
'How?' he thought bitterly.
"I wanted to thank you personally."
How do you explain to people the feeling of holding admiration for someone who at the same time has gained your complete abhorrence?
"You feel your child's every joy, and their pain, you watch their failings and you see your own. All you want is for their happiness, for them to escape the sufferings of life. Why? Why is this happening? I would do anything."
How would he or could he ever explain the contradiction he had become?
"You're protecting the King!" shouted a young man so very much like himself.
'How?' or better yet he thought, 'Why?'
He despised this man. He hated this man. Loathed him. He took a sick seething pleasure in seeing him struggling for air, and yet? "He is just that…a weak, old mortal man," thought Merlin Emrys, "A sad, lonely, pathetic, pitiful old man, who has made mistake after misguided mistake, all while trying to be the best King to his 'people' he possibly could be, never realizing how much wrong he truly has committed. A truer sod if ever there was one."
Was it sympathy he felt?
Or was it his famous forgiving compassion that Gaius always claimed he had that made him look upon Uther Pendragon and not only feel the sadistic pleasure, he kept shut away in his heart, but an actual pang of sorrow even a tremor of grief for the damn man?
Merlin shut his eyes.
Sometimes he worried for his own sanity. Sometimes he felt odd, like he didn't fit his skin? Or.. no, no that wasn't the right wording for how he felt, how could he describe what he was feeling when he felt like he didn't understand it himself? How could he explain that it was especially moments like the one he was in right now, the important moments of his life, that made him feel the ' oddest feeling' the most? How could he explain that some days he felt ancient, older even in his mind then his silly disguise as Dragoon, older then the hills or the trees of Camelot and entirely separate from everyone around him!
Growing up had not been an easy thing for Merlin. Having magic had not made it any less troublesome, however, the sensation he was trying to put into words right now, (now above all times), was one that he felt didn't have so much to do with magic as it did his very ….existence?
The best he could do was to use images, senses, tastes such as: Dark black water coming alive under a heavy storm, tiny flowers blooming despite a frost covered earth, snow resting on pinecones before it melts, vegetable roots carving their way into the ground, the way Arthur's sword sings in the air while he swings it, the smell of the chef's cooking and the soft taste of the bread she gives him, Gwen's lilac perfume, as her sun-kissed hands catch water in the light by the local pump, the sound of Gaius chopping herbs in time with a heartbeat, majestic wings that flap hard as the wind presses itself to him from all sides, the knights laughing into the long hours as the tavern bell chimes, the dew covered grass as his face once more meets it, his mother's spicy hugs making him feel safe and the saltiness of the tears of his foes as they fall to the ground, once more making him feel rain. Rain. Beautiful Freya's silky hair, her body growing cold as ice, pain, pain with more rain, as another lies growing colder by the second. More rain falls but his insides burn…
Burning. Burning, water deep boiling ocean water pulls him, pulling him down until he forgets he has limbs, forgets he has flesh, all he feels is water, all he hears are echoes and voices, songs being sung to him from the ground, the trees, the seas, songs in the very air he breathes.
The crow in the room makes a sound, "CAW."
He opens his eyes.
For a second he's lost himself and he feels as if the room is spinning or is it the earth? Something.. something in his head was is.. crying, coaxing, even begging him to listen? He feels stretched or the need to stretch? He stumbles a bit, glad that Arthur is too preoccupied with the peculiar crow that has somehow managed to get inside the King's chamber to notice his small spaz attack.
'Steady there Merlin. Get it together. Focus,' he scolds himself, as he tries to shake away the vortex of singing leaves, from his mind. He takes some deep calming breaths, while he waits for his friend to return to his seat, 'Tonight. Tonight, I change things forever. It's my turn Arthur, my chance at last! I will show you magic is good! I must! I WILL.'
He had seen too many people die. He had stood by and watched his fellow magic users be punished for a crime they couldn't of helped. He had lost friends, loves, opportunities and family. A thousand times over while he had attended Arthur from counsel meetings to feasts had he endured hearing his people or people like him, spoken of with malice and hate. He had lost his own innocence. Blood on the ground. Committed murder. Blood in the water. Become a liar, a hypocrite, a thief, and even a soldier all for a dream of peace that he finally knew could not ever fully be guaranteed?
Not without sacrifice.
Blood on his hands, staining him, until it bled right into his very skin.
Now though, just as doubt had begun to sneak once again into his heart via his despair & desperation, was a time come at last to show his closest friend the one truth he knew without question.
That Magic is a gift.
Magic is a force like nature that can be used for many things.
It is not evil.
Only misunderstood.
Uther was cold, cruel, flawed and unworthy of what Merlin was about to do. Yet it did not change the fact that his son on the other hand was. Arthur Pendragon was a good man. A few years ago Merlin would have had quite a hard time believing that the young blond sitting across from him would have become so dear to him, or so admired by him?
Sometimes it still surprised him, how one minute Arthur could be such a prat and then shift the next minute into someone Merlin considered to be a brother.
Speaking of said 'brother' Arthur had finally returned to his chair by his father's side. The blond had an odd look on his face. One that Merlin had never seen on him before, and it touched something in Merlin's heart, as cheesy and 'girlish' as that sounded because Merlin knew exactly what Arthur might be feeling right now.
'What is magic for?' he asked himself again as the memory of his own father's fate surfaced the edges of his mind.
Suddenly Arthur took to standing up, his movements tight and fidgety. He was irritated and frightened, observed Merlin. "Big brave warrior," thought Merlin a little sarcastically with just a touch of bitterness. Normally seeing Arthur so worked up would have made Merlin smile with mischief but too much could go wrong.
'Everything depends on tonight,' he thought taking a deep breath as slowly he began summoning up his magical energy. It sparked and crackled inside him over the surface of his skin. Outside he heard the distant thrum of thunder, and briefly wondered why out of all the elements lighting & rain were always so eager to answer him?
Shaking his head a little of his wondering mind, he quickly set it into a deeply honed focus, 'No mistakes. There can be no mistakes.' He had stalled long enough it was time. He took one final bundle of herbs in his now completely still hands for show and turned to face his most treasured friends bright eggshell blue eyes gazing into his own ocean blue with unconcealed wonder & uncertainty.
'Funny how we both have blue eyes?' thought Merlin off hand, as he felt himself finally calm under Arthur's incertitude. Once more Merlin questioned his own sanity? Normally one was suppose to share & grow uneasy when a friend was starting to panic weren't they? However, over the years it seemed he had developed a weird reaction to seeing Arthur in a frenzy, instead of joining in the fuss Merlin found that when witnessing his friend's agitation he grew alternatively reposeful?
In some cases even playful? Which at least explained half of his never-ending repertoire of banter. Still it was a slightly disturbing realization about oneself, but perhaps it was not entirely his fault? He suspected that it was largely due to the fact that he had lived a life of anxiety for the most part, in having to hide his magic, from everyone he ever met. So when finally coming face to face with another person having a melt down, it became a very relieving thing for him. Words like, 'Thank god I'm not the only one with junk to deal with!" would often blare across his head like a soothing tranquil trumpet at the sight.
In retrospect though, Merlin had come to appreciate his 'cool-headedness' as he called it, because without that instinctual reaction he doubted he would have survived all the incidents he had. He could just imagine what a disaster it would have been if he had lost it when facing Cornelius Sigan for example, or any other prick that had dared to inflict pain upon his home.
Yes. His home.
An image of all his friends, flashed across his mind, from Gwen's smiling face to even the Head Chef's, and he felt himself swallow.
Camelot was his home.
Had become his home, through literally his own sweat, blood and tears, and he would be damned if he let anything happen to it now, even if it meant saving the Purge King.
Merlin straightened himself up. He took a closer step forward, when Arthur made a sudden cry, "Wait."
"Is something wrong," he asked his friend who was sweating enough for the two of them.
"My father's taught me never to trust magic and now I'm using it to save him," replied Arthur quick and bluntly as if he were making a report on a battle yet his voice held a note of guilt, that Merlin easily detected making the sentence sound more like a confession of a crime? 'Perhaps it was a confession of sorts,' Merlin shrewdly thought as he felt his response to that automatically leave his tongue un-checked, "Your own life has been saved using magic more times then you can possibly imagine."
"What on earth are you talking about?" snapped Arthur immediately. His blue eyes quickly fixing right back onto Merlin's figure like a hawk's on prey.
'Shite!' thought Merlin realizing his error! He quickly thought of what to say to steer Arthur back on course and away from questions that would only lead to more questions and much worse, discovery!
They both weren't ready for that conversation.
Arthur's wary cautious eyes sizing him up right now were proof enough of that. Merlin began to feel like a hare trying to squirm out of a trap after being caught. Arthur's eyes bore into him like a lost little child's who desperately sought answers from the only adult they suspected would even try giving them the truth?
'The truth,' Merlin thought sadly, 'In the end that's what it always comes down to with you isn't it, Arthur?' as words his own mother had used to teach him about himself, fell from his lips like cascading droplets of water, "I merely mean to say that magic is all around you it is woven into the very fabric of the world."
'How long have I wanted to say that to someone?' he thought as a chord in his heart rung out like a forlorn lonely little bell chime for both himself and his friend. The fact stood that Arthur was always being lied too. By everyone in the world it seemed. First by his accursed father, then the staff, the council, his sister followed by the knights, and the servants, primarily though, painfully so, by Merlin himself.
He was a liar, a fantastic one.
Even now Arthur was being lied too. Especially now, after all it wasn't Merlin who was trying to heal Uther, was it? Nay. It was Dragoon the Great, an imaginary man, a fabrication, a mask, all so Merlin could hide. Not because it would put him at risk to expose himself. Not because he would face unspeakable danger, hell he'd face far worse for the very man who was putting his absolute faith in him now. For the only man Merlin had come to love, yes love, like family and god what was he doing? Oh yes. Ha.
He was lying.
Lying because if he told the truth….well…
He knew the reason why. The real reason and it had nothing to do with magic.
It didn't take a genius to predict what would happen if Arthur ever found out the truth in the wrong way, look at what had happened when the circumstances of his birth had been told to him? Arthur had nearly murdered his own beloved father, and if that wasn't enough look at how he had reacted to Merlin's friend Will? Or how Arthur was currently silently negatively coping with the revelation of Morgana's magic?
'Morgana….' Thought Merlin with a pang of something in his chest? The image of her dark hair shimmering under moonlight, her sparkling emerald eyes shifting from gentleness to anger then to fear crept in his mind as a memory of her small pretty little hand reaching out to touch him once upon a time...'NO! NO!'
'NO!' Merlin nearly screamed at himself in frustration. This was not the place for thoughts of her! There was business to be done.
'Liar I may be, but I'll be damned if I don't focus on the task at hand proper. Arthur's giving me the 'your crazy look' enough already tonight!' he thought harshly at himself.
"How can I be sure it's the right thing to do?" came Arthur's unexpected quiet question, halting Merlin's trapezing thoughts like a blow to the skull.
'What a thing to hear?' thought Merlin for it was the same question he had been asking himself for years. A small sigh escaped his lips.
Heavy silence fell upon the room. Shadows and candlelight danced across the walls, briefly making Merlin feel like he was underwater. While outside one of the guards had started snoring. The air in the room was filled with the scents of burned pine & cedar wood, and a flash of lighting could be seen accompanied by the echo of thunder from the small little window, where once again that odd pesky black crow was sitting? Pruning its feathers, seemingly indifferent to the humans nearby. For a second Merlin felt an odd urge to take a closer look at that bird? As if there were a string being tugged from deep within him and a voice coming from it that said, "Look at me! Look at me! Over here idiot!"
For now he chose to ignore it, still he kept feeling the need to scratch or look behind him? If he hadn't warded these rooms himself when stepping into them, he would have sworn that there was someone else in here watching them?
I know you I walked with you
Something or someone ..strong...oddly …familiar…no…new? Staring at him...
Once upon a Dream
Growing closer to him…lulling him….wrapping itself around him?
I know you that look in your
Trying to comfort him…Almost on top of him…inside him!? Singing to him!?
'Where's that music coming from!?' he realized, forcing his body to stay still.
Arthur was still watching him waiting for an answer.
Alarmed Merlin quickly flicked his eyes around the room as he stretched out his magical aura at it's maximum. He paid closer attention to the energies flowing in the air both inside and around him, yet whatever he thought he had felt or heard, wasn't there?
'Could have sworn I heard someone singing?' maybe Gwaine was right, he needed to relax more, after this perhaps he would finally treat himself to a long deserved night at the tavern.
Still a little on edge Merlin gave himself a mental pat on the back for comfort. He could feel through what he considered his 'magical senses' the sharp taut pressure in the immediate area that he knew as the buildup of his own magic and it was quite a lot of power. Perhaps he'd overdone it. Magic left to linger tended to start acting on it's own accord if enough of a quantity was left in one place. Currently the room was like a dam of power that he had constructed like a mad beaver within the last fifteen minutes and only needed just one good command before it would finally spill over, or more practically speaking was siphoned into a set purpose, such as healing Uther.
Not the best explanation for what he was doing in here perhaps, but it would do. Now for Arthur's question. How was he to answer? What should he say?
He looked into his friend's rattled eyes and he could have laughed at the obviousness, he'd tell him the truth.
For the first time even if under a disguise he would tell Arthur the whole truth.
" I know you have suffered because of magic, as many have, but not all magic and not all sorcerers are the same. I wish only to show you that magic can be used for good. I hope one day you will see me in a different light."
…***...
"Did ya see that Gran! DID YA SEE THAT! H'ere I was thinkin m'brother's a blind slow ole turnip head and then that! He caught onto your cloaking spell! He even heard the song! The SONG!! Ho-oh! It really has started asn't it!" chirped Prince Diaval in ecstatic delight, " Wait till this is over! Just wait! Not even mad ole Aunt Macha can do that! Oh the fun me and m'iddle brother..will.."
"Diaval, hush," interrupted Queen Badb, a pleased smile upon her own face.
***************************************************************************….***
"This is it, " thought Arthur, "This is really happening. I'm really doing this."
Arthur couldn't breathe. His brow was dripping with sweat, as if he'd just come from a tournament or fought another griffin, "Oh god please. Please don't let this be a mistake. Please. Please."
"Efencume... ætgædre, eala gastas cræft ige gestricaþ þis lic forod" intoned the old man, who Arthur suddenly found both intimidating and frightening.
Gone was the decrepit weak senile nutcase who had piggy backed his way up here to his father's chambers with him. In his place was an ancient red wearing mystical sorcerer whose eyes were glowing the brightest gold Arthur had ever seen!
They were like two small suns, 'Magic! I'm using magic,' he all but shouted for all of Camelot to hear! Why did he feel like crying? He felt like reality was breaking, or maybe just his reality. What would this mean? What would he do if this worked? What would he do if it didn't?
Why was he so damn frightened?
Now the old chanting man seemed like the stuff of Arthur's nightmares!
'Lord above my whole life, I've secretly questioned this,' he thought, prayed, 'Now with my father's life I'm gambling! Lord. God. Please. Please.'
He so badly wanted to trust the sorcerers words. He needed those words to be true, but this was proving to be so hard? Why was this so difficult?
The air in the room suddenly sprung to life! For one brief fraction of a second Arthur felt a warmth of something spread through his entire body, he gulped down the irrational fear! A loud "CAW!" came from the blasted sodding crow! He could feel himself struggling not to hyperventilate! 'God,' he thought. As a clash of thunder and lightening sounded and somewhere close to him he could have sworn he heard a female voice whisper just as the old man's chanting crescendo, gently in his ear, "Un ifanc hawdd. Easy. Easy little Wart. Heddwch."
Any other time Arthur would have wondered at the voice whispering in his ear or the sudden strange feeling that there was an invisible hand on his shoulder, but right now, the only thing that was penetrating his brain was one simple sentence.
"I'm so afraid mother."
Why he thought of her now when he was quite possibly using the very same thing that had been responsible for killing her? Unless, if what his father told him wasn't true? But later when he had spoken to Geoffrey he'd gently hinted? Damnit! Oh god! He didn't know! He didn't know what was true! No one ever told him what was true! Everyone had an ulterior motive! Everyone when it came to magic left him in ignorance or tried to kill him?!
'And for what?' screamed Arthur's mind as his heart clenched in fear, the sorcerers chanting finally coming to an end, 'To take Camelot?! Revenge? Power?! Why? Why? Why God? Why Mother!'
He doubted he would ever get a clear answer. All he'd ever really seemed to see or hear of magic was nothing but darkness, depression, and frankly evil incarnate. Which is what he had been raised to believe in and had very well he could honestly say been given cold, solid, proof of for well over the last few years for sure.
But then?
Why? Why?
Deep down, in the depths of his soul had he still held all those disconcerting doubts from his childhood?
Why couldn't he harden his heart entirely against it!?
Why is it?
That it always, shocked him when he saw magic being used for bad purposes?
Why couldn't he truly accept it for what he'd pretty much been shown?
Why?
Why couldn't he forget that special set of memories that only he had?
Why did it excite him so?
'Please. Please,' he begged whatever deity was listening as he and the sorcerer looked down upon his father waiting.
The invisible hand he felt grew far more solid then it should upon his shoulder as if to brace him for what was next. Arthur knew somewhere that he should be concerned or terrified but crazy as it was he kept thinking that maybe …just maybe his mother's spirit was here.
Arthur felt a sob get stuck in his throat at the thought, again he heard that harmonious female voice softly whispering into his ear.
Almost like it was singing?
He watched his father like a rigid statue as the special set of memories he had locked away for so long sped across his brain, as slowly his father's face began to subtlety get back some color.
'Yes…Please,' he thought desperately, those special memories drifting in..
It had happened …years ago….
So long ago in fact, that it had occurred before even Guinevere and her father had come to Camelot. Way back when he had been no more then a mere seven years of age, before even Morgana had been brought to live with them.
The incident.
The only incident, where his father had ever admitted to a deviation from the so-called 'norm' of magic.
He had never been allowed to speak of it to anyone, not even his servants, and his father had practically tried to, 'beat' those memoriesout of him as much as humanely possible. By overloading him with duties and schooling, knighthood but Arthur despite his father's wishes had never been able to forget, what had happened to him, who he had met.
To this day he could still see 'Her' face if he shut his eyes, he could even bring to the forefront of his mind, that unique scent she had and the calm sweet smell of her home. He could even remember the sound of her laughter ringing in his ears, as she smiled gently at him from across her meager kitchen table.
'Blast her. Curse her, but oh god please let it have been true! PLEASE LET IT BE TRUE!' thought Arthur as once again for the hundredth, thousandth time as always was the case with anything relating to the word magic, he saw 'Her' in the back of his mind.
The womanwho had given his childhood self the only taste of what it was like to have a mother, or a female guardian present.
A woman who in only three days had ingrained a place in his heart forever.
A woman of Magic, who had shielded him from a dagger with her own flesh…..
'Her & the Unicorn,' thought Arthur, his eyes fixed on his fathers shifting, slightly glowing form, they were the only two encounters he had ever had with so called 'good magic' and in secret all this time against his fathers wishes, hypocritical it may be, he had clung to them as a life-line for just this very moment.
His father's breathing began to steady. The sweat began to recede from his father's brow as a healthy sheen took its place.
Arthur felt a tear slip out of his eye, 'Yes! YES! PLEASE!'
As his father's pallor restored itself, Arthur's eyes flashed to where his wound was, through the bandages Gaius had used that had previously been stained red by a wound that wouldn't heal now, nothing but a light pink was fading!
'It's working….IT'S WORKING!' thought Arthur. Excitement he'd never known consuming him!
The invisible hand on Arthur's shoulder shifted to his back, as in his exuberance Arthur leaned over closer to his 'healing' father!
Uther's eyes started to flutter open!
Joy sprung in Arthurs' heart like a fountain! Like a firework! He felt like dancing!
His eyes leapt to old Dragoon the Amazing! Where Arthur saw a smile on the old man's face that could have echoed his own!
A laugh escaped Arthur's lips, and suddenly the most wonderful thing happened his father's eyes opened, "Arthur?" came his voice.
Never had Arthur known such joy! Never!
Oh NEVER again!
'NEVER AGAIN! I WILL NEVER ASSUME ANYTHING AGAIN! THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING! MAGIC! MAGIC CAN BE GOOD! I WAS RIGHT! I WAS RIGHT!' his heart happily cried!
"Father!" he said happy tears falling freely from his eyes!
"Father!" everything would be all right now!
Yes.
"Cynnal Arthur Pendragon. Hold Fast! Mae'n anorffenedig!"commanded a loud majestic firm woman's voice in his ear.
"What?" cried Arthur in alarm but before he could ask, 'who are you' he saw his father's eyes widen in pain!
"NO! NO! WHAT'S HAPPENING?!" he shouted at the sorcerer!
"WHAT'S HAPPENING!?" Arthur cried, as he helplessly watched all the 'healing' come undone, suddenly a terrible choking sound emanated from his father's throat.
Arthur felt his heart break. This couldn't happen?! Why! It? It had worked?
Hadn't it?
Arthur looked into Dragoon's face the sorcerer looked just about as equally terrified as Arthur himself felt? Was not this his doing? His magic at work?
"I don't know! THIS ISN'T SUPPOSE TO HAPPEN!" wailed the old man.
What?
Arthur couldn't think his father was choking on air now, "DO SOMETHING!?' he shouted when all of a sudden Uther made a terrible gagging sound, a trickle of blood left the corner of his lips, and his eyes still staring up at him, lost focus.
Arthur felt his entire body grow cold.
His father right before his eyes….stopped breathing.
….
.
.
.
"Cynnal Arthur Pendragon. Be calm and by Arawn don't move," ordered the voice right next to him.
Arthur couldn't stop trembling. Was his mind cracking because what he was seeing couldn't possibly be true? His father could not be dead. He'd just spoken to him? Been recognized by him? This? Ha. This was a dream. Yea. That's right a dream, a terrible one. He closed his eyes, as sobs spilled out against his wishes from his lips.
"Arthur. Mae'n anorffenedig. It is unfinished youngling, (sigh)" suddenly a hand gripped Arthur's shoulder tightly until the pain of clawed fingernails pricking his skin got him to force his eyes open to the worst sight of his life!
"YOU!.." Arthur began to cry maliciously in a red haze of hatred but instead of the sorcerer he had expected to see touching him was…..?
'Who who? WHAT ARE YOU!?' thought Arthur in utter dread.
Black demonic dragonesque horns that grew out of a human shaped skull, covered entirely in shadows making its features indistinct and seemingly nonexistent fell within the young Prince of Camelot's vision. Where the horned head was, a pair of astute glowing eyes pierced into him with ever shifting colors so vivid, that he could not tell whether they were green, blue or sapphire? Maybe they were all the colors, so appalled and enthralled was he, he could not say. Although the tall form was unclear he could somehow make out that the creature was female by the flickering candlelight against the darkness of its essence? Curves were outlined and just the hint of a breast, also it moved with a silent elegance he had never before seen, and if this creature were woman or female, then it put all lady's of the court to shame. Just the tilting of its mighty head was a gesture so beautiful Arthur could not help but feel a tinge of appreciation.
As Arthur's watery eyes took in this being before him, he noted the perfectly shaped claws for fingernails that it had, particularly on the one hand that still held him firmly in place. Long refined fingers lie upon him and through them he felt a pulsing power seeping from them, making his head spin. While in the other hand away from him was a tall thin black staff, where in place of a jewel at the top was nothing but a glowing fluid like crystal yellow-green orb made out of light?
Before he could blink and as if by instinct his mind thought one word, 'Powerful.'
This creature of magic, for what else could it be? Was powerful.
'What are you?' whispered a frail voice. Glowing beautiful cosmic eyes in a strong angular face turned and gently examined him, 'Did I ask that?' he whispered.
A deep earthy chuckle tickling his skin filled his ears with mirth. The eyes sparkled playfully though there remained an almost predatory edge.
'Why? Ie. You did,' she replied, ' Well. Well, Arthur Pendragon, to think I had to slow time itself tonight? And so close to my perthynas agosaf ieuengaf during the ending of his humanity and his first Gwir gan sillafu."
Her voice was not just majestic and deep but rich. It rolled vowels as if they were hills and she the wind passing over them, it sounded like a myriad of things? When she spoke each word was the pluck of a well-strung harp, the note of a violin, the church bell ringing. No. More then that, it was a dove's kiss, the brush of daises, the churn of the sea and the cadence of the tide. Her voice was the echo of trees and more.
It was the voice of an angel, a demon, a mother, a grandmother, a wise-woman, a daughter, a lover, a mistress, a courtesan, a lady, a princess, a warrior, a priestess, a chief, it was a song, a chord, a voice of perfect harmony and it demanded regality, hers was the voice of a Queen.
'The Queen,' whispered a little melody in his overwhelmed brain.
Arthur gulped, he felt like he was being consumed, everything was happening too fast? Besides wasn't there something he should be doing? Something he should be upset over? "What?! What's happening? Who are you?" he thought, spoke, shouted?
He no longer knew.
The world was shifting around him, things were spinning out of control! He began to feel dizzy, but he forced himself to stay standing though with her still holding him he doubted he would even be allowed to move much less fall. He felt like a flimsy leaf under her inhuman hand. In wallowing horror he somehow managed to tear his gaze away from the beautiful creature only to be greeted by a sight that befuddled him!
Dragoon the sorcerer had his hands upon his father's chest pounding madly, and now that Arthur was looking, he couldn't look away even if he wanted too. For the sorcerer was ululating in loud angry chants! Tears were falling from the old man's eyes as if he too cared for Arthur's father? As if it were him who was losing a loved one? Had he not murdered his father?
Arthur's mind did not know how to handle such a sight. In place of thoughts he only felt, there were only feelings, the wall he had held for so long to block his emotions fractured as did his mentality, he did not know anything anymore, but before he could fully break, before his very self unhinged, his head was turned away from the sight by one gentle clawed finger.
"Shhh. . . . Do not despair bach da Arthur. I, Queen Badb am here as is Emrys. Be Calm. Wait child of dyn. Wait for the stars," rippled her voice over him soothing him, consoling him, one claw softly brushing the blond hair out of his eyes.
"Emrys?" asked Arthur in confusion, "Queen Badb?"
"Ie. Un ifanc. That is my name as is Emrys his," she hummed like a creature of the ocean depths, as it swims in galaxy like waters, "Now. Hush. Watch and listen. Feel them Arthur Pendragon, child of dyn. For my kin moves the stars for you," and with those words and another motherly brush of his hair she turned him back to the sight of the sorcerer.
And while Arthur Pendragon watched as the sorcerer grew more and more frantic he remained as silent as the grave. He did not move a single muscle, even as the sorcerer's chanting turned into a stream of never-ending screams of despair!
He did not move or say a word even when all the objects in the room flew into the air and began spinning like mad tops. Silent and still he stayed even when the room was bathed in golden fire, as the tapestries burned away. Bells rang out all over the city and lightning repeatedly struck the castle, but every other sound was drowned under the sorcerers voice. Which had passed beyond the human range of tongue and gone into pitches no mortal could possess.
Arthur waited and Arthur watched, as the very walls of the room and all the objects inside of it began to change shape and morph. His father's boots sprouted wings, his father's chair grew fur and ears. The walls became covered in skin, flowers, vines, scales and turned purple to harsh magenta?
C..RA…CK…
"NoooOOOOOOOOOOAARRAARRRRRRCCCKKK!" loosed the sorcerer.
Gone was the ceiling. Gone were the tables, the walls the chairs. Arthur felt himself struggling to comprehend what was happening, he struggled to keep his sanity as he watched his father's chambers vanish completely!
In their place were ruins and stairs of a land Arthur did not know. They led every which way and in all directions. There were no ceilings. No floors. Only stars. Space, empty voids and stars. That slowly began to dance and twirl. Arthur instinctually grabbed onto Queen Badb's hand, knowing that should she let go now he would cease to be.
Before him in the very center of it all the sorcerers body began to literally split apart!
Fire, blood, water and sparks of golden light careened out of him at all angles, the sounds he made Arthur could not put into words. They went from the eeriest jarring notes to those of the most sinfully erotic and met in a shrill noise of phenomenal distortion. Then as if things couldn't get any stranger, the magic user's skin began severing apart like torn bits of paper, and the old man chipped away.
Hell the humanity evaporated!
Blood-soaked, grunting groaning, naked as they come, before Arthur's very eyes he watched what had once been human transform into something else. Bones crunched together as they reorganized themselves. New bones and muscles violently flew out in new shapes! Skin pulled and warped in a design that Arthur was only just barely beginning to conceive, he felt the urge to throw up as in a shower of more blood a pair of horns burst out of the poor agonized creatures skull! Arthur couldn't help but gape at the sight, as he watched it for lack of a word be molded, formed, born anew?
He did not know, what he did know is that at it's feet was his father's body, and that time and space seemed to have decided to take the 'day off' because he was pretty sure he'd just seen a comet come to a nearby halt and spin every which way he looked including down he saw spinning stars, nebulae's? It was like the entire universe was here in this space all moving at once?
Unable to fathom and wishing not to go insane he glanced back at his father, only to see the back of the now newly formed blood tinged entity that had been the sorcerer.
Arthur's eyes grew even wider.
It was male with broad pale shoulders and a tall, lithe body. Golden scales that perfectly meshed with the skin, trickled across its strong back, while two immense large black hybrid feathery scaly wings stuck out of it, and dragged on the ground curled around the figures quivering pearlescent form. Sharp golden horns glinted out of a human shaped head from under long soft pitch-black hair as did pointy ears that would of made any elf envy. Arthur could not see the front of the humanoid figure, but he watched as the 'young' winged horned man held one strong lean predatory arm out before him. Like the Queen's the male's hand had long elegant fingers, moving with the same supernatural grace as she, but where as her claws were red and black. His nails were golden, in fact he was pulsing with gold. His entire form was alit with a dark golden aura of fire, but felt somehow despite its bloody birth, untouched, pure.
It, 'He', was the strangest thing and the most beautiful thing Arthur had ever seen, and when it spoke for the first time Arthur felt the stars sing, the language unintelligible to the human ear, but he tried, he tried to listen, for it, they seemed filled with awe & rapture?
So mesmerized was the mortal that he did not notice the note of shock that the other male made nor the twirl of the stars as the heavens laughed at the newest young Fae's surprise!
Too bewitched by his surroundings and the music of the star's language Arthur was completely oblivious to the startled Fae's outright bewilderment of the situation!
For his part Arthur had somewhat regressed in the last five minutes or so back into a child of seven, marveling in reverence at this perpetually shifting world around him? For now there had bloomed silver trees with translucent roses and pools so clean they could pass for mirrors made themselves known! Stars wove their way into his hair and fingertips, teasing him about his carbon solid form, though all their words went over his head.
Nay he could not understand them, but the more he tried too, the less he knew his own language and the more he forgot himself, he simply was. Joy again captured his heart, but it was broken by a spoken word from a voice he knew yet never had heard before?
"Arthur!" it came in the waves of water with the warmth of a hearth. While the strings of a guitar made it full and a planets rotation refined it.
The Prince of Camelot turned his head to see what magnificent creature could have made such a sound?
…..
..
.
…. Concerned gleaming oceans upon oceans sky shaded blue eyes he had trusted with his very life stared at him. High elegant royal cheekbones he had seen every morning were now set in a face that went way beyond possibly girly to down right ambiguous beauty. Funny ears were now even funnier and ….'OH LORD!'
"MERLIN?!" and with that Arthur Pendragon Prince of Camelot finally fainted.
.
.
The stars laughed.
"Now, that had to've been a record? Woo. Goldilocks sure did better then any other mortal I've seen. Eh Gran?" said High Prince Diaval merrily before he spun around with a coat of feathers and moon shadows, "Finally! Haft to say 'iddle brother quite a show ya gave us! Made m'feathers puff up! Oh! Gettin ahead of things aren't I?"
"Allow me to introduce m'beautiful self. The names Diaval, hello at last!"
…...
End of chapter one...
This is by far the longest first chapter I have ever written for anything. On that note I think I covered things in the Prologue enough. So I'll be brief.
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin from BBC. Nor do I own Maleficent. This is a loose Alternative Universe Crossover written purely for fun as an enthusiastic fan.
The only thing I do own are the plot twists I created. And orginal characters. Everything else nada, zip zero.
If I could make money doing this I would update everyday, sadly I am poor.
Some things that seem confusing: like the necklace around Uther's neck, if Morgana is good? Are questions that will be answered in the next chapter.
The Fey language is Welsh.
And well on to the next chapter!
P.S. The next update may take awhile. So I hope this tides you over until then. I am working on multiple fics both on this site & other projects so I apologize for infrequent updates but what can I say Life's tough.
Anyway THANK YOU ALL WHO TOOK THE TIME TO READ. HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT! ALL MY LOVE. –STELLA.
.
