Hello again!

Here is Chapter 2 of Living Legends. Thank you to all who read and favourited! Please continue to do so, I really appreciate it!

I do not own Merlin, it belongs to BBC and Shine.

~Lillibella


Magic

Merlin ran. He ran as fast and as hard as he could. He ran until his legs were numb and the wind whipped his face and his breathing came in ragged gasps. His magic coiled within him like a trapped beast, writhing and slamming on the bars of it's cage. He ran and ran and ran until he found the clearing outside of the city. It was there that he stopped, that his body decided that it had been through too much.

Merlin fell to his knees, panting, but his heart would not slow. His magic twisted around some more, and he couldn't take it any longer. A quick inhale, and suddenly it was tumbling from him, pouring out of every part of his being. And then he was free.

It was like he was flying, soaring through nothing and everything and magic. The pent up energy inside him had gathered for the last four days skipped and jumped and swirled around him. It was both a shield and a catalyst, protecting his very being while encouraging him to let go of control. He was finally free of the iron vice around his arm, freeof the binding runes that trapped his magic, and of the horrid men that had put it there. He couldn't release it in front of Arthur, his savior, no. He had kept it curled within him, waiting for the perfect moment.

When the giddiness died down, and his magic reigned itself in, Merlin opened his eyes. Funny, he couldn't remember closing them. Blinking and adjusting to the soft light of the stars above him and the faint golden glow of his skin (a new side effect that must be noted), he surveyed his surroundings.

Trees were ripped out of the ground, their roots limply hanging from their upturned trunks. The grass around him was flattened. Hmm. There would likely be an investigation in the morning. But destroyed or not, everything just seemed more alive. Merlin could feel it deep in his chest, his magic thrumming in time to the earth around him. A large grin spread across his face.

He felt good.

Clean

Arthur staggered into his chambers after a hard day's worth of training, utterly spent. He was aching, exhausted, and in much need of a bath. Which happened to be filled. With warm water. That...didn't seem right. Arthur paused. Merlin's never on time, let alone early...and perceptive... Then he remembered: Merlin was filling in for Gaius while the physician was helping a neighboring village. Merlin wasn't in his service today. He had a replacement. Which meant that-

He raised his head from the curious bathtub and gaped at his spotless chambers. There wasn't a piece of clothing on the floor, not a crease in his bedclothes, and the room was practically shining. This was excellent work, but entirely wrong all the same.

"Good evening, Sire."

Later, Arthur-The-Seasoned-Warrior would never admit that he nearly jumped a foot in the air at the curt voice that materialized behind him. And George, being the absolute picture of subservience, would never contradict him.

"Ah. Good evening, George. I was just admiring your work. Wonderful job, thank you."

"Very good, Sire."

An awkward silence filled the space after this exchange, as Arthur made no move to talk to the servant, and George stood at attention, waiting for whatever orders he expected to come. Arthur took another long look around his chambers. Yes, this is what they were supposed to look like. But it was disconcerting. It was as if he were staying in the guest chambers of someone far neater and more proper than himself.

"Well. Yes. Thank you, George, that will be all."

George gave a short nod, a deep bow, and left quickly, disappearing as soundlessly as he came. Arthur sighed, as he made to change into his night clothes. As much as he teased the idiot, he enjoyed Merlin's company. By this time next week, things would hopefully be back to normal. Until then, he would just have to avoid all talk of brass.

Secret

Merlin swiped a hand over his eyes and sniffed. Leaning back against the tree by the small stream, he tried to get a hold of himself. He was seven years old, he wasn't baby anymore. Plus, if his mum came, he didn't want to make her sad. She always got sad when he was sad, and there was no point in one small house full of sad. It wasn't her fault he was different.

"Why are you crying?"

Merlin jumped and scrambled to the side. The voice came from above him. When he looked up, a bright set of eyes sparkled back at him. Merlin squinted.

"Who's up there?"

The eyes twinkled a little, then revealed themselves to belong to a boy with shaggy brown hair and a stocky build. He jumped down from the tree, brushed himself off a little, and shoved his had into one of his trouser pockets.

"Just me. Why were you crying?" The boy looked concerned, but Merlin was wary. The last time he unloaded his feelings onto someone, the older boy laughed in his face and called him a girl. And his mum wouldn't want any more trouble.

"Can't say. It's a secret."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why is it a secret?"

"I don't know, it just is! Leave me alone if you're just gonna make fun!" Merlin's little outburst took the other boy by surprise, and he looked down at the ground, embarrassed. But the shaggy-haired boy just smiled.

"S'okay. It can be a secret if you like. But I was just askin' in case I could help. Anyways, I was gonna to go see if I could nick some peaches from Mister Colbert. Wanna come?" This was a regular pastime among the village children, but Merlin had never been invited before. Everybody always said he was too strange. He smiled right back.

"Okay."

The boy's eyes twinkled again. Merlin liked that. He could trust this boy.

"Great. I'm Will, by the way. What's your name?"

"I'm Merlin. And I might have just the trick to help us out."

Superstition

"Um, Arthur?"

Arthur trudged on. It was cold, miserable, and Merlin wouldn't shut up. He hadn't shut up since they had left Camelot, and that had been three hours ago.

"Really, Arthur, this doesn't seem-"

"Merlin! Stop with your endless prattle and keep up."

"No, but Arthur, we're not-"

Arthur stopped and spun around, surprising Merlin, who scrambled back a few paces.

"We're not what?"

Merlin swallowed. Arthur watched Merlin's eyes dart about the forest for a moment, and come back to rest on his own. He had expected Merlin to complain about the cold, or the damp, or his aching feet, or something else trivial. He didn't expect to see carefully veiled fear in his manservant's eyes.

"We're not...we're not supposed to be here. Can't you feel it?" Only by his words, Arthur could have laughed, called Merlin girlish and continued forward. But he couldn't ignore the look in Merlin's eye, one of genuine concern and suspicion. This wasn't being nervous about things that go bump in the night, this was real.

"No. No I can't. What do you feel?"

There it was again, that shifting glance back out to the surrounding trees. Every muscle was tensed, and Arthur found himself switching to more alert focus as well.

"It's like there's a, I don't know, an instinct. Like a big pull, driving us away in the opposite direction," Merlin whispered, and a shiver went down Arthur's spine. Because at that moment, he noticed the silence. The forest was far too quiet. And once he noticed the silence, he felt it, that same pull Merlin had described.

"I'll tell you what," said Arthur, beginning to back away from their current location, in the direction of Camelot, "call it one of your funny feelings, but I've been around for enough times to know when you might be right."

At this, the two men silently backed off, keeping their eyes to the trees the whole time. If they had seen the red strips of cloth hanging from some of the nearby branches, or seen the stone pool of water a couple of feet off, they would have walked even faster.

10) Fantasy

Arthur sometimes dreamed of a different destiny. A destiny far away from round tables and slaying dragons and fighting battles. He dreamed of a small cottage on a small piece of land. He dreamed of waking early to sow the fields in spring and start the harvest in the autumn. He dreamed of being a countryman, with Guinevere as his wife, and a life lived without fear for his children dying in battle or assassinated by a jealous noble.

He dreamed of a simpler life. Not the Once and Future King. Not the son of Uther Pendragon.

Just Arthur.

Merlin sometimes dreamed of a different destiny. A destiny far away from cryptic futures and serving kings and hiding who he truly was. He dreamed of a small house, near some fields, and some mountains, and a lake. He dreamed of wildflowers and cows. He dreamed of Freya, alive and beautiful, coming to great him after a long day of working outside, of children that could roam free and unhindered by a secret so big that it suffocated them.

He dreamed of a simpler life. Not Emrys. Not the most powerful warlock ever to walk the earth.

Just Merlin.

But then Arthur would wake up and slay dragons and fight battles. Merlin would wake up and solve riddles and serve kings. Because no man, no matter how great, can know his destiny. And certainly, no man can ever choose it.