A/N:
As promised.
Enjoy!
Ilandrae
Disclaimer: Do I really need to say it again? I don't own Merlin.
CHAPTER 18 – LADIES DON'T DO LIMITS
Outside Merlin's Chambers
Art stared at the wooden door, frozen, about as able to knock on the dark wood in front of his face as he was able to turn and leave. It was as if his feet were stuck to the floor.
Sweaty hands opened the note so he could read it again.
My chambers for a lesson if you still wish it.
The tenth hour. Don't be late.
Merlin
As he re-read the scrawled words his heart continued to pound as nerves and anticipation battled for dominance. The note didn't give much, but somehow, Art knew what he meant by a lesson.
Merlin was going to teach him magic.
The young prince had heard of Merlin's house arrest along with the warlock's distaste with it. So, he'd been surprised when a servant had come to him with the note.
Now here he was again, petrified at the thought of walking through the door. Despite his efforts at Ameldry the young prince still feared his magic. Feared the feeling of uncontrollability that usually accompanied it. He also still wasn't quite over the fact that this was the Merlin.
His father's best friend, brother even, practically his Uncle. How could he possibly-
"Are you going to come in before nightfall Art or have you decided to take up the art of the living statue."
Startled into action Art entered the room.
The warlock had been assigned an ornate guest room but after a brief wander around the castle had announced that he was moving into these chambers. Due to his grumpy mood of late nobody had protested and within the hour he was striding down the hall his belongings floating magically behind him.
Art was pretty sure the later was purely for the purpose of startling any who happened across him in the process.
The chambers while still large were smaller than the normal guest apartments though they also had an adjoining bathing room. Windows looked out on the central courtyard and deep blue and golden drapes hung from the windows.
The fourposter bed was pushed against wall as if sleeping really wasn't a priority and centred in the room was the medium sized dining table and large desk which was already scattered with the warlocks notes and papers. Also central in the space was the plush expensive looking circular rug which covered the floor.
The warlock himself was seated at the desk surveying a missive in his hands. As he put it down Art saw that its seal was of a bare tree, the desolate branches reaching out in all directions.
"If you did desire to take up the art of the living statue, I was going to suggest asking Renshaw for some silver pain.t"
Art had no idea what he was on about and Merlin just sighed at his ignorance.
"Never mind" he pushed himself out of the chair and walked over the boy.
Art jumped a little as the warlock suddenly gave him a wicked smile, "Ready to learn some magic my young warlock?"
"Is it going to be like Ameldry?" Art asked his heart once again beginning to hammer.
"No" the warlock settled into a seat at the dining table motioning for Art to do the same. "I have the time to teach you properly now. So, I'm going to start at the start."
As Art sat down the warlock's eyes flashed and several sheets of parchment came flying from the desk. This was accompanied by a bang as a cupboard door opened and a strand of wire came flying out. The wire circled through the edges of the parchment binding one end together sort of like the spine of a book.
"Take notes if you wish Art. Instinctive magic is easier to perform but limited magic is easier to understand."
Art felt like he was already way over his head and Merlin gave a small smile at his confusion.
"I know how you feel. I'd been doing magic my entire life and then Alator and Isildir started spurting things about limits and magic disciplines and I had no clue what was going on. I'm going to start with one question," he looked Art in the eye, "What is magic?"
The echoing silence drew out the next few moments as Art racked him brain. Merlin just looked him, and the boy realised nothing else was going to happen until he gave an answer.
He looked around helplessly as if hoping the answer would sprout out of the walls or something. When nothing came, he rummaged his brain for anything that might help.
"Magic makes things happen." he said uncertainly, "It makes will reality…" he looked at Merlin in question.
"Your telling me what magic does Art. Not what it is. How can you expect to control your magic when you don't even know what it is you possess?"
Well, when he put it like that… "So what is magic then?"
"I'm glad you asked. Questions are good Art, you never learn anything new if you stop asking questions."
The warlock seemed to gather his thoughts, "Magic is life Art. It's that thing that gives everything a spark. It's a force of nature in itself much like wind or rain or the circle of life."
"The circle of what now?"
"Another time maybe. Magic is a fundamental building block of the world we live in. That's why when so many people have tried to get rid of it, it always continues on in some way or another."
"Now, magic is everywhere. Running through the earth, the waters, the skies. In some places it has collected and built up over the years. These places sometimes get a reputation for strange happenings as magic makes its mischief."
"Like the Valley of the Fallen Kings!" Art realised.
"Yes" Merlin confirmed, "Or the Isle of the Blessed, even Camelot itself has a significant store of magical energy. Some people have the ability to channel the magic in the land and craft it to do their will. These people are called sorcerers, or mages or any of those varying terms to describe most magic users. They have varying abilities to harness magic depending on the natural affinity for magic."
At Art's confused look he added, "How well magic is able to flow through them from the land. This form of spellcasting is called limited magic."
"Why limited?"
"Magic summoned from the land by your normal sorcerer must be limited to ensure that the magic does only as the sorcerer intends," apparently anticipating Arts question the warlock hurried on. "The words which the sorcerer uses to summon the magic are the limits."
"Why does the magic have to be limited?"
"Like I said, magic is a force of nature. Much like wind, or rain or the sea. What happens in nature when these forces are left to run free in large amounts? What happens when winds tear apart houses, seas rise to flood villages and thunderstorms rip apart towns?"
"Death, famine… disasters like that" Art recalled the time he accompanied his mother to aid a village which had been struck by a savage storm. Crops were destroyed and numerous lives had been lost as houses collapsed on their owners in the accompanying winds.
"Not just death and disasters" Merlin corrected, "It's more like chaos."
"Chaos?"
"Magic left undirected is mischievous, it doesn't want to go back into the earth where natural energies keep it from running amok."
"So normal sorcerers," Art said trying to wrap his head around everything he had just heard, "depending on well they are able to channel the force, draw magic from the earth. The words of the enchantment limit the magic so that it does only as they wish and nothing more."
Merlin's face split into a large smile as he beamed "Exactly, that's why young sorcerers start with small spells that need few if any limitations. And why large, complicated spells have such long incantations. When performing limited magic the words are the key to everything."
Art frowned as he studied the complex words, trying to memorise them. Well to him at least they seemed complex, Merlin seemed to just be able to spurt them out, and with a flash of gold the candle that Art had been staring at for the past hour flared to life.
"I don't get it!" the boy wined, "I thought you said that I was a warlock, and it would be easy!"
"I said no such thing!" Merlin extinguished the candle with a soft breath, "All things take work Art. It will get easier when you stop being afraid of your own power." Art glanced away at the pointed look.
The older warlock sighed, "Look Art. Don't think I don't know how you feel. It's been drilled into you again and again, 'don't use magic', 'magic is evil', 'magic can get you killed'." Art looked up in surprise, he'd heard the exact same words repeatedly growing up.
Merlin smiled, "My mother was always scared when I was your age. Always afraid that someone would see. Just like I'm sure Gwen was. They were worried, and as a result we inherited that fear. But you'll never be able to control and use your magic for good if you're always fighting it, always pushing it away. It just won't work."
But still, Art looked at the spell in front of him, one word. One simple word.
Forbearnan.
But it was so much more.
"I'm done." Art snapped his book shut and shoved back his chair.
As he stalked to the door to leave Merlin did nothing, only said simply: "Same time tomorrow Art."
The prince didn't answer as he left and the door thudded shut behind him.
Art stalked from Merlin's chambers his mind whirring. His stomach rolled with a turmoil of emotions, guilt and fear being two of them.
He felt guilty that he'd stormed out. But Merlins parting words burned through him. Same time tomorrow? To do what? Stare at an unlit candle until his eyes bled?
Merlin didn't understand. Sure, he had to hide his magic, but was he the crown prince of Camelot? Was he watched nearly every moment of his life? Did he know what it was like to have everyone look at you and see something that you sure as hell weren't? NO!
Everyone always said he looked so much like his father. Who? All he had were stories. Unbelievable stories that he had no chance of ever living up to. He was sick of the weight of expectations, they crushed him, more than the weight of his future crown ever could.
The boy made his way to the training fields stalking through them and ignoring the greetings of the knights. He picked up his practise sword as he passed and continued to his favourite spot.
He'd discovered the secluded area a few years back. Between the wall and the edge of darkling woods it was hidden by an untamed grove of trees.
It had become his hideaway, a place where he would not be disturbed as the weight of expectations bore him down.
After that disaster of a magic lesson he yearned for something solid. Swordplay was something that he knew fit the bill. He'd picked it up quickly when he was younger and now the repetitive drills helped give him focus when he needed it.
But today as he went to clear his mind, he saw that someone was already there. As he approached the brambles that hid the path, he heard movement from behind them.
Suddenly there was a scream of frustration and Art peaked in.
He was surprised to see Mel. She knelt in the dirt with a too large practise sword beside her which she stared at angrily.
The girl grimaced as she got to her feet again and tried to pick up the oversized weapon.
Before she could go much further Art pushed through the greenery. Mel dropped the sword and drew the dagger from her waist, turning to face him and dropping into what Art recognised as a decent knife fighter's stance.
As she recognised him she relaxed, sheathing her dagger once more.
She scowled "What are you doing here?"
"This was my practise area first you know?" Art retorted his mood getting the better of him.
"Oh I'm sorry Your Majesty" she snapped back, "I suppose you're going to make me leave are you so you can get your princely practise in. Or are you going to tell me again that a girl has no place wielding a blade?"
Art recoiled at the enraged tone of her words, he wasn't the only one having a bad day.
But despite the realisation he grumbled out, "No. But I will tell you that's too big for you."
She snarled back but said nothing more, going back to attempting to lift the too large blade.
As she stumbled once more Art sighed with frustration, "All I meant Mel, was that the sword your using is too big for someone our age. I can barely even lift one that big."
Mel's eyes flickered to the smaller blade that he held but still she snarled back, "Go bother someone else who actually values your opinion princeling."
"Suit yourself" he grumbled and turned to leave.
But as he went to go, he saw Mel stumble again. Some funny feeling seemed to pull at him. The same feeling he got just before he'd used magic to save Mel and Merlin life back at the girl's village. So he put his practise sword on a nearby rock and walked away.
It seemed though, that leaving the sword had only temporarily relieved that funny feeling. As he passed a rack of practise swords it returned with a staggering force once more.
On impulse he grabbed one and before he knew what he was doing he'd turned around and found himself at his secret training area again.
He ignored Mel. Instead using his new sword to begin his usual drills.
As he moved through the familiar motions, from stance to stance he felt his heart rate both speed up and even out. Sweat began to form on his skin and he fell into the almost meditative state of mind that blissfully chased away all rogue thoughts.
When he stopped for a breather he heard heavy breathing from nearby. Glancing around he was surprised to see Mel, clumsily stumbling though the exact same motions he had just completed.
He'd completely forgotten she was there. But he couldn't help the small smile that graced his lips as he saw his old practise sword in her hands.
Seeing his attention she didn't scowl or snarl again, but an annoyed frown appeared, "Don't say a word princeling."
"Wouldn't dream of it" he replied with another smile before beginning another routine.
This time he saw her begin to mimic him. The way she held the sword told him she'd never really practised with the weapon, but he was also surprised with the speed at which she picked up the patterns.
Swings, though occasionally clumsy usually would have landed in the right area and he was astounded with how strong she appeared to be.
After another few minutes he mustered up the courage to speak again.
"If a princeling might be so bold to offer some advice? Your hands are too close together on the pommel. Sir Leon says the extra distance gives better control."
He stumbled in his next manoeuvre as she corrected her grip.
At his surprise she smiled a little. Yes. Smiled. "You seem to have some idea about what you're doing" she said by way of explanation.
At this he laughed, "I don't know a lot. As the knights like to remind me every time they deem to actually spar with me."
"Well you definitely know more than me."
"You seemed pretty capable with that dagger back in the village."
"Dagger I can do. But sword? Never even picked one up before today."
Art hesitated before his next words. Knew what they would mean. But an image of a stubborn green-eyed girl sitting on a wall came unbidden in his mind. Anger and frustration giving into tears, four words that questioned and changed everything.
How is it fair?
It wasn't.
"If you want" the words were hesitant, quiet, "I could teach you what I know."
Her eyes snapped to his, "Isn't it against the rules?"
"It's against tradition" he corrected.
"Still, it's not what is… expected of ladies here" she stepped towards him as if not truly daring to hope, "Is it?"
More expectations.
Tradition, expectation, limitation.
Shackles. That's all they were. Other words for the same thing.
He had to smile at Mel's use of the word ladies though.
He thought of cook, of Miss Grundil his old tutor, of Sariah the baker woman who was likely to rap the knuckles of any boy stealing her pasties, even the crown prince.
Women of Camelot who in his mind were every right a lady yet never seemed to fit with what was expected of them.
He thought of his mother, a lady to all. A servant. A Queen. The strongest women he had ever know who never was afraid to speak out when people said she shouldn't or couldn't do something.
None of these ladies had limits.
"I don't think limits are for ladies. True ladies just seem to ignore them anyway."
Mel grinned right back, "Then I might just be the truest lady you've ever met."
A/N:
Editing this chapter made me smile, every time I write about Mel and Art I remember again how adorable they are.
As for the magic lesson, as I said earlier, I like things to have systems, so I made one. Feel free to just read for the character development and go 'yay magic!' cause let's face it, sometimes it's confusing.
Anyhow thanks for sticking with my story. Stay strong and stay safe.
Til next time,
I ;)