Merlin: the secret prince

Merlin's distress

Merlin stood near the cliffs, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun was slowly descending into the embrace of the sea. The orange and pink hues painted the sky, casting a warm and serene light over the landscape. It was a breathtaking sight, one that would normally fill a person with peace and contentment. But for Merlin, there was a shadow that loomed over this picturesque scene—the weight of his impending destiny as the heir to the throne of Deira.

He couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, a constant gnawing at the back of his mind. What if he couldn't live up to the expectations placed upon him? What if he failed his people, his family, and himself? Such thoughts plagued him, darkening the beauty of the setting sun.

As Merlin lost himself in his contemplation, the sound of leaves crunching underfoot broke through his reverie. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was. It was his closest friend, Percival, the knight who had stood by his side through thick and thin.

"Sire, your father has requested your presence in the throne room and has asked me to escort you there," Percival's voice carried a formality that grated on Merlin's nerves.

"Percy, why are you being so formal?" Merlin asked, his annoyance evident in his tone.

"I'm sorry, Merls. It's a force of habit. Plus, Noah and our other friends are already there," Percival replied quickly.

Merlin nodded in acknowledgment and rose to his feet. The two of them walked side by side towards the throne room, their footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor. Merlin's mind buzzed with various possibilities of why his father had summoned him.

Upon reaching the entrance to the throne room, Merlin spoke, "Once they arrived, Merlin says 'Father, Percy informed me that you requested my presence.'"

His father, King Balinor, turned to him, a solemn expression on his face. He withdrew a magnificent sword from its scabbard, a sword that had been passed down through generations—a sword called Excalibur.

"You have earned the right to have this sword in your presence, Merlin, in more ways than I had at your age," King Balinor said, his voice filled with pride.

Merlin accepted the sword, his eyes fixed on the gleaming blade. "Why do you think I'm worthy of having Excalibur, a sword forged in a dragon's breath?"

Balinor replied with unwavering confidence, "Because you, my son, are an exceptional swordsman, the best in the five kingdoms. You have shown nothing but compassion to those around you."

Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by the arrival of a knight who burst into the room, his face wrought with urgency. "My liege, your brother has betrayed us! We are under attack!"

King Balinor wasted no time. "Prepare the army! I'll be there in a moment," he ordered. Turning to Merlin and Noah, his younger son, he instructed, "Get the hatchlings out now, even if it means kicking them out. Go!"

Before Merlin or Noah could protest, both of them were swiftly incapacitated by the court physician. With the knights and their mother, they were spirited away amidst the chaos of war.

Merlin's consciousness slowly returned, but he was disoriented. He felt as though he were submerged in water, struggling to breathe. Memories of the fall of Deria flooded his mind, each one a painful reminder of his perceived failure. It had been ten years since that tragic day, ten years since he had found refuge in Camelot, but the guilt still consumed him on this annual anniversary.

He needed to talk to Percival, his confidant and closest friend, without arousing suspicion from the other knights who were well aware of their bond. Merlin dressed quickly, knowing that this day would be filled with sadness and anxiety, just like every other anniversary.

"Merlin?" Gaius' voice reached him through the door.

Gaius, his mentor and surrogate father, was one of the few who knew Merlin's true identity. They shared a solemn breakfast, neither of them uttering a word about the weight that hung in the air. After the meal, Gaius spoke, breaking the silence. "You didn't go to your training today, sire."

Merlin sighed. "I'm not a prince anymore, Gaius. I lost that title the moment I was knocked out. And I wasn't in the mood for training."

Gaius didn't push the matter further. Instead, he said, "One day, you will reclaim your kingdom."

Merlin got up, preparing to face the day. "I'm going to wake up the prat before he decides to have my head for not doing my job properly."

Entering King Arthur's chambers, Merlin placed his breakfast on the table and began attending to his daily chores. When he attempted to rouse the young king, Arthur resisted.

"Rise and shine, sire," Merlin said, his voice devoid of enthusiasm.

"Five more minutes, Merlin," Arthur mumbled, burying his face in his pillows.

"You asked for this," Merlin muttered under his breath as he pulled Arthur out of bed.

Arthur was clearly annoyed. "Why did you do that?"

Unperturbed, Merlin replied, "As a king, you have a duty to your kingdom, sire. You must attend to your responsibilities. I've also placed your breakfast on the table."

Before Arthur could respond, there was a knock at the door. Arthur allowed the visitor inside, and Sir Leon appeared.

"Rise and shine, sire," Leon said with a respectful nod. "Some knights have requested your presence."

Merlin couldn't help but mutter, "Why would they want to torture themselves like that?"

In response, Arthur grabbed a nearby goblet and hurled it at Merlin. To his surprise, Merlin effortlessly caught it and placed it in a basket he was holding, continuing his chores as if nothing had happened. The stunned king and knight exchanged glances before deciding that all should convene in the throne room in fifteen minutes.

As Leon left the room, Arthur turned to Merlin, concern in his eyes. "All right, what's wrong with you? You caught that goblet without even looking, you called me 'sire' without your usual sarcasm, and you look like you've risen from the dead."

Merlin sighed, weary of the charade. "Nothing for you to worry about, sire. I'm just tired. I'll meet you in the throne room shortly. I need to talk to Percy about something."

"Percy?" Arthur asked, his confusion evident.

"Percival, sire. I call him Percy because that's been his nickname for as long as I can remember," Merlin explained. "And if you listened closely enough, the original knights of the Round Table all call him that."

Arthur nodded, dismissing his confusion, and instructed Merlin to meet him in the throne room in ten minutes. Merlin rushed out to find Percival.

"Percy! I need to talk to you," he called out when he spotted his friend.

Percival approached, concern etched on his face. "What is it, Lin?"

Merlin was anxious as he began to speak. "Don't you think it's too much of a coincidence that some knights arrived on the anniversary of our kingdom's fall?"

Percival's voice was low and grave. "Merlin, they aren't just any knights."

Merlin pressed for answers. "Who are they, Percy?"

Percival's response hung heavily in the air. "Your brother and the knights of Deria."

Merlin's heart sank. "No, it can't be!"

Percival, ever the loyal friend, offered reassurance. "I know it's hard to believe, Merls. Come on, it's time for the meeting."

Side by side, the secret prince and his trusted knight entered the throne room, just moments before the knights of Deria were set to arrive.