Those Who Waited (BBC Merlin)

Chapter 10: The House in the Forest

The sunlight weaving through the branches above them cast her hair in a swirl of mahogany and gold and bronze, and it crossed over his view of her flushed, stubborn face as her head bent down to inspect her legs. The limbs were still tangled in the dirt-stained, light green fabric, but the hem was up around one knee and he found dark spots along it. Her shin was crusted in dirt and blood, already drying but still seeping from several shallow cuts. His tongue smacking against his teeth, Merlin felt his body move of its own accord, flowing easily and willingly through the motions of a simple healing spell that glowed prettily as it cleaned and restored the pale skin.

The loud gasp that she made no effort to hide left him chuckling, her whole face lighting up with awe and glee. "Thanks!" Her voice was high and shrill, broken by a giggle as she ran her fingers lightly, tickling the now-perfect skin. Merlin nodded, white hair framing the edges of his vision.

"How did you do that? What's your name? Why are you here? Why didn't Mama or Papa know you?" she fired, and Merlin blinked in surprise at her quick recovery and the determined expression on her face. Her blue eyes pinned his, cutting mercilessly through his lined face and tempered thoughts. And his cloaking spell, which was still active mind you.

"My name is Merlin, and I was born with magic," he whispered, the basic phrase feeling like a secret whispered between long friends instead of a (probably crazy, he had to be by now) old man and an unusually intelligent-looking child. Her eyes lit up, and she had jumped to her feet before his eyes could even follow her movements.

The only detail Merlin's eyes were able to catch was the large, toothy grin curling around Susetthe's lips as she sprinted away from him and back through the trees, in the direction of her home and her brother Gwaine.

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The night Merlin met Susetthe for the third time, he walked silently to the house her family had moved into and stood outside for what felt like ages. The sun had set just two hours after their brief meeting-which Merlin still could not quite comprehend and was sure he looked like a clotpole with his wide eyes and gaping mouth-and he had waited until the moon was high.

He had recognized the girl immediately, nearly the same age as she had been in the last lifetime he'd met her...and as she had died. This time, he was determined that that would not happen. Three times he'd met her, three times in over a thousand years. That could be coincidence, yes, but he had learned long ago not to question fate and destiny. All the times he had met her, she had been Gwaine's sister, and had looked and been the exact same. The others from Camelot reincarnated with the same appearances and personalities each time.

Merlin wondered if it really was purposeful, or he was just hoping for it to be. Perhaps every person reincarnated multiple times, and with the same traits. He wouldn't know-he barely even interacted with people at all.

Still, if nothing else, it had been horrible to watch the young Romany girl die, and Merlin's heart couldn't go through the long, disgusting loss again. So, he carefully stepped a perfect circle around the house and covered the area in protective spells. Besides, these would help her entire family-they'd run from a war confusingly and swiftly tearing their homeland apart, and now they were as safe as they could possibly be.

Of course, she was a child who had just met a magic man. Her six-year-old mind had probably already characterized him as her imagination, or some other mystical being like a unicorn. One that was fun to play with and think about, but always knowing deep down that he wasn't real, or worth truly caring about. The old man half-doubted his own mind, wondering if he'd finally gone mad.

But had definitely done dumber, more impulsive things in the names of less kind or noble or necessary causes in his youth. His original youth, that is, not the recurring physical state.

************

When the sun broke through his thin curtains the following dawn, Merlin's eyes were already open and waiting for it. As the moon had observed him peacefully, the old warlock had alternated between pensively staring at the vials of blood, flipping through the pages of several specific books, and just pacing while he muttered to himself.

The sun's prying rays seemed to urge him to his feet from his seat on his bed and he shuffled outside. Perhaps a breath of fresh air and the meditative stillness of dawn would help ease his speeding, tangled thoughts.

The deep breaths, perfumed with flowers waking and grass catching dewdrops, were quite nice. Merlin matched his breathing with long, slow steps, feeling the earth cradle his foot and watching small ground plants seem to shift to the side of his path. It was all shattered by a high-pitched call of both curiosity and challenge, as if daring the world to deny her an answer.

"Merlin," his steps had altered to move his aching body toward the sound. Again, his body was of a mind separate from his.

The trees thinned into a small clearing, no larger than one room in his home, though it appeared to be unknown. He had only been to it once, but, oddly, no useful plants grew in it or within a few yards' vicinity of it.

The ancient warlock could only barely remember the last time someone had spoken his name, had known his identity, or had called for him. The last memory of responding to such a call was even fainter. But he had gone to it nonetheless, and tried not to sob at the deep sense of familiarity in his soul, despite his knowledge that no such scene had happened like this.

Susetthe stood with a stature that Merlin assumed uncommon for most children, as she faced him squarely. Despite its vacancy, the clearing had only grass, which was beautifully green and uncannily neat. No stray twigs or fallen leaves interrupted it, no animal's previous footsteps tangled the thin blades. Susetthe, meanwhile, stood in a brown dress, the frayed edges contrasting with her light ankles, and a few strands of hair curled around her forehead and cheeks as they escaped from the messy tie at the back of her head. Her shoulders were squared, as thin as they had been the last time, and her expression was an eerie mixture of childish curiosity and wise calculation. Bright eyes wide but never ceasing their movements as she watched everything around her simultaneously, lips in a line, jaw still.

"You're here," she breathed, the wariness melting as the awe once again took over. She had called him, and he came. Merlin felt similar emotion loosen his body as he nodded.