Merlin.
The first thought that entered Arthur's mind, when he woke up in the past, was actually normal, all things considered.
Mostly, because Merlin was often the first thing he thought of in the early hours of the day.
So it was only reasonable that the only thing he would find odd, on this particular day, was the disturbing realization that Merlin was not there..
What was slightly alarming, yet not entirely unfamiliar, was the thought process that followed immediately after:
Where is Merlin?
Merlin is late.
Where is my breakfast?
Upon that came the realization that he was waking up half naked.
By half naked, he was referring to the ripped clothes covering the sheets around him, while only pieces of fabric were still attached to his ankles and stretched beyond their intended usage.
His next thought process w as, given the circumstances, also among a normal level for him.
Merlin will never let me live this down.
I can't have gained this much weight in one night!
Only after that, did his mind offer him the more logical idea, that perhaps, he shouldn't fit into children's clothes in the first place.
Groggily, Arthur sat himself up. The fabric was tight where it remained stuck. Tight enough that it hurt and cut off his blood circulation in various places.
Grunting, Arthur used his tired arms and ripped the rest of the fabric off, and tossed the shreds to the other side of the bed. They landed there ungracefully and accepting of their fate.
Arthur took a moment to get used to being awake. He groaned and muttered, as he swung his legs off the edge of the bed and felt the cold floor with his feet.
Birds were chirping in the distance, while his window remained half open to let in the sound and the cold air.
Other than that, his room looked exactly as it had yesterday, when he went to bed.
For him it was the same bed, the same sheets, the same table and the same rusty hearth that had bidden him goodnight.
Therefore he had no reason to question the inner specific functions of time.
And yes, all his interior furniture was still the same as it had been, when he was six years old. The furniture was perfectly functional , extremely expensive and of a master's craft. Why not keep them into adulthood?
Honestly, at this point the maximum of Arthur's confusion went into the shredded clothes.
Which his mind could easily find a logical origin for:
His best friend tended to prank him sometimes.
'Seriously, where is he?', Arthur's mind said.
Arthur sighed and guessed that the men either let Arthur wait for him on purpose, or he had been out in the tavern last night, again.
Perhaps he and Gwaine had decided to do whatever this was supposed to make him think.
They often collaborated on their schemes.
One time, Arthur had woken up with chicken in his room. They had picked so many holes in his sheets that Merlin had to throw them away later.
So, Arthur's first instinct was to simply ignore the clothing situation and decided to ridicule Merlin about it later.
His next thought was to get himself clothes that fit.
Since he was already up before his servant, he might as well go and make a point that he was absolutely capable of dressing himself, no matter what Merlin thought and said!
The king stretched himself, got up, uncaring of his very naked appearance, since he happened to be in his own rooms, and opened the wardrobe.
Mindlessly, he grabbed for the first shirt he could reach.
Then he was forced to pause.
Slowly, he held out the small shirt in front of him, face twisting into confusion.
And then another, rather normal thought entered his mind and left his mouth with unhindered annoyance:
"That bastard!"
Arthur knew what must have happened.
At least, he was convinced that he knew what had to have happened.
Hastily, he opened every door, every drawer and even looked under the damn wardrobe itself.
Everything he found were children's clothes. And dust.
Through his teeth left grumbling sounds. A part of him was still annoyed. But another, unbidden feeling hid beneath that morning grumpiness that so often befell him.
He was quite amused, in fact, but Merlin wasn't supposed to know that.
So he threw the clothes back in the drawer and grabbed himself a blanket from his bed to put it around his waist.
Only to find that the blanket wasn't all that big either. Almost as if it wasn't meant for an adult.
What he did then was, in hindsight, extremely stupid.
In fact, it might as well be the last thing he should have done, had he known what the shredded clothes actually indicated.
"Guards! Where is my useless manservant?"
Not thinking anything was amiss, and waiting for someone to get Merlin for him, Arthur turned himself around and looked out the window, on the off chance he would see Merlin run over the courtyard, as he sometimes did when he was late.
Was it pathetic that the king of Camelot had nothing better to do in the morning than wait for his bad excuse of a servant?
Perhaps.
But in Arthur's defense, he hated mornings. He could never get up. The sheets were just too tempting to stay buried in.
Annoying Merlin was the only thing that made it bearable.
Even if he was awake now, he couldn't wait to annoy Merlin again.
Wait a second.
Arthur leaned over to look out of the window. Everything seemed rather normal outside.
He knew every window and every stone in the courtyard. He was familiar with the faces and the vibe in the morning.
Except there was an awful lot of guards placating around, talking to people, almost as if harassing them, if he judged their frightened faces correctly.
And someone was building a stake, as they used to when Uther was still alive.
None of which Arthur had seen in ages. Nor allowed.
Alarmed, Arthur was about to call for the guards again, because he hadn't permitted an execution since the day he was crowned king and he certainly didn't authorize one for today,
but in that very moment, the door swung open and banged against the wall with so much noise that it made Arthur swirl around into a defense position.
For that brief period of time, in which Arthur wondered, if his reaction was scolding himself in his mind for his impulsive reaction, Arthur was still convinced this was all a prank.
And then he was attacked.
One of the guards was screaming bloody murder at him, raising their lances and attacking Arthur without a warning.
Arthur lost complete regard for his decency and let instinct take over. He grabbed the Lance. Blocked it with one hand. Ripped it out of the guards hand and swung it to fend of the second Lance aimed in his direction.
Arthur blocked the second Lance with the first. Kicked between the guard's hands with his bare foot, where he knew the Lance was the most vulnerable to brute force. And It broke apart with a snapping sound, while it's owner was thrown backwards in the process.
Irritated, Arthur saw the man stumble backwards. Both parts of his Lance still in hand, the guard stumbled over his own feet and fell to the ground.
The first guard stepped back from Arthur, holding up his hands in surrender. He was unarmed and clearly less experienced than Arthur. But apparently also a lot less brave.
Which begged the question why they were guards in the first place, if they lost against one naked guy who wasn't even fully awake yet.
"What the hell are you doing?", Arthur asked incredulously, his mind slowly catching up to what just happened.
Who even were those guys? He had never seen them before. Perhaps they seemed a bit familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on their names.
Which, sure, wasn't all that surprising, since Arthur had always struggled with names. But Merlin chattered so much about his guard friends, which happened to be every single guard in the castle, that even Arthur picked on on most of them by now.
This time he was certain it wasn't his own fault for not knowing their names.
The guards exchanged a quick stolen glance at each other, before scanning the room with growing alarm.
Arthur tried to follow their gazes, but just like the two men, his eyes only found the shredded children clothes on the bed.
"Don't worry about it, I bet it's Merlin's fault.", Arthur tried to joke, but it seemed to be the exact wrong thing to say.
The two men just stared at him in horror.
Arthur frowned.
"Come on guys, I know you can talk. Now would you please tell me, why you're attacking me in my own room. Also, where is Merlin? You were supposed to get him."
Guard number once caught himself first, though his eyes flickered fearfully:
"Is that your accomplice? Did he hurt the prince? What do you want?
Is he a sorcerer? Where is he?"
Arthur snorted.
'Merlin, a sorcerer. Now that was a funny concept.'
Then the first half of that sentence caught up to him. "Prince? There is no prince! Who told you there was a prince?
Unless -"
'Merlin'.
And again, Arthur's mind went to the easiest explanation and he loosened his stance, to stem his hands into his hips, unashamed of his appearance. After all, they were the one who just barged into his room. This was hardly his fault.
Arthur made sure they could hears the disappointment in his voice:
"Did Merlin tell you to attack me? Are you guys in on the prank? You could at least have left me some clothes! He doesn't think I'll parade around like this in the castle, does he?"
Does he?
Arthur contemplated how he might be supposed to feel about it, if Merlin would make him walk around naked. He came up blank. Simply because he couldn't imagine Merlin would.
Even Merlin wouldn't push him that far. His pranks were always kept in the bedroom.
(That may sound like an innuendo, but Arthur meant it in the most innocent way possible. Which should be proven by the fact that Arthur was completely unaware of the ways that sentence would be interpreted, if spoken aloud.)
Merlin knew far more effective methods to embarrass Arthur in front of the knights and/ or royal guests. Methods he used to his heart's content.
There was no reason for him to drag it to such extremes.
The guards simply stared. And it seemed they finally noticed the condition Arthur was in.
The short blanket was bound around his hips, but his kick from earlier had loosened it strongly, exposing far more than either of them seemed comfortable with.
Guard one opened his mouth first:
"I have no idea who this Merlin is. There is no Merlin in Camelot! Why are you.....", he glanced Arthur up and down. "- in the prince's room!" The 'like this' was left implied.
The guard was stepping away from Arthur, looking as though he was ready to make a run for his life. Instead, he glared at Arthur as if waiting for him to strike.
It really was impossible to read from their expressions what they were thinking.
Arthur blinked and shifted around a bit. He took their frozen state as permission to redo his slipping cover and gently leaned against the lance he won like he would a walking stick.
"How do you not know Merlin? Everyone knows Merlin."
The guards looked at each other again. Guard two shrugged, signaling that he had no clue either.
Arthur frowned.
"But you guys do realize that you're talking to the king, right? Or did that slip your mind as well?", Arthur tried, raising his eyebrows at them, much like a teacher would, if his worst math student just told him 1+1 was 3 and believed in it.
(If you think about it, this is Arthur's relationship math. 1 girlfriend + 1 Arthur = OT3.)
Now the guards faces morphed into something darker. They once again looked each other in the eye. Guard two nodded, as if preparing them for something and that was the moment Arthur knew, they were about to attack him for the second time that morning.
Arthur readied himself for the upcoming attack, raising his lance at them once more.
Only that he was wrong.
As if bitten by spiders, they turned on their heels and ran out the door, screaming from the top of their lungs for a knight's help.
Arthur cursed under his breath. Not that he had any idea what had gotten into the two guys, but whatever it was, it sounded like brainwashing or something like that.
Perhaps they both had a mental affliction.
Or, which was also a possibility, Morgana was once again attacking and blanked everyone's minds but Arthur's.
That would also explain why Merlin wasn't here.
Not that Arthur knew what Merlin was doing, but he tended to run off, whenever something dangerous was happening.
To Arthur, it wasn't an explanation in the sense that Merlin was off doing anything about it, but the coincidences seemed to line up in two parallel sinus curves.
Which made it reasonable, at least to Arthur, to find the correlation proving to his hypothesis that this situation was caused by no other than Morgana herself.
Only that that's not how math works. Not to mention that Merlin's disappearance was, in fact, based on causation, not correlation. But people tend to confuse the two a lot.
(In conclusion: Arthur is bad at math. But we already established that with his relationship math logic.)
Arthur had never met a man as terrified as Merlin. It ultimately made him braver than any other man Arthur ever met, because Merlin would follow him into the depth of hell without a question.
Whether he would return with him or sacrifice himself in one of the 9 circles of hell would be up to circumstantial matters, otherwise Arthur would think, Merlin would follow him into hell and back.
Merlin would quiver and beg not to go, or complain about how stupid Arthur was being, but he would come with him either way. Insist on it. Defy any rules or orders against the action, until Arthur had no choice but let him be there.
Which is what begged the question, for the perhaps 6th time today: Where the hell was Merlin?
Arthur sighed deeply, before considering what to do about his state of undress.
For a moment, he closed his eyes and wondered, where to find other clothes. Preferably clothes his own size. And then the idea struck him:
If he read the time of day correctly by the position of the sun, the knights would start training any minute now. Which meant they left their usual clothing in the armory, where the servants helped them put on the armor.
The servants would take the clothes and wash them. After training, the knights would be washing up, and put on the fresh linen.
So, right now, there should be freshly washed clothes in the laundry room.
Needless to say, Arthur got to that conclusion by thinking about knight training first, and then spiraling into Merlin's never ending complains about his duty.
Arthur pondered about his situation for about a second, until he found that standing here all blunt and naked was probably not the way he wanted to be seen.
He tightened the blanket around him and made his way out the room by the entrance meant for servants. Not that his servant ever thought to be respectful enough to use anything but the main entrance.
He was lucky, as there were no servants walking around in the small hallway to the laundry room.
He entered the room, luckily finding no servant at work either.
His luck left him, however, the moment he realized the laundry of the knights was still sweaty and yet to be washed.
There was, however, a bundle of servant clothes lying around, not unlike the kind that Merlin wore.
They happened to be clean.
Arthur huffed out a breath of relief, before checking one last time, if any servant hovered near the doors, and began dressing himself.
A tedious task, if your name was Arthur Pendragon, but he managed.
Besides, this might be part of Merlin's plan to embarrass him. Maybe Merlin decided today was the day he made Arthur wear Merlin's clothes. Then he'd get dressed like a noble himself and start fooling some guests that Arthur hadn't been informed of that Merlin was the king.
Despite his own role in that scenario, Arthur laughed at the idea.
He had to admit it was a funny plan. He might as well indulge in, if only for the giggles.
The clothes were a bit small on him. Not too tight to move in, but you could tell that they clung to his muscles, like a second layer of skin.
It was hardly comfortable. Servant clothes were more scratchy than smooth and every move reminded him of that fact.
But Arthur decided it was still better than that bloody blanket.
His next move lead him back into the corridor.
The halls were filled with servants, running about with armor pieces and washing bins and food. Enough to hold an entire feast.
God damn it, was the entire castle in on Merlin's prank? Or was this really a curse?
By now, Arthur could hardly tell the difference.
Seriously, if Merlin continued the way he did, people would elect him to be king. Arthur rolled his eyes in that fondly annoyed way of his and decided he wasn't even mad about it.
Then he thought it most likely to find Merlin at the round table.
Merlin had always been fond of the round table. Arthur's favorite achievement as king. A way to speak to his men as equals. To have representatives of the people speak to him on equal ground.
Of course, Merlin had no seat at it. It wouldn't fare well, if Merlin sat at his right side. He'd tease Arthur for it forever and always. (Obviously, Arthur could place Merlin anywhere else at the table. But it would feel wrong not to have Merlin sit to his right.)
Arthur was about halfway through the corridor, when he finally realized that he didn't recognize a single person walking past.
It took him a moment, but when he noticed, he stopped to try and restart his brain.
No.
There was something else.
Some of them he did know, but they looked far too young to make any sense to his memory. Others, Arthur had believed to be long dead. Yet again, most were unfamiliar.
And not only that, they all made a beeline around him. Tried to ignore him. Avoided glancing at him.
Other's seemed frightened by his presence, as if they believed him to attack at any given minute.
Arthur slowly turned around himself, took everything in. There was something so much different about the air around him.
For a moment, he questioned his own competence at face recognition. And then, finally, he found a familiar face.
A face, calm and collected and the exact way Arthur remembered it. Relief flooded Arthur's mind and he relaxed.
"Leon! There you are! Finally!", he muttered, almost in a good mood again, when the man in question just raised a brow at him.
The knight had paused. His shoulders squared regally, as he scanned Arthur's entire appearance.
He nodded slightly as a greeting, before he was about to walk away.
Arthur couldn't have that. "Sir Leon? Wait!", he said, making the knight pause again.
When he opened his mouth, however, he destroyed all of Arthur's hope with one sentence.
"Are you one of the new servants? The servant quarters are down the hall. Marleen will tell you what to do."
He turned on his heels, no recognition in his eyes whatsoever and walked away, in the direction Arthur was originally headed.
"What? Leon, no! The hell -", Arthur followed him a bit. "Did Merlin manage to convince you of this charade as well? What did he promise you? Where is he?"
Leon stopped walking again and Arthur followed his example.
"I'm sorry. Who are you?"
Ever so polite, the bastard.
Arthur sighed. "Look, I get that you all think this is funny. And I promise, I'll play along, if he asks. But I'd really love to know why you guys are building a stake. I didn't authorize any of it. As much as I like Merlin, you should still listen to me first."
Sir Leon frowned. "Authorize it? Who do you think you are? The king?"
Arthur deadpanned. "What else am I supposed to be?"
Leon blinked. He scanned Arthur's appearance again. "Do you have some kind of mental affliction or something?"
Wow. Rude.
"Seriously, what did he pay you with. You're never in for his pranks."
Leon sighed deeply, as if this situation wasn't at all his own fault for playing along.
"I have no idea who you are, nor who this Merlin person is. If you'll excuse me, I have no time for your nonsense.
The king will burn me at the stake, if I'm late. So do yourself a favor and search for Marleen. Tell her I send you. Now hush."
Arthur huffed. "Well, if you don't know who Merlin is, who is pretending to be king right now?"
Leon almost laughed, before turning on his heel and shaking his head, as if Arthur was the crazy one.
Arthur grunted. "Oh come on. Humor me, at least!"
"The king's name is Uther Pendragon. If you work here, you ought to know that name."
It was then. And only then- That it dawned on Arthur what had really happened to him.
Completely frozen, he watched as Leon turned at the next corner.
"Hey, what the fuck?", Arthur blurted out, making a maid jump, as she rushed past him.
That ought to be a lie. Uther was dead. And even if he weren't, Leon would be a child.
That thought made Arthur move again and he hurried after Leon to see where he was really going. Sure enough, Leon walked into the council room.
Blinking, Arthur followed him just before the door. Before the door shut, the person who claimed to be king turned around.
Of course, Arthur immediately recognized his father.
Even if Uther Pendragon looked far younger than what Arthur remembered. His hair was darker, his winkles gone, his face more relaxed.
Yet, he already held his shoulder in that strange way he always had. So the battle in which he had gotten his shoulder injury must have already happened.
And the grim look in his eyes that he often regarded Arthur with, was there already as well.
It was the haunted look of a man who had seen too many executions and caused far too many of them to not feel the weight on his shoulders.
Leon had spoken the truth.
Not all that suddenly, the door was closed in Arthur's face and the grim eyes of a guard pushed Arthur away from the door.
Arthur blinked and looked up at the gorilla of a man. Actually, Arthur knew this man.
His name was Hector. He had sometimes played with Arthur, when he was a child. And then he stole some bread from the vaults and got his tongue cut off.
Arthur hissed in a breath and excused himself to find a secret entrance to the court room.
Of course he knew them all. Arthur went to the royal atelier and knelt down before the hearth. There was a secret mechanism on the left side of the inner wall, that made the wall swing open.
Once again unseen, Arthur followed the tunnel to a painting inside the council room and opened the thing just a tiny bit from behind the canvas.
He knew Uther would be there. But the image still fucked with his mind. Especially once he heard the man talk again.
"Sir Leon, I am grateful that you take such good care of my son, but it is your job to train him how to fight. You are not his governess."
Sir Leon stood there, calmly, while Uther paced the room, clearly unsettled by something.
"I am aware. But this isn't about him being too young. You have made your point on that very clear, Sire.
I just think that Agravaine's methods don't seem.... fitting, for a child his age."
Arthur took a moment to understand what the two men were talking about.
Apparently, they were talking about Arthur. Apparently, in their eyes, he was a child who still needed to be raised.
"Agravaine is Arthur's godfather and I allowed him to discipline my son. It is his job and I trust his judgment."
"With all due respect, your majesty. I don't. The boy is terrified of him. And sometimes, he can barely walk when he's brought to his lessons."
"Well that won't do. My son can't be such a wimp."
Arthur winced. He felt that comment in his bones, as if his father had just scolded him again.
Sir Leon's face twisted for just a moment, before he schooled it into a neutral expression.
"Sire -"
"Sir Leon, this is the third time this week you've requested an audience with me about this. I believe your condition is getting to your head!"
Uther stopped and faced Sir Leon.
"Have you nothing better to do than worry about my son?"
"Do you have so much to do, that you don't worry at all?", Leon returned, with the care of a man who would jump face first into a knife.
Arthur hissed and immediately covered his mouth. He had never seen or heard Leon talk to Uther like this.
All of this was surreal to begin with, but holy shit.
Arthur tried not to breathe too loudly and trained his eyes at his father again.
At this point, it started to sink in that Arthur must be in the past. But how? What happened?
Or was this just a wild dream?
After all, Leon couldn't be this old.
Then again, Arthur couldn't really remember Leon ever being a child.
Sure, he had never been allowed to play with the other royal children and he did recall a Sir Leon from back then, but he never met a child Leon.
Or was this Leon's father who simply had the same name?
That must be it! There was no other explanation for it. That is, if he really was in the past.
That idea still seemed extremely far fetched.
"Sir Leon. I have a lot of respect for you. You've been a great help to me and my father, and my father's father. You've been a supporter of this family since Camelot was build. And I owe you my gratitude for all the wars you've won for me.
But I think your curse is making you reckless.
You may not die and your wounds may heal, but fire will burn you. You still bleed and you still hurt.
I am still your king. Do not test me."
Leon grunted and balled a hand to a fist around the pommel of his sword.
Arthur's mind short circuited. What?
The knight raised his chin and walked one step closer to the king.
"Yes, Uther! I do feel pain, that is true. But my curse also reflects any attacks on my person, as you well know.
I thought you learned that lesson when you stabbed me in the shoulder."
If that wasn't a threat, Arthur didn't know what was.
And considering Uther grabbed for his shoulder, his old battle wound, meant the man knew exactly what Leon was referring to. His face was ashen, yet still determined.
"I have men I can order to hurt you."
Leon's face set into stone.
"I have felt and seen so much worse than what silly games you're playing.
And I believe your son is suffering. Worse than you ever did. I trained you, too, Uther.
You were just as talented as Arthur is. But you were older when you started. You were calmer. And you were never afraid of anything.
Your son is. But not of me and not of the sword.
He's only scared to be alone with his uncle. And I don't think Agravaine defines discipline the same way that you do."
"What are you saying?", Uther frowned with growing alarm.
Leon glared at him. "Raise your own son, is what I'm saying! Send Agravaine away! Whatever he is doing, it's killing your son."
"Killing him? Agravaine would never kill him!"
"His spirit then."
"I trust Agravaine. He is all I have left of my wife!"
"Ygraine could never even look him in the eye, if I remember correctly.", Leon gave back quietly. His pain evident in the way his eyes averted the king for just a moment to linger on a random painting.
"And your son is all you have left of her. Not this deranged man, you claim you trust."
Uther opened his mouth and closed it again. "You don't think -"
"I hope I'm wrong.", Leon agreed.
"But he is a boy! A child! My son is not a -", Uther fumbled with the words, "a , a -"
"A what?", Leon said, clearly fearing the answer. Clearly sensing that whatever the answer was wrong, no matter how Uther phrased it.
"My son is not like that. He wouldn't let himself be used like this!"
Leon's eyes were murderous wide now.
"What kind of delusional world do you live in? Your son is 6 years old! Agravaine is thrice is size!"
"My son is going to be a king!"
Leon gaped at Uther like he had grown a second head. "And you think that's enough?"
Arthur, on the other hand, had lost the conversation at 'I have a lot of respect for you.'
What on earth were they talking about?
A shiver ran down his spine with each word. He felt something inside him twist uncomfortably. Like the reminder of something knocking on his head. Whispering in his ear, asking to be remembered.
Arthur shook it out of his head.
His mind, however, kept pounding in his ear, which made it hard for him to focus on the words the immortal and the supposedly dead threw at each other.
Feelings clicked into Arthur's brain like growing panic, washing away his senses for a moment. Something flickered in his mind. In and out, fast and blurry and too quickly to fully be registered.
Arthur didn't know what they were referring to, and that made it easy to pretend that it didn't make any sense.
Arthur had no recollection of it. And if he couldn't remember, it couldn't be important.
So he forced it down.
Arthur blinked the feelings away. Pushed them down.
It was probably nothing anyway.
He felt like this sometimes. Quite often, in truth.
Like something was missing from his mind.
Usually he had Merlin to complain to, or just focus on, when he felt this way. So he tried to keep that image of Merlin in his mind. Tried to imagine him chatting about anything useless.
Or if he couldn't imagine words, he simply imagined him laugh.
This happened a lot, when people asked him about his childhood.
But it was normal not to remember how you were raised, right?
It was normal to forget the names of the governesses you had. Or the knights and guards who would sometimes play with you. To the point he struggled with names in general.
He couldn't even remember how or when he met Morgana for the first time.
It certainly had nothing to do with the conversation they just held, because that would be absurd.
Perhaps this was just a dream anyway, and Arthur would wake up soon.
Immortal Leon, living Uther, whatever they accused Agravaine off..., had to be totally absurd and made up by Arthur's own mind.
But the feeling lingered that there was more to those words. That what Leon was saying was true.
But Agravaine would never...
He was family.
His family would never betray...
Would never...
Never?
In fact, the longer Arthur waited for someone to wake him up from this weird scenario, the more his mind seemed to process Leon's words and their implications.
They felt true, whatever true meant in this scenario.
They shouldn't feel true. They couldn't feel true. Because if it were, it would mean that Agravaine had...
That Arthur had been...
Arthur blinked, and forced the thought out his mind, only for them to bounce back at him.
It was a very strange feeling. As if knowing there could be something almost made him believe there really was something. It was stronger, just slightly so, than his conviction that it was all a lie. Or a dream.
Either this whole conversation he was witnessing was, or the thing in his head was a long forgotten nightmare he really didn't want to remember.
Due to the fact that he could see and apparently talk to people from the past, which happened to make it seem vividly real, he decided on the latter.
Though that didn't mean, he didn't also doubt the realness of all this. Dreams could be very realistic.
Blankly, Arthur leaned against the painting to regain balance.
His weight toppled the painting over and fell head first through the secret entrance.
Caught off guard by the sensation of falling, Arthur stumbled a couple steps, only to catch himself right before he would have done something as embarrassing as falling to his father's feet.
When he looked up again, both Sir Leon and Uther were staring at him like he just dropped from the sky.
----------------------------------------------------
Being in that room with them felt even more wrong and surreal than just watching from behind the painting.
So he simply straightened his back and waved his hand at them, even thought it felt extremely silly, even to himself.
"Hi.", Arthur said.
"YOU!", Leon said and walked over. He grabbed Arthur by the collar and pushed him against the wall without a warning or a second of hesitation, right next to the secret entrance.
"How did you find that tunnel?"
Uther also walked over curiously, while Arthur still fought with his mind at seeing his father. That, and his head hitting the wall.
"Who is this man?", Uther asked.
Leon growled: "Your name, servant! You heard him!"
Arthur blinked his eyes open to face them. But no matter how much he tried to adjust to the scene, he couldn't do it.
"This dream is so vivid.", he muttered. Was he drunk?
He might as well be.
Or perhaps he was dying again. Did you know that when people die, hormones are send to the brain that can cause hallucinations? Arthur certainly didn't.
In hindsight, Arthur was pretty glad he was unarmed in this very moment. Perhaps, if he had been, Leon would have drawn the sword and killed him already.
"Your name, boy.", Uther said with a clear lack of patience.
Arthur sucked in a breath. "Well... my name is Arthur Pendragon." A second later he already felt like a fool. "Okay, fine, you wouldn't believe me, I can understand that.
I mean, this is a dream or something, right? Or is it like when father, I mean- you", Arthur tried to gesture in Uther's direction, while Leon kept him trapped at the wall. He continued: "-returned as a ghost, because that wasn't very fun either."
Arthur was grasping at straws.
A part of him knew that knowing this was a dream should give him the ability to control it.
He didn't feel like he was in control at all.
Leon blinked at him, the perfect picture of a question mark, and that made Arthur chuckle with nerves.
More to himself than the people around him, Arthur pointed at Leon next.
"I mean, you can't be immortal! You're one of my knights. It makes no sense that I see you're here. Also that would mean you would have had to have magic. My father would never have accepted that, ever!"
'There, rigged it.', Arthur thought proudly, for having correctly deduced the problems with the scenario.
There was no way Uther allowed anything magical to live within the castle.
He was also well aware of the fact that he was rambling.
"Sir Leon, who is this man? What is he bubbling about?" Uther didn't seem very pleased. But when had he ever been pleased by anything?
How old was he now anyway?
Damn, he looked young enough to be Arthur's brother!
Arthur stared at his father, almost fascinated by his own mind.
"I believe him to be a new servant. But he must have some kind of mental affliction. Should we call Gaius? Maybe he's enchanted."
Arthur didn't even try to stop them.
If this was a dream, then none of this mattered.
If it wasn't, then perhaps Gaius would explain to him what was going on right now.
However, it seemed that the guards from this morning had finally found a knight to complain about an intruder to, because in that very moment, they threw open the doors to the court room. They seemed to always find the perfect moment to interrupt an important conversation. At least that never changed.
Arthur didn't recognize the knight either. Which made it very much possible that in Arthur's time, he was dead. Or never existed in the first place.
"There! That's him! That's the man who kidnapped the prince!"
Uther turned around, eyes widening with alarm. "He what?"
Leon's grip tightened around Arthur's collar and pressed harder against his neck.
Arthur raised both hands in order to capitulate, finding himself choking on the words. Leon never loosened his grip.
Uther paid them no mind and instead directed his full attention to the knight and the guards. "Where is Arthur!? Where is my son?"
"We...", one of the guards said and turned to the other, seemingly disturbed and afraid. Well, they did loose the only heir to the throne, so what else is new?
"Your majesty. We apologize, but we don't know. Everything was normal and then we heard shouting. We thought it was weird that there was an adult in the prince's chamber, so we decided to check, if there was an intruder. When we entered, we found him, and the prince's clothes were all shredded and the prince himself was gone."
The guard sounded breathless and afraid.
Arthur blinked and managed to get his neck somewhat free. "Guys, I am the prince! Well.. king actually. I just woke up in my room like always. I have no idea what happened!"
Leon growled. "Shut your mouth, intruder!"
Arthur huffed with annoyance. "You could at least listen to me."
Uther finally turned to him again. He walked over with fast strides and positioned himself close enough to Arthur to spit in his face with his next words.
"Where is my son."
Arthur averted his gaze to get out of spit range. Uther's eyes were fixated on his face, his eyes, his expression.
Did his own father not recognise him?
"Father -!", Arthur began desperately, causing Uther's gaze to darken. "You once told me I look just like my mother. You have to believe me. You have to see it!"
Uther's gaze flickered for a moment, as if Arthur's words reached something in him, but he hardened his expression almost as soon as Arthur noticed it. But perhaps he had never said those words yet?
"Please! I woke up in those child clothes! Whatever happened, I must have woken up exactly where my child self was! That's why they're destroyed! I didn't kidnap anyone!
Somehow I was thrown back in time... or someone drugged me and this is all a fever dream!
It's wouldn't exactly be the first time I was cursed.
You should know, father! You taught me how unpredictable magic can be!"
Uther's gaze softened just a bit.
"Can you prove it?"
Arthur huffed a laugh. "How on earth am I supposed to prove it? I was drugged in the future! What do you want me to do, predict what happens in... I don't know, 20 years?
How old am I right now? I mean, prince me?", he eyed the guards for help, throwing his arms out and letting them fall away.
Uther frowned. "My son is 6 years old right now.", he said.
"Ah." Arthur made a short sound. "So it's ... 17 years. Great."
He stretched the Gr of great longer than necessary.
Then it occurred to him that perhaps these words were a bit far away from the language Uther Pendragon spoke best. Violence.
So, Arthur grabbed Leon's arm and swung him around, to twist the arm behind the knight's back, hard enough that it hurt.
Leon, caught by surprise, had no choice but to let himself be guided to the ground.
His surrender didn't last very long, however, as he kicked at Arthur's ankles next.
He hadn't calculated, however, that Leon had been training Arthur since...
Yeah... actually, Arthur never thought about it, but Leon had trained him since he could think. Probably. Or this was one of those dream facts that just hung around your head without making any reasonable sense.
No matter. Arthur knew Leon's fighting style in and out.
He steadied his stance, so that the only thing Leon could do, was to kick him in the knee and leave a bruise for later, without kicking him off balance.
In alarm, the second knight, who had accompanied the guards, now ran towards Arthur and attacked him, with his sword drawn. Not unlike the way Arthur had done the guards, Arthur dodged the first attack, and used the moment to kick the sword out of the knight's hand.
It clattered to the ground, ready to be picked up by someone who knew what he was doing.
Arthur had to let go of Leon to grab it, but it got him a sword to defend himself with.
Leon hadn't even thought of drawing his sword yet, when Arthur held the blade to his neck.
Which was unfortunate for them, Arthur thought.
After all, Leon and himself were now the only people in this room who were armed, if Arthur counted the swords correctly.
And Leon would only get hurt, would he try to stab Arthur with his own.
Only that Leon began to laugh and simply stood up, before he calmly drew his sword.
Had Leon been an enemy, Arthur would have killed him on sight. And since Leon must believe Arthur to think him an enemy, it made no sense that he was so calm about it all. And then Arthur remembered:
'Ah. Right. Immortal. '
Leon uselessly clanked his sword against Arthur's own, unafraid of death. It was almost humorous, the way the head knight grinned at him.
Though Arthur had to admit, the only reason he just overwhelmed Leon, had to be due to the fact that he caught him by surprise.
"Not bad.", Leon commented, while Arthur stepped backwards a little, readying himself for the next attack that was sure to come.
"But not good enough."
With that, Leon lunged at Arthur.
What followed was a quick exchange of metal clanging. The beat only interrupted when someone had to dodge.
To be fully honest, Arthur didn't remember much about the fight, after.
Because he had forgotten that Uther used to dominate the tournaments. And his methods weren't exactly known to be fair.
When something hard and heavy hit his head, he was knocked out almost immediately. His chance of convincing his father of his heritage by showing him his capabilities, turned out to be a failure.
The last thing he saw was Uther's face, bend over him, checking for his pulse.
------------------------------------------------
The dungeons were cold and disgusting, even if you had clean hay to lean on...
If you were lucky.
Arthur considered his servant a very lucky man. Merlin had a history with these dungeons. But he was always granted the privilege of a window and a freshly wiped floor.
You know who else got that cell? Exactly. Lord Bayard, when he had been accused of trying to poison Arthur.
Merlin always got a luxury cell worthy of a king.
Arthur did not.
Instead, he woke up in a cell that looked like his last occupant had left various different kinds of body liquids behind, just a few feet away from where he woke. Which couldn't be very sanitary. Where the occupant was now, Arthur didn't dare imagine.
It was dark, too. No windows to tell him what time of day it was and how long he had been unconscious.
There was a single flame somewhere outside the cell. It danced on the metal of armor, worn by a guard who was positioned at the entrance of the dungeons.
It also flickered from the slimy surface of the ground, indicating it was either mud or blood.
If it didn't smell so much like iron, Arthur would have believed it to be mud.
Groaning, Arthur sat up from the bars he was leaning against and reached for his head. It pounded like hell and he felt a bit dizzy.
He vaguely remembered Merlin telling him not to sleep, when he hit his head. Which seemed to happen to him a lot, so the warning seemed rather justified, to be honest. It was possible he had a concussion and wouldn't wake up again.
He must have been lucky after all, if a headache was all he woke up with.
"You're awake."
Arthur jerked away from the bars and shuffled to his feet. The world turned for a moment, but Arthur found himself steady against the wall.
A shadowed figure stumbled towards his cell. But it was neither a guard nor a person Arthur recognised.
The person existed in the cell next to him.
Long, broken fingers gently grabbed hold of the bars. An old face, withered from age, one eye milky as if blinded, regarded him with a gentleness that no one would expect to encounter in a place like this.
"Hey. Yeah. Sorry. I was knocked out?", Arthur said, once he registered the question.
'Why the heck am I apologizing?'
"It's alright. Most people are unconscious, when they're brought here."
Arthur swallowed and searched for something to sit on. He was only left with the ground. So he grimaced and accepted his fate. He slid down to the ground at the cleanest looking place in the dungeons, though it was hard to make that one out in the sparse light.
"You seem a bit too young to be a magic user. What is it? Theft? Murder? An accident? Sodomy?" His voice was about as old as his appearance.
Arthur blinked at the last word, but shook his head at all of them.
"I guess I offended my father.", he said, finding himself curious as well. "What about you?"
"Well. I am a druid. How did you offend him?" Why did that sound like being a Druid was enough of a reason for this man to be imprisoned in the dungeons of Camelot? Hadn't he done anything besides exist?
Arthur rubbed the hurting spot on his head. "Honestly, I don't know. I guess... I'm not sure. I think I kind of..."
A thought hit him. The same thought that had hit him upstairs, but had kind of left him during the time he lost consciousness. Now that he woke up, it made it even more reasonable to believe in it.
"Wait... did Morgana attack? It was a dream, right?" A part of him felt relieved at that, actually. Perhaps Morgana had attacked, knocked him out and then thrown him in the dungeons?
Wouldn't be the first time. It would also explain that weird dream.
"Morgana?"
"Yeah. You know? Priestess of the old religion. Black hair, extremely angry all the time. She has a dragon, I think."
"A dragon?", the druid seemed confused now. "Boy, I have no idea who you're talking about. And I have met many priestesses.
I believe, the last dragon is imprisoned in this castle, just like you and me, how would anyone have a dragon? They are hardly pet size."
Arthur leaned his head back against the wall. So much for that theory. It appeared, he was still stuck in the same nightmare.
If the dragon was still inside the castle, and not dead, it had to be.
"Who brought me here?", he asked, instead of telling the druid anything useful. To be fair, they all talked in riddles as well.
"The king's guardian, Sir Leon, I believe."
"The king is Uther Pendragon?" 'Just checking.'
"Who else would be king?"
"Never mind." Arthur closed his eyes.
The old man seemed eager to chatter.
"You don't seem very afraid."
"Neither do you.", Arthur gave back and closed his eyes. He opened them again, the moment the druid beside him began to laugh happily.
"Ah, yes. But I am old, young man. I am bound to die one day. My time is coming soon. But it will be a peaceful death.
I was given the gift to see."
Arthur huffed a humorless laugh. "Aren't you blind on one eye?"
"I am a seer, young man. I do not need my eyes to see. I see the future. I have no reason to fear it.
I have been blessed to find the one they call Emrys. Our savior. The man who will bring magic back to the land.
The one who will be Uther's doom."
Arthur sat up more. "Emrys? Who is that?" Alarm filled him. Sure, this man was old and perhaps a bit confused.
But seers rarely made sense. Yet they happened to speak the truth more often than not. This prophecy was pretty straight forward for once.
Uther would die by Emrys hand.
Arthur paused. He knew exactly who would kill Uther. But he had introduced himself as someone else entirely.
"Emrys is magic incarnate. Our last hope. He has finally arrived. He is meant to guide the once and future king. Oh, how wonderful the future must be. I just wish I could be there to see it all."
The old man sighed audibly.
"Where is he now?"
The old man shook his head. Sadness radiated off him in waves. "I wish I didn't know. How I wish I was stronger. But the torture... boy, you don't want to experience the torture. You are so young. You should not be here to face it"
"You told Uther where Emrys is?"
'Where your hope is? Your savior?'
The old man sighed and it sounded like suffering. "Oh yes. I have. He lives near a forest at the border of the kingdom. Uther knows. He is planning to attack every village in that area to kill him on sight.
He has even confided in an alliance with king Cendred of Essetir. None of them plan for mercy for Emrys.
Oh, what suffering my mouth has caused."
Arthur blinked with horror. Enough horror that it briefly washed away the question why the man told him all this so eagerly. "And yet you think it's worth hoping?"
The man laughed. "Our pasts cannot be rewritten. The future can. That counts for both of us, I'm afraid. So you tell me, is it worth hoping?"
The glance in his eyes turned knowing all of a sudden and Arthur returned it with wariness.
"You know where I'm from? Do you know who I am?"
"No. Not at all. But there is a sense of destiny upon you. Just that you have already lived it. Your life is intertwined with Emrys'. And I was told it was my destiny to meet you, before my death, so you can find and protect him."
Arthur nodded, still wary. "Would you mind telling Uther that I'm from the future? And all that destiny mumbo jumbo? I'm not really eager to die in here."
'By the hands of my own father no less.'
"Somehow I don't think that is necessary. You are not meant to die here."
He smiled, revealing a row of missing teeth.
Arthur only found it polite not to stare and nodded, before avoiding his gaze. "The stake. In the courtyard. Is that one for you?"
The old man stopped smiling. "No. There is a small girl who will die tonight. We will hear her screams."
He went quiet after that. "My poor granddaughter. She cannot be saved."
His voice sounded heavier than before. As if he tried hard not to think about it. Perhaps seeing the future wasn't always a gift.
Perhaps he had always known this was how she would die.
Arthur felt goosebumps on his skin. "I'm sorry." Arthur found that he meant it. Well, partly. If the man knew, why had he done nothing to stop it? Was the future that inevitable?
"Thank you. And do not worry. Sodomy is only a sin in the eyes of those who fear their heart more than they do the sword. Whatever they tell you, you don't deserve to die for it."
That caught Arthur completely off guard.
"What?"
The old man stopped talking to Arthur after that. He seemed to have said what he had wanted to say, what he was meant to say, but Arthur couldn't help but feel offended.
----------------------------------------------
The old man was right, by the way.
Arthur had been sitting in this cell, trying to figure out a way to open the doors in the dark, when the first screams echoed from the walls.
It was piercing and high and impossible to ignore. It tugged at Arthur's heart strings and made it pound with renewed fear.
His only neighbor was starting to breath in rattled breaths. Arthur could feel his sorrow and pain from here.
He didn't want to imagine how it must be, if there was someone he cared about, burning at that pyre.
A family member. Maybe a granddaughter.
Then Arthur remembered all those sorcerers burning. This was hardly the first time he heard such screams. But it was the first time he felt completely powerless to it.
It was the first time, he found the screams a premonition to his own fate, rather than the fate of someone else.
Arthur swallowed and tried not to let the emotions sweep over him.
He didn't even know her name.
Didn't even know how old she was, though by the sound of it, she must be rather young.
He didn't even know what she looked like, nor what she did. He just met this man who silently suffered in his own powerlessness. Even against a fate he had seen coming.
And for the first time, Arthur wondered. In his father's time, he had rarely questioned the motifs of those who were hung or burned or drowned or... you get the idea.
Now that he tried to remember what they were burned for, he came up blank.
He had sat at the trials and tried not to form a connection, grow empathy for them. And now?
Arthur was going to die here as well, and what was he in for? Babbling nonsense to people who didn't want to listen?
Talking about how magic cursed him?
Oh yeah. He allegedly kidnapped the prince. But where was the proof? Where was his defence? When would he get the chance to defend himself?
The problem was, Arthur didn't think he'd ever get this chance.
Arthur stopped searching for holes in the bar's mechanics, because what even was the point?
He got out of here and then what?
He would run into the next guard? Defeat them, then the next guard, just outside these tunnels?
What came next?
He had no one to turn to. No one to ask for help. Who would help him?
The druids might be the only people likely to believe his story. But then he'd have to tell them he was Uther Pendragon's son, because how could he keep that from them, when they were meant to send him forwards in time? Surely they needed to know where to send him and why.
Or, you know, in case this was a dream, help him wake up.
Once they figured out who he was, they might kill him themselves, because they were druids. And druids were hunted by the Pendragon family.
Hopelessness settled in on Arthur. And for the first time in a long time, he realized that he had no control over the situation.
None at all. No power, no anything. He would die here. He could actually, seriously die here.
The calming words of the old man long forgotten, Arthur felt himself choking on that thought.
Not the thought of dying. Not really. Arthur was not scared of death.
He was scared of never returning to his Camelot. To his home. His people.
Merlin.
Even if he didn't die here, he had no power over how long he would stay here. Or what they would do to him.
And the longer he was here, the less it felt like a dream. He still held on to the idea. But the wall was disturbingly and vividly disgusting.
Not to mention that his head really hurt from being knocked out. Yet, in dreams, you're not supposed to feel pain, right?
He slung his arms around his legs and pulled them closer to his chest.
What if it wasn't a dream? What, if this was seriously a curse. An evil plan constructed by Morgana or another magic user who wanted to see him dead?
Arthur knew he wasn't breathing right, but it was still better than not breathing at all.
It was getting worse, the louder the screams echoed in his ears, reminding him of all his possible fates that could befall him.
The different ways his could end, all meaning he would never see his loved ones again.
And then... silence.
Arthur actually choked on the humid air, stumbling in his attempt to breathe. She was dead. And with that realisation came the certainty that this couldn't be a dream. The death came too suddenly. Arthur's dreams mostly ended in loops. If he heard screams, they wouldn't just end abruptly. They would keep on going, perhaps growing louder and louder. But hers didn't. Hers stopped. Because her life stopped. Because this was not a dream.
The old man would be next.
He would hear his screams next. Tomorrow, if he remained here. If Arthur couldn't escape. Which he knew he couldn't. Because no one would free him. No one would help. They had no reason to.
Next would be more deaths. There would be torture after. And then Arthur's own life would end.
Arthur could feel his heart pounding harder and harder. Sweat broke out on his face and neck and he felt hot all over, despite the fact that it was freezing in the cell.
Arthur took shuddering breaths and tried to focus on a happy thought.
He was his go to thought. Always had been, when Arthur felt sad or overwhelmed.
Normally, Arthur would call for him to just annoy him a little, but he was well aware that Merlin had no way of coming to get him out of here.
The thought made him sad, but a mental image had to suffice.
At least Arthur could rest assured that the future would survive without him.
Even if Arthur died here, Merlin would take care of Camelot. Merlin would be a great king and pass on Arthur's dreams.
Merlin would do a great job at it. Because Merlin had a great mind and a gentle heart and was incredibly wise for someone so adorably stupid.
Breathing came easier to him after that. Knowing that he hadn't completely abandoned his kingdom. Knowing that his disappearance wouldn't mean the end of Camelot. It really calmed him down, despite everything.
And then he heard steps tapping down the stairs. Metal clanking against stone, echoing into the dark cell, sounding hollow and ominous.
Arthur felt like he had been waiting for hours, until Leon finally stepped towards Arthur's cell.
Surprised to see him, Arthur scrambled to his feet and walked just a little closer to the warmth that Leon's torch provided. The warm reds and oranges were a huge contrast to the bluish blackness that Arthur's eyes had taken their time to get used to.
"Leon?"
"Follow me.", Leon said without preamble and Arthur's stomach sank a few inches lower.
This couldn't be good.
"Where to?" To be fair, Arthur didn't quite want to know the answer. He could pretty much guess it anyway.
'The pyre? The sea? A torture chamber?'
"Someone wants to see you.", Leon said coldly. He seemed displeased and annoyed, but also a little curious. He kept glancing at Arthur in that infuriating gaze he usually held for bandits, when they tried to kill one of his friends. He fumbled with the keys and opened the metallic door for Arthur.
"Do NOT run."
"Got it.", Arthur said weakly, wondering why that instruction seemed necessary, and once again ached for Merlin's presence.
Even at times, when he was imprisoned by bandits or other ridiculous figured who believed it a good idea to kidnap the crown prince, Merlin had always been there.
If Arthur was chained to a wall, so was Merlin. If Arthur was stuck in a cell, Merlin would be imprisoned at least one cell over, if they weren't thrown in the same one altogether.
And Merlin always, without exceptions, managed to make him laugh. Or taunt the guards and made it all seem a lot less serious.
Even under the worst circumstances whatsoever, the idiot shone brightly with his positivity.
Merlin was safety. And Arthur longed for that kind of safety right now.
Perhaps, if he was lucky, and this was a dream after all, Arthur's mind would make Merlin his savior, in some roundabout way.
Perhaps the man would soon round the corner and show Arthur a way out of his misery.
Of course, none of that was going to happen. But Arthur wouldn't be against it.
The door opened with a screeching sound, as if it hadn't been oiled in ages.
Feeling helpless and confused, Arthur followed Leon to the end of the hall. One last time, he turned around to the old man.
"I'm sorry.", he yelled. But the old man didn't answer.
The only responsive was given to him by Leon who grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him up the stairs.
It was truly surreal to say the least.
Even more surreal than waking up in this godforsaken place was the way Leon behaved.
Leon had never been anything but kind to him. Now he wouldn't even look at Arthur without growling in his direction.
As if every second of his life was pure misery to him. Looking at people included.
Which, actually, mood.
He kept pushing Arthur in a direction, never leaving him out of sight. And the mere fact that Arthur had a headache, no sword for himself and not a single ally in the castle, made it rather hopeless to attempt an escape anyway.
However, Leon didn't lead him further upstairs then the room where the guards kept watch over the dungeons and the vaults on the other side.
Instead of going to the courtyard to Arthur's certain death, or to Uther, where he would meet a trial, Leon pushed him past the guards and down into the vaults.
The guards never questioned the knight, which was either a poor statement of Camelot's safety measures, or a testament of Leon's power in the castle.
Arthur didn't dare ask. Though he felt mildly curious.
He knew the torture chambers were in the dungeons, which meant Leon was leading him away from them.
The vaults only held various magical items, gold and if you were to go deeper, a giant chained dragon.
The more rooms of items they passed, the more certain Arthur grew of his suspicion that they were to meet the dragon.
Was this going to be his fate?
Fed to a dragon? Did Uther use to do this, until he found a feeding alternative?
Arthur had never thought about it before, but what the hell did the dragon eat?
Eventually, Arthur was pushed towards the edge to a cliff that lead into a giant cave.
Did this mean the foundation of the castle was hollow? Who engineered this place? Was this statically safe?
"Kilgharrah. I got him! Now stop calling for me!", Leon shouted and his words bounced of the walls with snapping sounds.
Arthur's mental questions were cut short by the sound of flapping wings.
And then, finally, Arthur stood before his biggest nightmare.
He had faced this creature before, when it rained death and havoc on his kingdom. And it had haunted Arthur's dreams ever since.
It's nostrils were giant. Big enough that Arthur could stick his whole arm in, if that thought wasn't so disgusting.
It's teeth were half as long as Arthur was tall and it's eyes as big as his own head.
Arthur swallowed. And wondered briefly, how he was still alive.
And finally, the giant creature began to talk.
"Ah? And who do we have here?", he asked in a voice that could only belong to a guy named John.
And Arthur thought that, because the voice sounded disturbingly human. Arthur actually jumped backwards, not really expecting a voice like that to come out of the mouth of a creature that could eat him in one single bite and still be hungry.
"This is the guy who claims to be the prince. I thought maybe you could make him tell us where the boy really is. We couldn't find him anywhere and Uther is going to murder someone, if we don't find him soon." Leon sounded worried. But none of his worry was directed at the giant dragon in front of him who happened to be able to motherfucking TALK!
Arthur seriously needed a moment.
"Not prince, no.", the dragon laughed. "This man rather seems like a king to me. One who is well on his path to fulfill his destiny. Arthur Pendragon, how have you ended up here, in this godforsaken time?"
He sounded amused, the fucker, when he moved his head in order to see Arthur clearly
Arthur gaped and stuttered.
"I ... have no idea?"
Leon, however, seemed irritated. "Wait, you believe his nonsense?"
"Can you not sense it, Leon? The stench of blood magic on him?"
"Blood magic?", Leon asked, treating this like a fairly normal conversation, all things considered.
"Well yes. It is as ancient as the history of dragons itself. You should have encountered it in your travels around the world with one Cornelius Sigan."
"That was ages ago. He drugged me so many times, It's all black and blurr.", Leon countered, sounding quite irritated at being reminded of this apparent history.
"Fair enough." The dragon paused and then explained: "This ancient magic draws power from time itself.
Arthur Pendragon did not merely end up here, he changed places with his younger self.
I believe Cornelius has tried the same thing once, thinking it was the key to eternal life. Had he known how to use it correctly, it might have been.
As it is, it appears this magic was used to weaken Camelot's future.
You must help him switch with his younger self once more."
Leon looked at the dragon like he'd just been denied his vacation. "Why me?"
"Because you're the only one who can, Sir Leon. Both Arthur's have to be in the exact same place at the exact same time during the ritual. You are the only person who will be sure to live long enough, to ensure that future Arthur will be in the exact place that this Arthur will be. Time is of no matter, of course.
But be warned. Only few have the power to perform the ritual. Only the strongest witches and wizards may be able to do it."
Leon sounded even more tired than before.
"And who do I need to ask to perform this magic? It's not like there are many good sorcerers left! Not after Uther's... witch hunt.", Leon complained, but the dragon only laughed.
"Destiny leads the once and future king to the most powerful warlock who ever walked the earth. Do not worry your silly little head, for Emrys is ny, immortal one."
Leon stared at the dragon, like that wasn't all cryptic as fuck.
"He's the once and future king?" He sounded unimpressed. Almost disappointed.
"Indeed.", Kilgharrah said.
Suddenly his claw came impossibly closer, making Arthur stumble back in fright and falling to the ground with an ump sound.
"The druid in the dungeons speaks to me sometimes. I believe he knows the ancient rituals for the performance. Take him with you."
Arthur blinked. "Wouldn't Emrys know them?"
‚Like, you know, him being the most powerful warlock who ever walked the earth and all?'
The dragon blinked his giant eyes at him. It seemed like he wanted to either laugh at Arthur or figure him out.
"Emrys is powerful. But his knowledge is far from ready. I'm not even sure he is ready to perform the ritual just yet. Maybe in time, he'll be able to."
"We don't have time! I need to go back to my kingdom!", Arthur complained. As soon as possible.
Like hell Arthur would miss the opportunity, if it presented itself.
"You don't understand, young Pendragon. In the future, where you're from, Emrys will be able to help you. And he needs to, for this ritual has to take place in the same place, in both times.
But this kind of magic is not easy to control. Whoever did this to you, used dragon magic. The time you ended up in was random. Unexpected. Uncontrolled.
To counter this magic, to control it, you need a dragon lord. Your Emrys of this time is not yet ready. You must find Balinor, instead."
Arthur stared at him. And Leon was growling as well.
Yeah... like it was so easy to find a fucking Dragon lord who was on the run from the fucking law!
At least Arthur had a vague idea where he might be hiding. He met him in the future.
Heck, he never expected he would see Merlin's savior alive again.
"You will need a dragon scale for the ritual as well. Take one of mine."
"Why are you helping us? Why are you helping me?", Arthur finally dared to ask. It was strange, after all. Okay, fine. He was talking to a giant lizard. Everything about this was extremely fucked up.
"My loyalty lies with the last of my kind, young king. Even if some of them... have betrayed me.", the dragon said cryptically. It just so happened that these were the last words Arthur heard him speak as well.
Leon grabbed for the claw of the giant dragon and gently pulled at one of the scales. It came loose with just enough force, even though it was about the size of Leon's hand.
After the deed was done, the giant dragon retreated into the darkness of the cave.
"Is he always like this?", Arthur whispered in Leon's direction.
Leon blinked. "Truthfully? You should feel honored. He usually doesn't give clear instructions."
"You call that clear?"
Leon snorted.
"For Kilgharrah? That was a detailed task description. Get the druid, find Balinor in this time, find Emrys in the future, perform the ritual and get the prince back. Sounds pretty clear to me."
Arthur took a moment to stare at Sir Leon. A man he supposedly knew.
He couldn't remember ever seeing him this old and frustrated. He looked as if would prefer death to life at any moment.
The Leon he knew may be annoyed a lot, but he looked livelier than this, for sure.
Arthur felt tempted to ask him, if he was alright.
But considering the man had allowed Uther to knock Arthur out and put him in the worst dungeons they had, only to have him face his most terrifying, reoccurring nightmare... worse, find his worst, reoccurring nightmare riddling him to death, Arthur passed that opportunity.
"Does my father even know about this?"
"Who?"
It took Arthur a moment to understand the question. "My father. Uther."
Leon blinked, as if it hadn't quite registered to him what all this meant. For it was all some complicated gibberish. Leon shook his head, as reality (what a weird way to refer to all this) dawned on him.
"Oh, right. Yeah, no. If Uther knew I talked to this giant piece of reptile excrement, he'd lose his mind. He's already difficult enough to deal with, so no thanks.
Now come on.
We have a druid to break out of the cells."
Arthur took this in the way he had all other information he had been given tonight. Bravely, with fear for his sanity. And the hope that he would wake up soon.
-----------------------------------------------------
After being freed by Leon with so little complications, Arthur ought to have known that breaking someone out of the dungeons was perhaps the easiest step in their little adventure.
Leon just walked downstairs, told Arthur to wait with the guards and soon he walked out, carrying the old shivering man on his back. Arthur may not know this man, but he did recall him predicting that Arthur wouldn't die in that cell. He had predicted the girl to die. But - and Arthur felt a bit confused as he realized this - the man had never seemed scared that he himself would die in that cell.
In fact, it almost sounded like he knew, he as well would be freed. Druids....
"Let's go.", was all Leon said. And no one was stopping them. No one even tried to.
The guards looked like this was a reoccurring theme. Like Leon did this all the time and it was no reason for concern at all.
None of the knights did anything but nod at Leon in greeting.
None of the guards outside said anything but "safe travels" and that was about it.
A servant went so far as to prepare horses for them and soon they were on their way out of Camelot. All three of them. Even though the druid remained unconscious for some reason.
It wasn't until the castle had long disappeared in the complex tree lines behind them, that Arthur finally dared to speak up and address this problem to the former and remaining head knight of Camelot.
"It can't have been that easy to escape the dungeons?", Arthur asked, his mind swirling with emotions in regards to the safety of his castle, in addition to everything else.
Leon laughed, just a tiny bit amused. Mostly he sounded insane.
"Uther had to give me a free pass on everything, since, you see, I'm kind of immortal. That doesn't mean I don't get hurt, but my curse hurts everyone who tries to.
The guards and knights know this. Uther tried to have me burned at the pyre once. Hurt like a bitch, the flames. The butcher who did it never recovered.
I simply don't die. And I heal very quickly.
The guards remember how he suffered. As do the knights and some of the servants. But Uther forced them to secrecy."
There was a short pause in which Leon's eyes darkened. They spoke of the pain he saw in the guards painful death. The pain he felt in his own body. Leon suffered double for every wound that was inflicted on him and he didn't need to explain further than that.
Finally, Arthur understood.
No one would attack someone, if that meant only hurting yourself. And Leon was a skilled fighter anyhow. Trying to face him was a risk in itself.
Leon's darkened expression was one of being haunted, but it was a threat as well.
The horses snorted, interrupting the awkward silence on their slow and steady path in the direction of the border between Camelot and Essetir. For just a moment Arthur wondered where exactly they were headed. They were supposed to find Balinor, not Emrys, right? Even if the reason for that remained confusing to Arthur.
"How did you end up immortal?", Arthur asked, ignoring the logic of it all, as he couldn't bare staring at the green plants around them anymore. Or listen for traps and hiding bandits.
Shit, Arthur didn't even have a sword! For some reason he had completely forgotten about bringing one. He felt naked, defenseless. Even though being naked clearly didn't make him defenseless, if he recalled this morning correctly.
"Cornelius Sigan.", was Leon's short answer to a question that Arthur had almost forgotten he had asked in the first place.
"What does that mean?", Arthur tried, knowing this was personal territory.
"Cornelius Sigan was the guy who founded Camelot with one of your ancestors. That was forever ago. He kept experimenting with eternal life. He liked to experiment on knights and druids.
He loved necromancy and all that nonsense. I'm one of his failed experiments."
"Failed.", Arthur said quietly.
Leon didn't explain further on that. Instead, he returned Arthur's questioning at him.
"So, have you met this Emrys person in your own time?"
Arthur blinked, a little deterred by the change of topic, but he caught himself. For a moment, he allowed himself to remember the old man who had killed his father.
"I think so. Well... I know who killed my father. If this prophecy is true and that was Emrys, then I guess the man I met gave me a wrong name."
"What did he call himself?"
"Dragoon the great.", Arthur muttered.
For a moment, just for a moment, Leon looked at him as if he thought Arthur was kidding. Then he broke into echoing laughter. So loud and brightly that it certainly couldn't come from the same man who had been so grumpy before.
Visibly shaking, Leon wiped away a tear.
"You've got to be joking. It didn't occur to you until just now that his name is made up? Dude, he called himself Dragoon the great! We just talked to the great dragon. How dense are you?"
Arthur looked away. Face beat red from embarrassment. Leon had never made fun of him like this.
"To be fair. I didn't know dragons could talk. And that was my first time talking to the great dragon, ever!"
Leon shook his head, visibly more amused than before.
"Hey, are we sure the old man is alive?", Arthur said. Trying desperately to divert the subject, and very clearly pointing at the half blind man behind Leon who had yet to wake up.
"He is, don't worry.", Leon said convinced, but made no move to check.
"And why are you so sure?"
"Because the old man is a seer. More specifically, he only sees how people will die."
"What the fuck?", Arthur muttered, but Leon just shrugged.
"Yeah. He lost one eye for that gift. Stupid rookie mistake. Never exchange an organ for gifts. It never pays off.
The point is, he already knows how he will die. He told me that, when I had him tortured."
"You tortured him?" Alarm filled Arthur's mind. Worse, he felt completely dejected by that very idea. He had never allowed torture in his own kingdom. Sitting in those dungeons was punishment enough, if you asked him. He was certain of that now more than ever.
"I call it torture, but actually, I just talk to good old Gary here. I suppose it's the all same to him. You see, the problem of me being immortal and injury reflecting, means, he sees me die countless of times. It's torture enough for him, believe me. "
Arthur nodded, he could see where that came from. But that didn't explain everything. "He told me, he could see that my destiny was already in the past for me. How does that have anything to do with dying?"
Leon pondered about that for a moment, but then he sighed.
"I suppose it means that you've been in mortal danger a couple of times. And someone has saved your life."
Arthur blinked. "O...kay? And how does he know my life is intertwined with Emrys?"
"I guess now we know who saved your life. I guess he saw Emrys in your life.
You see, when Uther caught wind of Emrys being his doom, he abandoned all his searches for the last dragon lord and began searching for Emrys, instead. Gary here, was caught, because he claimed to have found him.
He found him by seeing Emry's perils.
Or rather, by seeing none of them. Because Emrys is never in mortal danger, for he cannot die.
Unlike me, whose death just get's reflected on people, which therefore should be my death, Emrys truly cannot die. Even if stabbed, the wounds would never be a problem for him."
It truly was hard to make sense of any of this. Arthur grabbed his head, where he felt a headache beginning to form.
"So... you're saying he's more immortal than you?"
Leon laughed. " You could say so, yes. Magic is life, Arthur. You can kill living beings. Cursed ones like me regain life, every time we die. But you cannot kill life itself."
Arthur blinked. And tried to combine this knowledge with the old tattering man he had met. The one who scolded him about broken pots and called him a giant toad.
"You make him sound a lot more ethereal than he is.", he muttered.