Merlin's magic (Oneshots) 1

Regent 14

A.N.:// It's absolutely possible that the story will end up being a giant mess of things. Well...
This is me putting glue on all the cracks I noticed on my story concept.
I'm also, apparently, picking up stray plot holes from canon and squishing them into the story. Does it make sense??? Probably not. Is it fun??? To me, yes. To you.... that is for you to decide XD

Anyway, this chapter IS a MESS. Have fun making any sense of it.

POV: Leon: Then
TW: Graphic depictions of Gore.

The world was spinning. Familiar voices fading in and out without providing any comfort.
Leon's senses were registering, but not processing sounds or sights.
It was, as if all the times were one. Stuffed into one moment, bursting at the seams of reality. As if his memories were layers upon layers of moments stacked together. A moving swirl of colours. It was, as if he experienced all his memories at once. As if he had no memories at all.
Leon's head was killing him. It was burning and hurting and blurring it all together.
Leon took a breath, as if that could somehow ease his pain. All he registered was something warm sliding down his throat, making him want to cough.
The movement was too demanding. He didn't have the energy to do anything but twitch.
Had he any sense to process the feeling, the taste, the warmth, he'd have known it was blood. Had he any sense, he'd know that the nerves in his eyes were blinking white with the overstimulation of pain and not light, as he so falsely assumed.
There was a pressure on his head. From outside the head. From within the head. From something much deeper beneath. He didn't know, but he could feel the brain matter oozing from where his head had been split in half.
His back was bend against something rough. Something was sticking hard into his back and made him cringe around it.
More reflexively than consciously, his hands were cramping, as were his toes. Every moment stretched into a million. Every memory repeated itself as many times as he had died. Every death relived like death relived every moment of life.
There was a source of magic attached to Leon's wound.
As always, just as painful as always, without the kindness of unconsciousness. The magic flowed into the wound. It healed it up piece by piece. Brain matter restoring itself, cell by cell. Memory by memory.
Leon's mind was a journey to hell and back.

He was helping his brother build Camelot as a refuge for Bruta's kingdom.
He was watching Cornelius grow sick for no reason, as the legend of Albion build itself in an unknown distance.
It was not understanding why, as Cornelius slowly grew insane. It was thinking they could get through it all, until Cornelius died of poisoning. Cornelius died of poisoning in an empty castle, with no one around to poison him. Only them and the creatures of stone that helped Cornelius build the castle.
It was waking up to an injection in his arm, as his brother was struggling with his last breaths. A promise in his eyes, determination in his last spell in a room full of crystals.
Cornelius' last words were ones that Leon couldn't comprehend. Read from a book he couldn't read.

Leon was back in Camelot under Uther's great great great... or something grandfather, being freed by an axe to his head. Leon never met the man who freed him. Because the man died from the wound in his head.
The next few days Leon learned just how much time he had lost, while he rotted in a dungeon cell he had helped to build. Bruta was no longer king. Bruta was a legend already. Had been for a hundred years. And he never stepped foot in this castle.

Leon never learned the truth of what truly happened. Heard only whispers and tales.

Leon knew the new king of Camelot at the time for only a couple days, before they both lost their heads.

Leon was serving the king's much smarter son, until an assassin got under his radar and killed the king and Leon after. The assassin died of a stab wound, for he had stabbed Leon in the neck.