Merlin Headcanons

Shards of Courage

A/N: Arthur and Alternate Realities 'verse. First section set early enough that he's still fairly cheerful about the whole thing but late enough that he's started to get genre savvy.

Twenty-fifth life. Camelot.

It would be nice, Arthur thought, to be able to walk into a cave that was just a cave. No monsters, no magic crystals, no interesting inhabitants, no long lost treasures. Just a cave.

Failing that, it would have been nice to have an exit out of this one. One that wasn't blocked by a large pile of recently fallen rocks, that was.

If Merlin were here, it wouldn't be a problem. In most realities, he would be able to just wave a hand and get rid of the rocks or teleport them out. Even in the realities where he fulfilled a more seer like function, he could have at least provided Arthur with a little moral support by pointing out that they could hardly die trapped in a cave if Arthur was supposed to die at Camlann.

Or at least, Arthur didn't think this was Camlann. He'd been unable to locate the place in this reality, and he couldn't read the words engraved on the wall since they were in some sort of foreign language. For all he knew this was Camlann.

He really wished Merlin was here.

But Merlin wasn't here. Not as an old man, not as a peer, not as a frighteningly powerful child. Arthur hadn't caught a single glimpse of him this time around, and he was getting worried. He hadn't seen any magic either, and he'd realized that Merlin without magic didn't quite make sense somehow. If this was a world without magic, it was probably a world without Merlin.

A world without Merlin bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Merlin was the closest thing he had to a constant in this insane stream of existence. He didn't see this life ending well.

He could, unfortunately, see this life ending, quite possibly sooner rather than later.

When in doubt, move. Sitting there whining wouldn't fix anything.

He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the stab of pain that came when he accidentally put too much weight on his left ankle.

Naturally, if he was trapped alone in creepy cave, he had to be injured. Because what fun would it be otherwise?

He was complaining again. Where was his sense of adventure?

Probably buried three lives ago in that maze that had killed half his knights.

Keep going. He had to keep going. At least there was light. There were some holes in the rocks, just not big ones.

He had initially thought it was a treasure hoard of some sort. Further exploration determined that while there was certainly plenty of treasure, this was also a tomb.

The back of his brain was busy drawing comparisons to the Cornelius Sigan incidents - some variation had happened on four worlds so far - and he really didn't need that right now, thank you very much.

There were plenty of other tombs this could be. An ancient king's, a successful robber's, a priestess's, Merlin's -

Yeah, that last thought wasn't any better. In fact, he'd prefer Sigan. It had been a while since he'd punched the man.

The coffin was decorated but not in a way that made it obvious who was inside. Maybe the runes said something, but he couldn't read them.

On top of it, in a place of honor, was a lamp. At least, he presumed that was what it was. It was foreign looking and ornate and not at all practical. A remnant of wealthier times.