Two Sides of The Same Coin (Merthur)(Discontinued)

The Wandering Sorceror

Merlin’s POV

Trigger Warnings: Suicidal thoughts

 

On the day of my fourth birthday, I met my first sorcerer. He was a kind man, whose first priority was to take care of children and those unable to fight. I hadn’t known him well, in fact, I had only really talked to me once. He had seen me and my magic, he spoke few words to me, but at the time, it had seemed like so much knowledge.

“You don’t have to be afraid of yourself,” The man had said, “In fact, this beauty inside of you… It should make you love yourself even more,” He was on one knee, just at my eye level. “You are a boy that is much older than his years. Because of who you are, you’ve grown so mature. I- My people can help teach you to harness your power, and how to live like a child again. You should have that right. It belongs to you.” That had been it. The man had left the next day. I had asked Mother if I could join him, and she had said no. Not yet.

But she had promised on his return. I trusted his mother more than anything. And I knew she was right.

When I was four years old, I fell terribly ill. No medicines seemed to help me, and Mother was worried that I was going to die. She spent every moment of every day with me. She would comb my hair, which was growing far too long, and touch my face as if it were her last chance. Sometimes, she would hold my hand. It was often too difficult to hold hers back.

That winter was the most difficult on the little town of Ealdor. There had been little food from the harvest that year, and those too skinny and weak had fallen prey to some sort of bug going around.

I had been skinny, and I had been a child. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t recover as easily as the others.

I had coughed up gunk, and chunks of vomit, among other things. My body had become unable to keep food down. After several months of the illness, I lost movement and my sight got bad. Sometimes, there had been patches when I couldn’t see anything at all.

Mother seemed to truly break down for the first time in front of me during one of these.

“Merlin,” She had cried, “Oh god, Merlin… Where are you looking? Do you even… Can you see me? Merlin, can you hear me? Please- Oh god, Merlin, I’m scared. You can’t die! Listen to your mother for once and stop being so mischievous! You’re not allowed to- You haven’t lived enough yet!”

I had wanted to explain to her that I wasn’t going to die. Death was just a thing that plants and bugs did. Old men died too, but not little boys. Little boys couldn’t die. Could they? I couldn’t tell her that, not if I didn’t fully believe it myself. All I could do was lay there, unseeing and not-scared-just-tired as I waited for Mother to calm down.

I wasn’t sure why I wasn’t sobbing like Mother. Maybe it was the sleepiness that always resided somewhere in the back of my head. I didn’t cry like she did, only the occasional tear fell from my eyes.

And then, one day, as the snow was just starting to melt and the creek was once more flowing freely without a sheet of smooth ice covering the fast-paced water, it got really bad.

I don’t actually remember anything from that time, but Mother told me what had happened.

If she hadn’t been before, Mother was so sure I was going to die that day.

She had brought all my friends over to see me, even if I couldn’t wake up. She had wanted me to feel the warmth of dying with people who I loved and who loved me. I wasn’t supposed to survive the night.