The clockroom

Prologue: The once and future king

AN.:// EDITED !!!

I've decided to give this another try.

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"Did I do something good?", he asked.

Daegal was the name he was going with. HAD been going with for the past couple of days, where he had let himself be manipulated by a powerful witch. He couldn't even say why he went with her in the first place. Why had he trusted her? It didn't matter anymore.

He was dying.

The warlock was staring at him and the druid, who in all honesty had never been a druid at all, was sure he saw empathy there. The black haired man was paralyzed in his pity.

Daegal hated to be pitied, even in death. But perhaps, deep down, he felt that he deserved it.
These were his last words. He had chosen them recklessly, but he would carry them with him way past his own death. It seemed that he never managed to trust the right people. It seemed that he always betrayed the people he loved.

And even now he knew that it hadn't been himself who saved the King's life, but it was the man before him.

The warlock did not correct him.

There was an averted assassination attempt on king Arthur and the knowledge that there was a powerful sorcerer out there protecting the king. That was all the fake druid learned.

"You did.", the servant whispered with tears in his eyes.

"Finally.", the young man might have smiled, if he could. But his heart had stopped before the thought formed in his head. But the word wasn't meant for the warlock. It was meant for the vision that exploded in front of his eyes. He had craved it ever since he first stepped into this world.

The world returned grew dark and black as the false druid woke up and opened his eyes. There was a relief that had come with his death. It felt like falling asleep.

The clock in his hand didn't stop ticking. But there weren't many years left contained in it before it would grey and still. It was unnerving, in a way. To know the man whom this clock belonged to would die so young. Even more unnerving was that he had a vague idea who this man was.

This, this crown shaped thing was the only clock that had reacted to his touch. Only one. The irritating ticking however sounded just like it had when he had entered.

Everything that happened felt like a dream. And maybe that's what it had been.
After all – he had always been wary of magic. This room – this room had made him see that it was evil. Evil in the witch Morgana he had seen. But debatable in the form of a servant who seemed way too powerful to be trusted with it.
That servant. His name was Merlin. He too had magic. And a good heart apparently. No matter how mad he had been at the druid. No matter how strong his magic was. This Merlin had been loyal. Powerful, scary perhaps – but loyal and honorable.

Maybe this room just showed you something you wanted to see. Or something that benefited magic. It made sense. Magic wanted you to protect magic. Wanted you to let it take control.

Merlin had done everything to save this Arthur person. Whoever this Arthur was.
Why, pray tell, did this king deserve to be saved? The question alone made him grit his teeth. That land was not something a king should be proud of.

The land he reigned upon may be at peace – it may be united. But the false druid had never – in his youth – seen such damaged land.
The results of years of war, years of fear and destruction. Longer and older than the king himself. Murder and hunger. The land seemed to be healing – yes – but that's all it was. Healing.