~ chapter two ~

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“Authorities across Wales are still searching for eighty-four year old Carmarthen Resident, Emrys Du Lac. Last seen on Friday at around 8pm, Mr. Du Lac locked the doors to his bookstore, not to open them again since. He was reported missing by a local resident, and regular customer, to the store. In a statement to the press, they stated: “Emrys has been here forever. He’s loved throughout the town, and his shop is a marvelous place to be. With his tales of King Arthur and the knights, and of sorcery and magic, he’s the best story-teller Carmarthen has. But I think he believed them to be true. A bit too much. We all know he was getting on in years, and it’s very concerning to not know where he is, especially as there is no saying what his current state of mental health may be.” With no known family, and reportedly no knowledge of technology such as phones and computers, his customers are becoming increasingly concerned. Anyone with any information regarding the disappearance of Mr. Du Lac should contact their local authorities.

“Now, we go to Dozmary Pool, where lake-goers yesterday were shocked to find the lake entirely frozen, despite being at the end of summer. This comes as another in a series of strange events which have occurred around the UK in the past week. Over to Angel, who’s at the scene.”

Merlin turned off the tv, not in the mood to listen to whatever excuse they created to cover up the truth.

The meteor shower in Cornwall had been a “once in a century event”. The thick mist that had shrouded Chalice Well Gardens for three days had been broken down to “three schoolboys in the area, who admitted to using smoke machines to play a prank on their superstitious teacher in order to get out of an exam”. The flash flooding experienced in London had been just a change in the English weather. The solar eclipse over Amesbury Abbey a “once in a million years freak event.”

Dozmary Pool freezing wasn’t a natural event. None of them were. It was magic – his magic – which had allowed them to happen. Would they say it was a freak cool change that occurred overnight? An
alert to a quickly approaching autumn? He didn’t need to hear it. Not today. Not when, he looked down at his phone screen to get the time. “Shit. I’m going to be late.”

The bus ride to Glastonbury Tor was a solemn one. It always was this time of the year. He didn’t listen to music this morning, choosing instead to stare out the window at the scenery which passed him by. The thoughts in his mind racing, more intensely than they ever had before.

Today was 1500 years. 1500 years exactly since Arthur had entered into fatal battle against Morgana and Mordred at the Valley of Camlaan. 1500 years since he discovered who Merlin really was. 1500 years since his world had fallen apart, well and truly shattered into millions or pieces he would never be able to put back together. And instead of spending it with Arthur, just like he had all those years prior, this year he was going to the tourist trap.

Standing in front of the Tor, he couldn’t deny there was a sense of beauty to the place. As well as a sense of something else. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Merlin thought of all of the tourists in front of him. Today, they were all here for the same person. Even if not for the same
reason. It was one of the things that no one knew the origins of. Perhaps some lost king and his queen truly were buried at the Tor. Perhaps someone had started a rumour hoping for a claim to fame. Whatever it was, Merlin didn’t know. Half of the legends surrounding Arthur and himself, he
knew were just that. Legends spread by wild nights and tales told under the influence, in taverns turned bars, near and far throughout the lands.

But they all thought the legends stories.

No one believed.

And only Merlin knew the truth.

Only Merlin was there with Arthur since the day he stepped into Camelot. Fresh faced and ready to see the world. Going to live with Gaius, right in the centre of Camelot, despite having magic which
hade him an easy target for execution by the likes of Uther.

Only Merlin was there with Arthur when his sister turned to the dark side. He was the only person privy to Arthur’s midnight meltdowns, where he blamed himself and only himself for how things had
turned out. Only Merlin was there to help him get through the night.

Only Merlin was there when Uther died and Arthur became king. Waiting all night for his new king, so he wouldn’t feel alone as he faced the next stage of his life. Standing proud in the crowd as the crown was placed upon Arthur’s head and he turned around, a monarch facing his people.

Only Merlin was there through Arthur and Gwen’s entire relationship. The highs, the lows, the pain Arthur felt when Lancelot came back and Gwen kissed him without thinking. Merlin was the only one
there for him. The only one he allowed in when he needed to be held, heart broken as his love seemed to drop him for another. A night before his wedding.

Only Merlin was there with Arthur through the battles and the prep for the war against Morgana and the Saxons. He was the one who helped Arthur succeed in his fight for a just and united land.

Only Merlin was there with Arthur, 1500 years ago, as he held him by the side of the lake of Avalon. His king dying in his arms as he left unsaid the very words which had hung over them since the moment Merlin saved Arthur for the first time.

Only Merlin knew the truth about Arthur and Albion.

At least he used to think he did, but the changing of times and the people around him eventually made him sway in how sure he was of his past. They didn’t believe. He was the only one. And that was lonelier than when people still had hope.

Just ahead of him stood the wondrous attraction of the day. A simple sword, no gold on the hilt, no druidic runes, no pendragon crest on the Pommel. It wasn’t Excalibur. He knew that. But these
people didn’t. If they knew the truth, they would know it was a stone, rather than an anvil, from which the sword would be drawn by the rightful heir. By Arthur. But they didn’t know. Because no
one listened. This was just a commercial stunt. A way to bring money into the county. That was all.

“Watch where you’re goin’ mate!” said a man as he pushed past Merlin, girlfriend in tow as they posed for the perfect picture. The first of many, Merlin was soon swamped by people pushing into him. Almost crushing him into the ground at some points.

“Watch it, will you?” A man in his thirties and a mop of brown hair.

“Get out of the way!” A woman with a screaming child in her arms.

“Excuse me.” A young adult, holding a scrapbook in the midst of the crowd.

“Let me through.” A bossy child, no more than ten years old.

At the back of the crowd, Merlin’s heart sank. This is what the world he loved had fallen to. Rude children, ruder adults, and all thinking they might be the once and future king. Fighting, Screaming,
crying, all for a fake sword molded specially to fit inside the anvil.

Originally, Merlin had set out from his apartment to join the crowd. To try pull Excalibur from the stone, and then use his magic to succeed. To see the look on everyone’s face as he – by their own
rules – because known as The Once and Future King. But now the initial adrenaline had worn off, and the buzz of the idea had died down, he found himself on the next bus back home. He didn’t want to become Arthur, no. He wanted Arthur to be back. And that called for more drastic measures. Everything he had tried so far, and no sign of movement from the lake itself.

If he wanted to see Arthur again, he had to become the very thing he had always sworn to destroy.

An enemy of Albion.

It was the only way. The only option. He was doing it to get Arthur back. That was all he wanted. He didn’t want the power. He didn’t crave the people’s acknowledgement. He was only doing it so he could get Arthur back. That’s what he needed to believe.

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