fic; the oak tree chapter 1: a fire to light
Title The Oak Tree: A fire to light
Author brightedelweiss
Words 2,173
Rating PG so far
Summary This is sort of AU in the future (or the present however you'd like to look at it), but not really, I suppose you could say it's inspired by the tv show but that it won't quite work out in the same sort of way. This is the story of Emrys Grey, who you could aquate with Merlin. Emrys means immortal and undying. Name meanings will be very important in the story.
thanks to thisissirius for the beta.
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
A fire to light
Emrys Grey woke abruptly and in a deep sweat. His sheets had been thrown into a crumpled mess on the floor, along with his shirt and the pillow. The area around him was a disaster; in his sleep he had been a one-man wrecking machine. The books he had been reading, the pad of paper, the pen, were strewn all about.
Not again.
There had been a dream. Emrys massaged his temples. Nothing came. Frustrated, Emrys sat up against the headboard of his bed and sighed. This was the fifth straight night, the fifth night that it had been like this. He shot a look at the clock sitting on his bedside table - it had somehow or another escaped the chaos - and he shook his head once as he caught sight of the time. 3:13. Always the same. For five nights he had woken violently, sweating profusely, and momentarily possessed by certain madness. The first night he had passed it off as a lone nightmare. He had woken paralyzed by fear, screaming soundlessly at something he didn't remember knowing that it had been wrong. Still, he had passed it off.
But then the next night it had been the same, and then the next and now it was the fifth day and he was having trouble closing his eyes without sending tremors of fear through his body.
He was nineteen and had not had a nightmare since a child and even then they had been foolish. His nightmares in childhood were little whispers of terror that had caught onto something solid in the day. That nightmare - these nightmares - were exponentially worse. They were incomprehensible and anything but concrete. Staring into the inky darkness of his room Emrys thought of dream he had once had. There had been a white sheet in front of him. A dot of ink had seeped into the fabric and spread. With a thought Emrys had wiped the sheet clean. The nightmare was like that, except that instead of wiping the sheet clean the ink expanded. No matter how much Emrys thought and clawed away the ink spread. It was uncontrollable. It defied reason and it terrified him.
That hadn't been his dreams of the past few nights, but his terror stemmed from the same place.
Except where Emrys knew about the ink, he couldn't remember any of the dreams. Nothing. They were the same - he knew that - though how Emrys didn't really know. He just knew they were the most alarming dreams he had ever had and that was the worst. That was all that seemed to matter. The only remaining taste of the dream was the feeling of it. Emrys felt translucent. He knew he was freezing too, but couldn't think straight to do anything about it. He felt drained but was too terrified to even begin to go back to sleep. He was exhausted but adrenaline based fear was forcing him awake.
Emrys shut his eyes tightly to see if any fleeting image of the nightmare would return, but nothing came. It was always just out of grasp, sneaking around the corner as he reached out to capture it - just for a second - before releasing it again.
He wanted peace and understanding, and naturally these were the only two sensations he could not have. Emrys sighed, reached out for a bottle of water, unscrewed the cap and took a drink. It was too much. He leaned back against the headboard and knew he was shaking just slightly as he took another drink and then another until the plastic bottle was empty.
He stayed still for minutes, breathing into darkness, eyes flickering open and then closed, all the while still awake. And then some sort of switch was hit. Emrys swung his legs off the bed and was up. After some searching and smelling tests he was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He didn’t bother taming his stark black hair and instead headed for the kitchen. If there was anything that nightmares did - or sleep in general - it was make someone hungry.
The house was completely silent. It was that fact and a few others that made Emrys feel desperately alone. Not that there was anything he could do about it - or anything he really wanted to do. By nature Emrys Grey was a rather solitary creature. It was quite unnatural for someone his age. At nineteen he was perfectly fine eating alone, reading, writing, or going for a walk. Little activities such as pursuing sexual relationships with girls that were far too interested in them to begin with, were beyond him. He had kissed and fooled around with them for sure, but it wasn’t what drove him. In fact, once could say that Emrys was a swinging point, not the pendulum sort, but similar to a compass that didn’t know which way was north. Always changing directions, and always aimlessly looking for a place to head.
The solitude was his fault and then it wasn't. He had been alone since the age of three. There were guardians and trustees, but nothing close to companionship, nothing close to what Emrys really needed. Whether or not it was nature or nurture, the sole Grey heir was more acquainted with the art of being alone than he was anything else.
Making his way through the old house, Emrys' bare feet padded over polished hard wood and then smooth bricks. He was out one door, through another, past an aesthetically pleasing but uncomfortable couch, a tall bookshelf and a glass cabinet and then finally in the kitchen. Methodically he filled a pot with water and placed it on the stove, waiting patiently for the whistle that would break the silence. Emrys flicked on one light, then another, and then the kitchen was alive with both light and sound.
He pushed the dreams out of his mind as he ate and concentrated on thinking about how he'd have to pick up some eggs now that he had used up the last three on slightly burn scrambled eggs. When that failed he wondered when he'd have to re-stash the jar of tea, and when that was a dud he thought about the fact that he had just two years left until he was completely on his own.
There were no required guardians in the house any more, or even someone to actively watch over him, but he was still not the keeper of the Grey Estate. In name, yes, but that never really meant anything. He needed to ask approval for money, and permission to travel distances. His seemingly bottomless trust was currently being utilized as an allowance that he really didn't have a use for. The library in the house had just about every book necessary, and he didn't have a particularly expensive eccentric side to eat up the money he was given. The trustees in his life were active as ever and always ready to offer any monetary advice he might happen to seek. Really, the only issue in Emrys' life was a lack of purpose. He was guardian of his own fate, but that didn't mean much when he knew neither what he wanted his fate to be or what he was supposed to do.
The lack of purpose had never really bothered him that much. Yes, there were moments when the solitude seemed to seep, when companionship - however broken it might have seemed - would have been helpful. But things had been feeling different lately.
At the current moment, Emrys wasn't sure what he wanted change; only that he knew it was necessary.
He finished eating sooner than he thought he would and looked around the kitchen and then into a sitting room for something to do in the wake of food. His eyes caught sight of a massive stack of letters. He winced guiltily at it and sighed. He had been asked - told really, but he liked to think of it as asked - to open and read them a week ago and though he didn't have a desire to read them now, there was nothing better to do.
He took hold of the stack of letters and papers, muttering and rolling his eyes as caught glances at the return addresses for some of them, and then sat down in a large chair to take care of them while he finished off his tea. He took care of the biggest packet first. It was made of thick paper, heavy and sealed with wax. Important, but undoubtedly boring. The seal on the wax was that of a wave crashing against a fort high upon a cliff, his family seal. Which meant one thing: the packet was from his trustee.
Mr. Emrys Grey:
As the trustees of the Grey Estate, we would like to impress upon you the importance of the continuation of your education. We would like to remind you of your importance in the eyes of your ancestors, as you are the sole heir to the estate. Since you are an aspiring student with remarkable scores, we stress that the opportunities before you are numerous and great. We would also like to remind you, that though at nineteen you are free to live alone in the estate, we are still guardians to the wealth you will inherit at twenty-one. Please read the following information carefully and with dueconsideration.
Included is information on several universities that we highly recommend for you. Please -
He stopped there.
“Lovely,” Emrys said with disdain. “Just lovely.”
In glancing over the information packets Emrys noticed many universities that his parents or relatives had attended. They were a select few, but he caught the emphasis the trustees were pressing upon him. ‘Go on in your schooling or we will dispense your money as we please.’ He didn't need the money now, but he'd probably need it later, and though he was quite sure that his trustees couldn't exactly dispense of his money, he caught the warning. The sense of being alone returned and Emrys sighed, lightly tossing the heavy packet onto the coffee table.
He recognized the need to go on in higher education, but he detested being reminded of it, or being threatened on the subject . He knew very well which of his relatives had received firsts where and in what, but he didn’t need constant reminders of it. They were not him.
In truth he had already received letters of acceptance from several of the universities that were being ‘recommended’ to him. He had also decided to take a year off. It was completely normal, everyone did it. At least one of his ancestors had done it, and he was going to do so as well.
Emrys liked learning as much as any scholar, but he’d gotten tired of looking at books and listening to lectures related to philosophy, literature, and history. He was feeling particularly lackluster about continuing them when the practical application for the subjects was missing. They were subjects built for professors who in turn taught others to be professors, nothing less and nothing more. Interesting, but in the grand scheme not particularly affective.
So in his year off, Emrys hoped to travel - to be a wanderer. Perhaps there would be a practical application for all of the history, the literature, philosophy, and economics, all of the stuff.
Then again, perhaps not.
Emrys flicked through the remainder of the letters easily. The majority were trash, useless advertising attempting to scam people or get money that ought not to be given. He’d burn them later when the autumn chill descended. There were a few letters from acquaintances that Emrys’ eyes briefly flicked over. There was nothing more important.
Taking a bite of his toast and a sip of his coffee, Emrys stretched and rubbed his forehead. What now? It was just past 4:30, a time that was much too early, but too late for him to return to bed - especially with the prospects of that horrifying dream and that gut-wrenching sensation.
Emrys fidgeted in the seat. He wanted to get up but didn't know what to do. His lack of purpose felt particularly suffocating. Something needed to change and it needed to change now. Not soon, not next month, but now. Emrys stood up, ran a hand though his hair, pulling slightly at it as he did so.
"Make a decision Emrys." He muttered and then incredibly enough followed through. Emrys smiled, staring off into the distance and took notice of a fire just recently dead into the fire place. He was going to travel. Well, he was going to fix the fire first. He'd poke the embers enough so that wood placed over it would catch, but he would travel.
"Start the fire then the maps." He murmured to himself, feeling more determined now, his inner compass finding some correction to go in. Emrys Grey had been magnetized. An old fire had died and now there was a new one to light.
Chapter 2