Art & Fic
(This was me arguing with myself.)
Oh, let’s make his eyes gold!
This screenshot is from Parked, though!
He wore similar clothes as modern Merlin.
Then he should be old, shouldn’t he?
But, when Arthur returns…
You want them to have sexy times?
… Yes.
So you’ll change canon for that?
No, I can make canon work.
How? Wait, let me guess… Magic?
How about I write a fic?
I don’t think you have time for that.
Shhh… It’ll be a short one…
(So I basically wrote a fic to excuse the golden eyes. As well, I thought it might be something I could to share on LJ.)
REFLECTING ON DESTINY
It was just before dawn when Merlin decided to make his daily trek through the city, so that he may look out at the Lake of Avalon. There was a time when he would gaze with hope across the water, wondering when Arthur would return. Now, he felt more like he had when visiting his friends’ graves. The tower on the hill was no more than a crumbling tombstone.
Merlin was about to cross another quiet street when, unbidden, his magic flared within him. The unique surge of heat in his eyes still felt familiar, though it had been nearly half a century since he last cast a spell. He’d grown tired of being someone that society believed impossible, and he began even to question his own existence. Resolute, he had decided to forgo using his powers, for what use was a warlock to a world like this?
After sensing what sort of spell was seemingly subconsciously taking effect, he looked quickly to the building on his left. His lips parted with a gasp. Upon the tall panes of glass, gazing back with golden eyes, was his reflection… but it was a reflection from long, long ago. Gone were his wrinkles and silver beard. His newly coal-black hair was stark against his suddenly smooth and pale skin.
Merlin hadn’t looked this young since… since the years that followed the Battle of Camlann. During that time, he had come to fully realize his immortality and what it entailed. It wasn’t just that he couldn’t die. He couldn’t grow old, either. It was as if he had stopped aging the moment Camelot lost their King.
Others had started to notice how Merlin wasn’t maturing like most men around his age, and he was horrified to imagine how he would look among his surviving friends in the future. After pleading to Gaius for help, they succeeded in formulating a concoction that would allow his physical body to naturally progress like a mortal’s. It was, of course, just an illusion…
There was nothing Merlin could do when, one by one, his friends were torn away like fragile petals from the enduring stem of his being. Oh, how he longed to join them in those unseen gales…
Merlin would often think about what Arthur had said to him on that tragic day. “I don’t want you to change… I want you to always be you”. Perhaps Arthur had possessed some magic of his own. Perhaps this eternal youth was some sort of curse, to punish him for breaking his sworn promise to Arthur, “I will protect you or die by your side”. Death, the only thing that might relieve Merlin of his guilt, was denied to him for failing his destiny.
Destiny… When he had last spoke with Kilgharrah, the Great Dragon had said that Arthur’s destiny, as the Once and Future King, was to rise again. Merlin wished with all his heart for this but he believed, maybe, that Arthur had failed his destiny as well. It had been well over a thousand years…
Through these forlorn thoughts, another distant memory passed unto Merlin’s mind as he observed himself. He remembered how, in the moment just before drinking his progressive aging potion, he had modified it with a spell. It had rendered it impossible to revert the physical effects with another spell or potion.
So he had grown old, and then remained, for all this time, looking as worn and withered as he felt within. Merlin would not be allowed to reveal his true, ageless self. Not until… Not until Arthur was in the world to witness it.
Merlin ran the rest of the way to the Lake of Avalon.
END
(Thanks for reading! I don’t really write a lot, so any thoughts would be lovely!)
ON TUMBLR