I'M BACK! And I bring with me an offering of peace and goodwill (or is it?)- this, the fourth in my Redemption series! To those of you who have already read Nightmares, Reality and Illusions, welcome back!

To those of you who haven't, here's the basics: Morgause made a spell so Merlin had endless Nightmares whenever he slept as revenge for the Morgana poisoning, which ended up in Arthur accidentally finding out about the magic (and being surprisingly okay with it). In Reality, The Witches teamed up with Alvarr and sent an Army of sorcerers marching on Camelot. In order to save the day, Merlin had to reveal his magic in a big way and, after a failed execution, Uther locked him up in a dingy dungeon, with no plans of ever releasing him. In the process, Merlin subconsciously gave Arthur a tattoo with epic protective properties. Illusions showed Morgana's return to Camelot, along with a devious plot to hijack the minds of the entire Kingdom so that they willingly gave her the throne. Arthur, together with Kennard (a Knight who, due to unknown magical powers and a special mind, was unaffected by the spell) set Merlin free, and together with an undercover sorcerer named Michael and his daughter Aveline, they managed to save the day (but at a horrendous price). Uther, haven't experienced by now the pureness of Merlin's magic, agreed somewhat reluctantly to a six-month trial of magic, with Merlin's life and the entire future of magic as the stakes. And now we start my tale of Despair, which takes place three months into said trial. If you want all the details, you should probably go and read the stories in full. If not, then that's okay too. The choice is all yours.

Extra rambles at the end. For now, please enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin (although a growing number of people seem to be rallying behind my plan of travelling back in time to transfer the power to a select group of deserving individuals).

Chapter 1

In the centre of one of Camelot's many vast halls, a young man knelt nervously, a heavy hood concealing his every expression as he stared, wide-eyed, at the figures gathered before him. The four made an imposing sight, draped as they were in intricately woven robes, and with similarly-decorated hoods of their own shrouding all but the vaguest impressions of their features from sight. With the flickering candlelight casting the room in eerie, dancing shadows, and with the almost tangible thrum of power and authority in the air, it was taking every last ounce of his willpower not to simply turn tail and run as fast as humanly possible. In fact, had he not been absolutely certain that none of these beings meant him any harm, he would have done just that, regardless of what he knew was so nearly in his grasp.

One of the figures spoke, his voice ringing through the air in such a manner that it was almost impossible to decipher the actual source of the sound.

"You have been informed of each and every term," he started, "and have been made fully aware of all aspects of this agreement?"

It took a moment for the young man to remember that he needed to reply. He gulped once, swallowing past the dry lump which had formed in his throat. "I have."

"And you are willing to adhere to these terms, knowing what will befall you should you choose to betray them?"

"I am."

At his reply the figures parted, revealing a beautifully carved wooden podium, runes of power he had never even seen before etched in swirling grooves onto its surface.

"Then rise," continued the voice, "and come forward."

He did- climbing to his feet, and wishing absently that the cold stone of the floor hadn't turned his knees quite so numb, until he drew to a halt mere feet from his ultimate goal. Upon the podium, he could now see, rested a single scroll of parchment. Ancient runes and words from various languages traced a golden pattern along its edges, but other than that the parchment appeared almost ominously blank. To the podium's right, a smaller pillar came into view, this one holding naught but a minuscule bowl of ink and a single, pure white quill.

There was barely time to take all of this in, though, before the voice was speaking again, only this time he was close enough to realise that it was emanating from the figure now standing to the immediate right of the podium.

"Do you vow, then, to wield your knowledge of magic wisely, and in a manner which benefits Camelot and all her citizens?"

"I vow to wield my knowledge with all the wisdom I possess, for the aid of Camelot."

"And do you acknowledge the right of the crown to punish you accordingly should you knowingly break this oath?"

"I acknowledge the crown's authority over me."

"Then you have my approval, and with it the approval of the crown."

With these words, the man drew a sharp, two-ended pin from within his robes, and used it to pierce a small hole in the palm of his hand. A single drop of blood welled up, and was allowed to drop into the waiting ink.

A second figure came forward from the left of the podium and promptly mimicked the man's actions. This time, though, the tones belonged to a woman. "The council of magic acknowledges you." She then moved to stand to the reverse of the podium, and a second man took her place.

"The Guild of Perception Magic acknowledges you."

The final figure's voice revealed her to be another woman, this time acting on behalf of the Guild of Nature Magic. Once her own blood had joined that of the others within the ink, she, too, made her way to a point behind the podium, so that the four were now arranged in a loose semicircle around it. Then the first man's hand withdrew once more into the folds of his robes, this time emerging with a small vial of red liquid clutched in his grasp. Uncorking the stopper, he let a single drop of the viscous liquid drop into the ink.

"And, with this, the Guild of Defensive Magic acknowledges you also. If you truly desire to accept this acknowledgement, then step up to the podium and draw back your sleeve."

Swallowing his growing nerves, the young man followed the instructions, tugging back his right sleeve until his entire forearm was exposed. Even knowing what he did about what was going to happen, though, he couldn't quite hold back a slight flinch when the robed man took hold of his proffered arm and pierced it with the other end of the pin. The wound was not deep, but the sight of his own blood never failed to leave him with a slight feeling of queasiness. Nevertheless, he didn't once look away as the pin carried a droplet away and deposited it with the rest.

With that done, the pin was once again concealed, and its wielder took a few slow steps, completing the half-circle and ensuring that the surface of the scroll was out of his line of sight. The the voice came again.

"Hold your right hand above the ink, then take the quill in your left and place its tip against your wound."

Almost as soon as the action was complete, the figures started chanting. Words of ancient power ebbed and flowed, weaving together with such incredible pace that he found himself quite unable to make out more than the odd phrase. And yet the voices continued, never once faltering, blending together in such perfect harmony that it could almost be described as beautiful. And as they spoke the ink glowed dully beneath his hand, its surface rippling and pulsing until it almost seemed as though a living creature was dwelling within it. The waves came faster and faster, building in pace until they matched the rhythm of the spoken words. Then, at the precise moment they reached their frenzied peak, the ink leapt up, trailing along his skin until it reached the point the needle had pierced. A momentary spark engulfed the spot, and then the wound was gone. Less than a heartbeat passed before the ink was moving again. A portion split off and travelled into the waiting quill's nib, while the rest spread out in all directions, sinking into his skin to form a simple yet intricate design.

The tattoo was unique to him, he knew, bound as it was with his own blood and the blood and magic from the guilds he wished to join. He watched it form with undisguised interest. There was the inner triangle of defence, cut through the centre by the vertical eye of perception. And, leading away from where the two joined, the two thorny branches from the Guild of Nature Magic wove themselves proudly into his cells. Amongst them all, of course, formed the central points of power for each guild- the ones which would allow his access to the respective guild houses and the libraries which dwelt within. Then, enclosing it all, a single ring to bind the spell together, imbued with the power and authority of Emrys himself.

As he studied the tattoo in its entirety, the voice spoke again. He may not have been surprised were it not for the fact that not one of the figures had ceased their ever more complex chanting. The voice was speaking in his head- a not unheard of phenomenon among magic users, but the ability of mind-speak was not one with which this particular young man had ever been gifted.

'You can remove the quill now,' spoke the voice. 'Use it to sign your name upon the scroll.'

Still confused, the man nonetheless hastened to switch the quill to his right hand. This was a complex ceremony- better to obey now and ask questions later. Thankful as ever for the uncle who had deemed it necessary to teach him his letters, he guided the quill towards the parchment and carefully etched out each individual letter of his name.

It took only a few seconds more for the spell to finally draw to a close, and as the final words dispersed into the air, so, too, did the ink on both scroll and arm fade out of sight.

There was a moment of heavy silence as the true weight of what had just occurred settled itself in his mind. Free. He was free. For the first time in over five years, he would finally be able to walk the streets without fear of execution. Tears sprung, unbidden, to his eyes at the thought, even as a tremendous grin threatened to split his face cleanly in two. This trial of magic may have only had three months left to it, but he knew in that moment that he would do his utmost to ensure its ultimate success. If only so that he would never have to experience such a feeling of separation again.

Then the voice spoke once more.

"If you so choose, you may remove your hood and speak your name here. If you desire your identity to remain unknown, then you will be escorted from the castle and you will be free to remove it whenever you feel it safe to do so. Anyone who attempts to remove it by force will be punished accordingly, in keeping with the terms of this contract."

"There's no need for that," he answered, still beaming even as he drew back his hood, absently ruffling his unruly mop of dirty blond hair. "There's no chance of me hiding again."

The lead figure removed his own hood in reply, revealing an interesting set of features, pale skin, blue eyes and a grin more open and friendly than the young sorcerer had ever seen. "I'm glad to hear it. Your name, then?"

"Asher." He accepted the outstretched hand, studying the man before him. So this was Emrys. He wasn't as imposing as the prophecies had made him out to be. "My name is Asher."

"Merlin," Emrys replied. "Glad to have you on board, Asher."

It was a little odd, suddenly hearing the voice without the authority and power required for the ceremony. It made Emrys seem more... normal, somehow. A strange notion, but one he suspected he would adjust to easily enough.

"This is Maven," Merlin continued, oblivious to Asher's inner musings as he gestured towards a somewhat firm-looking woman from the now similarly unhooded trio to his right. "She works with me as a member of the council of magic. Peronell- "the other woman- shorter, with more of a plump figure- "is the head of the Guild of Nature Magic, and Franklin-" the man with piercing, ice-blue eyes and an immaculately groomed goatee- "is head of Perception Magic. Don't worry- they look scary, but they don't bite. Much." The Warlock grinned again, seemingly finding amusement in Asher's expression. "Any questions?"

Asher jolted out of his shock- those other three really did paint an imposing picture- and managed to recall his earlier confusion.

"Umm... earlier- you spoke in my mind?"

"Ah." Merlin gave a nod of understanding. "As I thought, you're not used to it."

"No," Asher agreed. "How did you-" He cut himself off.

"Part of the spell," Merlin explained. "All those with a double-ringed tattoo- that's the council and guild heads- will be able to speak directly to you in times of crisis. And, this being Camelot, you never know when those will occur." Here he rolled his eyes, and Asher had an uncomfortable feeling that the gangly man was only half joking. "It only works one way, I'm afraid, but I reckon it'll prove a useful enough addition. Thankfully, we haven't had much use for it outside of the ceremony. Yet."

"Right..." Was this man trying to make him nervous? Then he noticed something he'd been too overwhelmed to realise before. "What about the Defensive Magic guild head?" It was his chosen main guild, after all. He'd been rather looking forward to the meeting.

"Oh, that's right!" Merlin exclaimed. "You weren't told, I expect. Dena had to head out on an urgent matter. You needn't worry, though- she donated some magically-enhanced blood for the spell before she left, so no issues there. She'll probably be back by this evening, so you can meet her then. And, until then, Sir Jaxon will show you around." He gestured towards the reverse of the room, and Asher turned to see two men walking towards him. The shorter one was blond and dressed in a loose, high-quality red shirt, breeches and leather boots. The other was probably about ten years older, his red cloak marking him out as the 'Sir Jaxon' Merlin had referred to.

Asher had heard of Sir Jaxon, of course. One of only three magic-wielding knights of Camelot, he and sirs Cheston and Kennard were hot topics even in the far reaches of Odin's Kingdom, Karmerie. Jaxon's name was especially well known, as he had also taken a position as assistant to one of the guild heads on top of his regular duties. Now it seemed that the head in question was this 'Dena' he had yet to meet.

"A pleasure to meet you, Asher," Jaxon stated in a deep, resounding bass. "As Merlin said, I have been tasked with introducing you to Camelot and to the guild. I hope you're a fast learner, because there's an awful lot to take in, and we don't have much time."

Asher held back a gulp. Here was another intimidating one. Camelot seemed to have a lot of those. "Understood."

"Are we done here yet?" Quipped the blond man, a hint of annoyance in his otherwise quite genial tones. "Not that this isn't all extremely touching, but if you hadn't noticed, Merlin, he have quite a lot to get through today."

Before Asher could even think of reacting, Merlin sent the mystery man a mock glare. "And if you'll recall, Arthur, I'm the one who reminded you of that before we started here." The Warlock sent a jokingly apologetic glance in Asher's direction. "Sorry about Arthur. He's impatient at the best of times. And he always gets a bit annoyed at having to attend these ceremonies." Ignoring Arthur's indignant 'I do not!,' Merlin barrelled on. "But we have to have one of the royal family present, and Uther tends to be busy, so the Prince here has to come instead."

Now the nerves had blown into full-blown panic. No-one had told him about this! Eyes wide with horror at the thought of being seen as rude by the Once and Future King, Asher practically stumbled over himself in his haste to bow from the waist. "Forgive my ignorance, my Lord," he managed to force out, rather proud of the fact that his voice remained firm and stutter-free. "It is an honour to make your acquaintance." He didn't straighten until a poorly-concealed snicker of amusement from Merlin caught his attention. Trying in vain to will the red from his cheeks, he looked around to see if any of the others wore a similar expression to the Warlock.

They didn't.

"Forgive this idiot," the Prince droned, a tiny hint of a smirk hidden at the corners of his lips. "He is somewhat prone to fits of the giggles at the most inappropriate of times. Now-" he turned to face Jaxon- "I believe the two of you have somewhere to be."

The older knight inclined his head in brief acknowledgement of the dismissal. "Thank you, sire." Turning immediately, he set a brisk pace towards the door, and Asher had no choice but to follow. And as he risked a glance back at the Prince, a single, most unexpected thought flashed through his mind.

'He's not as tall as I thought he'd be."

Ja-jannn! And so ends Despair's initial debut. For anyone who is curious about it, I have created a deviantart account (user name VWHTR), and posted the guild symbols there, along with the images of the combined symbols for each of the members of the magic council (plus the names and ages of the new characters they belong to). Also, considering that the rules and stuff behind this whole trial business are so complex, and because, inevitably, a certain number of OCs are required for this story to be believable, I have decided that my pm box (and reviews, of course) will be open to any questions about this little world of mine which you wish to see answered. This applies to anything which won't be a spoiler, so it can be pretty much anything you're interested in. I will do my best to answer all questions to your satisfaction.

Just so you know, these first few chapters will largely be setting the scene, and introducing you to the main changes around Camelot. But have no fear. Things will kick off soon enough. And, hopefully, there will be plenty of angst for you when they do. XD

As always, reviews are more than welcome. Like any writer, I really do crave feedback. And this particular series is my main fanfiction baby, so that's extra true here.

(ps. I know I gave Odin's Kingdom a name. It kind of bugs me that, even on the official map, pretty much none of the kingdoms have names, and Nemeth is nowhere to be found, even though they supposedly have a claim on the lands of Gedref, and the labyrinth is shown perfectly clearly. So I've taken the liberty of naming each Kingdom, along with one or two random locations in each. They're all real old place names, but with absolutely no regard whatsoever to the original geography)

I think that's about it for now, so I'll leave you here. I look forward to hearing from whoever I hear from. ^_^