A Warlock's Wish Chapter 1: Prologue, a merlin fanfic

A/N: *facepalms* I've left this fandom. I swear I've left this fandom for good. But like a rubber band, I keep snapping back to it. Damn you, Merlin! I'm trying to write for another king and his lionheart!

Anyway, this idea has been stewing in the back of my mind for at least 3 years. I've decided to write it so it will stop bothering me. Warning, as usual: it might not go past this chapter.

ANYONE IS FREE TO ADOPT THE IDEA (please, please do). This will be loosely based on The Magisterium Series by Holly Black and Cassandra Clare. I really like the 'unexpectedly powerful apprentice cliché'.

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Summary: In the midst of capturing a magical creature, Merlin is transported to a world where Camelot is home to thousands of magic-users. King Uther is nowhere to be found, Arthur is a prince again, and Queen Ygraine sits on the throne.

Merlin plans to get back to his own reality, to his own Camelot. To do that, however, he must have access to information that is inside a shielded castle protected by powerful sorcerers. The only way in is to participate in the Apprentice Exam and be an apprentice to a magic-user included in Camelot's court. Should be easy . . . right?

Conspiracies are afoot and Merlin just knows that, somehow, he is or will be involved. Just his luck.

ARC 1 CONCLUDED!

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THINGS TO NOTE

- This story occurs after season 4 but before season 5.

- Lancelot lives! Some other loyal knight of Camelot that will remain nameless sacrifices himself to the veil.

- Arthur does not propose to Gwen nor do they get married. Seeing Lancelot still lives, Gwen's heart is torn between them. Arthur and Lancelot realize this and back off for a while to let Gwen figure her feelings out.

- I promise you I revived Lancelot for a purpose and not just because I want him to live. I swear to you it's an important plot point!

- Although this is tagged as Merlin/Arthur, the romance is secondary and may just remain preslash. Plot, friendship and magic come first, I'm afraid!

- Most, if not all, characters in the story are part of LGBTQA+. If these types of characters aren't your thing, click the back button now and save us both the heartbreak.

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Prologue

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Loksni rearranges the vials on the booth, making sure they are aligned with one another. His sister will tease him about being nitpicky has she come with. As it is, Loksni can only hear her voice in his head. Loksni would argue that, being a potion-maker, precision is everything. Lest the customers grow hair in the strangest of places.

The cauldron on the corner of the table bubbles and pops, the mixture inside turning a liquid gold. Loksni turns and attends to it. A second more and it will be overcooked, thus, be rendered useless. Drýcræftéaca has always been a popular potion at this time of the year, what with the Apprentice Exam just a few days away. Nervous and arrogant young sorcerers and mages will drink it in the hopes increasing their chances of success. Of course, the exam's officials always catch them and so, they get disqualified instead. The youth never learns. But business is business, Loksni supposes. If they are stupid enough to try and cheat the most prestigious event of the year, then he shall not hesitate to take advantage of them.

A shadow befalls the cloth-covered table of his stall. Loksni hurriedly mutters, "Ácwincan" to extinguish the fires in the stove. He'll put the drýcræftéaca in bottles later. For now, he has a customer.

He lifts his gaze and meets the frightened eyes of a dark-haired young man. Loksni frantically glances around for any kind of threat. After a moment of fright himself, he has found nothing but his potions and the glare of Brina two stalls to the left. (That confusing woman. He does not know what he has done to earn her continuous ire.)

He turns back to the pale young man. "Good morning, young sir," Loksni greets like a good merchant, a hint of wariness coloring his tone. After all, the young man is still looking at him as if he has done a terrible deed. "Is – Is there anything I can help you with?"

The young man, a servant going by his tattered clothes, opens and closes his mouth like a landed fish.

Loksni patiently waits, an idea niggling at him. Perhaps . . . the young man is a bit . . . touch in the head. Not that Loksni is judging. All sorts come to his store. In fact, he has a few mixtures that can remedy such afflictions, although not completely and certainly not permanently. Performing magic that involves the mind, no matter how well-intentioned, usually does not end well.

Finally, words come out from the servant. "Y-You used – You just used magic!" He exclaims. Then, he slaps a hand over his mouth, paling and trembling slightly. His eyes dart around the area so fast, Loksni fears they might pop out.

" . . . Yes?" Loksni is utterly bewildered. Maybe he is the first mage the young man has ever encountered? Thinking about it, the servant is probably new to the city, seeing as Loksni does not recognize him. "I am a mage, sir."

"Shh!" Loksni tries not to feel offended about being shushed. "You . . ." The young man lowers his voice. "You can't say or do things like that. This is Camelot."

Loksni blinks, confusion only growing. His assumption of mental-affliction is sounding more feasible by the minute. "And what is wrong with doing magic in Camelot?"

The young man squawks, hands flailing. It is a comical sight and Loksni fights off a smile. "What's wrong with – It's –" His blue eyes catch something and he halts mid-sentence. He turns his head, gaping.

Loksni follows his gaze. Young boys are playing enthusiastically with a dirty red ball. One waves his right arm in a sharp arc and the ball flies high above their heads. The other holds out a palm, steadying the toy in the air. Behind them, a few feet away, a young girl is weaving colors in the air; it is after all easier to remove the painting mistakes without a canvas. Two young men, both probably planning to take the exam, are whirling their hands to steal globs of water from the water well and mold them in the air. Both form perfect spheres. Loksni is impressed. No one young would have such mastery over the element of water.

The young man sucks in a sharp breath and Loksni's attention turns to him once more.

"What . . . What's happening?" The young man looks terribly puzzled and no little bit scared. "No one's getting arrested. They're all doing magic . . ."

"Getting arrested?" Despite himself, Loksni's voice rises in incredulity. "For doing magic?"

Anger sparks in his chest. There are always people who will be prejudiced against magic-users, he knows. There will always be an underlying fear of being taken advantage of by sorcerers and mages. But that can happen in any field with any kind of craft besides magic. Even so, there are some who is biased against the magical arts just because they themselves cannot hope to have the ability.

Loksni hopes he never gets to meet one of those people. Too late for that, it seems.

"If you are hoping to find a place such as that, good sir," Loksni could not help but spit out. "Then, Camelot should be the last place in your list. It has been the center and home of thousands of magic-users for many years and it shall be so for many more. Now, if you're just here to give insult, then I suggest going to another stall for your potions." Loksni starts to turn his back to him, barely containing his temper. The nerve! "Good day now!"

"No, no, wait, please," the servant pleads so earnestly that Loksni could not help but pause. "I didn't mean to offend. It's just –" The young man rubs the back of his neck, eyes lowered. "Back in my hometown, magic . . . is a bit of a taboo."

Loksni's brows shoot up. "It's forbidden?" The servant must have come from a truly far away kingdom. No kingdom with an association to Camelot has ever had any kind of law against harmless magic.

"Yes." The young man winces.

Loksni's anger diminishes. Such a poor lifestyle this servant has led, one without magic in the midst. He could barely imagine it.

The man looks contemplative for a few moments.

"I – I know this might sound like a strange question but . . . what year is it?"

Loksni blinks. Perhaps not mentally-afflicted but merely losing memories. He has a potion for that too. "It is the twenty-fifth year of Queen Ygraine's reign," he replies slowly.

The young man blanches even more. Loksni, for one moment, thinks he is going to pass out. But the moment passes and the young man stutters out, "Queen Y-Ygraine?"

Then, the young surges forward, palms slapping the table. Some of the vials rattle and Loksni's display turns into a bit of a disarray. He casts an irritated glance at the cause.

"What about A—King Arthur? Blond-hair, blue eyes, bit of a prat –"

"Yes, yes, I know what Prince Arthur looks like," Loksni cuts off, rearranging the bottles once more. "And it's Prince, not King. I should hope the queen lives decades more before her heir takes the throne."

The young man gapes unbecomingly. Loksni sighs. "Is there anything more? I'm afraid I have a store to run, sir," he says just a shy disrespectful.

"Ah, yes. T-Thank you." The young man bows, smiling a strained smile.

Then, he goes on his way, stumbling like a newborn foal and looking around in awe and fear. Loksni shakes his head.

He should have given the young man a free dose of hygesorh. It is the least he could do for the community.

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A/N: Hope the potions names are self-explanatory. You can PM me for any clarifications ^_^

Have a stress-free day!

~ Vividpast