Disclaimers: Not mine – BBC's.

A/N: Anyone else think that the BBC's take on the legend might not be viable? What if it doesn't work? What if a Merlin and an Arthur of the same age is not the way to go about it? Some quotation from the film "Excalibur" by John Boorman.

Try and try and try again

It had all been for nothing.

All the waiting, all the suffering, all the planning, all the hiding, all the fear, all the effort, all the friendship, all ...

… for nothing.

Standing tied to the stake, waiting for the executioner to light the pyre, it occurred to Merlin, the sorcerer, that one of the reasons that he failed so miserably was that the son of Uther Pendragon had been too influenced … to infested by his father's hatred towards magic. Had Uther not been Uther or had Arthur not been his father's son, things might have developed differently.

As it was …

… he now stood there. About to be burned at the stake.

It had all gone horribly wrong.

So much for Destiny, so much for prophecies, so much for history. Magic would never be reinstated or help to unite Albion.

The warlock sighed deeply, coughing a bit as the smoke started to rise and find its way into his pulmonary system. He raised his head and locked eyes with the ruler on the balcony. His "friend". The King, who had handed him the death sentence as easily as pie. How wrong had he been. He had presupposed that his friendship with the King would make the royal see reason, realise that if magic could be harboured in this incorruptible, gentle and loyal friend of his, it couldn't be half bad. His reaction to the manservant's emotional confession? GUARDS! Take this man to the dungeons; he is to be burned on the pyre tomorrow. Without trial. The King did not dare wait too long, paranoia ruling in lieu of a sensible and wise king.

The warlock continued to stare at the King and the King met his glance without a shred of regret or remorse. Instead, he saw disgust in the ruler's eyes. Well, a feeling at last. Still looking at his bane, the sorcerer screamed loudly in pain. The flames were licking his feet and his toes were on fire. The scream forced down smoke into his lungs and for normal people that would mean that he lost consciousness. A merciful way to go – much more so than that of being burned alive.

It was time.

With the last of his powers, he sent out a mute spell as he dived deep down into the recesses of his mind and past. Deeper and deeper he sought, evading other paths he could have taken, dodging his own birth. Maintaining his own development.

Till, in the end, he reached a young Uther. This is it, he decided, this might work!

To the King, it seemed that the still figure on the pyre was engulfed in flames; he nodded, satisfied that yet another sorcerer had been thwarted and annihilated.

Whereas in reality, the sorcerer was no longer there. Instead, he stood next to a young, ambitious, dark-haired King of Camelot. He swayed, fighting to regain his bearing. Uther Pendragon looked at him. "The sword, Merlin! You promised me the sword!"

Indeed? His subconsciousness must have started it this way this time. Well, perhaps that was a good idea. The former had certainly not worked. He blinked as his companion yet again wailed about the sword. "And you shall have it," he finally managed. Why not? Perhaps Uther wielding the sword would make for a more effective conqueror? If he helped Uther now, perhaps the King would favour magic more? And then perhaps this would be passed to his later son? Of course, there was the risk that Uther would be blood thirsty. He certainly hadn't been sympathetic in the later version that Merlin had encountered. He would have to make a proviso.

"But to heal – not to hack," the warlock continued.

Of course, Uther never heeded the mage's words and soon the King had another obsession. Ygraine. Nimüe was nowhere to be found. Well … Merlin thought, annoyed and already very tired of this new hope for a King to unite Albion … it will have to be Arthur after all, the prat. I'd better make sure of that, then.

So Uther had Ygraine, and they both had Arthur and the child was given to Merlin. This had been another proviso, one that the mage saw that Uther heeded this time. If the child had stayed with Uther, the same thing would have happened all over again. A father's hatred and bitterness would have been transferred to the child. This way, Merlin could ensure enculturation. I will place him with Sir Ector; he is a kind and just man and he will teach the boy how to love and respect other beings. I will tutor him and make sure he respects magic and see the difference between good and evil magic – like it is with the rest of the world.

And so it was. Uther was killed, Excalibur buried in a stone and one day when Arthur was five years old, Merlin decided it was time to start the tutoring. He met the young, golden haired boy outside Sir Ector's estate, playing with a calico cat, pulling its tail. Merlin's beard had grown, but his hair was still black, though dots of grey had started popping up here and there. He now favoured a gown and was approaching the boy slowly as not to scare him off.

"Who are you?" the boy asked. "I am Merlin," the tall sorcerer answered. The boy's crystal blue orbs blinked back at him; a disconcerting sight as he remembered those same eyes all those years back … or forth, when they looked at him coldly and cynically while he was writhing in pain in hell's flames. Never again!

"What is a Merlin?" the boy asked genially. Merlin sat down next to the five-year-old.

"It is a wise man who tells you that you must not pull a cat's tail. He doesn't like it and it is disrespectful."

The authoritative attitude of the warlock immediately made the boy stop pulling any tails, and Merlin nodded in satisfaction. This was the way to do it. This would work. Arthur would now grow up to respect all living beings of this world. He would never be under the influence of Uther and he would never grow up to be an insufferable, arrogant prat.

He would be Arthur Pendragon – the King who is destined to unite Albion. And Merlin would be his mentor, much older and wiser. It was as it should be. A much better way to do it.

The Once and Future King.

Literally.

THE END

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