Merlyn's Last Dream

The Sorcerer's Shadow P3

Since Merlyn had watched Gilli's last match, she'd harboured an inkling as to what could have possibly made him change his mind over competing in the tournament. After their conversation in the armoury, she'd been so sure that the sorcerer would choose his life over glory; the only thing that she could think of which could have swayed his conviction was his first taste of sweet celebrity, the knowledge that people saw him not just as a bumbling fool, but a hero. Once again, she found herself understanding Gilli more than she ever thought she would. Yes, she got a little recognition for her fights and brawls, but her magic, the power that was such a big part of her... she often resented having to hide it. Likewise, the skinny sorcerer seemed to be struggling with the same dislike of the shadows. Sometimes, it was nice to step into the sun.

She spyed Gilli sitting on one of the many tables in The Rising Sun, a small crowd gathered around him as he described his battles, his eyes gleaming with pride. As he looked around the room, gesturing wildly with his arms, his gaze caught hers, his jovial excitement quickly leaving him, replaced with something more similar to surprise or fear.

Motioning her head towards the stairs, she watched Gilli make his excuses, slipping towards his room, not bothering to see if she followed. He didn't seem particularly happy to see her, but then, she didn't really want to spend her time chasing after his own foolishness. Still, it beat cleaning out Gaius' leech tank.

"What's this about." Gilli groaned, not even bothering to turn and face her. Merlyn could feel something resembling anger rising in her throat, but she suppressed it, knowing that shouting at the sorcerer would do little good.

"Your opponent." she answered, feeling reasonably tactful. "I thought you might like to know how he is?"

Gilli turned to her then, his face a picture of shameful concern. "Is he alright?"

"Gaius thinks he'll pull through but he might not have been so lucky." Merlyn sighed, sounding a little more furious than she'd intended. Still, by the way Gilli's expression morphed to self-righteousness, she was glad of the harshness in her tone.

"It could've been me who got injured." the sorcerer gave a half-shrug, as if his actions were completely justified. He didn't seem to understand that, even if he was right, he was abusing his magic. This was not the way to get the honour he so desperately sought. This was not the answer.

"I thought you weren't going to fight." Merlyn snapped, hating the way Gilli rolled his eyes. He wasn't untouchable, no matter the crowds that flocked him.

The sorcerer stood his ground, high on congratulatory power. "You've seen the way people are now. They're showing me respect. And you don't know what that's like for me."

"I do."

"No." Gilli spat, shaking his head slowly. "No, no one does."

Merlyn knew this was her last chance. She'd ruined it for Morgana, for the woman she had known for so much longer than Gilli. She had spent nights watching the ward create sparks with her hands, light candles without so much as a murmur, decorate her room with coloured light. She had seen more beauty in magic in those few evenings than she had in a long time: sometimes, when surrounded by so much hatred, it was easy to forget the dragons made from burning embers, the horses swaying in the smoke. She'd been so selfish, feeding off the fact that she was no longer alone, knowing that Morgana was like her, without giving much back in return. It was understandable that the ward had turned to the darkness, for even in the most terrifying of evils, there is always light. And here was Gilli, a child struggling with the same problems that she had faced, that Morgana had tried to confront all those years ago. They may be the same age, but Gilli had no one, nothing but the screams of his fans as he fought and lived and killed how many more? How long until Gilli could be recognised for his talents, not in killing, but in the beauty of his magic? What would he become before that time arrived? He had no destiny to focus him, no reason to turn away from the so very tempting hunger for hate or power or death. Perhaps he would become like Morgana, a minion of Morgause, or maybe he would fade away, only to be heard from in the whispers of his destruction. Either way, Merlyn had one chance to save the lost boy in front of her; this time, she wouldn't be so cowardly.