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The lake was still, a mirror-like finish, almost like time had frozen between one breath and the next. Pale mist danced in the air before him, distinguishing each breath, dragon's breath, they called it, the irony was not lost on him.
Huddled in a thick black raincoat, a grey beanie and purple black bags under his eyes, he probably looked closer to a hoodlum than anything innocent.
Merlin
Magic
Emrys
None of his names fit anymore.
The last of the druids were gone.
Magic had faded.
Camelot was long gone.
He was so alone.
But still he stayed; as the balance demanded. Immortal, but not in the ways that mattered. It was truly a curse, no matter what the mortals of this generation believed.
And weren't they something; time had changed so much, but still, impossibly maddeningly, everything stayed the same.
He missed his friends.
A crack of a branch echoed out from behind him. He did not move. What use was it? If he was going to die, he would just come back.
Someone slid down the hill a bit more, stumbling beside him.
It was a young child, she was wearing a dark grey thick parka, and a fluro pink beanie, it matched her boots.
“Hi! I’m Ava! Mum says I shouldn't talk to strangers, but she also says that I shouldn’t excloo- exsclu- excloood, exclude! people. And you look e-exluded, I think that's the right word, you look sad anyway…” She quieted, looking up at him, she had icy blue eyes, like a clear sky in the height of winter, “Aren't you supposed to introduce yourself now?”
“Oh, well I had a name, but I don't anymore.”
“Is that what's making you sad? Because I’m good at naming things! Mum let me name our dogs! We have two, one is big and golden, I called him Goldie! The other one is small and has three!” she paused to count out three fingers and show them off, to emphasise her point. “Legs, it's because we rest- rext- rescued! her! Her name is Delia Fidgetson the Third! So I can help you if you want a new one!”
He felt his face soften, a smile pulling at the cracked skin on his lips.
“Thank you for your kind offer, but I don't need a new name, not yet.”
Ava drooped a bit at that, but determinedly straightened her shoulders and pulled off her beanie, playing with it in her lap.
“Why are you sad then Mr No-Name?”
Her hair was a light gold, like thin twisted gold wire, like sun-rays dancing on glass, like the taste of sweet honey, like bitter-sweet memories.
“I am reminiscing.”
“Rem- remincse- reminiscing? What's that? Is it like missing?”
Ava found a loose thread in her beanie and began to tug at it. The woollen fabric flaking and thinning out.
“Its close, I’m remembering,”
“What are you remembering? Is it something you forgot to do? I always forget to clean up my toys…”
“No, I’m remembering my old friends, one of their swords is actually in that lake.”
“Sword? The big whacky things? My brother got one for his birthday, all he does is wack me with it,” Ava’s put-out expression startled a laugh out of him, big whacky things was probably an accurate description of it, after all that was what most of the knights used them for.
He didn't quite know how to continue the conversation and returned to gazing out to the lake, after a few moments Ava became bored and sought to continue.
“Do you know any good stories? My teacher has been getting us to practice telling stories, but all I end up talking about is my dogs, and Sarah said that they were boring!”
Ava asked this so innocently and genuinely and for a moment he could barely breathe, his head awash with memories.
“Have you ever heard the story of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table”
Ava turned to face him and he could practically hear her wrinkled nose.
“Yeah, but knights are boring! My brother is obsessed with them!”
“What do you like then?”
Ava seemed to deeply consider his question before deigning to answer him.
“I like magic and fairies, I don't care that my brother says they doesn't exist!”
Well that was something he could work with.
“Your brother was wrong, magic does exist, you just need to look for it.”
He cupped his hands softly before the both of them, his eyes flashed his signature golden, and as he breathed out golden flecks of pure magic streamed out, coalescing in his hands. And from a beautiful-almost liquid gold delicate butterfly.
A small gasp escaped the young girl beside him and he carefully balanced the butterfly on one of its hands as it woke up, acquainting itself with life. After a few moments it lifted itself up on its wings, the patterns shining and sparkling. After doing a quick dance directly in front of him, as if to thank him for its life, it made its way to Ava. It did a few cursory loops around her, seemingly reviling in her awe and wonder before it settled into her hair, and humming, settled down to sleep.
In a moment the pure-magic-turned-butterfly became a golden butterfly hair clip, one decorated with blessings and protections, the girl had been kind to him, and so the world shall be kind to her.
“That was magic! Real Magic!” Ava seemed to be practically vibrating, as if making a conscious effort not to shake him and demand his secrets.
“Yes it was, but I’m afraid I’m the last person who is able to use magic,”
“Oh,,, does that mean there aren't any fairies?”
He remembered the fairies, the fae, pixies, no matter their name, the creatures of pure magic. Their magic had started to fade, alongside the rest of the world, and it did not help that the humans had foolishly taken and taken and taken from them, their lands, their stories, their children.
“There once was,” he studied Ava closely, her eyes had darkened slightly while they were speaking, grey now, to match the threatening clouds gathering overhead, “and their blood still runs through your veins, the fae of the aithēr to be specific. They were a kind people, far too kind, willing to trust when they should have known better. Recognisable in that they changed to match their domain.”
“You knew them.” It wasn't a question, or an accusation, simply a statement. And so he said nothing in response, gazing once again out onto the lake.
Behind them a voice cried out.
“AVA, ITS TIME TO GO HOME”
He had wondered who Ava belonged to, and by the way Ava pouted it seemed she did not want to leave yet. (He did not want her to leave)
But it was time to go, so he allowed his eyes to flash gold again, ribbons of gold dancing around them, three made another pin to match the butterfly one, only this one a dragon, and the last ribbon drifted around her eyes. Her iris’ became ringed with gold.
“It’s time for you to go home, but now you will be able to recognise the beings of magic you come across.”
Ava looked around her once more, only this time she seemed to trace the leftover sparks where the pure magic had once been. It took a moment before she looked around at him, and he watched her eyes widen, waiting, almost fearfully for her reaction. The druids had always called him emrys after looking at him like that, but he was not emrys anymore.
“Alvar.”
He almost started, it was a new name.
“That’s your name, guardian, see I told you I was good at naming things!”
A beat passed and he forgot to breathe. Guardian, Alvar, Guardian.
Then Ava scrambled to her feet, her mother was still calling for her.
“Goodbye Alvar, thank you!”
Away she ran, not looking back, even as he absently raised his hand in farewell.
Alvar.
It fit.
Alvar stood up, and walked towards the water, and it enveloped him like an old friend.
Alvar, Guardian, Alvar.