Amber: In The Beginning

[markedcard]

He'd wanted this.

Since that conversation on the bluff overlooking the Abyss, and the Courts beyond, he'd wanted -- desired -- burned for this, even if it hadn't been a conscious thought at the time. And the liege lord of Amber had given him permission to try.

Merlin took a deep breath, and then another, fighting down a case of nerves. This was what he needed to do, to conquer, silencing wagging tongues in regards to his parentage once and for all. Honestly, he wasn't afraid. After all, the Logrus had been navigated and triumphed over, even if he had few sane memories of the weeks directly afterward.

And there were eyes on him, at least one person standing near the doorway. Possibly two. Which made things easier, really, because he wasn't about to bungle this attempt in front of an audience. Even if the Chaosian side of him did not want him to step foot on that thing.

One more breathe, and the lordling moved forward before he could think better of it again, placing his first step onto the Pattern. The raw Power shooting up through the soles of his feet, never mind the bloody boots, was enough to make his teeth grind together. Half a dozen steps managed, then a baker's dozen, and he found himself fighting to get past what felt like a wall of pure electricity wrapped in a blanket of steel.

Time stood still, or perhaps even faded away altogether, and Merlin wasn't sure how long it took him to struggle through what had to be the First Veil. He knew better than to stop moving completely, or try to step off, for that only led to death, and that was a state of being he'd every intention of avoiding. Forever, if possible.

Finally, finally, the young halfbreed felt himself break past the barrier, which made him feel like dancing a jig. Memory suggested caution, much to his own chagrin, for there were still two more Veils to endure, and he was moving toward them no matter how slow his step.

The lights behind him, and in front of, combined with the sparks resulting from each movement of his boots, effectively blinding Merlin to everything else but his current location. He could no longer see the exit, or hear anything but the roaring of his own blood, dual bloodlines screaming for supremacy. Which, y'know, hurt like the dickens. But he kept going anyway, one foot in front of the other and ignored the pain radiating throughout his frame, until a sudden lack of resistance almost made him tumble off the Pattern and to his Doom.

Whoops! Merlin righted himself just in time, taking a few quick steps forward and around the Grand Curve before something slammed into him with all the finesse of a locamotive (or so he'd understood from his father's tales), and tried to re-write his innards. Really, it felt like a giant hand was trying to turn his body inside out sans any sort of numbing salve, which really did break things down to extremely simple concepts.

Just. Keep. Moving.

And so he did, even reduced to crawling once he'd slowly battered his way through the Final Veil some time later, flesh tingling in a way that was the polar opposite of 'good', until he dragged himself into the center of the Pattern and lie there like a broken survivor. Merlin's head was pounding, his body felt like it had been trampled by an entire herd of zhine, and his throat... well, that felt like it had been living in the desert for a few decades.

It was Merlin's last sane thought for the near future, this demand for a glass of water and maybe some soup. In a shower of rainbows, the young Chaosian princeling found himself in Amber's kitchen, with a host of underlings, and a massive bear of a man gaping open mouthed at his unusual arrival.

"Glass of water, please?" He croaked.

Comments

[underwater-owl.livejournal.com]

"That can be managed."

Random moves with alacrity, because Merlin rather looks like he needs it, to say the least. He pulls up a chair, in case the young (seeming) man needs something to collapse into, and goes for a glass.

"Push off, the rest of you. Nothing to stare at."

[markedcard.livejournal.com]

Collapsing would be about the right description for it, as Merlin folds right onto the chair like ... well, a folding chair. He looks like he's gone a round or two with Benedict, and feels much worse.

However, there is a verysatisifed smirk on his face, and looks extremely like his sire in that moment.

"Ought to shut them all up now. Bastard or not."

[underwater-owl.livejournal.com]

"I remember that feeling."

He remembers that smile, too. His motivations might not be entirely selfless when he reaches for the top cabinet. The one where he knows they keep the good scotch.

"You could probably use something a little stronger."

[markedcard.livejournal.com]

"I probably could."

He inclines his head, watching Random. There are questions undoubtedly swirling behind that casual gaze, but Merlin voices none of them. Its far easier to sit where he is and just absorb the sights and sounds of this marvelous kitchen.

Then, "Thank you, uncle." Its probably not clear what he's thanking him for.

[underwater-owl.livejournal.com]

"You're lucky I wasn't Julian, you know. The twitchy fucker would probably have planted a knife in you in surprise, then asked questions later."

He pours two glasses, concentrating on them, manner cheerful and unconcerned and not revealing too much of anything, but that might just be habit.

"We don't usually get surprise entrances in the kitchen, of all places."

[markedcard.livejournal.com]

"Da--Corwin said something along those lines." And a great deal more, but suffice to say it's readily apart that Merlin has been briefed on the antagonism between his father and Prince Julian.

It really is the little things in life. Games played around a table, even if he isn't aware of all the rules. His homeland is much the same and the thought is almost comforting.

"I was thirsty." Rather a literal explanation, and the young man is smiling. Another glance around tells him that most of the staff are overly listening in while attending to their duties.

"Your Ma--," Too formal. "Rand--". Not formal enough. "Uncle." There. No one can argue with that title, at least not without a damn good reason.

"I mean to leave here soon, in the next fortnight or two. Dad," it's slightly easier to say this time,"told me about a place he used to live called Earth." He has plans.

[underwater-owl.livejournal.com]

And in any case, Random has never been a stickler for formality. As should be evidenced by the fact that he's now leaning against a table, savouring his scotch and listening with interest. Not to mention that he makes ventures down to visit the kitchens to begin with.

"You are welcome as long as you need. I'll get someone to set up a room. Want me to mention your presents to your aunts and uncles? Or shall it simply slip my mind? I'm a very, very busy person, you know."

Mmm, that's a nice scotch.

[markedcard.livejournal.com]

That casual air is something his nephew appreciates. Even if it isn't meant, or especially if it is, Merlin likes being on the receiving end. Instead of a roomy cell similar to the ones he passed earlier on the way to prove his illegitimacy.

"I would like that very much." Room aside, the matter of his relatives is a more serious topic and one that deserves more of Merlin's attention. "It's probably too late to keep my existence a secret." He pauses to down a mouthful of the scotch and smile in appreciation of it.

"In any case, I've no plans to hide from them." Unless people start suggesting hunts.

[underwater-owl.livejournal.com]

"Brilliant."

He takes a sip of his drink and makes a mental note. He wants people to know that family is welcome here. Amberites have a bad and bloody history between each other, which is something he would very much like to see changed in the future.

"Now how about you tell me your story?"

[markedcard.livejournal.com]

It's hard to find a starting point. Merlin sits back and thinks for some time, occasionally sipping from his glass, and waits for the mass chaos that has been his life to accord itself a small measure of order. And he's not unaware of the irony.

"My mother met and seduced my father on the banks of a river." Neither side has disputed this, so it has the quiet assurance of truth. "I was the intended product, or, at least, a male offspring."

Here's the part where it gets fun. "There were plans in place long before I, or my mother, was born, to break the foundations of this ... abomination," Merlin's tone implies he does not agree with them,"and install a child of both royal lines on Amber's throne."

That would be him. He's watching Random carefully now, and draining what's left in his glass.

[underwater-owl.livejournal.com]

"Bad luck, chum."

His face doesn't really betray much, but he isn't reaching for sharp pointy things and he obviously hasn't poisoned Merlin's drink or anything. Nor is he planning to.

Unless Merlin tries anything, of course. Then he's just fair game.

"Go ahead, this is very interesting."

[markedcard.livejournal.com]

"Much to my everlasting delight." He grins, setting down his empty glass on the table. This is going better than he cautiously hoped, which means he's still alive and breathing.

Merlin is quite sure of himself and his own abilities. He's also quite sure that he knows very little about his father's family, aside from the tidbits he's been given here and there.

"I'm different enough from the other members of my family to have warranted being left alone a great deal of my childhood. Of course, there were tutors and festivities in the other Houses, and I grew up at the son of a Great Lord..." You can almost hear the capitalization in his tone.

"When it came down to it, I fought for my King against our enemy." Because he does harbor loyalties to the society that raised him.

"And then I met my father, and we talked." Which clearly tipped the balance in Amber's favor.

[underwater-owl.livejournal.com]

"He told you about us. Showed you some trumps. Talked about Earth. Explained about the Pattern. Corwin's a good man, Son of Amber."

Random has to take a moment to divorce his regret over Martin from the situation. You cannot listen and understand fully if you are projecting yourself onto the situation. He covers the pause with a sip of scotch.

[markedcard.livejournal.com]

"He did. I was gifted with the last several years of his life. Or his recollection of it." There is a small, sly grin, as of Merlin is acknowledging the bias of an autobiography ...even if it was given verbally.

"Merlin, House of Sawall, Lord of Chaos. Son of Corwin. At your service, Uncle." Despite the casual atmosphere, that was the closest he'll get to a formal introduction outside of the throne room.

[underwater-owl.livejournal.com]

"I hope you'll stay with us for a while, Merlin. Now, do you need something to eat? What you've just done, if I'm not mistaken, is never easy, even on the best of us."

Perhaps especially. Magic can be perverse like that.

"And I'll answer any questions you want to ask with as close to neutrality as I can pull. Which is a lot more than back when I had to seriously worry about offending people, let me tell you. Job perk."

[markedcard.livejournal.com]

"It would be an honor, I think, and an adventure. Maybe a mixing of both." He sits back in his chair absently, fingertips tapping out a staccato against the table. At length Corwin's son speaks again, this time with none of the formality he has cautiously demonstrated up to this point.

"Starved. And still thirsty." When he grins, there is a hint of the teenager about him now, eyes offering a relaxed twinkle. Merlin seems to have crossed some internal hurdle.

"Is my father well-liked here, or just tolerated?" It's important to know who he should watch out for.

[underwater-owl.livejournal.com]

"That's probably a very apt description of most people's experiences with Amber."

He climbs to his feet and goes poking into cabinets, before a kitchen staff member (Merlin was right, they were eavesdropping,) approaches to point out shyly that they are surrounded by cooks. Dinner for both of them is promptly requested.

"Corwin. Well, it depends on who you ask, of course. You need to understand, we were all terrible to each other when we were growing up. So you'll hear terrible stories about your father, probably some of them from me. I still count myself lucky to have been his brother. But if we bell curve 'well liked' out over family standards... I would say he was, yes. Especially for all he did in the wars."

[markedcard.livejournal.com]

It's obviously enough for Merlin. At least for now. He nods, filing that information away to mull over at a more appropriate time.

Random has been very kind, considering the circumstances, and even if the young man doesn't trust him in the family sense, well, that's all par for the course. At least there aren't any overt shifting of glances and twirling of mustaches.

However, there is distraction from mental politics with the announcement of dinner. Merlin watches the food preparations in confusion for a few moments before understanding dawns.

"You physically cook your food. No magic?" Chaos, it would seem, really is light Shadows away from here.

[underwater-owl.livejournal.com]

"The simplest solution usually seems to be the best. If you want the food to be cooked, cook it. There's less potential for things to go wrong. That is, unless you let Julian near a stove. The man could burn water, Martin tells me."

Martin, you see, has more patience for Julian than Random does, and thus spends some time with him.

"I think initially it had something to do with dad's paranoia about poisons, actually, though I could be wrong, but nowadays it's tradition. It's not common, I take it?"

[markedcard.livejournal.com]

Julian's penchant for burning things is dismissed as incident to the present, though that too is filed away under 'interesting'. Martin's name produces a small, brief grin, the sort of expression that one young punk will offer when faced with the name of a comrade.

Which means Merlin knows Martin.

"No, not that I'm aware of. We have one but I don't ever recall seeing it used for anything but feast arrangement." He pauses to watch a fetching kitchen maid sashay by with a large bowl of stew meat.

"Cantrips make hosting balls and other formal affairs much easier." Perhaps he sounds a mite distracted.

[underwater-owl.livejournal.com]

It's very subtle, but Random looks a little bit more gentle when Martin comes up. Whatever you want to say about politics, about priorities, about blood, Random is Martin's father and he loves him.

"How very peculiar. Come down here some time, and I'm sure someone will be able to help you learn. You'll probably need to if you're serious about living on Earth."

He glances at the kitchen maid, then at Merlin's expression, and can't help but grin.

"She'd probably be happy to help."

[markedcard.livejournal.com]

From the way Merlin's eyes narrow on the girl's retreating backside, there is probably little doubt that the lordling plans to engage that 'help' in the near future.

Perhaps this evening.

Light eyes pull themselves away after a few moments, and all of his attention is deposited back in Random's lap. So to speak.

"Learning to cook would be a good survival skill." One of the few he hasn't acquired yet. Obvious, much?

[underwater-owl.livejournal.com]

"Ask for Jessica." He is trying very, very hard not to laugh outright. It's kind of showing.

"Good grief, Merlin."

[markedcard.livejournal.com]

Merlin has the temerity to look affronted, and vaguely annoyed for a few seconds before he grins.

His new expression could probably be described as 'sheepish'.

"Pretty things are supposed to be admired, Uncle." This is delivered with an air of 'Duh'.

[underwater-owl.livejournal.com]

"It's good. You're young. You're supposed to flirt with all sundry at this point in your life; you could probably make a good case for skirt chasing being genetic, in our line."

His father certainly made respectable do.