Merlin's magic (Oneshots)

The portrait part 1

When Arthur's father died, Arthur inherited many of his possessions. For a castle that prided itself in banishing all magical items, Uther had a lot of them stored in the vaults.
As the new king, it was Arthur's responsibility to learn what each of these things did.
There were lists as long as his entire room that described in utmost detail what findings his father had made during his reign.

Some things, however, were classified as "not identified" and so there was nothing the scrolls or Gaius could say about them.
The strangest of these items was probably the portrait.
The picture he found was bigger than himself and though it was hundreds of years old, it showed Arthur's face.
Gaius had noted that the time it was stored away, it held a picture of Uther instead. Arthur could only guess what this may mean.

Arthur, as he was just beginning to build his kingdom after his image – couldn't help but wonder.
It fascinated him how his own eyes followed him from the wooden frame.
The fifth time, Arthur visited the vaults to see the painting, he couldn't help himself and touched what was so clearly magical. What should revolt him. But somehow didn't.
It felt electrifying, how his hand vanished behind the canvas, causing Arthur to jerk his hand away.

His hand was still whole, buzzing from the magical feeling.
Sure, a small amount of panic welled up inside of him. But it was accompanied by childish curiosity. He was Arthur Pendragon! He had faced magical creatures and evil sorcerers.
He could handle a portrait, right?
So Arthur took all his courage, because courage was what defined himself, and stepped through the canvas.

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Arthur stared ahead into some kind of cave. He blinked a few times to get used to the darkness. He turned around, still unable to see anything. Until faint light from the distance reached his eyes, finally. Only now he could see the outlines of the frame he had just walked through.
Nervous, he put his head through again, almost fearing his head would hit the wall behind the frame. Because the canvas itself had disappeared.
Turns out, Arthur's head didn't hit the wall, but looked back right into the lit room of his vaults.
Okay. So far so good. He could easily return. He just needed to remember where this cave was.

He sighed, then turned around to head towards the faint light in the distance.
The light shone yellow and red and flickered on the stone walls of the cave.
Carefully, because Arthur only had his sword on him, he hid behind the walls to look around the corner. Heart beating fast, he tried to catch a glimpse of the person who was roasting a rabbit over the fire.

There was a hush, a swishing sound, and suddenly someone had grabbed Arthur by the shoulder and fought him to the ground.
An all too familiar voice hissing into his ear. "Who the hell are you."

Now, Arthur could handle many things in his life. He had seen troll queens, goblins, unicorns. He had seen sorcerers disappear into thin air.
He could handle a portrait that lead him into some kind of cave, apparently.

But nothing could have prepared him to look into his own withered face.
The man let him fall to the ground, eyes wide with shock, as he held Arthur's own sword to his throat.
The man looked like Arthur, but – less clean. He'd grown a small beard, his hair dirty from dust. Not the bright blond he prided himself with.
But his eyes held the same look he always gave his enemies.

"Tell me, how are you looking like me! Who used magic on you! Transformation is no easy spell. I know only few who could do such a thing! Are you alone?
Did Cendred send you? Are you a bounty hunter?"

What the hell was this man wearing? That looked like makeshift armor. But it only protected his chest and his arms. It looked more like the practice clothes Morgana sometimes wore.
No gauntlets, no heavy chest plate, no chain mail. Furthermore he didn't even look like a knight. This guy looked like he lived here.