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Magic is a goddamn headache, that's what it is.

[After a moment, he inclines his head in thoughtful acceptance.]

That as well. But what factor of power isn't, come the end?

Other forms of power tend to obey rules. [Danny shrugs.] In my experience, magic spits in the face of rules.

[He sighs, more than a little dramatically.]

It has rules. Elegant, complicated rules, often unwritten but which must be discovered. Energy does not simply appear or disappear; though there are plenty of charlatans who would pretend otherwise.

Maybe I deal more with charlatans than I thought.

And grass is green. You must be very bored.

[A brief, unimpressed harumph.]

Not today. Not in the least.

[Now, locked in the grimhold, on the other hand...that had been boring.]

I see. Then, what are you doing?

[A good question. There's a Prime Merlinean again. Morgana is dead. Frankly, he's the head of the opposition, as it were.]

Oh, there are plans in the making.

[He just needs to decide what they are.]

As long as you're satisfied with whatever schemes you have, I suppose. Everyone has their own, after all.

Ah, satisfaction. Such an elusive, difficult concept. Grab hold of it, and suddenly you find you haven't gotten hold of anything at all.

Slippery.

Power corrupts, Maxim. You got the saying wrong.

Magic is responsibility.

[He chuckles, shaking his head.]

All things corrupt, Balthazar. All things rust, all things decay. Even us, if only eventually.

Responsibility, he says. Really. How mundanely you.

See, now you're just playing with semantics. We both know the second law of thermodynamics; I'm talking about the human spirit. The longer you keep thinking you're above everyone else, the more isolated you get. Tell me that doesn't get boring.

We're still human, even after a thousand years of...this. [There's a distinct impression he wants to say 'this bullshit' but doesn't.]

Isn't there some tiny part of you that wants to retire?

[The split second of silence reveals that...yes, yes he does. Desperately so. Near-on a thousand years burdened with purpose is wearying. To watch the world change time and again, and have to keep changing with it. But, he says:]

And putter around playing bingo? Hardly.

No bingo? What about shuffleboard?

Listen, you don't have to keep doing this. We don't have to keep doing this. Morgana and Merlin are dead. We were bound to their war, their oaths, but not anymore. As long as you're not hurting anyone, I don't care if you use your magic to make yourself the richest man in the world, go buy a tropical island and rule it as king, get yourself a dozen pet lions--I've had enough.

As long as you're not hurting anyone. You've got the power to end this, Maxim. You don't even have to forgive me, just find a new hobby.

[It's...tempting. To try something new. Maybe even to just...quietly give up magic, moulder away and pass on. He recalls, in the moment, the Hamlet he has long since memorized. What dreams may come, eh Balthazar? But then...then the practicalities come back to him. The reminders of what will happen, now. One way or another.]

Ah, but we do. We, specifically. Because every magician with an ounce of ambition will be coming for the boy, now. You know this. I know this. And, on my side of the line, with Morgana dead...

Someone has to keep the Morganians in some sort of order. A magical civil war would be...distasteful.

[Shall he suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune? No, no he shan't, Balthazar. The past cannot be so easily let go. He's right, of course - but it's all justification. After centuries of conflict, how can he be anything else? What else could he be?]

[They've all had those thoughts. Even Veronica, who spent most of the last several hundred years cushioned by a semi-conscious haze in the Grimhold. And maybe in part that's the thing that's driving Balthazar to extend the olive branch here, because aside from the three of them no one else will ever get it. Sure, there are long-lived sorcerers all over the world, but none like them. None that were bound to their war. Just the three Apprentices.

If Merlin were still alive, he would have so many questions.

Balthazar takes in a quiet breath and lets it out again in a huff of annoyance. Horvath isn't wrong. Their perspectives are different, but he's not wrong.] Not every magician, and not all of them will be coming to hurt him. But his training isn't over. We all know that.

Are there many Morganians left? After I imprisoned you, the ranks seemed to lose most of their morale. There was a good fifty years where no one seriously tried to kill me. [It was incredibly boring, and he definitely lost his edge in the interim.]

[Were they meant to survive the conflict of their Masters? It's definitely one of the throng of questions he would have for Merlin. In retrospect.]

That's precisely it. What better time to assume the mantle? Ambition is such an...eager trait.

[As for the rest, well. Once they had been legion. Once he could have commanded dozens at the drop of a hat, in any country. But then he'd spent the better part of a century out of circulation.]

They're out there. Disorganized, with no allegiance. Magical Ronin, as it were. [A small, mirthless chuckle.] They had no reason to do anything other than carry out their own designs, but now...

[Times of great change are times of great opportunity, after all.]

Maybe I don't get it. What's the point of being the most powerful sorcerer in the world? The only people who care are the other sorcerers. How many of us have there ever been? A hundredth of a thousandth of a percentile of the population? [He shrugs helplessly.

Of course, one could argue that if the most powerful sorcerer then reveals himself and takes over the entirety of the world's power structures, everyone cares. But that's a lot of responsibility.] I'd rather just...compose music, grow some organic vegetables, finish my reading list and call it a day.

[He's probably lying to himself. His reading list will never be finished anyway, and deep down he still has a taste for an adrenaline rush. But less battle-to-the-death would be nice.] Okay. I think you may be overestimating how many of the rank and file are out for blood, but maybe I'm underestimating. What if we...call a truce? An alliance? It doesn't have to be Merlinian versus Morganian anymore. We're always going to disagree on methods, obviously, but do you really want to resurrect an undead army? Do you want to rule the world? Or do you just want someone to acknowledge your abilities, because I can do that right now.

You're definitely the only person qualified to gather and guide what's left of the Morganian contingent. I could hunt them down one by one and kill them, but I couldn't lead them.

There isn't. If you don't do anything with it.

[But there's a bit of a laugh at the list.]

If I remember your compositional skills, perhaps it would be better to spare the universe. Beethoven, sir, you are not. But, I will say this: before whatever I do next, I have many decades of opera to catch up on, for a start.

[And he falls silent at the rest. For a long moment, there is the silence of the knife's edge. And then:]

The Rising was Morgana's crusade, and she's gone. And do you know, it's a strange thing. I've always ever been a servant to power, not the power itself. I never even considered the idea of seeking power for myself. To what end, is the next obvious question, of course.

[At least one terrible cause is off the cards, now.]

But a...truce, for now? I suppose after all these centuries, a detente could be in order.

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stumbles in 6 weeks late with Starbucks

OH HEY THERE

Hey hey there was this urn and I got stuck in it

As happens

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CW: thoughts of death

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