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Merlin fic: Think of the Children (3a/3)
Title: Think of the Children (3a/3)
Author: dk323
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mention of past non-con, dub-con, underage, character death
Characters/Pairings: Merlin/Arthur (pre-slash), Merlin/Morgana, Arthur/Gwen, OC
Spoilers: No; occurs during Arthur’s reign as King.
Disclaimer: The show “Merlin” is property of the BBC. No money being made.
Summary (for all of Chapter 3): Secrets are revealed and confrontations are made. Morgana is still ever present and she has one more trick up her sleeve. Merlin’s son, Stephen, is sent away from Camelot for his own safety. The path to the future begins to unravel as the time of King Arthur draws to a close.
Author's Notes: This is literally the only fic I'm working at the moment, so the second half should be posted in a week or so. The fic is getting longer than initially planned, but it should all work out. I have bits and pieces of the second half written and I know how it'll end. I've been debating back and forth about whether to end with Arthur's death, but I couldn't do it. :( There will be a character death, which will occur in the next (and final) chapter. You could probably guess who it will be after reading this part. Also, I didn't want to introduce two characters in one update...that was overload in my opinion. So the second character will be introduced in the next chapter.
*I changed the number of years Merlin spent with Morgana (from five years to six) because their children's ages didn't make sense before (unless they were born premature).
*The summary is for all of Chapter 3, so you could see part of it as a preview for the second half. :)
Six Years Ago: Prisoner | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
~ * ~
With you, I can just be who I am.
You don’t have to hide anything. You don’t have to worry.
~ Merlin in "The Lady of the Lake"
~ * ~
“Ella married before her twentieth birthday -- I never would have thought that would happen.”
Merlin glared at Arthur. “Could you sound any more cheerful about it? She’ll be living at Tintagel now, sure, but she will still visit us here. And really, Arthur, Ella was not a ‘terror’ as you so kindly called her.”
“Well, to be fair, that was when she was younger,” He reminded Merlin, then he said agreeably, “I do concede that Ella did grow up well enough. I don’t know how much of that was your doing…”
“Yes, Arthur, because being her father has nothing to do with it,” Merlin said drily.
The blond grinned at him. “Yes, well, maybe you helped.”
Merlin stared at him in disbelief.
“So, what about Stephen? I have to say I’m a bit surprised it’s taking longer for him compared to his sister. Is he even courting anyone?”
“Arthur, he’s only nineteen! I wasn’t expecting either of them to be getting married. Ella proved me wrong, but I’m completely fine if Stephen waits until he’s thirty to get married.”
The king raised his eyebrow, looking quite bemused. “Thirty, Merlin? Really?”
“Yes. Don’t look at me like I’m crazy,” he said, looking at him sharply.
“That is up to debate,” Arthur shot back at him good naturedly. “Now, I have seen your son with different women about the castle. There was nothing inappropriate done – at least in public viewing. I became rather bored with the whole thing rather quickly.”
“He hasn’t told me of any intentions toward a woman. And I’m sure he will once he’s ready. I don’t like talking about this behind my son’s back.”
Arthur pursued the topic despite Merlin’s words. “There is always the court gossip. We could find out what’s happening inside the bedchambers…”
Merlin cut in easily, speaking formally, “Your Majesty, you’re doing a fine impression of one of the Court Ladies. Please do continue as I decide what color gown would best suit you.” His advisor smirked at him.
It was Arthur’s turn to glare at him, but fortunately for Merlin, the king stopped talking about Stephen’s love life.
~ * ~
A brunette chambermaid slipped into Stephen’s room. She settled into a chair at the table upon which he was eating his lunch.
“Back in Camelot, are we? Without your sister?” She asked.
Stephen gave her a tight look. “Have you grown tired of being nobility, Myrna? Too rich for you?”
“Something like that,” Myrna said smoothly, shrugging. “It’s much easier being inconspicuous as a servant. Despite how dull it can be.”
He peered at her curiously. “Why are you still in Camelot?” He wondered. “It has been months. I thought you would have gone by now. You saved my life, I saved yours. We’re even. You could go…”
Myrna grabbed an apple out of the bowl without asking for it. She bit into the fruit, appearing thoughtful.
“I have lived for twenty years, an orphan since before I could even walk, and I have impersonated my fair share of people. From royalty and nobility down to servants and paupers. In fact, I managed to have quite a nice childhood when I convinced a childless noblewoman that I was a boy of noble birth. The poor woman was so desperate that she took me in, and her husband raised me as if I were truly their own. It was all rather sweet,” she explained to him, a somewhat fond look on her face. “I’m almost sorry I had to leave them a few years ago. Bit weird being a boy. Oh well,” she said lightly.
She continued eating her apple.
Stephen gave a long sigh. “Yes, you’re a master impersonator. What’s your point?”
“I just find Camelot fascinating, so I’m staying for a while. And you must have something for me to do. Some brilliant reconnaissance task or whatnot. I’m good at that. I can turn into anyone you like. Collect any information you want,” she entreated him.
“That would be deceitful,” Stephen pointed out. “And you remember our agreement?”
She nodded. “Yes, yes, I can’t turn into your sister or your father or you’ll have me killed. I gave you my word.”
Then Myrna’s eyes flashed a light purple and she was suddenly donned in a pale blue silk gown. She was taller and thinner where before she was more petite. Her hair was now blonde and her eyes were a striking amber color where they once were a dark blue.
“I’m not sure that the word of a liar does much,” he retorted, but then, he sighed. “Then again, I did verify the honesty of your words with magic. I suppose, for now, that will be enough.”
“I don’t want to die any more than you do. You have nothing to concern yourself over,” She assured him.
He nodded. “I believe you,” he told her, still some reluctance in his tone. “This is my family, you understand. The last thing I want is you causing trouble and hurting them in the process.”
She nodded solemnly. “Yes, of course,” Myrna said to him. “Now, if you have nothing interesting for me to do, I will leave you for a little while. There’s a grand celebration for me to attend elsewhere – as the Lady Eleanor, you know. I’m sure it will be good fun,” Myrna said cheerily.
“I know you’ll filch something if you find anything worth money,” he said knowingly, giving her a pointed look.
Myrna appeared unrepentant. “If it weren’t for my specialized magical ability, I would have been a poor, dead orphan. So you can not begrudge me a few trinkets especially from those who could afford the loss. And you should be proud of me – I was looking for a necklace to wear and all I had was this sad little thing,” she said, pointing to the golden necklace gracing her neck. The piece of jewelry had definitely seen better days. “At first, I thought of nicking a necklace from one of the court ladies, maybe, or even the queen or the princess. Now that would be a--” But she stopped at Stephen’s annoyed look.
Unbothered, she continued on, “But in the end, I decided that why should I do that when I know how you’re such an expert with handling precious metals.”
Stephen gave a small nod. “Give it here then.”
She took off the necklace and she handed it to him. With a flash of gold light in his eyes, Stephen waved his hand over the golden necklace and the gold shone brilliantly as a result of the magic.
Stephen gave it back to her.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Myrna intoned happily. “You know how many women you could get with this trick?”
He gave her an affronted look at the idea. “I’m not interested.”
She hummed at him. “Suit yourself. Could you?” Myrna asked him for help in clasping the necklace around her neck.
Stephen left his chair to go behind her. After he clasped her necklace, he asked Myrna, “So tell me, really this time, why are you staying here in Camelot?”
She turned to face him, placing her hands on his chest. “I just like it here… I like you. And not only because you saved my life.”
And then without warning, Myrna pressed her lips to his and her fingers became tangled in his dark hair.
The next moment, she disappeared leaving a surprised man in her wake.
So that night hadn’t been meaningless, Stephen thought. That was somewhat comforting, though he would never dream of courting Myrna. She was too fond of traveling about, pretending to be any person she fancied. She was certainly not the type to settle down in one place and grow old with someone.
As far as he knew, Myrna was her real name and he had seen her true appearance only once. She was petite with a round, pleasant face. Her eyes had been grey; the color of a storm cloud, and her hair had been a medium brown. She hadn’t been stunning, but she had been pretty enough. And yet, Myrna had told him that with all the people she could turn into – her true face was rather dull and boring by comparison.
It was nice, almost, to know someone who was so honest with him despite her penchant for manipulating others. The irony was not lost on him.
Stephen wasn’t sure if Ella’s advice about the situation with the Queen was the best way to go. He didn’t feel right about keeping that particular secret…the anxiety of keeping it quiet was wearing him down.
And if Myrna could be truthful with him despite her life’s goal to lie to others; then why couldn’t he just get his secret out in the open?
But Stephen knew, without a doubt, that his father would not like it at all when he told him.
~ * ~
That evening, Stephen spent some time with the Queen – sitting by her bedside. It had become something of a regular habit of his. Though lately, she liked to voice her grievances while he tried his best to lend a sympathetic ear.
“It has always been like this. I can not do a thing about it. The only option is to just accept it,” Gwen said with a sigh.
She lay back down on her bed, appearing rather dejected.
Stephen looked at her. “Yes, My Lady. Maybe you should talk to the king.”
Gwen shook her head quickly. She closed her eyes, her hand covering her forehead as if she were checking for fever. “No, it’s too late for that,” she told him, her tone hopeless. “It has always been your father and Arthur, you understand? They have always been so close…and when James…died, then everything changed. There was a distance between Arthur and I… he never actively told me, but I could see the frustration, the disappointment in his eyes. And that hurt,” she said.
“I’m sure if you could--” Stephen began again only to be cut off.
The Queen interrupted him. “No, no…you need to understand… I need you to do something for me.”
“What?”
“There’s a potion that I need you to get for me. A sleeping potion – it will help me rest better.”
He stared at her. “You don’t think I know what you’re going to do? My father has told me that you’re not using the sleeping potion correctly. You’re taking too much of it.”
“Please – I just…please. You don’t understand the pain I feel,” she said despondently.
She reached out to grab his hand and Stephen squeezed her hand gently before he spoke contritely, “I’m sorry, but I have to tell my father. Ella knows now, and I’ve decided I can’t keep this from my father any longer. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Stephen, you’re the only one who could get me the potion. Please…I can’t get it myself because
Merlin has placed a magic lock to keep me from doing so.”
“Did you even hear what I said?” He wondered, mildly exasperated.
Gwen nodded. “Yes, I did. I understand. You’re right. It has been long enough. I do not want you to lie to your own father. My life is in disrepair, but you still have a chance. I just hope that you will be prepared to deal with the consequences when the truth is known to all. I imagine Merlin would speak to Arthur about it.”
“I’ll be fine. It’s you that I’m uncertain about,” he informed her, looking uneasy.
Her brown eyes pierced his as she asserted, “This is even more reason to get the potion. Don’t you see that it is the best solution?”
“What? I have to live with this while you die?” He said in disbelief. “That doesn’t solve anything.”
“I am sorry. I truly am, but I can’t do this any longer. I simply can’t. Just do as I ask, please…” Gwen insisted, undeterred.
He shook his head. “No, I won’t. I’m not helping you.”
“Stephen, please. Just get me the potion and I will do the rest,” she tried to plead with him.
“No, I will not!” He exclaimed.
He stood up abruptly and he headed to the door, intent on leaving.
When Stephen closed the door upon exiting, he didn’t hear Gwen call him back.
~ * ~
The next day:
Afterwards, Stephen concluded that he could do a better job of secret revealing. If he had not wanted his father to be in a dark mood before opening up to him, then bringing up his mother was not the route to go. Whenever she was mentioned around his father, it was a sure conversation-killer as his father always grew taciturn and somber upon any talk of Mother. From what his father had told him and Ella, their mother had had a falling out with the king who, while not her brother by blood, was as good as one despite that.
Their mother had left Camelot a few years before her brother ascended the throne. The relationship between her and their father was complicated and as such, he hadn’t been especially enthusiastic about explaining the situation in detail. And according to their father, their mother had been attacked and died tragically when he and his sister were just five. Stephen had felt sad, sure, at the sudden loss of his mother and he had missed her a lot in the beginning. But in truth, both he and Ella had always been closer to their father. While their mother had cared for them, she was usually busy with other matters and their father or Matilda had looked after them. And at any rate, he and Ella did have one another.
Their father had always reassured them that he and their mother loved their children dearly. No matter the disagreements that their parents had with one another that would always hold true. His father had conveyed to them, quite clearly, that he did not hide the fact of his loyalty to King Arthur. No matter their mother’s contradictory view on Camelot, his father would not go back on his beliefs and his faith in the king and the good that he could achieve for Camelot and Albion as a whole.
And he had told both Ella and him that he hoped his children would feel the same love and respect for Camelot as their father did. Together with his sister, Stephen had come to appreciate Camelot. Considering how young they were upon first arriving, it wasn’t that hard to simply accept what Camelot stood for and its king, who had allowed magic to flourish once again with their father’s help. He and Ella had just been happy to be with their father and they truly didn’t care about their departed mother’s adverse views. As long as their father was there to look after them, that was all either of them cared about as they grew up. That’s what mattered most to him and his sister.
Still, Stephen could never resist discussing his mother. He hoped that maybe now; he would be old enough for his father to finally tell him the truth. He and Ella had suspected that their father was keeping something from them…due to a misguided notion of protecting them, which had annoyed Ella quite a lot. It had only left Stephen intrigued as to what exactly their father was not telling them? Was it that awful that he couldn’t be honest with his own children? With both of them almost twenty years old now, surely they were old enough to take whatever secret or secrets that their father had?
He shouldn’t have bothered though… and Stephen knew that his desire to get his secret off his chest would win out over trying to get his father to reveal his own (a fruitless effort honestly, and it would only serve to distract him from the original point of the talk). After all, Stephen was too ready to tell the secret he had been keeping for years. He couldn’t back out now.
When he told his father, he had stared at him in understandable disbelief. With downcast eyes, Stephen did reassert that it was true…and that he was sorry for not informing him sooner. A hurt look crossed his father’s face before he stood up to leave. Stephen hadn’t been told where he was off to, but his father did have his ‘I’m going to yell at someone’ look. But everyone knew of the Queen’s problems, her steadily declining health as her breakdowns increased. It would only make matters worse for her if she were verbally attacked. Surely even his father had the presence of mind to realize that.
So, really, there was only one person his father could go to…
~ * ~
Merlin strode into the room, intent on seeking out one person in particular. He saw Arthur conversing with Sir Gawain and feeling his patience beginning to give, Merlin said curtly to the man, “I need to speak to the king alone, if you could.”
Sir Gawain looked to Arthur, who nodded and he dismissed the man. Once the knight had departed from the council chamber, the king set an expectant and questioning gaze upon his court sorcerer.
“Merlin, what is it?” Arthur asked him once Merlin had taken a seat at the table.
With a clenched jaw and carefully restrained frustration, Merlin told him. Arthur stared at him in shock, disbelieving of what Merlin was telling him. But the king knew that Merlin would not fabricate such a story, not one that was so unthinkable…
“How could you not know? She’s your wife!” Merlin accused, eyes flashing -- even turning gold for a moment.
“And he’s your son!” Arthur retorted. “Shouldn’t you be asking why he didn’t come to you before?
Why you didn’t even see it when you should know him better than anyone?”
“I never imagined in my wildest dreams that something like this would happen in Camelot. But Stephen--” Merlin paused, sighing, “—he keeps things to himself even when he shouldn’t. He has always been reserved, quiet, and I thought…I had hoped that since he and his sister are close, that he would tell her if anything were wrong. And then Ella would inform me.”
“Then maybe nothing was wrong,” Arthur pointed out.
“No, Arthur! He was barely a man, still a child, when it first started – how could you think that nothing was wrong?” Merlin shouted at him. “And I don’t know how you could sit there so assuredly, so calmly, upon evidence that your wife has deceived you!” He told him.
Arthur sighed, relenting. “Merlin, I understand that you’re upset, but I’m telling you – I did not know. If I had known, I would have put an end to it.”
Merlin shook his head vehemently. He pointed his finger at Arthur, accusing him. “No, this…but this was your fault! I have watched you push Gwen away after James’ death, after she could not bear another son. This was waiting to happen. I should have never allowed my children to live here.”
Arthur appeared reconciliatory, the lines in his face creased as signs of age and weariness showed on his features. “Merlin, I made a mistake. I was worried about Camelot’s future. Surely you would understand?”
His advisor raised his hands in exasperation. “I have tried, Arthur,” Merlin emphasized. “I have tried so hard to be supportive, but I could see it in your eyes: you still can’t accept that Elizabeth is a girl.”
“And you never wanted your children in the first place!” Arthur shot back at him in retaliation, Merlin’s words hitting him all too uncomfortably -- it was the truth he did not like dwelling on.
“That’s not true. I love them more than anything. How they came to be doesn’t matter to me!” Merlin defended with feeling.
“Well, maybe it should!” Arthur declared, a vicious remark delivered in the heat of the moment.
Merlin stared at Arthur in aghast at what he had said.
Before the king could correct the wrong, Merlin disappeared suddenly – his magic carrying him away.
Arthur swore. He shouldn’t have bated Merlin like that. The control spell that Morgana had placed on him, which had led to his children’s conception, was still a painful subject for Merlin even after all these years. Arthur shouldn’t have attacked him with it, but Merlin had been right: he still had doubts about Elizabeth. He still sometimes wished that Gwen had bore him another son, one who would have survived to grow up and take his place upon his death.
And yes, he had pushed Gwen away – not intentionally to hurt her, but he had been at a loss on what to do. He had been looking for someone to blame…Morgana was the obvious choice, but she was dead and it was easier, in a way, to blame the person who could not bear him a son when she should have been able to. She had succeeded once, after all, before Morgana ripped their son away from them.
When Merlin’s children had first arrived in Camelot, Arthur had considered – when he was feeling particularly troubled and frustrated – that he could return the favor. If Morgana had killed his son, then why shouldn’t he do the same to hers?
It was an ugly thought and Arthur always was disgusted with himself for even contemplating the action. Even though Stephen and Ella were Morgana’s children, they were Merlin’s too and Arthur could not fathom losing Merlin’s friendship, his steadfast loyalty, over an unforgiveable act. Because Merlin would never forgive him.
He remembered watching Merlin spend time with his children – playing and laughing -- when they were younger. Arthur had felt so overcome with guilt and horror at his treacherous mind that he drank himself into a stupor on several occasions.
~ * ~
Merlin knew the person was Arthur before he saw him. Of course, Arthur knew where he would be. Merlin didn’t have the energy to try to find a place that the king wouldn’t suspect he would be. But the truth was, the sorcerer wanted to be found. He hated fighting with Arthur and sitting before the Lake -- the same one that once held Excalibur, which was now rightfully bestowed to Arthur for the past twenty years -- had always been a peaceful place for Merlin to collect his thoughts.
Arthur sighed as he sat down beside his friend on the water’s bank. Before them, the waters of the lake were unusually calm, almost peaceful, as it lay at the foot of serene landscape that surely had a magic of its own.
“Merlin, I know that you love them. I didn’t mean it,” Arthur said quietly, though there was a hint of fierceness in his voice.
Merlin let out a shuddering sigh. He couldn’t look at Arthur. Instead, he favored staring straight ahead, out across the expansive lake.
“Maybe you were right,” Merlin confessed in resignation. “Sometimes, I have doubts. I worry if they will turn out like Morgana despite how I have done my best to raise them right. I don’t want the darkness that poisoned their mother to touch them. And now, my son…this secret he has been keeping…” Merlin breathed out.
Arthur reached out to rest his hand upon Merlin’s cheek and he coaxed him to turn his head toward him.
Merlin did so, peering directly at the king, a look of defeat in the sorcerer’s blue-eyed gaze.
“Merlin, your children are grown and you and I both know that you have raised them well. Your worries are without foundation,” He said fervently, his eyes piercing Merlin’s. When Merlin looked ready to interrupt, Arthur pressed one finger to his lips to halt his words. “And, Merlin, what Stephen did, what he has kept from you, does not suggest that he will be tempted to commit evil, to use his magic for ill intent. This has nothing to do with any of that. Now who is truly to blame… it is not easy to tell. But Guinevere should have not placed him in that position, being as young as he was. He may have kept it from you because he was ashamed, uncertain, of what was happening. I have seen your son grow up and like you have said, he’s reserved. And he certainly isn’t the type to reveal secrets that could hurt someone.”
Merlin gave a small nod of agreement while Arthur’s hand fell back to his side, though the king’s careful gaze on his closest friend remained. Merlin spoke softly, “Gwen hasn’t been doing well for years. Her judgment is not what it once was. Stephen told me that he had seen how lonely she felt. She had even told him so. It started not long after he and Ella came to Camelot, after your son’s death. They talked mostly at first,” Merlin paused then, shaking his head. “No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t be both their father and their mother. Morgana was their mother -- it is a fact that can not be forgotten. And Gwen helped to fill that void as my children dealt with the loss of their mother at a young age. I think it had affected Stephen more so than Ella. She has always been resilient,” he remarked, taking care to give Arthur a sharp glare as the blond twitched his lips upon Merlin’s remark on Ella.
“But how it progressed from talking to more, I can’t even bear to think about. I just wonder – have I done something wrong?” He worried, looking to Arthur.
“No, Merlin,” Arthur told him fiercely. “You should not blame yourself. It won’t do any good to blame anyone here. Guinevere has been ill. And you were right,” He admitted, rubbing his brow in consternation. “I have treated her poorly and I regret it. I will have a talk with her,” he promised Merlin.
Merlin rewarded him with a small smile. Arthur leaned toward him and he kissed him softly on the lips.
“Arthur, I thought--” Merlin murmured against him.
The king pulled away, an affectionate look in his blue eyes, so full of life now against an old, battle-weary face.
He was still Arthur no matter how the passing of time had not been as kind to him as Merlin wished it would be. Sometimes Merlin wished to use his magic to wipe away the wrinkles and war scars, take away the aches and pains of hard battles won and lost; but Arthur had refused.
He would look forward, not back, Arthur had told him. He was proud of what he had accomplished as King of Camelot and the aches and pains, the numerous scars marking his body, all of it…he would take them as they were. Merlin hated to see him in pain, became restless as he saw Arthur grow older, his fighting prowess still excellent, but with touches of slowness, signs of age showing through.
But as Arthur aged, Merlin wasn’t feeling like he was getting older himself. His hair grayed and there were crinkles around his eyes, but it was almost as if his magic was winning an unseen battle with Time. And so, Merlin was left feeling as young and energetic as he had been as a young man, first arriving in Camelot well over twenty years now.
Arthur, with all that he had done for his kingdom, for Albion, was only just a man at the end of the day. Time did not yield to him as Merlin fervently wished it would.
Arthur would die in battle, Merlin was certain of it. And how much he wished he could, Merlin knew he could not stop it. Arthur, noble and honourable as he was, would think it the right way to go, dying fighting for his kingdom, for his people.
Arthur’s deep voice shook Merlin out of thoughts. “I’ll have you know, Merlin, that you’re quite wrong,” he informed him, a teasing smile upon his lips.
Merlin returned the smile. They kissed again, this time more deeply than before.
With a soft sigh, Merlin pulled away, somewhat reluctantly. “I wonder -- what do we do when this news of Gwen and my son slips into the court gossip? I can hardly believe that it has been kept
concealed for so long.”
“Then it shall remain that way. And if it doesn’t, then I will handle any inquiries about the matter. You do not need to worry.”
“But Arthur--” Merlin tried to argue.
Arthur held up his hand, his tone was firm, unyielding as he spoke, “No, it is only right. I am the king and I must bear the responsibility. This involves my wife after all. I will do my best to protect your son from any backlash.”
Before Merlin could speak, his protests at Arthur for bearing the brunt of a matter that was not directly his fault dying in his throat, the blond moved to kiss him, silencing him.
Merlin felt a warm happiness sweep over him. He always had felt at home with Arthur by his side.
~ * ~
“So you told Father then?” Ella’s voice resonated in his head.
Even across a distance, they could speak silently to each other. When they were younger and had little control of their magical connection, they knew what the other was thinking as easily as breathing. There were literally no secrets between them. But fortunately, with their father’s help, they had been able to build up walls around their mind so that some rather private thoughts would be kept private. Now there were no involuntary leaks of information, but the both of them still maintained their mind to mind communication with one another.
They could never completely cut themselves off from each other. For Stephen at least, he found it comforting to feel that echo in his head that told him that his sister was there in some capacity, that she was alive and well. He could scarcely imagine how others – particularly non-magical people -- lived without such a certainty, to not have a sense of someone always by their side even if it was just their consciousness.
“Yes and the king knows as well. It seems that the court is not aware of it. Though I am surprised that this hasn’t made its way into the court gossip yet. Maybe people just don’t care?” Stephen wondered.
“Well, the Queen’s ailment over the years has been discussed quite frequently. The court has noticed her state of health and the troubles between her and the king. How could they not?” Ella told him.
“But what does that have to do with my problem?”
He could hear a hint of bemusement in Ella’s voice as she replied, “You should know this, Stephen. Despite how long ago that the ban on magic has been lifted, there is still nervousness, tension amongst the non-magical community. And there’s still fear, of Father – he is known as the most powerful sorcerer to have existed after all. No matter if he has declared his loyalty to serve and protect King Arthur and the kingdom of Camelot; there are those who still worry what Father will do if he is compelled to… Not a good idea to get on his bad side in essence.”
“…and so if someone were to give me trouble, then--” Stephen voiced, understanding what she was alluding to.
“Yes. And as far as for bastard children…as is always a concern, the Queen was past childbearing age at the time, was she not? And after Elizabeth, she had not succeeded in giving birth to a healthy child. In some small way, you helped her when she was feeling most alone. And I understand why you had to tell Father. I admit I may have been wrong in my solution. You did the right thing, Stephen,” Ella praised him.
“Thank you,” He said, grateful for the support.
“Well, I better go. The weather is so nice that Char and I are having a picnic outside. What are you planning to do?” She asked him.
“Fly for a bit…what do you think: falcon, hawk, raven or sparrow?”
“Hawk, maybe? You’ve done that once, haven’t you?”
“No, that was a falcon,” he corrected her.
“Oh, well…you think you can do a hawk then?”
“I’ll see. I’ll talk to you later? Have a good time with Charmont,” Stephen wished her, finding a small delight in teasing her.
“Oh, hush. Have a good time flying,” Ella told him.
Then he felt a shift in his mind signifying her retreat for the time being.
Now standing in his chambers, Stephen concentrated as best as he could -- recalling the animal transformation lessons his father gave him and Ella.
~ * ~
Walking along the corridor, Arthur just managed to keep his composure when a hawk flew out of Stephen’s rooms.
He shook his head wryly as the hawk glided in flight in the opposite direction of where Arthur was heading. The things he considered normal these days, Arthur thought.
He had just left Guinevere’s chambers after he had a good talk with her – his promise to Merlin the previous day holding true. Arthur felt that the talk had been successful, that he and his wife were able to resolve some of their problems. Still, the king could not quite take away the desolation that the queen felt, that he could see in her eyes. Her smile never reached her eyes anymore, and Arthur felt the blame fall on him for that. It hurt him to see her like that, but he knew he wasn’t perfect, however hard he tried to convey such an image to his people, to the entire court -- it was not the truth. He thought it a small blessing that what had transpired between Guinevere and Merlin’s son was not running rampant in the court gossip. His worries about how to handle that were unnecessary at the moment.
Upon seeing Lancelot coming his way, Arthur flagged him down. “Lancelot, my good man. I need to speak to you.”
Lancelot nodded, coming to stand before him. “The new knights still need a lot of work. I’ve had a time trying to teach them,” he informed him, clearly frustrated at the seemingly fruitless task.
Arthur clapped him on the shoulder. He smiled at him, giving him an understanding look. “Yes, I know. That’s what I wanted to discuss with you. I have come up with a new training strategy.”
~ * ~
Stephen was sitting before the fireplace, turning the flames into different colors and becoming almost entranced by the flames: green, purple and white. Then someone came into his chambers.
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Elizabeth announced herself without any preamble.
She moved over an empty chair beside Stephen’s own, and she sat down on it. A sigh escaped her.
Stephen looked to her, his eyes shifting from gold to blue as he observed her. “You know?”
“Oh yes. I’ve suspected. My father confirmed it to me. I had to wheedle it out of him, but this is my mother. My mother, Stephen,” she emphasized, a faint note of accusation in her tone.
He rubbed his hand over his brow in a weary gesture. He said, “I know it’s hard to understand. I sometimes wish I had just avoided her. That I had been smarter when I was younger. But I only talked with her most of the time… I – the other things were occasional. I just spent time with her, tried to be a friend to her. I had felt sorry for her. I still do.”
“…and she didn’t want to burden me with her problems? Is that it?” She ventured in irritation.
“She is your mother. She didn’t want to worry you,” Stephen replied quietly.
“Sometimes I hate how parents pretend that everything is fine when it’s not, but they make their children think it is fine,” Elizabeth said indignantly, her finger tapping restlessly on the chair’s arm.
“My father is the same way. That’s how it always is, I suppose. I understand if you hate me right now,” he said in resignation.
She shook her head. Frustrated, she placed a dark curl behind her ear. Sounding uncertain, she confided in him, “I don’t know. I don’t want to hate you. I truly do not. It hurts me to see my mother so troubled that she resorted to seeking you out. She should have known that what she was doing was wrong. Haven’t we always been taught to respect our betters? And then, this happens… and sometimes I just want to fast forward a few years because I’m tired of everyone walking around me and whispering. I get so worried about my future…I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you and Ella. I need all the help I can get.”
“Don’t say that. You shouldn’t let what others say hinder you. If you have faith in yourself, then you will accomplish a lot. You’re only fourteen. You shouldn’t worry so much about it now.”
Elizabeth huffed. “I’m getting suitors already. I can barely stand them. It’s just so…I feel like I’m trapped,” she said hopelessly. “And then my father is thinking of sending word to some distant Pendragon cousin who I have never heard of… that I would marry him.”
“Well, he’s doing what’s best for the kingdom,” Stephen told her.
Elizabeth shrugged. “Maybe, maybe…it’ll be better if it’s an arranged marriage, a loveless one. My parents were in love with each other and look what has happened to them. What if love isn’t worth it if it comes with hurt and pain when you fall out of love? It’s just…” She trailed off, waving her hand dismissively.
“I don’t think I was this pessimistic when I was your age. If you keep thinking like that, you just might miss the prince who’s waiting to sweep you off your feet. Let’s just hope he doesn’t have a name like Charmont,” he said to her, a small smile playing on his lips.
She smirked at him, rolling her eyes. “Thank you, Stephen,” Elizabeth said gratefully.
She left her seat and hugged him, and she kissed him fleetingly on the cheek.
“I’ll always be there for you,” Stephen promised her.
The princess smiled back at him as she pulled away.
~ * ~
“Stephen, who is she?” Elizabeth demanded upon entering his chambers the next day.
A chambermaid with brown hair and blue eyes sat on the dining table popping grapes into her mouth.
“Just a friend,” Stephen said with a shrug. He ate his sausage, appearing quite unconcerned.
He gave the mystery woman a pointed look.
The chambermaid hopped off the table and then her eyes flashed a pale purple. A moment later, she transformed into a different look. Although, honestly, the most noticeable change was her facial structure, which was now rounder, and her blue eyes shifted to a startling grey.
Elizabeth stared at the woman. “Who are you really?”
“My name is Myrna and I can be anyone, truthfully. Stephen is insistent on introducing myself in my true face.”
The princess eyed her warily. “So you pretend to be other people?”
“Myrna is trying to amend her ways. She can be trusted,” Stephen assured her.
Myrna went back to sit on the wooden table and she ripped off a piece of soft bread and began chewing it, looking mildly interested at the proceedings.
The princess turned to her. “But you make others believe you’re someone else…” Elizabeth remarked.
“Yes,” Myrna admitted easily, “but it’s how I’ve survived. I was orphaned at a young age – I’m twenty now – and I fear I would not have lived long without this magical talent of mine. But I have been honest with Stephen, his sister, and now you. I suppose you could say that I’ve seen the error of my ways like Stephen has said.”
Elizabeth still held a suspicious gaze upon Myrna and turning to Stephen, she told him, “Stephen, you can’t honestly trust her. She impersonates people! That kind of power can easily be abused,” she tried to reason with him.
He sighed. “I know, but I’ve discerned her honesty with my magic, and I trust her. And, Elizabeth, she can be useful.”
Myrna nodded. “Yes, I am quite good at spying, reconnaissance. I can be either a man or woman, of any rank, of any age, and I can make others believe that I am who I say I am.”
“Because you’re a talented liar?” Elizabeth shot at her, still miffed by Myrna.
“Well, yes, with a little magical help too.”
“But then how do we know you’re being frank with us now?”
“Does an impersonator go around telling others that he or she is an impersonator?” Myrna asked her right back. “That would ruin the whole point of being someone else to undertake an espionage mission and the like,” she informed her with a small roll of her eyes.
The princess gave a resigned sigh, collapsing into a chair. She rubbed her forehead in thought.
“Elizabeth, I know she may seem untrustworthy. Believe me, I don’t think I quite trust Myrna yet,” he confessed to the princess.
“Ah, thanks. You do know how to make a woman feel loved,” Myrna said smartly.
“Ella still isn’t quite accepting of her,” Stephen also said. “But I want to give her a chance.”
“So how is your magic different than Stephen’s then?” Elizabeth wondered. “I’ve never encountered someone who ‘specializes’ in turning into different people.”
“That’s because my kind do not live long. We always face the same problem. When we forget our true faces, the appearance we were given at birth, then we have an identity crisis. We go into a panic because we have forgotten, and we lose sight of ourselves. I found out that my Grandmother, who had the same talent, died because of the panic. We don’t see how to continue on living if we don’t know who we truly are any longer. It is a grim fate and so I hoped that maybe with Stephen’s help then I’ll always remember who I am. That I won’t die an early death,” Myrna explained somberly, her grey eyes dimming slightly at her possible fate.
“Oh dear. I’m so sorry,” Elizabeth said sympathetically, reaching out to grasp the older woman’s hand in a gesture of comfort.
Myrna shook her head, trying to shake off the unpleasant topic by smiling. “It’s not so bad. Just have to remember, you know? Not too hard…well, even though I’m not fond of my true face. It’s much more interesting to play at different looks. And how my magic is different than Stephen’s…it’s er…more centered on impersonating? It’s more specialized…” She turned to Stephen, and asked him, “yours is all-encompassing, right?”
Stephen nodded. “Yes, it’s like practicing a trade, but in a magical sense. Like a blacksmith’s trade is crafting weaponry, Myrna’s trade is turning into different people as naturally as breathing. It’s a passive magic, I would say. She can’t do attack magic, control the elements or replicate precious metals, for example, which Ella and I can due to our parentage. Not all magic users are the same.”
“So can you turn into different people, Stephen?” Elizabeth inquired him, interested. “I know you can transform into animals.”
Stephen shrugged. “I’ve never tried the spell, but I’m certain it would take some effort. I’ve never seen a reason to attempt it though. It doesn’t interest me.”
Myrna laughed. “Stephen is just saying that because he would lose so badly against me. He shouldn’t even bother!” She informed Elizabeth as she ruffled Stephen’s hair.
Stephen grimaced. “Leave my hair alone!” He demanded to no effect.
She patted him on the head while he crossed his arms. He looked very much the part of a petulant child.
Elizabeth giggled.
Myrna directed her attention to the princess. “I’ve seen you sword-fighting. Like I told you, I can be a woman or man of any age. I know a thing or two about sword-fighting and I could help you out with that. Be your training partner. You’re…fourteen, correct?” She questioned.
Elizabeth nodded slowly, her amber eyes shining with great interest. “You could do that?” She asked.
The older woman nodded. “Yes. Now a girl your age would be an even match, but you want a challenge I bet? Because let me assure you, when I turn into a boy, I will fight like one. I may have been born a girl, but the nature of my skill allows me to wholly become the opposing gender. In a way, I don’t really have a true gender. I’m comfortable as either a man or a woman and as such, I go both ways when it comes to attraction,” Myrna explained. She grinned at her.
The princess stared at her, but tried to compose herself as best as she could. “All right then. Can I see how you’ll look like? And how will I know it’s you?”
Myrna got off the table and went to kneel before the princess. She lightly pressed her hand on Elizabeth’s forehead, and a flash of purple light later, the deed was done.
She stepped back from her. “There, you’ll know that it’s me simply upon seeing me,” Myrna explained to her.
“She did the same thing to me,” Stephen said, drinking from his goblet.
Myrna’s eyes flashed the same light purple from before and now she was a fourteen-year old boy with dark hair and dark brown eyes. He had the build of a knight in training and he had a formidable aura about him, though that may have been partially due to his dark features. Still, the boy that Myrna had transformed into was rather handsome in his own right no matter the fierceness in his appearance.
Elizabeth appeared considerably impressed. “And what will your name be? Since Myrna is a feminine name after all.”
“Blakeney, I suppose. That’ll do,” Myrna told her, her voice now noticeably deeper because of her masculine form.
The princess nodded, accepting the choice. The two of them talked about when to meet for practice while Stephen finished up his lunch.
Elizabeth left twenty minutes later after giving her respective farewells, and that left Stephen and Myrna alone in the room.
“You look young,” Stephen remarked with a slight smirk.
Myrna – or Blakeney as she had named this look – gave him a dark look, which rapidly shifted to a mischievous one.
She changed for the third time and Stephen couldn’t stop himself from being rightly startled at her new look.
Myrna was still a man, but closer to Stephen’s age, and she – he – was now blond with blue eyes.
“That’s just not right…that’s…you’re impersonating royalty!” He said futilely, glaring at her all together smug expression.
She shrugged. “He hasn’t looked like this in years! And you didn’t say I wasn’t allowed to do this. I know you like blondes, you told me so. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen it.”
“I hate you right now,” Stephen muttered.
Myrna smirked at him. “Let me change that then.”
~ * ~
Author: dk323
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mention of past non-con, dub-con, underage, character death
Characters/Pairings: Merlin/Arthur (pre-slash), Merlin/Morgana, Arthur/Gwen, OC
Spoilers: No; occurs during Arthur’s reign as King.
Disclaimer: The show “Merlin” is property of the BBC. No money being made.
Summary (for all of Chapter 3): Secrets are revealed and confrontations are made. Morgana is still ever present and she has one more trick up her sleeve. Merlin’s son, Stephen, is sent away from Camelot for his own safety. The path to the future begins to unravel as the time of King Arthur draws to a close.
Author's Notes: This is literally the only fic I'm working at the moment, so the second half should be posted in a week or so. The fic is getting longer than initially planned, but it should all work out. I have bits and pieces of the second half written and I know how it'll end. I've been debating back and forth about whether to end with Arthur's death, but I couldn't do it. :( There will be a character death, which will occur in the next (and final) chapter. You could probably guess who it will be after reading this part. Also, I didn't want to introduce two characters in one update...that was overload in my opinion. So the second character will be introduced in the next chapter.
*I changed the number of years Merlin spent with Morgana (from five years to six) because their children's ages didn't make sense before (unless they were born premature).
*The summary is for all of Chapter 3, so you could see part of it as a preview for the second half. :)
Six Years Ago: Prisoner | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
~ * ~
With you, I can just be who I am.
You don’t have to hide anything. You don’t have to worry.
~ Merlin in "The Lady of the Lake"
~ * ~
“Ella married before her twentieth birthday -- I never would have thought that would happen.”
Merlin glared at Arthur. “Could you sound any more cheerful about it? She’ll be living at Tintagel now, sure, but she will still visit us here. And really, Arthur, Ella was not a ‘terror’ as you so kindly called her.”
“Well, to be fair, that was when she was younger,” He reminded Merlin, then he said agreeably, “I do concede that Ella did grow up well enough. I don’t know how much of that was your doing…”
“Yes, Arthur, because being her father has nothing to do with it,” Merlin said drily.
The blond grinned at him. “Yes, well, maybe you helped.”
Merlin stared at him in disbelief.
“So, what about Stephen? I have to say I’m a bit surprised it’s taking longer for him compared to his sister. Is he even courting anyone?”
“Arthur, he’s only nineteen! I wasn’t expecting either of them to be getting married. Ella proved me wrong, but I’m completely fine if Stephen waits until he’s thirty to get married.”
The king raised his eyebrow, looking quite bemused. “Thirty, Merlin? Really?”
“Yes. Don’t look at me like I’m crazy,” he said, looking at him sharply.
“That is up to debate,” Arthur shot back at him good naturedly. “Now, I have seen your son with different women about the castle. There was nothing inappropriate done – at least in public viewing. I became rather bored with the whole thing rather quickly.”
“He hasn’t told me of any intentions toward a woman. And I’m sure he will once he’s ready. I don’t like talking about this behind my son’s back.”
Arthur pursued the topic despite Merlin’s words. “There is always the court gossip. We could find out what’s happening inside the bedchambers…”
Merlin cut in easily, speaking formally, “Your Majesty, you’re doing a fine impression of one of the Court Ladies. Please do continue as I decide what color gown would best suit you.” His advisor smirked at him.
It was Arthur’s turn to glare at him, but fortunately for Merlin, the king stopped talking about Stephen’s love life.
~ * ~
A brunette chambermaid slipped into Stephen’s room. She settled into a chair at the table upon which he was eating his lunch.
“Back in Camelot, are we? Without your sister?” She asked.
Stephen gave her a tight look. “Have you grown tired of being nobility, Myrna? Too rich for you?”
“Something like that,” Myrna said smoothly, shrugging. “It’s much easier being inconspicuous as a servant. Despite how dull it can be.”
He peered at her curiously. “Why are you still in Camelot?” He wondered. “It has been months. I thought you would have gone by now. You saved my life, I saved yours. We’re even. You could go…”
Myrna grabbed an apple out of the bowl without asking for it. She bit into the fruit, appearing thoughtful.
“I have lived for twenty years, an orphan since before I could even walk, and I have impersonated my fair share of people. From royalty and nobility down to servants and paupers. In fact, I managed to have quite a nice childhood when I convinced a childless noblewoman that I was a boy of noble birth. The poor woman was so desperate that she took me in, and her husband raised me as if I were truly their own. It was all rather sweet,” she explained to him, a somewhat fond look on her face. “I’m almost sorry I had to leave them a few years ago. Bit weird being a boy. Oh well,” she said lightly.
She continued eating her apple.
Stephen gave a long sigh. “Yes, you’re a master impersonator. What’s your point?”
“I just find Camelot fascinating, so I’m staying for a while. And you must have something for me to do. Some brilliant reconnaissance task or whatnot. I’m good at that. I can turn into anyone you like. Collect any information you want,” she entreated him.
“That would be deceitful,” Stephen pointed out. “And you remember our agreement?”
She nodded. “Yes, yes, I can’t turn into your sister or your father or you’ll have me killed. I gave you my word.”
Then Myrna’s eyes flashed a light purple and she was suddenly donned in a pale blue silk gown. She was taller and thinner where before she was more petite. Her hair was now blonde and her eyes were a striking amber color where they once were a dark blue.
“I’m not sure that the word of a liar does much,” he retorted, but then, he sighed. “Then again, I did verify the honesty of your words with magic. I suppose, for now, that will be enough.”
“I don’t want to die any more than you do. You have nothing to concern yourself over,” She assured him.
He nodded. “I believe you,” he told her, still some reluctance in his tone. “This is my family, you understand. The last thing I want is you causing trouble and hurting them in the process.”
She nodded solemnly. “Yes, of course,” Myrna said to him. “Now, if you have nothing interesting for me to do, I will leave you for a little while. There’s a grand celebration for me to attend elsewhere – as the Lady Eleanor, you know. I’m sure it will be good fun,” Myrna said cheerily.
“I know you’ll filch something if you find anything worth money,” he said knowingly, giving her a pointed look.
Myrna appeared unrepentant. “If it weren’t for my specialized magical ability, I would have been a poor, dead orphan. So you can not begrudge me a few trinkets especially from those who could afford the loss. And you should be proud of me – I was looking for a necklace to wear and all I had was this sad little thing,” she said, pointing to the golden necklace gracing her neck. The piece of jewelry had definitely seen better days. “At first, I thought of nicking a necklace from one of the court ladies, maybe, or even the queen or the princess. Now that would be a--” But she stopped at Stephen’s annoyed look.
Unbothered, she continued on, “But in the end, I decided that why should I do that when I know how you’re such an expert with handling precious metals.”
Stephen gave a small nod. “Give it here then.”
She took off the necklace and she handed it to him. With a flash of gold light in his eyes, Stephen waved his hand over the golden necklace and the gold shone brilliantly as a result of the magic.
Stephen gave it back to her.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Myrna intoned happily. “You know how many women you could get with this trick?”
He gave her an affronted look at the idea. “I’m not interested.”
She hummed at him. “Suit yourself. Could you?” Myrna asked him for help in clasping the necklace around her neck.
Stephen left his chair to go behind her. After he clasped her necklace, he asked Myrna, “So tell me, really this time, why are you staying here in Camelot?”
She turned to face him, placing her hands on his chest. “I just like it here… I like you. And not only because you saved my life.”
And then without warning, Myrna pressed her lips to his and her fingers became tangled in his dark hair.
The next moment, she disappeared leaving a surprised man in her wake.
So that night hadn’t been meaningless, Stephen thought. That was somewhat comforting, though he would never dream of courting Myrna. She was too fond of traveling about, pretending to be any person she fancied. She was certainly not the type to settle down in one place and grow old with someone.
As far as he knew, Myrna was her real name and he had seen her true appearance only once. She was petite with a round, pleasant face. Her eyes had been grey; the color of a storm cloud, and her hair had been a medium brown. She hadn’t been stunning, but she had been pretty enough. And yet, Myrna had told him that with all the people she could turn into – her true face was rather dull and boring by comparison.
It was nice, almost, to know someone who was so honest with him despite her penchant for manipulating others. The irony was not lost on him.
Stephen wasn’t sure if Ella’s advice about the situation with the Queen was the best way to go. He didn’t feel right about keeping that particular secret…the anxiety of keeping it quiet was wearing him down.
And if Myrna could be truthful with him despite her life’s goal to lie to others; then why couldn’t he just get his secret out in the open?
But Stephen knew, without a doubt, that his father would not like it at all when he told him.
~ * ~
That evening, Stephen spent some time with the Queen – sitting by her bedside. It had become something of a regular habit of his. Though lately, she liked to voice her grievances while he tried his best to lend a sympathetic ear.
“It has always been like this. I can not do a thing about it. The only option is to just accept it,” Gwen said with a sigh.
She lay back down on her bed, appearing rather dejected.
Stephen looked at her. “Yes, My Lady. Maybe you should talk to the king.”
Gwen shook her head quickly. She closed her eyes, her hand covering her forehead as if she were checking for fever. “No, it’s too late for that,” she told him, her tone hopeless. “It has always been your father and Arthur, you understand? They have always been so close…and when James…died, then everything changed. There was a distance between Arthur and I… he never actively told me, but I could see the frustration, the disappointment in his eyes. And that hurt,” she said.
“I’m sure if you could--” Stephen began again only to be cut off.
The Queen interrupted him. “No, no…you need to understand… I need you to do something for me.”
“What?”
“There’s a potion that I need you to get for me. A sleeping potion – it will help me rest better.”
He stared at her. “You don’t think I know what you’re going to do? My father has told me that you’re not using the sleeping potion correctly. You’re taking too much of it.”
“Please – I just…please. You don’t understand the pain I feel,” she said despondently.
She reached out to grab his hand and Stephen squeezed her hand gently before he spoke contritely, “I’m sorry, but I have to tell my father. Ella knows now, and I’ve decided I can’t keep this from my father any longer. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Stephen, you’re the only one who could get me the potion. Please…I can’t get it myself because
Merlin has placed a magic lock to keep me from doing so.”
“Did you even hear what I said?” He wondered, mildly exasperated.
Gwen nodded. “Yes, I did. I understand. You’re right. It has been long enough. I do not want you to lie to your own father. My life is in disrepair, but you still have a chance. I just hope that you will be prepared to deal with the consequences when the truth is known to all. I imagine Merlin would speak to Arthur about it.”
“I’ll be fine. It’s you that I’m uncertain about,” he informed her, looking uneasy.
Her brown eyes pierced his as she asserted, “This is even more reason to get the potion. Don’t you see that it is the best solution?”
“What? I have to live with this while you die?” He said in disbelief. “That doesn’t solve anything.”
“I am sorry. I truly am, but I can’t do this any longer. I simply can’t. Just do as I ask, please…” Gwen insisted, undeterred.
He shook his head. “No, I won’t. I’m not helping you.”
“Stephen, please. Just get me the potion and I will do the rest,” she tried to plead with him.
“No, I will not!” He exclaimed.
He stood up abruptly and he headed to the door, intent on leaving.
When Stephen closed the door upon exiting, he didn’t hear Gwen call him back.
~ * ~
The next day:
Afterwards, Stephen concluded that he could do a better job of secret revealing. If he had not wanted his father to be in a dark mood before opening up to him, then bringing up his mother was not the route to go. Whenever she was mentioned around his father, it was a sure conversation-killer as his father always grew taciturn and somber upon any talk of Mother. From what his father had told him and Ella, their mother had had a falling out with the king who, while not her brother by blood, was as good as one despite that.
Their mother had left Camelot a few years before her brother ascended the throne. The relationship between her and their father was complicated and as such, he hadn’t been especially enthusiastic about explaining the situation in detail. And according to their father, their mother had been attacked and died tragically when he and his sister were just five. Stephen had felt sad, sure, at the sudden loss of his mother and he had missed her a lot in the beginning. But in truth, both he and Ella had always been closer to their father. While their mother had cared for them, she was usually busy with other matters and their father or Matilda had looked after them. And at any rate, he and Ella did have one another.
Their father had always reassured them that he and their mother loved their children dearly. No matter the disagreements that their parents had with one another that would always hold true. His father had conveyed to them, quite clearly, that he did not hide the fact of his loyalty to King Arthur. No matter their mother’s contradictory view on Camelot, his father would not go back on his beliefs and his faith in the king and the good that he could achieve for Camelot and Albion as a whole.
And he had told both Ella and him that he hoped his children would feel the same love and respect for Camelot as their father did. Together with his sister, Stephen had come to appreciate Camelot. Considering how young they were upon first arriving, it wasn’t that hard to simply accept what Camelot stood for and its king, who had allowed magic to flourish once again with their father’s help. He and Ella had just been happy to be with their father and they truly didn’t care about their departed mother’s adverse views. As long as their father was there to look after them, that was all either of them cared about as they grew up. That’s what mattered most to him and his sister.
Still, Stephen could never resist discussing his mother. He hoped that maybe now; he would be old enough for his father to finally tell him the truth. He and Ella had suspected that their father was keeping something from them…due to a misguided notion of protecting them, which had annoyed Ella quite a lot. It had only left Stephen intrigued as to what exactly their father was not telling them? Was it that awful that he couldn’t be honest with his own children? With both of them almost twenty years old now, surely they were old enough to take whatever secret or secrets that their father had?
He shouldn’t have bothered though… and Stephen knew that his desire to get his secret off his chest would win out over trying to get his father to reveal his own (a fruitless effort honestly, and it would only serve to distract him from the original point of the talk). After all, Stephen was too ready to tell the secret he had been keeping for years. He couldn’t back out now.
When he told his father, he had stared at him in understandable disbelief. With downcast eyes, Stephen did reassert that it was true…and that he was sorry for not informing him sooner. A hurt look crossed his father’s face before he stood up to leave. Stephen hadn’t been told where he was off to, but his father did have his ‘I’m going to yell at someone’ look. But everyone knew of the Queen’s problems, her steadily declining health as her breakdowns increased. It would only make matters worse for her if she were verbally attacked. Surely even his father had the presence of mind to realize that.
So, really, there was only one person his father could go to…
~ * ~
Merlin strode into the room, intent on seeking out one person in particular. He saw Arthur conversing with Sir Gawain and feeling his patience beginning to give, Merlin said curtly to the man, “I need to speak to the king alone, if you could.”
Sir Gawain looked to Arthur, who nodded and he dismissed the man. Once the knight had departed from the council chamber, the king set an expectant and questioning gaze upon his court sorcerer.
“Merlin, what is it?” Arthur asked him once Merlin had taken a seat at the table.
With a clenched jaw and carefully restrained frustration, Merlin told him. Arthur stared at him in shock, disbelieving of what Merlin was telling him. But the king knew that Merlin would not fabricate such a story, not one that was so unthinkable…
“How could you not know? She’s your wife!” Merlin accused, eyes flashing -- even turning gold for a moment.
“And he’s your son!” Arthur retorted. “Shouldn’t you be asking why he didn’t come to you before?
Why you didn’t even see it when you should know him better than anyone?”
“I never imagined in my wildest dreams that something like this would happen in Camelot. But Stephen--” Merlin paused, sighing, “—he keeps things to himself even when he shouldn’t. He has always been reserved, quiet, and I thought…I had hoped that since he and his sister are close, that he would tell her if anything were wrong. And then Ella would inform me.”
“Then maybe nothing was wrong,” Arthur pointed out.
“No, Arthur! He was barely a man, still a child, when it first started – how could you think that nothing was wrong?” Merlin shouted at him. “And I don’t know how you could sit there so assuredly, so calmly, upon evidence that your wife has deceived you!” He told him.
Arthur sighed, relenting. “Merlin, I understand that you’re upset, but I’m telling you – I did not know. If I had known, I would have put an end to it.”
Merlin shook his head vehemently. He pointed his finger at Arthur, accusing him. “No, this…but this was your fault! I have watched you push Gwen away after James’ death, after she could not bear another son. This was waiting to happen. I should have never allowed my children to live here.”
Arthur appeared reconciliatory, the lines in his face creased as signs of age and weariness showed on his features. “Merlin, I made a mistake. I was worried about Camelot’s future. Surely you would understand?”
His advisor raised his hands in exasperation. “I have tried, Arthur,” Merlin emphasized. “I have tried so hard to be supportive, but I could see it in your eyes: you still can’t accept that Elizabeth is a girl.”
“And you never wanted your children in the first place!” Arthur shot back at him in retaliation, Merlin’s words hitting him all too uncomfortably -- it was the truth he did not like dwelling on.
“That’s not true. I love them more than anything. How they came to be doesn’t matter to me!” Merlin defended with feeling.
“Well, maybe it should!” Arthur declared, a vicious remark delivered in the heat of the moment.
Merlin stared at Arthur in aghast at what he had said.
Before the king could correct the wrong, Merlin disappeared suddenly – his magic carrying him away.
Arthur swore. He shouldn’t have bated Merlin like that. The control spell that Morgana had placed on him, which had led to his children’s conception, was still a painful subject for Merlin even after all these years. Arthur shouldn’t have attacked him with it, but Merlin had been right: he still had doubts about Elizabeth. He still sometimes wished that Gwen had bore him another son, one who would have survived to grow up and take his place upon his death.
And yes, he had pushed Gwen away – not intentionally to hurt her, but he had been at a loss on what to do. He had been looking for someone to blame…Morgana was the obvious choice, but she was dead and it was easier, in a way, to blame the person who could not bear him a son when she should have been able to. She had succeeded once, after all, before Morgana ripped their son away from them.
When Merlin’s children had first arrived in Camelot, Arthur had considered – when he was feeling particularly troubled and frustrated – that he could return the favor. If Morgana had killed his son, then why shouldn’t he do the same to hers?
It was an ugly thought and Arthur always was disgusted with himself for even contemplating the action. Even though Stephen and Ella were Morgana’s children, they were Merlin’s too and Arthur could not fathom losing Merlin’s friendship, his steadfast loyalty, over an unforgiveable act. Because Merlin would never forgive him.
He remembered watching Merlin spend time with his children – playing and laughing -- when they were younger. Arthur had felt so overcome with guilt and horror at his treacherous mind that he drank himself into a stupor on several occasions.
~ * ~
Merlin knew the person was Arthur before he saw him. Of course, Arthur knew where he would be. Merlin didn’t have the energy to try to find a place that the king wouldn’t suspect he would be. But the truth was, the sorcerer wanted to be found. He hated fighting with Arthur and sitting before the Lake -- the same one that once held Excalibur, which was now rightfully bestowed to Arthur for the past twenty years -- had always been a peaceful place for Merlin to collect his thoughts.
Arthur sighed as he sat down beside his friend on the water’s bank. Before them, the waters of the lake were unusually calm, almost peaceful, as it lay at the foot of serene landscape that surely had a magic of its own.
“Merlin, I know that you love them. I didn’t mean it,” Arthur said quietly, though there was a hint of fierceness in his voice.
Merlin let out a shuddering sigh. He couldn’t look at Arthur. Instead, he favored staring straight ahead, out across the expansive lake.
“Maybe you were right,” Merlin confessed in resignation. “Sometimes, I have doubts. I worry if they will turn out like Morgana despite how I have done my best to raise them right. I don’t want the darkness that poisoned their mother to touch them. And now, my son…this secret he has been keeping…” Merlin breathed out.
Arthur reached out to rest his hand upon Merlin’s cheek and he coaxed him to turn his head toward him.
Merlin did so, peering directly at the king, a look of defeat in the sorcerer’s blue-eyed gaze.
“Merlin, your children are grown and you and I both know that you have raised them well. Your worries are without foundation,” He said fervently, his eyes piercing Merlin’s. When Merlin looked ready to interrupt, Arthur pressed one finger to his lips to halt his words. “And, Merlin, what Stephen did, what he has kept from you, does not suggest that he will be tempted to commit evil, to use his magic for ill intent. This has nothing to do with any of that. Now who is truly to blame… it is not easy to tell. But Guinevere should have not placed him in that position, being as young as he was. He may have kept it from you because he was ashamed, uncertain, of what was happening. I have seen your son grow up and like you have said, he’s reserved. And he certainly isn’t the type to reveal secrets that could hurt someone.”
Merlin gave a small nod of agreement while Arthur’s hand fell back to his side, though the king’s careful gaze on his closest friend remained. Merlin spoke softly, “Gwen hasn’t been doing well for years. Her judgment is not what it once was. Stephen told me that he had seen how lonely she felt. She had even told him so. It started not long after he and Ella came to Camelot, after your son’s death. They talked mostly at first,” Merlin paused then, shaking his head. “No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t be both their father and their mother. Morgana was their mother -- it is a fact that can not be forgotten. And Gwen helped to fill that void as my children dealt with the loss of their mother at a young age. I think it had affected Stephen more so than Ella. She has always been resilient,” he remarked, taking care to give Arthur a sharp glare as the blond twitched his lips upon Merlin’s remark on Ella.
“But how it progressed from talking to more, I can’t even bear to think about. I just wonder – have I done something wrong?” He worried, looking to Arthur.
“No, Merlin,” Arthur told him fiercely. “You should not blame yourself. It won’t do any good to blame anyone here. Guinevere has been ill. And you were right,” He admitted, rubbing his brow in consternation. “I have treated her poorly and I regret it. I will have a talk with her,” he promised Merlin.
Merlin rewarded him with a small smile. Arthur leaned toward him and he kissed him softly on the lips.
“Arthur, I thought--” Merlin murmured against him.
The king pulled away, an affectionate look in his blue eyes, so full of life now against an old, battle-weary face.
He was still Arthur no matter how the passing of time had not been as kind to him as Merlin wished it would be. Sometimes Merlin wished to use his magic to wipe away the wrinkles and war scars, take away the aches and pains of hard battles won and lost; but Arthur had refused.
He would look forward, not back, Arthur had told him. He was proud of what he had accomplished as King of Camelot and the aches and pains, the numerous scars marking his body, all of it…he would take them as they were. Merlin hated to see him in pain, became restless as he saw Arthur grow older, his fighting prowess still excellent, but with touches of slowness, signs of age showing through.
But as Arthur aged, Merlin wasn’t feeling like he was getting older himself. His hair grayed and there were crinkles around his eyes, but it was almost as if his magic was winning an unseen battle with Time. And so, Merlin was left feeling as young and energetic as he had been as a young man, first arriving in Camelot well over twenty years now.
Arthur, with all that he had done for his kingdom, for Albion, was only just a man at the end of the day. Time did not yield to him as Merlin fervently wished it would.
Arthur would die in battle, Merlin was certain of it. And how much he wished he could, Merlin knew he could not stop it. Arthur, noble and honourable as he was, would think it the right way to go, dying fighting for his kingdom, for his people.
Arthur’s deep voice shook Merlin out of thoughts. “I’ll have you know, Merlin, that you’re quite wrong,” he informed him, a teasing smile upon his lips.
Merlin returned the smile. They kissed again, this time more deeply than before.
With a soft sigh, Merlin pulled away, somewhat reluctantly. “I wonder -- what do we do when this news of Gwen and my son slips into the court gossip? I can hardly believe that it has been kept
concealed for so long.”
“Then it shall remain that way. And if it doesn’t, then I will handle any inquiries about the matter. You do not need to worry.”
“But Arthur--” Merlin tried to argue.
Arthur held up his hand, his tone was firm, unyielding as he spoke, “No, it is only right. I am the king and I must bear the responsibility. This involves my wife after all. I will do my best to protect your son from any backlash.”
Before Merlin could speak, his protests at Arthur for bearing the brunt of a matter that was not directly his fault dying in his throat, the blond moved to kiss him, silencing him.
Merlin felt a warm happiness sweep over him. He always had felt at home with Arthur by his side.
~ * ~
“So you told Father then?” Ella’s voice resonated in his head.
Even across a distance, they could speak silently to each other. When they were younger and had little control of their magical connection, they knew what the other was thinking as easily as breathing. There were literally no secrets between them. But fortunately, with their father’s help, they had been able to build up walls around their mind so that some rather private thoughts would be kept private. Now there were no involuntary leaks of information, but the both of them still maintained their mind to mind communication with one another.
They could never completely cut themselves off from each other. For Stephen at least, he found it comforting to feel that echo in his head that told him that his sister was there in some capacity, that she was alive and well. He could scarcely imagine how others – particularly non-magical people -- lived without such a certainty, to not have a sense of someone always by their side even if it was just their consciousness.
“Yes and the king knows as well. It seems that the court is not aware of it. Though I am surprised that this hasn’t made its way into the court gossip yet. Maybe people just don’t care?” Stephen wondered.
“Well, the Queen’s ailment over the years has been discussed quite frequently. The court has noticed her state of health and the troubles between her and the king. How could they not?” Ella told him.
“But what does that have to do with my problem?”
He could hear a hint of bemusement in Ella’s voice as she replied, “You should know this, Stephen. Despite how long ago that the ban on magic has been lifted, there is still nervousness, tension amongst the non-magical community. And there’s still fear, of Father – he is known as the most powerful sorcerer to have existed after all. No matter if he has declared his loyalty to serve and protect King Arthur and the kingdom of Camelot; there are those who still worry what Father will do if he is compelled to… Not a good idea to get on his bad side in essence.”
“…and so if someone were to give me trouble, then--” Stephen voiced, understanding what she was alluding to.
“Yes. And as far as for bastard children…as is always a concern, the Queen was past childbearing age at the time, was she not? And after Elizabeth, she had not succeeded in giving birth to a healthy child. In some small way, you helped her when she was feeling most alone. And I understand why you had to tell Father. I admit I may have been wrong in my solution. You did the right thing, Stephen,” Ella praised him.
“Thank you,” He said, grateful for the support.
“Well, I better go. The weather is so nice that Char and I are having a picnic outside. What are you planning to do?” She asked him.
“Fly for a bit…what do you think: falcon, hawk, raven or sparrow?”
“Hawk, maybe? You’ve done that once, haven’t you?”
“No, that was a falcon,” he corrected her.
“Oh, well…you think you can do a hawk then?”
“I’ll see. I’ll talk to you later? Have a good time with Charmont,” Stephen wished her, finding a small delight in teasing her.
“Oh, hush. Have a good time flying,” Ella told him.
Then he felt a shift in his mind signifying her retreat for the time being.
Now standing in his chambers, Stephen concentrated as best as he could -- recalling the animal transformation lessons his father gave him and Ella.
~ * ~
Walking along the corridor, Arthur just managed to keep his composure when a hawk flew out of Stephen’s rooms.
He shook his head wryly as the hawk glided in flight in the opposite direction of where Arthur was heading. The things he considered normal these days, Arthur thought.
He had just left Guinevere’s chambers after he had a good talk with her – his promise to Merlin the previous day holding true. Arthur felt that the talk had been successful, that he and his wife were able to resolve some of their problems. Still, the king could not quite take away the desolation that the queen felt, that he could see in her eyes. Her smile never reached her eyes anymore, and Arthur felt the blame fall on him for that. It hurt him to see her like that, but he knew he wasn’t perfect, however hard he tried to convey such an image to his people, to the entire court -- it was not the truth. He thought it a small blessing that what had transpired between Guinevere and Merlin’s son was not running rampant in the court gossip. His worries about how to handle that were unnecessary at the moment.
Upon seeing Lancelot coming his way, Arthur flagged him down. “Lancelot, my good man. I need to speak to you.”
Lancelot nodded, coming to stand before him. “The new knights still need a lot of work. I’ve had a time trying to teach them,” he informed him, clearly frustrated at the seemingly fruitless task.
Arthur clapped him on the shoulder. He smiled at him, giving him an understanding look. “Yes, I know. That’s what I wanted to discuss with you. I have come up with a new training strategy.”
~ * ~
Stephen was sitting before the fireplace, turning the flames into different colors and becoming almost entranced by the flames: green, purple and white. Then someone came into his chambers.
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Elizabeth announced herself without any preamble.
She moved over an empty chair beside Stephen’s own, and she sat down on it. A sigh escaped her.
Stephen looked to her, his eyes shifting from gold to blue as he observed her. “You know?”
“Oh yes. I’ve suspected. My father confirmed it to me. I had to wheedle it out of him, but this is my mother. My mother, Stephen,” she emphasized, a faint note of accusation in her tone.
He rubbed his hand over his brow in a weary gesture. He said, “I know it’s hard to understand. I sometimes wish I had just avoided her. That I had been smarter when I was younger. But I only talked with her most of the time… I – the other things were occasional. I just spent time with her, tried to be a friend to her. I had felt sorry for her. I still do.”
“…and she didn’t want to burden me with her problems? Is that it?” She ventured in irritation.
“She is your mother. She didn’t want to worry you,” Stephen replied quietly.
“Sometimes I hate how parents pretend that everything is fine when it’s not, but they make their children think it is fine,” Elizabeth said indignantly, her finger tapping restlessly on the chair’s arm.
“My father is the same way. That’s how it always is, I suppose. I understand if you hate me right now,” he said in resignation.
She shook her head. Frustrated, she placed a dark curl behind her ear. Sounding uncertain, she confided in him, “I don’t know. I don’t want to hate you. I truly do not. It hurts me to see my mother so troubled that she resorted to seeking you out. She should have known that what she was doing was wrong. Haven’t we always been taught to respect our betters? And then, this happens… and sometimes I just want to fast forward a few years because I’m tired of everyone walking around me and whispering. I get so worried about my future…I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you and Ella. I need all the help I can get.”
“Don’t say that. You shouldn’t let what others say hinder you. If you have faith in yourself, then you will accomplish a lot. You’re only fourteen. You shouldn’t worry so much about it now.”
Elizabeth huffed. “I’m getting suitors already. I can barely stand them. It’s just so…I feel like I’m trapped,” she said hopelessly. “And then my father is thinking of sending word to some distant Pendragon cousin who I have never heard of… that I would marry him.”
“Well, he’s doing what’s best for the kingdom,” Stephen told her.
Elizabeth shrugged. “Maybe, maybe…it’ll be better if it’s an arranged marriage, a loveless one. My parents were in love with each other and look what has happened to them. What if love isn’t worth it if it comes with hurt and pain when you fall out of love? It’s just…” She trailed off, waving her hand dismissively.
“I don’t think I was this pessimistic when I was your age. If you keep thinking like that, you just might miss the prince who’s waiting to sweep you off your feet. Let’s just hope he doesn’t have a name like Charmont,” he said to her, a small smile playing on his lips.
She smirked at him, rolling her eyes. “Thank you, Stephen,” Elizabeth said gratefully.
She left her seat and hugged him, and she kissed him fleetingly on the cheek.
“I’ll always be there for you,” Stephen promised her.
The princess smiled back at him as she pulled away.
~ * ~
“Stephen, who is she?” Elizabeth demanded upon entering his chambers the next day.
A chambermaid with brown hair and blue eyes sat on the dining table popping grapes into her mouth.
“Just a friend,” Stephen said with a shrug. He ate his sausage, appearing quite unconcerned.
He gave the mystery woman a pointed look.
The chambermaid hopped off the table and then her eyes flashed a pale purple. A moment later, she transformed into a different look. Although, honestly, the most noticeable change was her facial structure, which was now rounder, and her blue eyes shifted to a startling grey.
Elizabeth stared at the woman. “Who are you really?”
“My name is Myrna and I can be anyone, truthfully. Stephen is insistent on introducing myself in my true face.”
The princess eyed her warily. “So you pretend to be other people?”
“Myrna is trying to amend her ways. She can be trusted,” Stephen assured her.
Myrna went back to sit on the wooden table and she ripped off a piece of soft bread and began chewing it, looking mildly interested at the proceedings.
The princess turned to her. “But you make others believe you’re someone else…” Elizabeth remarked.
“Yes,” Myrna admitted easily, “but it’s how I’ve survived. I was orphaned at a young age – I’m twenty now – and I fear I would not have lived long without this magical talent of mine. But I have been honest with Stephen, his sister, and now you. I suppose you could say that I’ve seen the error of my ways like Stephen has said.”
Elizabeth still held a suspicious gaze upon Myrna and turning to Stephen, she told him, “Stephen, you can’t honestly trust her. She impersonates people! That kind of power can easily be abused,” she tried to reason with him.
He sighed. “I know, but I’ve discerned her honesty with my magic, and I trust her. And, Elizabeth, she can be useful.”
Myrna nodded. “Yes, I am quite good at spying, reconnaissance. I can be either a man or woman, of any rank, of any age, and I can make others believe that I am who I say I am.”
“Because you’re a talented liar?” Elizabeth shot at her, still miffed by Myrna.
“Well, yes, with a little magical help too.”
“But then how do we know you’re being frank with us now?”
“Does an impersonator go around telling others that he or she is an impersonator?” Myrna asked her right back. “That would ruin the whole point of being someone else to undertake an espionage mission and the like,” she informed her with a small roll of her eyes.
The princess gave a resigned sigh, collapsing into a chair. She rubbed her forehead in thought.
“Elizabeth, I know she may seem untrustworthy. Believe me, I don’t think I quite trust Myrna yet,” he confessed to the princess.
“Ah, thanks. You do know how to make a woman feel loved,” Myrna said smartly.
“Ella still isn’t quite accepting of her,” Stephen also said. “But I want to give her a chance.”
“So how is your magic different than Stephen’s then?” Elizabeth wondered. “I’ve never encountered someone who ‘specializes’ in turning into different people.”
“That’s because my kind do not live long. We always face the same problem. When we forget our true faces, the appearance we were given at birth, then we have an identity crisis. We go into a panic because we have forgotten, and we lose sight of ourselves. I found out that my Grandmother, who had the same talent, died because of the panic. We don’t see how to continue on living if we don’t know who we truly are any longer. It is a grim fate and so I hoped that maybe with Stephen’s help then I’ll always remember who I am. That I won’t die an early death,” Myrna explained somberly, her grey eyes dimming slightly at her possible fate.
“Oh dear. I’m so sorry,” Elizabeth said sympathetically, reaching out to grasp the older woman’s hand in a gesture of comfort.
Myrna shook her head, trying to shake off the unpleasant topic by smiling. “It’s not so bad. Just have to remember, you know? Not too hard…well, even though I’m not fond of my true face. It’s much more interesting to play at different looks. And how my magic is different than Stephen’s…it’s er…more centered on impersonating? It’s more specialized…” She turned to Stephen, and asked him, “yours is all-encompassing, right?”
Stephen nodded. “Yes, it’s like practicing a trade, but in a magical sense. Like a blacksmith’s trade is crafting weaponry, Myrna’s trade is turning into different people as naturally as breathing. It’s a passive magic, I would say. She can’t do attack magic, control the elements or replicate precious metals, for example, which Ella and I can due to our parentage. Not all magic users are the same.”
“So can you turn into different people, Stephen?” Elizabeth inquired him, interested. “I know you can transform into animals.”
Stephen shrugged. “I’ve never tried the spell, but I’m certain it would take some effort. I’ve never seen a reason to attempt it though. It doesn’t interest me.”
Myrna laughed. “Stephen is just saying that because he would lose so badly against me. He shouldn’t even bother!” She informed Elizabeth as she ruffled Stephen’s hair.
Stephen grimaced. “Leave my hair alone!” He demanded to no effect.
She patted him on the head while he crossed his arms. He looked very much the part of a petulant child.
Elizabeth giggled.
Myrna directed her attention to the princess. “I’ve seen you sword-fighting. Like I told you, I can be a woman or man of any age. I know a thing or two about sword-fighting and I could help you out with that. Be your training partner. You’re…fourteen, correct?” She questioned.
Elizabeth nodded slowly, her amber eyes shining with great interest. “You could do that?” She asked.
The older woman nodded. “Yes. Now a girl your age would be an even match, but you want a challenge I bet? Because let me assure you, when I turn into a boy, I will fight like one. I may have been born a girl, but the nature of my skill allows me to wholly become the opposing gender. In a way, I don’t really have a true gender. I’m comfortable as either a man or a woman and as such, I go both ways when it comes to attraction,” Myrna explained. She grinned at her.
The princess stared at her, but tried to compose herself as best as she could. “All right then. Can I see how you’ll look like? And how will I know it’s you?”
Myrna got off the table and went to kneel before the princess. She lightly pressed her hand on Elizabeth’s forehead, and a flash of purple light later, the deed was done.
She stepped back from her. “There, you’ll know that it’s me simply upon seeing me,” Myrna explained to her.
“She did the same thing to me,” Stephen said, drinking from his goblet.
Myrna’s eyes flashed the same light purple from before and now she was a fourteen-year old boy with dark hair and dark brown eyes. He had the build of a knight in training and he had a formidable aura about him, though that may have been partially due to his dark features. Still, the boy that Myrna had transformed into was rather handsome in his own right no matter the fierceness in his appearance.
Elizabeth appeared considerably impressed. “And what will your name be? Since Myrna is a feminine name after all.”
“Blakeney, I suppose. That’ll do,” Myrna told her, her voice now noticeably deeper because of her masculine form.
The princess nodded, accepting the choice. The two of them talked about when to meet for practice while Stephen finished up his lunch.
Elizabeth left twenty minutes later after giving her respective farewells, and that left Stephen and Myrna alone in the room.
“You look young,” Stephen remarked with a slight smirk.
Myrna – or Blakeney as she had named this look – gave him a dark look, which rapidly shifted to a mischievous one.
She changed for the third time and Stephen couldn’t stop himself from being rightly startled at her new look.
Myrna was still a man, but closer to Stephen’s age, and she – he – was now blond with blue eyes.
“That’s just not right…that’s…you’re impersonating royalty!” He said futilely, glaring at her all together smug expression.
She shrugged. “He hasn’t looked like this in years! And you didn’t say I wasn’t allowed to do this. I know you like blondes, you told me so. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen it.”
“I hate you right now,” Stephen muttered.
Myrna smirked at him. “Let me change that then.”
~ * ~