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Dark Is Rising fic: The key to a second chance
Title: The key to a second chance
Author: dk323
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3,514
Characters/Pairings: Bran Davies/Will Stanton, Merlin, Morgan (the Morgana character)
Warnings: character death (but with a happy ending), brief violence, blood
Disclaimer: The Dark Is Rising book series is property of Susan Cooper. The show Merlin is property of the BBC.
Summary: Four years after Silver on the Tree, a tragic incident leaves Bran in a strange dream.
Author’s Notes: Will and Bran are both sixteen in this story.
I wrote this story for a friend for her birthday. It's a bit of an odd crossover with the TV series Merlin... it's mostly focused on Bran, of course, and his bond with Will, but Merlin is there to help out. It's a Modern!AU for Merlin. I had the idea that Merlin would meet Arthur at some point, but I wanted to keep the focus on Will and Bran in this story.
~ * ~
Bran remembered the light. If nothing else, he was sure of that. Something bad had happened, and he wished he could recall what it was.
He frankly could not understand how he’d come to be here, sitting on the grass with a view of a grand old manor home some feet away. He was on the front lawn that boasted perfectly manicured grass with differently shaped hedges – one of a winged horse, another of a unicorn, then a dragon and a stag.
In the center, there was a big water fountain with a blue-grey lady statue as its focal point. Flowers of all colors gave a sort of excitement amidst all the drab, solid grey stone of the manor.
Bran could easily deduce that he was certainly far away from home, far from the simplicity, though admittedly comforting steady nature of his rural Wales…
Though of course, the valleys, the hills and the mountains of Wales definitely added a spark of majesty to his home. Not even the man-made grandeur of this manor could match that.
He was startled when he witnessed a tall, thin dark-haired man rushing out of the front doors as if the devil were after him. The man looked to be in his twenties, at least a decade older than Bran.
A woman in a green travelling cloak came after the dark-haired man. She had a look of fury on her otherwise pretty face.
Feeling uneasy, Bran quickly went to hide behind the nearby dragon hedge.
But unfortunately, the woman had already seen him. She didn’t go after him though. Instead, she rounded on the dark-haired man.
“The boy is here, Merlin. Now give me my key,” she commanded him.
The man called Merlin did not speak a word. Bran saw him only frown and then shake his head.
“Oh, you mute fool! I want my key and I want it now,” she demanded of him.
He gave her a stern look and even had the audacity to roll his eyes.
The woman appeared to be working something out inside her head. “Of course. One hundred years. Immortality. No better way to hide that blasted key. But now…now,” she paused, a devious smile on her lips.
She shot her hand out and wrapped it around his neck. “I should kill you. That’s the way,” she decided. “Don’t worry. It shall be quick.”
But as her hold tightened around Merlin’s neck, endeavoring to strangle him, Bran could not remain uninvolved.
“Hey!” Bran exclaimed, coming out from behind the hedge. “Leave him alone!”
The woman turned to Bran. Merlin was gagging; gasping for the air he was being denied.
“Ah, and what do you plan to do?” She asked him in a mocking tone.
Bran could honestly say he didn’t know what he’d do beyond stopping a murder happening right in front of him. He was out of his depth, having no clue where he was and what this whole key matter was about.
“You can’t just kill someone when they’re not even fighting back. It’s wrong. Who are you anyway?”
The woman removed her hand from Merlin, and he started to massage his neck. He shot a look of gratitude toward Bran. He heard a “Thank you,” inside his head, which he could only conclude came from Merlin.
“I am Morgan. And you are a thorn in my side,” she declared bitterly.
Before Bran could respond, Merlin had moved his hand in his direction and Bran felt himself being swept away.
He landed in a corridor in what he decided was inside the manor judging by the smooth stone walls.
“Run. She’s coming,” Bran heard inside his head, from Merlin he assumed since the voice was the same as the one that had thanked him.
He listened for footsteps, the sound of clicking heels, and he made sure to run in the opposite direction.
“Merlin may have his magic tricks to escape me, but you can not hide from me, Raven Boy.”
Something was oddly familiar about her calling him, ‘raven boy’? Where had he heard that before?
Fire shall fly from the raven boy and Bran vaguely recalled a friend he had had, who he had felt a close bond with.
But regretfully, in this strange place, his mind and memory were hopelessly muddled. He was missing something, he knew…
The fact he had found himself here with two people with names from Arthurian legend…that all certainly wasn’t a coincidence. It had to mean something…
But what, he couldn’t quite figure out. It was a secret just out of his reach, his grasp.
Must the youngest open the oldest hills
Bran shook his head at the line that had come into his head. Though he couldn’t help but picture the hills back home, in Wales. He felt in his gut that there was a connection between the hills in that line and the Welsh hills. After all, there was no better location to find hills that boasted great age.
As he heard Morgan approaching closer, he made a quick turn down another corridor. A strong pull toward one of the rooms in this dimly lit hall caused him to stop.
He didn’t know what was ‘pulling’ him to that room. Was it Morgan’s doing? Or should he take the risk and follow the pull?
“It’s all right. Go into the room,” Merlin spoke inside his head.
“Merlin? Can you tell me where I am?” Bran said silently to himself, experimenting to see if he could communicate with the older man mentally.
“In a non-world. I can’t quite explain it. It’s a dream in a way, but not a dream. I have met you before, you know.”
“You have?” Bran inquired, reasonably startled at the news. Though he also wondered if Merlin had purposefully changed the topic to avoid explaining specifically where Bran was…because that would inevitably lead to why Bran was there in the first place.
The light and something bad happening…the startling light…
“In your future, yes,” Merlin said in his mind, and Bran could swear that he felt Merlin smile mentally inside his head. It was an odd sensation, but he could almost envision Merlin’s face just then as if he were standing in front of him. “Now I must go. Your fate depends on you, Bran. Stay strong.”
And he felt Merlin leave him, at least for now. His head was quieter.
Shrugging, he turned the knob of the door to the room.
The door opened easily for him. The room was big but covered in shadow as the curtains were almost drawn all the way.
Only a sliver of yellow-white light peeked through the dark curtains.
A young man of sixteen from the look of it – Bran guessed that he was close in age to him – lay in the big bed in the dead center of the room. The man Bran’s age had an overall plain appearance – mouse-brain hair, blue-grey eyes, round face. Though there was a knowing, wise look in his eyes if one observed him studiously enough. It was definitely jarring to see such an ageless look in one who, from afar, appeared to be an average sixteen-year old boy.
The wide bed seemed to dwarf the man. Taking a closer look, Bran noticed an alarming number of pill bottles of different sedatives on his nearby nightstand. A tall glass of water stood amidst the collection of bottles. The bed’s occupant certainly had an unhealthy habit of taking sleeping pills.
“I’m starving,” the unknown man told him. He started chewing on a piece of fresh bread with relish. A tray full of food lay beside him on the bed. Then he frowned at Bran’s expression of pity and displeasure. “Don’t look at me like that. Those pills are all that Morgan gives me. Absolutely horrible sleeping pills. One hundred years of them. The only proper food I get is what Merlin manages to smuggle to me.”
He smiled quietly at Bran. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m Will Stanton.”
“I – should I know you? I feel like I should.”
“Your memory is a bit foggy. Don’t worry about it. For now, it’s all right that you don’t know me. There are other things that are more important now.”
Bran recalled the line that had materialized in his mind’s eye: Must the youngest open the oldest hills
Something about Will made him sincerely believe that he was associated with this verse.
“…you’re the youngest, aren’t you?” Bran ventured with interest.
“I’ve been here for a century now. I feel like an old one, to be honest.”
“How haven’t you aged then? Or does time work differently here?”
“Yes, things are rather slow here… no one ages.”
“And Merlin? Why can’t he talk?”
“Spell gone wrong some years back. He decided that he prefers to mentally communicate instead of speaking out loud. So he hasn’t made the effort to reverse the spell,” Will explained. “Now what you need to focus on is getting out of here. Merlin has the key and you need to get it from him before Morgan. You’ll know what to do next once you possess the key. This place is unstable, Bran. Merlin can only do so much to keep Morgan from gaining the upper hand. Now that you’re here, Merlin is vulnerable.”
“I heard Morgan talking about the key. But why would he be vulnerable?”
“As long as you weren’t here,” Will said in a rushed whisper, looking anxious about something. “Then Merlin stayed immortal as did I. That way, the key was protected. Only with Merlin’s death will the key show itself in his right hand.”
‘But now that I’m here and I need the key…Merlin is able to die.”
“Morgan plans to kill him, as you can imagine. She would like nothing more than to trap you here. You must stop her from doing that.”
“But what will happen to you?” Bran asked him worriedly.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m not real, not really,” Will said resignedly, his voice a bit sad.
Bran was understandably upset to hear that from him. He had just met him a few minutes ago, true, but Bran felt a strong feeling of fondness for the other man.
He bent forward and kissed Will softly on the lips.
“Sorry if that’s…I just wanted to kiss you,” Bran said hesitantly, giving him a small smile.
“It’s all right. I – I miss you,” Will admitted to him.
“What do you mean?” Bran asked, puzzled.
Will only quietly took his hand and pressed his lips to each finger. “This isn’t goodbye,” he assured him resolutely.
Once they parted, Bran felt himself fade away from the room.
~ * ~
“Merlin!” Bran cried, horrified to see him bleeding so much, lying in a pool of his own blood, in front of him.
“Take the key. It’ll be soon. Very soon,” Merlin spoke weakly, hoarsely into his mind.
Bran could hear the urgent clicking of heels outside of the room.
“Did you…did you harm yourself?” Bran wondered.
“Morgan did it, but then I sent her away by force. I didn’t want her to watch me die, so she could get the key. I couldn’t--”
But then Merlin stopped speaking. After checking his pulse, Bran knew with grim certainty that the man he had briefly met was dead. He gently moved his hand over the older man’s open eyes and closed his eyelids. Bran could almost pretend that the other man was simply resting his eyes, sleeping, if he could ignore the blood surrounding him.
He wasn’t sure he wanted much part in a world that had people die so needlessly like this. Bran still wished he knew why he was here in the first place.
The light…remember the light.
Unhappily, Bran saw that the key was, as Will had told him, now in Merlin’s right hand.
Bran knew what he had to do now. He had to get to the sword, his sword.
Eirias.
The sword was in a hidden away garden on the land that the manor occupied.
He opened the old, vine-covered door. Bran breathed out in awe at the sight of the flowers in bloom all over the garden. Rabbits hopped about, birds sang their melodies and there was even a lamb or two wandering the enclosed space.
He went down a few steps and he felt the now familiar pull directing him deeper into the secret garden. That’s what it felt like to Bran. The garden. It felt private. Secret. Something shared between two close friends.
Like him and Will…
Wasn’t it like that between them after all? Didn’t they have that bond?
Soon, Bran found the sword, Eirias, stuck inside a stone in a small cleared area of the garden.
Biting his lip, but determined, Bran moved forward and pulled the sword out of the stone.
Almost giddy as the sword slid out of its encasement at his touch, Bran briefly wondered if anyone was going to suddenly declare him, “King Arthur,” or maybe “King Bran” but that sounded wrong.
It had to be…something like, something simple, but powerful.
The Pendragon.
He was the Pendragon.
And where the midsummer tree grows tall
By Pendragon’s sword the Dark shall fall.
Bran remembered. Most importantly, he remembered Will. Will Stanton, the odd English boy. The Old One. His dewin. His friend…
…who had neglected to remain in touch with him since the final battle between the Dark and the Light. Because Bran had chosen to forget his place in the High Magic, to be normal.
Him. The colourless boy. Normal? Not a chance.
Admittedly, Bran was disappointed that Will hadn’t come to visit him in Wales, that maybe Bran forgetting had been hard to take for Will. No matter his Old One ways, he was still human. Maybe he could not bear to see Bran when Bran himself had forgotten his true identity, his birthright.
“Oh, Will,” Bran thought sadly, sympathetically. “If only Will had known that he had still felt that deep connection, that bond of friendship, with him even after he had forgotten. Silly Sais to not understand that.”
He decided to return to Will in the manor to tell him of his realization. But unfortunately, before Bran could step out of the garden, he felt himself fade away, the sword still clutched in his hand.
He swore he heard the anguished, infuriated screams of a woman scorned. Was that the witch Morgan?
He had claimed his sword and thwarted her. But what about Will? Bran didn’t want to fade away. He didn’t want to leave when Will was still trapped in the manor, still at Morgan’s mercy.
No, no, no.
But Bran could not stop whatever was making him leave. He was no dewin, wizard, after all.
The sword glowed brightly in his hands, the light extending to the surrounding area and growing until it seemed to blanket the whole world with its steady, irrepressible glow. The moment before the world around him changed, Bran remembered that while he had some of his memories returned to him…
…he still couldn’t recall what had happened to him. That bad thing. And the startling light. Why couldn’t he remember?
And then Bran woke up with a start.
In a hospital bed.
He noticed that Will was at his bedside, his head resting on the bed and one of his hands grasping Bran’s own.
Bran remembered now. He had been in a car accident, the headlights of the other car a hard moment to forget. And that must have left him in a coma. Maybe gaining Eirias had been the only way to wake himself up? To grant him another chance at life? He sighed. Will must be uncomfortable in that position. Bran couldn’t resist carding his fingers through Will’s brown hair.
“Come to see me finally, Will?” Bran spoke up softly.
Will had been sleeping lightly apparently as he awoke soon after Bran spoke.
Will looked surprised, relieved, and not a little bit guilty – for not seeing him, Bran expected, until now. That it had taken Bran being hurt to bring Will to see him.
“I was so worried. I thought – but you woke up. I’m sorry I didn’t come to visit you before. I’m sorry,” Will apologized, sounding so sincerely unhappy about his actions that Bran wanted nothing more than to wipe the regretful, sad look from his friend’s face. He couldn’t stand to see Will looking so upset. “Your father stepped out. I can go get him,” Will offered, rising to leave the room.
But Bran shook his head, grabbing Will’s hand to keep him there. “No, not yet. I need you to know, Will. I remember who I truly am – the son of Arthur brought forward in Time. And I remember you, Old One. My dewin,” he said with a mischievous smile as the look on Will’s face was one of disbelief and then once realization had dawned on him…overwhelming happiness.
“But how did you remember?” Will asked, sounding puzzled. He honestly didn’t know what had brought Bran to remember what he had chosen to forget four years ago.
“I had the strangest dream. You were in it. And I remembered toward the end of it.”
Will looked thoughtful for a long moment before shaking his head. He smiled at Bran. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“You said in the dream – before I had to leave you, that this wasn’t goodbye between us. You were right. And--” Bran paused.
“What?”
Bran leaned toward Will and after resting his hand on his cheek, he kissed Will on the lips.
Will smiled against his lips, returning the kiss.
“I want us to see more of each other,” Bran hoped as he pulled away.
He grasped Will’s hand with his own, their fingers interlocking with one another.
“Yes, I’d like that,” Will agreed. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been as happy as I am now,” he mused.
“I feel the same way,” Bran remarked with a smile.
Since it had taken one of them to have been in a serious accident to bring them together again, they both knew that they wouldn’t allow this second chance at life, at friendship pass them by.
They seized the opportunity.
~ * ~
When it came time for Will and Bran to head to university, they went to the same one. They roomed together and grew closer with one another until they were friends no more. But something else, something more, that just made perfect sense to the both of them.
They loved each other after all.
~ * ~
Eventually, Bran did explain to Will the particulars of that strange dream of his.
A few years after they graduated from university, they bought a house in the northeast London borough of Waltham Forest to live in together.
Then one day, Will felt with absolute certainty – his Old One senses guiding him – that there was a child in an orphanage in the next town who he needed to see.
The child’s name was Merlin. Lost his parents in a devastating fire, the poor boy. Merlin was nervous around Will at first. Will soon found out that it was due to the boy’s worry about someone discovering his magical abilities. He feared that someone would come and take him away to experiment on him. But when Will showed him his own magic – by placing an image of Bran’s beloved Welsh hills inside Merlin’s head – Merlin had been amazed and then greatly relieved that he wasn’t alone in having magic.
Bran had been understandably surprised and a bit unnerved that Will had found a boy named Merlin, who looked like the man Bran had encountered in his dream. And the fact that the boy also possessed magic made the whole matter even less of a coincidence.
Neither Bran nor Will was quite sure how this would work. How the boy Merlin would fit into the picture, and if he truly was the same person in Bran’s dream. Time did work in funny, unexpected ways, Will had told Bran. Maybe this was what the Merlin from the dream had meant about meeting Bran in Bran's future? Was this the time then -- when Merlin was just a boy?
They both decided to adopt the boy. They felt it was only the right thing to do after all. With Merlin having magic, not just anyone could adopt him. Will thought it was the safest option for the boy to live with them under Will’s protection. He could help Merlin with his magic and give him the support he needed.
And yes, learning that Merlin’s favorite book was The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett, certainly erased any thought of coincidences. But their priority was giving Merlin a happy childhood. And as Merlin grew up, even Will was impressed by Merlin's magical prowess.
Then came the day when Merlin proved his ability to create a surreal world to save Bran out of an otherwise permanent coma. The impossible was made a reality.
~ * ~
Author: dk323
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3,514
Characters/Pairings: Bran Davies/Will Stanton, Merlin, Morgan (the Morgana character)
Warnings: character death (but with a happy ending), brief violence, blood
Disclaimer: The Dark Is Rising book series is property of Susan Cooper. The show Merlin is property of the BBC.
Summary: Four years after Silver on the Tree, a tragic incident leaves Bran in a strange dream.
Author’s Notes: Will and Bran are both sixteen in this story.
I wrote this story for a friend for her birthday. It's a bit of an odd crossover with the TV series Merlin... it's mostly focused on Bran, of course, and his bond with Will, but Merlin is there to help out. It's a Modern!AU for Merlin. I had the idea that Merlin would meet Arthur at some point, but I wanted to keep the focus on Will and Bran in this story.
~ * ~
Bran remembered the light. If nothing else, he was sure of that. Something bad had happened, and he wished he could recall what it was.
He frankly could not understand how he’d come to be here, sitting on the grass with a view of a grand old manor home some feet away. He was on the front lawn that boasted perfectly manicured grass with differently shaped hedges – one of a winged horse, another of a unicorn, then a dragon and a stag.
In the center, there was a big water fountain with a blue-grey lady statue as its focal point. Flowers of all colors gave a sort of excitement amidst all the drab, solid grey stone of the manor.
Bran could easily deduce that he was certainly far away from home, far from the simplicity, though admittedly comforting steady nature of his rural Wales…
Though of course, the valleys, the hills and the mountains of Wales definitely added a spark of majesty to his home. Not even the man-made grandeur of this manor could match that.
He was startled when he witnessed a tall, thin dark-haired man rushing out of the front doors as if the devil were after him. The man looked to be in his twenties, at least a decade older than Bran.
A woman in a green travelling cloak came after the dark-haired man. She had a look of fury on her otherwise pretty face.
Feeling uneasy, Bran quickly went to hide behind the nearby dragon hedge.
But unfortunately, the woman had already seen him. She didn’t go after him though. Instead, she rounded on the dark-haired man.
“The boy is here, Merlin. Now give me my key,” she commanded him.
The man called Merlin did not speak a word. Bran saw him only frown and then shake his head.
“Oh, you mute fool! I want my key and I want it now,” she demanded of him.
He gave her a stern look and even had the audacity to roll his eyes.
The woman appeared to be working something out inside her head. “Of course. One hundred years. Immortality. No better way to hide that blasted key. But now…now,” she paused, a devious smile on her lips.
She shot her hand out and wrapped it around his neck. “I should kill you. That’s the way,” she decided. “Don’t worry. It shall be quick.”
But as her hold tightened around Merlin’s neck, endeavoring to strangle him, Bran could not remain uninvolved.
“Hey!” Bran exclaimed, coming out from behind the hedge. “Leave him alone!”
The woman turned to Bran. Merlin was gagging; gasping for the air he was being denied.
“Ah, and what do you plan to do?” She asked him in a mocking tone.
Bran could honestly say he didn’t know what he’d do beyond stopping a murder happening right in front of him. He was out of his depth, having no clue where he was and what this whole key matter was about.
“You can’t just kill someone when they’re not even fighting back. It’s wrong. Who are you anyway?”
The woman removed her hand from Merlin, and he started to massage his neck. He shot a look of gratitude toward Bran. He heard a “Thank you,” inside his head, which he could only conclude came from Merlin.
“I am Morgan. And you are a thorn in my side,” she declared bitterly.
Before Bran could respond, Merlin had moved his hand in his direction and Bran felt himself being swept away.
He landed in a corridor in what he decided was inside the manor judging by the smooth stone walls.
“Run. She’s coming,” Bran heard inside his head, from Merlin he assumed since the voice was the same as the one that had thanked him.
He listened for footsteps, the sound of clicking heels, and he made sure to run in the opposite direction.
“Merlin may have his magic tricks to escape me, but you can not hide from me, Raven Boy.”
Something was oddly familiar about her calling him, ‘raven boy’? Where had he heard that before?
Fire shall fly from the raven boy and Bran vaguely recalled a friend he had had, who he had felt a close bond with.
But regretfully, in this strange place, his mind and memory were hopelessly muddled. He was missing something, he knew…
The fact he had found himself here with two people with names from Arthurian legend…that all certainly wasn’t a coincidence. It had to mean something…
But what, he couldn’t quite figure out. It was a secret just out of his reach, his grasp.
Must the youngest open the oldest hills
Bran shook his head at the line that had come into his head. Though he couldn’t help but picture the hills back home, in Wales. He felt in his gut that there was a connection between the hills in that line and the Welsh hills. After all, there was no better location to find hills that boasted great age.
As he heard Morgan approaching closer, he made a quick turn down another corridor. A strong pull toward one of the rooms in this dimly lit hall caused him to stop.
He didn’t know what was ‘pulling’ him to that room. Was it Morgan’s doing? Or should he take the risk and follow the pull?
“It’s all right. Go into the room,” Merlin spoke inside his head.
“Merlin? Can you tell me where I am?” Bran said silently to himself, experimenting to see if he could communicate with the older man mentally.
“In a non-world. I can’t quite explain it. It’s a dream in a way, but not a dream. I have met you before, you know.”
“You have?” Bran inquired, reasonably startled at the news. Though he also wondered if Merlin had purposefully changed the topic to avoid explaining specifically where Bran was…because that would inevitably lead to why Bran was there in the first place.
The light and something bad happening…the startling light…
“In your future, yes,” Merlin said in his mind, and Bran could swear that he felt Merlin smile mentally inside his head. It was an odd sensation, but he could almost envision Merlin’s face just then as if he were standing in front of him. “Now I must go. Your fate depends on you, Bran. Stay strong.”
And he felt Merlin leave him, at least for now. His head was quieter.
Shrugging, he turned the knob of the door to the room.
The door opened easily for him. The room was big but covered in shadow as the curtains were almost drawn all the way.
Only a sliver of yellow-white light peeked through the dark curtains.
A young man of sixteen from the look of it – Bran guessed that he was close in age to him – lay in the big bed in the dead center of the room. The man Bran’s age had an overall plain appearance – mouse-brain hair, blue-grey eyes, round face. Though there was a knowing, wise look in his eyes if one observed him studiously enough. It was definitely jarring to see such an ageless look in one who, from afar, appeared to be an average sixteen-year old boy.
The wide bed seemed to dwarf the man. Taking a closer look, Bran noticed an alarming number of pill bottles of different sedatives on his nearby nightstand. A tall glass of water stood amidst the collection of bottles. The bed’s occupant certainly had an unhealthy habit of taking sleeping pills.
“I’m starving,” the unknown man told him. He started chewing on a piece of fresh bread with relish. A tray full of food lay beside him on the bed. Then he frowned at Bran’s expression of pity and displeasure. “Don’t look at me like that. Those pills are all that Morgan gives me. Absolutely horrible sleeping pills. One hundred years of them. The only proper food I get is what Merlin manages to smuggle to me.”
He smiled quietly at Bran. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m Will Stanton.”
“I – should I know you? I feel like I should.”
“Your memory is a bit foggy. Don’t worry about it. For now, it’s all right that you don’t know me. There are other things that are more important now.”
Bran recalled the line that had materialized in his mind’s eye: Must the youngest open the oldest hills
Something about Will made him sincerely believe that he was associated with this verse.
“…you’re the youngest, aren’t you?” Bran ventured with interest.
“I’ve been here for a century now. I feel like an old one, to be honest.”
“How haven’t you aged then? Or does time work differently here?”
“Yes, things are rather slow here… no one ages.”
“And Merlin? Why can’t he talk?”
“Spell gone wrong some years back. He decided that he prefers to mentally communicate instead of speaking out loud. So he hasn’t made the effort to reverse the spell,” Will explained. “Now what you need to focus on is getting out of here. Merlin has the key and you need to get it from him before Morgan. You’ll know what to do next once you possess the key. This place is unstable, Bran. Merlin can only do so much to keep Morgan from gaining the upper hand. Now that you’re here, Merlin is vulnerable.”
“I heard Morgan talking about the key. But why would he be vulnerable?”
“As long as you weren’t here,” Will said in a rushed whisper, looking anxious about something. “Then Merlin stayed immortal as did I. That way, the key was protected. Only with Merlin’s death will the key show itself in his right hand.”
‘But now that I’m here and I need the key…Merlin is able to die.”
“Morgan plans to kill him, as you can imagine. She would like nothing more than to trap you here. You must stop her from doing that.”
“But what will happen to you?” Bran asked him worriedly.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m not real, not really,” Will said resignedly, his voice a bit sad.
Bran was understandably upset to hear that from him. He had just met him a few minutes ago, true, but Bran felt a strong feeling of fondness for the other man.
He bent forward and kissed Will softly on the lips.
“Sorry if that’s…I just wanted to kiss you,” Bran said hesitantly, giving him a small smile.
“It’s all right. I – I miss you,” Will admitted to him.
“What do you mean?” Bran asked, puzzled.
Will only quietly took his hand and pressed his lips to each finger. “This isn’t goodbye,” he assured him resolutely.
Once they parted, Bran felt himself fade away from the room.
~ * ~
“Merlin!” Bran cried, horrified to see him bleeding so much, lying in a pool of his own blood, in front of him.
“Take the key. It’ll be soon. Very soon,” Merlin spoke weakly, hoarsely into his mind.
Bran could hear the urgent clicking of heels outside of the room.
“Did you…did you harm yourself?” Bran wondered.
“Morgan did it, but then I sent her away by force. I didn’t want her to watch me die, so she could get the key. I couldn’t--”
But then Merlin stopped speaking. After checking his pulse, Bran knew with grim certainty that the man he had briefly met was dead. He gently moved his hand over the older man’s open eyes and closed his eyelids. Bran could almost pretend that the other man was simply resting his eyes, sleeping, if he could ignore the blood surrounding him.
He wasn’t sure he wanted much part in a world that had people die so needlessly like this. Bran still wished he knew why he was here in the first place.
The light…remember the light.
Unhappily, Bran saw that the key was, as Will had told him, now in Merlin’s right hand.
Bran knew what he had to do now. He had to get to the sword, his sword.
Eirias.
The sword was in a hidden away garden on the land that the manor occupied.
He opened the old, vine-covered door. Bran breathed out in awe at the sight of the flowers in bloom all over the garden. Rabbits hopped about, birds sang their melodies and there was even a lamb or two wandering the enclosed space.
He went down a few steps and he felt the now familiar pull directing him deeper into the secret garden. That’s what it felt like to Bran. The garden. It felt private. Secret. Something shared between two close friends.
Like him and Will…
Wasn’t it like that between them after all? Didn’t they have that bond?
Soon, Bran found the sword, Eirias, stuck inside a stone in a small cleared area of the garden.
Biting his lip, but determined, Bran moved forward and pulled the sword out of the stone.
Almost giddy as the sword slid out of its encasement at his touch, Bran briefly wondered if anyone was going to suddenly declare him, “King Arthur,” or maybe “King Bran” but that sounded wrong.
It had to be…something like, something simple, but powerful.
The Pendragon.
He was the Pendragon.
And where the midsummer tree grows tall
By Pendragon’s sword the Dark shall fall.
Bran remembered. Most importantly, he remembered Will. Will Stanton, the odd English boy. The Old One. His dewin. His friend…
…who had neglected to remain in touch with him since the final battle between the Dark and the Light. Because Bran had chosen to forget his place in the High Magic, to be normal.
Him. The colourless boy. Normal? Not a chance.
Admittedly, Bran was disappointed that Will hadn’t come to visit him in Wales, that maybe Bran forgetting had been hard to take for Will. No matter his Old One ways, he was still human. Maybe he could not bear to see Bran when Bran himself had forgotten his true identity, his birthright.
“Oh, Will,” Bran thought sadly, sympathetically. “If only Will had known that he had still felt that deep connection, that bond of friendship, with him even after he had forgotten. Silly Sais to not understand that.”
He decided to return to Will in the manor to tell him of his realization. But unfortunately, before Bran could step out of the garden, he felt himself fade away, the sword still clutched in his hand.
He swore he heard the anguished, infuriated screams of a woman scorned. Was that the witch Morgan?
He had claimed his sword and thwarted her. But what about Will? Bran didn’t want to fade away. He didn’t want to leave when Will was still trapped in the manor, still at Morgan’s mercy.
No, no, no.
But Bran could not stop whatever was making him leave. He was no dewin, wizard, after all.
The sword glowed brightly in his hands, the light extending to the surrounding area and growing until it seemed to blanket the whole world with its steady, irrepressible glow. The moment before the world around him changed, Bran remembered that while he had some of his memories returned to him…
…he still couldn’t recall what had happened to him. That bad thing. And the startling light. Why couldn’t he remember?
And then Bran woke up with a start.
In a hospital bed.
He noticed that Will was at his bedside, his head resting on the bed and one of his hands grasping Bran’s own.
Bran remembered now. He had been in a car accident, the headlights of the other car a hard moment to forget. And that must have left him in a coma. Maybe gaining Eirias had been the only way to wake himself up? To grant him another chance at life? He sighed. Will must be uncomfortable in that position. Bran couldn’t resist carding his fingers through Will’s brown hair.
“Come to see me finally, Will?” Bran spoke up softly.
Will had been sleeping lightly apparently as he awoke soon after Bran spoke.
Will looked surprised, relieved, and not a little bit guilty – for not seeing him, Bran expected, until now. That it had taken Bran being hurt to bring Will to see him.
“I was so worried. I thought – but you woke up. I’m sorry I didn’t come to visit you before. I’m sorry,” Will apologized, sounding so sincerely unhappy about his actions that Bran wanted nothing more than to wipe the regretful, sad look from his friend’s face. He couldn’t stand to see Will looking so upset. “Your father stepped out. I can go get him,” Will offered, rising to leave the room.
But Bran shook his head, grabbing Will’s hand to keep him there. “No, not yet. I need you to know, Will. I remember who I truly am – the son of Arthur brought forward in Time. And I remember you, Old One. My dewin,” he said with a mischievous smile as the look on Will’s face was one of disbelief and then once realization had dawned on him…overwhelming happiness.
“But how did you remember?” Will asked, sounding puzzled. He honestly didn’t know what had brought Bran to remember what he had chosen to forget four years ago.
“I had the strangest dream. You were in it. And I remembered toward the end of it.”
Will looked thoughtful for a long moment before shaking his head. He smiled at Bran. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“You said in the dream – before I had to leave you, that this wasn’t goodbye between us. You were right. And--” Bran paused.
“What?”
Bran leaned toward Will and after resting his hand on his cheek, he kissed Will on the lips.
Will smiled against his lips, returning the kiss.
“I want us to see more of each other,” Bran hoped as he pulled away.
He grasped Will’s hand with his own, their fingers interlocking with one another.
“Yes, I’d like that,” Will agreed. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been as happy as I am now,” he mused.
“I feel the same way,” Bran remarked with a smile.
Since it had taken one of them to have been in a serious accident to bring them together again, they both knew that they wouldn’t allow this second chance at life, at friendship pass them by.
They seized the opportunity.
~ * ~
When it came time for Will and Bran to head to university, they went to the same one. They roomed together and grew closer with one another until they were friends no more. But something else, something more, that just made perfect sense to the both of them.
They loved each other after all.
~ * ~
Eventually, Bran did explain to Will the particulars of that strange dream of his.
A few years after they graduated from university, they bought a house in the northeast London borough of Waltham Forest to live in together.
Then one day, Will felt with absolute certainty – his Old One senses guiding him – that there was a child in an orphanage in the next town who he needed to see.
The child’s name was Merlin. Lost his parents in a devastating fire, the poor boy. Merlin was nervous around Will at first. Will soon found out that it was due to the boy’s worry about someone discovering his magical abilities. He feared that someone would come and take him away to experiment on him. But when Will showed him his own magic – by placing an image of Bran’s beloved Welsh hills inside Merlin’s head – Merlin had been amazed and then greatly relieved that he wasn’t alone in having magic.
Bran had been understandably surprised and a bit unnerved that Will had found a boy named Merlin, who looked like the man Bran had encountered in his dream. And the fact that the boy also possessed magic made the whole matter even less of a coincidence.
Neither Bran nor Will was quite sure how this would work. How the boy Merlin would fit into the picture, and if he truly was the same person in Bran’s dream. Time did work in funny, unexpected ways, Will had told Bran. Maybe this was what the Merlin from the dream had meant about meeting Bran in Bran's future? Was this the time then -- when Merlin was just a boy?
They both decided to adopt the boy. They felt it was only the right thing to do after all. With Merlin having magic, not just anyone could adopt him. Will thought it was the safest option for the boy to live with them under Will’s protection. He could help Merlin with his magic and give him the support he needed.
And yes, learning that Merlin’s favorite book was The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett, certainly erased any thought of coincidences. But their priority was giving Merlin a happy childhood. And as Merlin grew up, even Will was impressed by Merlin's magical prowess.
Then came the day when Merlin proved his ability to create a surreal world to save Bran out of an otherwise permanent coma. The impossible was made a reality.
~ * ~