The Wolf and The Phoenix: Chapter 6b

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Back to Chapter 6a

~ * ~
The White Raven (Cont'd)

Merlin was dreaming again. Zlota beckoned him over, informing him excitedly that she had seen a white raven not far away. Merlin could hardly believe it as ravens were always black, right? Only fantastical stories made mention that white ravens – the scavenger bird untouched by the ashes that made it black to begin with – existed. But white ravens were very elusive, even harder to find than phoenixes.

So with understandable interest, Merlin followed his phoenix daemon to the white raven.

He saw the white raven taking what looked like life essence into her beak. The essence was from a poor dead bluebird. The golden essence appeared to be food for the raven. It made Merlin uneasy and yet, he was hopeful as well. He felt that something good would happen from the white raven’s feast. That the raven hadn’t simply been satisfying her hunger, but she had other plans in store for the precious thing she had taken.

Then the white raven turned her attention to Merlin. The raven looked at him expectantly. Merlin felt a pang of familiarity when he looked upon the raven. But he couldn’t figure out who it could be. It was like a mist was clouding his thoughts.

Unsure what was compelling him to say the words, Merlin told her, “Five phoenixes will be born, one of which shall be white in colour and shall come last and stay behind. There will be two unicorns and two winged horses as well – to guard the phoenixes. Is that what you want?”

The white raven cawed at him as if she were saying yes; Merlin had told her what she needed to know.

Then to Merlin’s dismay, she bit him on his right pinky finger, a shallow cut forming on the finger. “What was that for?” Merlin demanded in irritation.

But then the snow-white raven just flew away. Fortunately, the cut healed magically as if it had not been there at all.

To his surprise, an image of the white raven appeared where the cut had been. Merlin wondered if the raven did this with all the people she met…so that they would carry a marking of meeting her.

But considering how elusive white ravens were, Merlin doubted the raven had encountered many people anyway.

What if he was the first? And why did he feel like he knew the white raven? The odd familiarity could not be disregarded.

“This is a dream, Merlin,” Zlota reminded him quietly, sounding reluctant to admit it. “Creatures that don’t exist can appear in them. You were just lucky to dream a white raven.”

“I know, Zlota. I wish I could stay in my dreams. I don’t like waking up,” Merlin confided in her miserably.

~ * ~

“Hello. My name is Alice,” Alice greeted the ghost in the library.

As Alice introduced herself, she couldn’t resist touching the dragon pendant on her new necklace. Lyra had gotten a jeweler to fashion the necklace and pendant for her. The jeweler had downsized the red dragon carving so that it was a shiny pendant attached to the golden necklace. This way, Alice felt assured that the dragon carving she had been gifted by that man, Myrddin, would never be lost.

The ghost of the lady looked up from the thick, leather-bound book she was reading. She smiled at Alice.

“How do you do? I am Lady Corah. You must be an otherworlder.”

“Oh. How could tell?”

“You look a little lost,” Corah informed her with a small smile.

“I suppose so. I haven’t been to the library here at Camelot. It’s very big.”

“Are you seeking a particular book?”

Alice bit her lip, and shrugged. “No, but I’m sure I’ll find what I’m interested in.”

She was about to say something else, but she was prevented when a dark-haired boy came up to them. He was a few years older than her and frankly, he looked familiar in her eyes. Like Alice had met him before.

“Hello,” he said. He shifted his gaze to each of them in turn.

“Alice, this is Gwydion. Gwydion, Alice,” Corah introduced them to one another.

“Hi,” said Alice.

She suddenly felt shy now as she couldn’t deny that Gwydion was nice-looking with bright blue eyes and hair as black as night.

“I can help you find a book,” he offered to Alice.

“Thank you,” Alice answered.

Corah gave him a disbelieving look. “Now Gwydion, this library is still new to you. You can’t be an expert so soon.”

Gwydion was nonchalant. “I know it well enough. I’m good with books.”

Corah nodded. “Well then. Go on,” she directed him. “I hope you find what you’re seeking, Alice,” she wished her.

“I hope so too,” Alice said.

Gwydion beckoned her to come with him.

“You look familiar, you know,” Alice told Gwydion as they walked down one aisle of bookshelves.

Gwydion looked to her. “Did you know that there are worlds being created as we speak?” he asked of her, confusing Alice as it wasn’t the answer she was looking for.

“No. I didn’t know that. Is that a good or bad thing?” She asked him in mild interest.

“That depends on how each person sees it. It can be unnerving to know about the never-ending creation of worlds. Especially considering that I could have the most alternate versions across the worlds than anyone else. And with more worlds being born--”

“The more other versions could be born. Oh, that is a lot to take in. I don’t even know if I have an otherworld self.”

“You probably do. At least one. Much easier to deal with.”

“I think I know why you seem familiar. There was a man I met…he said his name was Myrddin and he sort of looked like you. But older by a decade I think… how old are you?”

“I’m ten, just ten. I think I know who you’re talking about. And believe me, his true name wasn’t Myrddin,” Gwydion confided in her. “And though I prefer Gwydion, I should tell you that my true name isn’t that. My mother gave me a different name…”

“What is it? Your name and his?”

“You already know it. You know King Merlin, right?”

“I’ve seen him, yes. I haven’t spoken to him. Oh! Your real name is Merlin? Does that mean you’re another world’s version of King Merlin and that man I met?”

Gwydion confirmed, “Yes. My birth world was probably created later than their worlds. That’s why I’m much younger than them. I don’t doubt a version lives in one world as a very old man. Maybe you’re just being born in another world. There are almost unimaginable possibilities since not all worlds match one another time-wise.”

“Since it depends on when each world had been created?” Alice concluded, understanding. Gwydion nodded.

Alice then asked him, curiosity taking over her. “So what is your birth world like? My own world is not as interesting as the World of Magic. The Camelot in my world has a ban on magic, so I’m glad to be in this world now.”

Gwydion shrugged. “I was taken out of that world when I was too young to remember it. After my mother died, the man who adopted me took me out of the world I was born into. I assume my birth father is dead too. He never tried to seek me out either way,” he remarked, sounding unhappy and bitter about it.

“I’m sorry,” Alice said sympathetically. She felt a connection to Gwydion as she had suffered the loss of her parents too. Except she felt fortunate to have known her parents. Poor Gwydion, she thought, to have never known his mother. “I lost my parents a year ago. I miss them terribly.”

“At least you got to know them. You’re lucky. Is it just you? Do you have a brother or sister?”

Alice looked uneasy. “Well, there’s my twin brother, Robin. He was taken to be trained by a wise man. He’ll be a proper Dragonlord one day,” she declared, feeling proud of her brother as she spoke.

She missed him too, of course, but she unfortunately couldn’t go with her brother. If all went well, she would see Robin again. Alice couldn’t wait for that day.

The two of them turned the corner where there was a window alcove tucked away in the back of the library.

Gwydion nodded to the alcove. “You could sit down if you want,” he suggested.

“I think I will,” Alice decided.

She sat down upon the window seat and then peered out the window glass. Gwydion sat down across from her.

“This world is a dream, isn’t it, Gwydion?” Alice asked almost breathlessly. The sky outside was clear and bright, and she found herself tempted to venture outside the castle and enjoy the nice weather.

Seeing him rubbing a flat, thin gold bracelet on his wrist, Alice then heard him speak almost wistfully, “It would have to be.” His choice of words was strange to Alice.

“Whatever is that bracelet for?” Alice inquired of him curiously.

Gwydion shrugged and then smiled at her. “It’s only a bracelet. It serves no purpose other than looking nice, I suppose.”

“Oh, all right. I got this dragon pendant from that man who looked like you,” she explained, pointing to the pendant at her neck. “Myrddin or Merlin, whatever his name was. He had a phoenix for a daemon. It was amazing to see,” she told him excitedly.

“I’m sure it was,” said Gwydion, sounding a bit put-out as if he didn’t like hearing about another version of himself.

“I’m sorry… you don’t sound happy.”

Gwydion sighed. “No, it’s fine. I just like to pretend I have no other selves living in other worlds. Sometimes it’s nice to know I’m not alone, but other times, it’s so frustrating for me. I want to be remembered for being me, not as ‘another Merlin’ or the ‘orphaned Merlin.’”

“But it’s not something you can change,” Alice reasoned. “You can’t change who you were born as. Your mother named you Merlin and the kindest act in her honour is to respect that choice. She is dead after all.”

“Now I feel bad,” Gwydion declared quietly.

“You shouldn’t worry yourself. I like the name Gwydion. It suits you. As long as you don’t forget your mother’s chosen name for you. As a show of respect…” she noted.

Gwydion looked at her oddly. “How old are you? You’re younger than me, I think, but you sound older.”

“I’m seven,” Alice informed him. “And I will take that as a compliment.”

They both looked through the window, lost in thought, for a few long moments before Gwydion spoke up.

“Your brother then, Robin? He inherited the Dragonlord gift after his and your father? But you didn’t go with him and that man because --”

“Daughters of Dragonlords don’t inherit the gift of course. I don’t know if I even possess any general magic myself. Maybe I do, but it’s weak and it hasn’t made itself known yet.”

Gwydion grinned at her. “Maybe giving good advice is your magical talent.”

Alice looked at him in disbelief. “Yes I’m certain that’s it,” she remarked dryly. “Luckily the wise man who took my brother under his tutelage told me how to find my way to this world. I wish I could have stayed with Robin, but the man said his focus was to ensure my brother learned the ways of being a Dragonlord. And it was better for me to reside elsewhere as my presence would be a distraction to Robin. The wise man advised me to look for a dragon, and that the dragon will lead me to the World of Magic…so that whenever my magic would awaken, I would be safest in a magic-friendly world.”

“But you will see your brother again, right?” Gwydion asked her.

Alice nodded. “Yes. The man assured me that I wouldn’t be separated from him forever. Robin is my twin after all. It would be horrible if we spent the whole of our lives apart.”

“For your sake, I hope you do see him again,” Gwydion wished her sincerely.

She smiled graciously at him. ‘Thank you, Gwydion.”

Gwydion smiled in return and then he stood up. “I know what book you would like,” he announced.

Alice looked surprised. “Really?”

Gwydion put up a hand. “Wait. I have to find it. It won’t take long.”

He left her to navigate the rows of books.

Only ten minutes later, Gwydion returned with a book in hand. He handed the book to her. It was not a very thick book, so Alice didn’t feel very daunted by it.

She looked at the title. “The First Dragonlord’s Daughter,” she read out loud with a pleased smile. “Thank you. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.”

“It might be a true story, I’m not sure,” Gwydion said. “But fantasy or truth, I think you’ll relate to the title character.”

Alice agreed. “Except I can’t read very well,” she admitted hesitantly.

Gwydion didn’t seem to mind. “I can help you. I’m a good reader. Hopefully I can be a good teacher, but you will be the judge of that.”

“Thank you for offering. I don’t want to be a bother,” she intimated uneasily.

“No, you won’t be,” Gwydion assured her quickly. “We’re friends now, aren’t we? Friends help each other.”

Alice could see a hint of insecurity in Gwydion’s eyes, as if she would decline friendship with him. “Of course we’re friends. I can’t think of a better friend than you,” she assured him.

~ * ~

Ophelia told Arthur that the gateway to the World of Magic had been re-opened.

“Good,” Arthur said, then before he was about to venture into their plan to rescue Merlin, he noticed Ophelia looking ready to say something else. He looked at her carefully. “Well, what is it?”

She smiled a little. From his usual place on her shoulder, an impatient Char spoke up, “It’s very good news for you and for Merlin too.”

“Yes. Char is right. I made a trip to the World of Seers, and according to the Mother Seer, the Lady Morgause, a prophecy is expected soon. This upcoming prophecy will make the prophecy involving you and Merlin irrelevant. The burden is off you and Merlin. You can focus on rescuing him and setting things right in your home world without being tied up in that unfortunate prophecy.”

“Thank you for letting me know,” Arthur acknowledged. “I wish I was more relieved, but I already see how difficult it will be to get Merlin to trust me again. Or if he ever will,” he remarked glumly.

Krola whined at his feet. Arthur stroked her behind the ears.

Ophelia looked sympathetic. “It will be a struggle, yes, but with your burden lightened, the future is a bit brighter. You were a victim of that prophecy, and there’s no way of going back now. The best thing to do is to move forward and try to fix the damage that unfortunate prophecy caused. You were doing the right thing for the benefit of the majority, Arthur. Sometimes to fight an adversary such as the Prince of Darkness, a heavy cost must be made. Please don’t lose hope,” she almost pleaded with him.

“I’ll have to try my best,” Arthur said, still doubtful, but he hoped that saving Merlin and making his Daemon World a magic-friendly place for Merlin’s sake would be enough to ease his pain. “Should we do the spell?” He asked Ophelia.

She nodded. “Yes, of course, but you must make sure that you magically transport yourself out as the tower falls.”

“I will,” he said.

Then Arthur concentrated and he was able to feel the magic in the stones of the towers. Steadily, he drained every bit of magic from the tower structure.

After he was finished, he felt weighed down by the amount of magic now within him. Even though the magic lay dormant, unable to be used at the moment, Arthur still keenly felt its presence. Ophelia had been right. The tower had contained an outstanding quantity of magic.

The tower began to groan and shake as the magic holding it in place had gone. Arthur nodded to her, indicating that he was ready for her to play her part.

Solemnly, Ophelia spoke the incantation, “Áwæcne bealucræftas.”

And Arthur felt more alive than he had felt in a long time. He felt like he wasn’t breathing the air, but magic instead. He felt dizzy and almost drunk with the euphoria of all this magic inside him, alive and aching to be used.

“We must go!” Ophelia declared as the floor beneath their feet shook violently. “I’m sending you where we should meet,” she told him.

Then Arthur received an image in his mind’s eye from Ophelia of where their destination would be.

Within the circular room, the wall’s stone blocks edged out of their tight spaces. As holes formed, Arthur could see the outside.

Arthur called on the magic he now possessed to spirit him away from the soon-to-be destroyed tower. It was almost too easy to do such a spell with the powerful magic contained inside him.

Securely grasping Krola by the neck to insure she would stay with him, Arthur transported him and his daemon away to safety.

Arthur landed deep in the forests outside Camelot. With her mouse Char in her hands, Ophelia was there when he arrived, having magically transported herself at the same time. Char shifted from a mouse to a small white dragon with black spots, one most visibly surrounding his right eye. He flew close to them.

They heard the sound of horses’ hooves and men shouting. Were Uther’s knights on to them?

“They have sorcerers on their side. I’m sure they were betting that you’d escape,” Ophelia concluded grimly. “But you must release the magic you possess, Arthur. You can’t hold it for long or your body will begin to betray you.”

Arthur shook his head. “They’re after us. There’s little time. We have to run,” he declared stubbornly.

He used his magic to conjure a dark horse, and climbed his steed. Then he held out a hand to Ophelia.

“Come on,” Arthur urged her.

“Look. I can cover us magically. Releasing the magic you drained won’t take long!” Ophelia exclaimed.

“Please, just come with me,” Arthur couldn’t help but plead with her. “I’ll release it when the danger has past.”

Ophelia sighed, and accepted his offered hand. Arthur pulled her up to sit behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight as he directed his horse into a gallop. Krola matched the horse’s pace as she ran beside them.

“Just so you know, I’m not a maiden who needs saving,” Ophelia told him breathlessly due to the great speed at which the horse was galloping.

“I know. But I’m not putting you at risk after you helped me. We should stay together,” Arthur indicated resolutely.

Ophelia appeared to accept that answer as she fell silent. Only the steady sound of the horse’s hooves was heard as they escaped those pursuing them.

~ * ~

It was the evening of the Feast of Gratitude.

Away from the great hall, Gwydion sat at the window alcove as he was disinterested in participating in the celebration. He had of course given his tribute to the phoenix-dragon statue earlier. Taking part in that ritual had been admittedly awe-inspiring as he’d given a small amount of his magic to the statue, and then the dark red dragon had breathed out a golden phoenix after the transaction. This willing donation would be directly received by the god of magic.

The magic was meant to return to you as it was more a show of belief in the god of magic’s majesty. King Merlin had told him that the god of magic would insure the health of the magic user with these yearly tributes of magic.

Yet it had been also perplexing when he had heard a deep masculine voice speak inside his head afterwards. The voice said, “And you must be a grandson of mine.”

Gwydion’s brow had furrowed, wondering who could possibly be saying that. Surely it couldn’t have been the god of magic. He wasn’t known to speak to anyone during these Feasts.

“You’re mistaken,” Gwydion replied silently back.

The man, or whoever he was, laughed a deep, hearty laugh. And then Gwydion had felt the foreign presence leave his mind.

He had put the odd conversation out of his mind as he settled down to read a book entitled, “The Art of Magical Weaponry.” The subject interested him far more than being in the midst of a crowd of people – especially some people who gave him scrutinizing looks due to the Prince of Darkness, an enemy of the World of Magic, being his formerly adoptive father. The less of that he had to contend with, the better.

Gwydion knew as he delved into the book that he needed to learn blacksmithing. He had to be involved in all the aspects in creating the knife. This meant he had to become an expert in making weapons, not just infusing the weapon with magic.

“Gwydion, I want you to meet someone,” Alice’s clear voice caused Gwydion to look up from his reading.

He inwardly groaned. She had a boy about his age, maybe a little older, with her. The boy’s piercing tawny-golden eyes contrasted with the moon silver of the jacket’s buttons. And judging by the boy’s very pale appearance and startlingly white hair, the stranger had to be a member of the White Diamond Clan. The Clan that his father, his former father at least, the Prince despised. No matter Gwydion’s loyalty being diminished to his adoptive father, he still couldn’t help but be overcome by the prejudice. Emphasizing his especially fair features, the boy had on a dark blue jacket.

“Hi Alice,” Gwydion greeted her, pointedly ignoring the boy. “You look nice,” he complimented her on her pale blue and gold dress. Anything to avoid talking to the White Diamond Clan boy.

Alice looked displeased, frowning, at Gwydion’s attitude towards the other boy. Yet she still accepted the compliment politely. “Thank you, Gwydion. Lyra helped me to pick it out.”

Then she introduced him to the pale boy, “This is Bran, well, Lord Bran. Bran, this is Gwydion.”

“Hello. You can just call me Bran,” said Bran, speaking in an even, mildly friendly tone. Gwydion was sure Bran realized that he wasn’t wanted.

Gwydion didn’t bother looking at him as the other boy spoke. He turned the page of his book. “Another world’s version of me is King Merlin, so I could call you whatever I like. But right now, I just want you to go away. Thank you.”

“Gwydion!” Alice exclaimed, affronted. “Don’t be like that. We’re all celebrating the god of magic now. You should be more cheerful. And the least you could do is to be nice to visiting nobility…”

“Does nobility mean anything, honestly?” Gwydion ventured idly.

“It’s all right, Alice,” Bran assured her. “You can go see what my younger sisters are up to. I’ll be fine. I know what Gwydion’s problem is. It was nice to meet you.”

Alice smiled. “Thank you. And it was nice to meet you too,” she said.

She left them with a goodbye to Gwydion. He gave her a small smile.

After Alice departed, Gwydion continued to steadfastly ignore Bran.

“Could I sit here? There’s some room,” Bran indicated.

Gwydion granted him a withering look. “I thought I told you to go. I don’t want to talk to you. I’m sure someone of your station has plenty of bootlicker friends to converse with. As for me, I don’t lick boots. I’ll throw them at you and tell you to leave me alone. I don’t need anyone.”

Despite Gwydion’s coldness, Bran sat down in the empty space on the alcove. “Isn’t Alice your friend?”

“Alice is different,” Gwydion countered. “She’s a girl.”

Bran gave him a disbelieving look. “How is that a reason?”

“Why are you still talking to me?” Gwydion asked, annoyed.

“I know who you are, all right? And about the Prince. I heard what he planned to do with you, and I’m glad you were taken away from him.”

“Yes, it was nice that I was captured like a pawn. Brilliant,” Gwydion shot back at him.

“Well if you think about it, we’re all pawns to the Grim Reaper. After all, everyone will die one day, well, unless you want to pay the price for immortality.”

“I feel happier now, thanks,” Gwydion said, turning his attention back to his book.

“There’s another version of me in a different world too. Just the one since not everyone has as many as you do.”

“Are your stupid friends not interesting enough for you? Why are you still bothering me?” Gwydion groaned.

“Is there a rule against wanting more friends?”

“I am trying to read my book.”

“During a celebration? Isn’t that a bit of an odd activity to do when you should be--”

“What? Doing something fun? I don’t care if it’s odd. I like to read no matter what might be going on.”

Bran sighed, and he raised his hands in defeat. “All right. What are you reading?” He changed tact.

Gwydion eyed the other boy carefully. Then he decided that Bran was being somewhat sincere in his interest.

But as Gwydion handed the book to him, his fingers touched Bran’s as the young lord received the book from him.

And in his mind’s eye, Gwydion was startled to see a flying white raven. He frowned, confused what that vision could mean. Seeing a white raven – no matter in what way – was known to be an omen…but whether it was a good or bad one was always hard to discern.

“‘The Art of Magical Weaponry’. What are you reading this for?” Bran wondered.

“I showed you what I was reading, but I don’t have to tell you why,” He said stubbornly, taking the book back from Bran. “It doesn’t concern you,” Gwydion told him firmly, unwilling to share his hope of making the world-traveling knife.

Though he had confided in Morgan despite her being essentially a stranger, something about Bran was different. And it left Gwydion feeling uncomfortable with putting the other boy in his confidence. He still hadn’t even told King Merlin about the knife in spite of Morgan’s wishes. The less people he told, the more of a nice secret it was. He just wanted this one thing for himself. Just for a little while.

Maybe he would tell Bran…that was, if Bran was still interested in speaking to him in the future. Gwydion knew he wasn’t making it easy for Bran to befriend him, but the prejudice remained…and he didn’t want to appear desperate for a friend. With Alice, it had been easier because she was younger than him and he liked the idea of having a sort of younger sister. But in Bran, there was a magical rival. Since Bran was of the White Diamond Clan, Gwydion didn’t doubt that his magical abilities would rival his own.

And that bothered Gwydion. He was half-tempted to challenge Bran to a magical fight to see for certain who was better.

But that wouldn’t be a smart idea considering the White Diamond Clan were close allies of King Merlin’s. Gwydion didn’t want to threaten his place in this world since King Merlin’s acceptance of him was making his situation bearable enough. He didn’t want the King to be forced to lock him away in the dungeons due to intolerable behavior. Gwydion was sure some things would test that Code Morgan talked about, that some instances would put the King in the position to punish Gwydion by hurting him.

The Prince had always told him that life was a game of politics and that you had to tread carefully and use your head. Even now, after learning what his former father had in mind for him, Gwydion still followed that advice.

“Look. I know why you don’t like me, but I honestly just want to talk with you,” Bran declared, sounding quite sincere to Gwydion. “I can accept your behavior since you being another version of King Merlin carries some weight in your favor. I just ask that you not focus on the Clan I consider my family, but on me…just as a person.”

After Gwydion scrutinized him for a long moment, he recalled the flying white raven he had seen in his mind.

“Your name – Bran -- means ‘raven’, right?”

Bran nodded, looking at him strangely. “You have that right. It’s like your name being a type of bird as well.”

“My name is not!” Gwydion exclaimed, affronted, but then he realized Bran was referring to his birth name, Merlin. “Yes, fine.” He conceded glumly.

“Why are you asking?”

“I only wanted to make sure,” Gwydion informed him with a shrug. Then he set his book aside, ready to be more polite with Bran. “What is it about your other self? I didn’t let you tell me before…I’m…sorry about that,” he grit out, not finding it easy to admit.

Bran looked incredulous. “Now you’re being friendly? I don’t understand. What has changed?”

“I’m impressed by your annoying persistence,” Gwydion told him in a teasing voice.

He decided it wasn’t worth the trouble being antagonistic toward Bran. He had to use his head after all. Maybe being Bran’s friend would be a good thing.

Bran shook his head. “All right. I’ll take that as a half-compliment,” he decided. “My other self is the son of King Arthur and Queen Guinevere.”

“Wait. You mean King Arthur as in another world’s version of the Prince of Darkness?”

Bran nodded.

Gwydion was amused because the irony of the revelation was not lost on him. For Bran to have another version of himself who was the son of a different world's Arthur, an Arthur who was another version of an enemy of Bran's family, was one of the most ironic connections he'd ever encountered.

“So you understand the bit of stigma there. I have no control over the parentage of my other self. But I can’t erase the fact that another version of the Prince, the man I see as an enemy of the world I live in and love, is the father of another world’s version of me.”

“That’s not too bad. If the other you were the bastard son, then I could see the stigma there… but he’s legitimate, right?”

“Yes. I mean that does help. Most can look past that knowledge, realizing that I can’t change the connection. I simply have to live with it. I can’t imagine how you cope with all the otherselves you have.”

“I don’t think about them,” Gwydion said shortly. “That often,” he amended.

“I could understand it being difficult. My parents told me about the other Bran because I was curious about the existence of another version of me. They told me that they didn’t want to keep it from me. That I deserved to know.”

Gwydion felt despondent, grasping the golden bracelet that kept him trapped in this world. He had no idea when he would be able to see other worlds again. King Merlin had to be assured that he could be fully trusted, Gwydion bet. And then he thought that most children his age never saw all the worlds he had seen when he had traveled with the Prince. So he counted himself lucky to have been able to do that.

“Why did your parents name you Bran? Was it to do with your other self? Or a fondness for ravens?” He asked, grinning at his small joke.

Bran gave him a look. “No. It didn’t have to do with either. I was named after Branwen, the honorary grand matriarch of my family. It was thanks to my mother that I have my name. She believes in that myth about how long ago, the Immortal, Branwen, stayed behind in this world. She had a choice between going to be with her family, the other Immortals, or staying with the man she loved in this world. Unfortunately that man wasn’t an Immortal and wasn’t permitted to live in that world granted only for Immortals. So her fellow Immortals left to live in the world granted to them by the gods while she chose love. She never saw her family again, but Branwen apparently loved the man enough to risk that terrible sacrifice,” he recounted sadly. “She married the man – his name was Eamon – and they worked together to magically hide her true identity from others. So that no one would come to bleed her out for the desired properties of Immortal blood. They succeeded, and it was said that Branwen had many children with Eamon, and my mother believes she is a descendant of one of those children,” he confided in Gwydion, though he clearly sounded like he didn’t much believe in his mother’s conviction.

Gwydion wondered if Bran just humored his mother about the belief and respected her decision to name him after a particularly brave woman, if the stories were in fact true.

“Making you a descendant too,” Gwydion concluded.

He was admittedly intrigued about the possibility that Bran could be a descendant of an Immortal, the people who had captivated Gwydion’s interest ever since he’d first learned about them.

“Yes, well, according to my mother,” Bran indicated. Then he looked carefully at Gwydion. “Do you believe in the Immortals?” He asked him.

“A little bit, yes. I can’t help it. The idea of them fascinates me,” Gwydion admitted.

“I suppose they would be fascinating. To be wise and possess blood that is so useful. And I appreciate my mother naming me after a courageous person. It just unnerves me to think of an Immortal being alive and bled out against their will. I don’t like to think about that because it scares me, honestly…”

Gwydion could empathize with the fear. He dreaded the thought of himself being put through such an ordeal. What an awful way to die. Maybe it was a good thing that in this present time, the stories of the Immortals had turned into myths and the possible truth of their existence had been lost over the years.

“You’re not alone there,” Gwydion assured him.

“Thanks,” said Bran with a small smile.

Then Gwydion couldn’t resist asking, though he already knew the answer. It wasn’t hard to deduce. “Branwen means ‘white raven’, doesn’t it?”

Bran raised his brow. “Big on name meanings, then? Yes, that’s what Branwen means.”

Gwydion could see the flying white raven in his mind’s eye again, and just for one fleeting moment, he thought the raven’s eyes glowed golden just as Bran’s eyes did.

~ * ~

“I bear news of the upcoming prophecy, My Lord. The prophecy that will nullify the old prophecy of the phoenix forgiving the wolf,” the Lady Sophia informed the Prince of Darkness.

The Prince looked to her, stroking the dark blue, silver spotted cat on his lap. The cat, Vaellushalu, had been Gwydion’s pet before he had been kidnapped. He had gifted the creature to the boy, and Gwydion had loved her – fondly calling her Vaella. Now with Gwydion gone thanks to that bloody conniving King Merlin, the cat was without its owner. But the Prince couldn’t bear to kill Vaella. After all, this was a rare type of star cat due to the startling feature of her star-shaped silver irises and her silver spots that glowed in the dark of the night. He’d had a harrowing time getting this particular cat. He’d be foolish to kill her.

And he was no fool.

“What is it? You speak of the prophecy concerning Gwydion?”

Lady Sophia nodded. “The exact words of the imminent prophecy are still unknown, but I’ve discovered through my sources that there is a second person involved.”

“And have your sources found out who this second person is?”

“Lord Jon and Lady Dierna’s son, Bran. He is eleven, a year older than Gwydion.”

“A little lord of the White Diamond Clan?” The Prince asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes. And Lady Nimueh says that Gwydion and Bran have interacted. This doesn’t bode well for the new prophecy’s failure. I know you see Gwydion as a son, and wouldn’t have the heart to kill him.”

The Prince looked at her steadily. “There is no prophecy speaking of Gwydion’s death. I do not know if he can die. But nevermind that. Of course we must eliminate the little lord then. He has three younger sisters, I believe, and it will be no loss to his parents. With the Clan’s belief in equality, they will just transfer the family wealth to the eldest daughter.”

“That is Lady Arya, My Lord. But the whole of the White Diamond Clan is our enemy. What does it matter if the parents will suffer the loss or not? I could see about having their entire family executed if you wish.”

“Only do as I ask you, nothing more,” the Prince told her firmly.

“Is this because of that wretched King taking away Gwydion? Has your mind become addled?” Sophia asked him, puzzled.

The Prince set the cat down on the ground, and then he stood up himself.

He grabbed the witch by the upper arms, and then he moved one hand to wrap around her pale throat. He applied a light pressure, not enough to constrict her airway, but enough to have her receive the message of what was to come following impertinence. “Do not dare question the state of my mind. Eliminate the little lord, only him. Do any more and you will not live to see the next day.”

Lady Sophia nodded. The Prince let go of her. “Yes, My Lord. I will insure the Lord Bran is eliminated. I apologize for speaking so poorly of you. You must know I would never do so in the presence of another.”

“I would expect so,” he said, a lingering threat in his words.

Sophia bowed to him as she departed his rooms.

The Prince had a new plan in mind now, and it didn’t involve the destruction of all the worlds. Yet no matter what this new prophecy may say, he still found the Lord Bran dangerous. He was a version of another Bran who was the legitimate son to a different world’s Arthur and his Queen Guinevere. That connection afforded the little lord certain qualities he wouldn’t otherwise possess, the Prince didn’t doubt that. While he wasn’t quite sure what specific danger Lord Bran posed to him and his plans, the Prince felt it wisest to kill the boy.

That was the best course to take now especially with the news that he and Gwydion had made contact with one another.

He recalled King Merlin’s talk of the affliction during his argument with the manipulative King. The Prince had denied that he had had the affliction, but now he feared this irritating affliction could evolve.

That Gwydion would catch it…even worse, that he had been afflicted by it already.

But then Vaella was calling for his attention by purring, and he let go of his grave concerns for the moment as he gave her the attention she sought.

~ * ~
Chapter 7 {final part}