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The Wolf and The Phoenix (Final Part)
Title: The Wolf and the Phoenix (7/7)
Author: dk323
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 9,295
Warnings: Child abuse (brief), angst, angst, angst… *hides*
Characters/Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Disclaimer: The show Merlin is property of the BBC. The “His Dark Materials” books are property of Philip Pullman. The Dark Is Rising book series is property of Susan Cooper. No money is being made.
Summary:
In another world where everyone has dæmons, Arthur is an exiled prince for saving Merlin from the King's blind crusade against magic. With Excalibur and magic on their side, Arthur and Merlin escape to a different world when the King's men catch up to them.
It's not the danger, but a damning prophecy that'll put their strong bond to the ultimate test.
Chapter 7 summary: Merlin has his free will back, but he can't forgive Arthur, denying Arthur the closeness they used to have. As Arthur barely manages to cope with Merlin's distance, how long will it take Merlin to open his heart to forgiveness?
A/N: A His Dark Materials crossover/fusion where Arthur and Merlin both have dæmons. A dæmon is a person’s soul that exists outside of one’s body in animal form. A dæmon can speak as well. Further notes on dæmons in Chapter 1.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5a | Chapter 5b | Chapter 6a | Chapter 6b
The pain hurt so much that it hurt to even breathe.
Merlin made it feel almost pleasant.
Pain was good. It meant he would die soon.
But then someone or something knocked him down, forcing Merlin to release his grip on Zlota. He had been keeping her submerged underwater, waiting until the moment where his life would end.
The person who had stopped him was an older man in his thirties. He had dark brown hair and expressive blue eyes. By all rights, he was a rather handsome-looking man who could probably charm his way out of any situation. But Merlin still felt reassured by the man’s presence.
“It’s done. It’s all right. I took care of the King and the Court Physician. You’re free, Merlin. You’ve been released,” The man informed him.
Standing up, Merlin stared, mouth open, as the man took hold of Zlota gently, removing her from the water. Merlin didn’t feel uncomfortable upon the stranger’s contact with his dæmon. Instead, a comforting warmth spread through Merlin, not unlike when his mother touched Zlota, but slightly weaker. Still, it was something Merlin couldn’t miss and wonder about.
Who was this man? And further, more perplexing, Merlin didn’t think this man was truly a mortal man at all. He was different…the magic surrounding him took Merlin’s breath away. And the man was speaking the truth. He felt the hold Uther had over him, thanks to the spellwork of the Physician, lift from his body.
Merlin was nearly overwhelmed with emotion to feel his free will return to him. He was of his own mind again. And he was horrified that he’d almost drowned Zlota. Something inside him had wanted to free Merlin from his subjugation and thought ending his life by killing his dæmon would be the solution.
Oh god. What could have happened if this strange man hadn’t come… the level Merlin had stooped to, to destroy his own dæmon, his own soul.
His trust in Arthur had been his greatest folly. He would be wary of Arthur from now on. Never again. Never again would he trust the man who had betrayed him so.
Merlin took Zlota from the man, who readily gave her back to him. He collapsed to the ground, hugging his dæmon desperately to him.
“I’m sorry, so sorry, so sorry. I’m sorry,” he told her earnestly. “Oh god, I didn’t mean to. Oh Zlota, Zlocisty, please forgive me. Don’t ever leave me.”
“It’s all right,” Zlota assured him softly. “I forgive you, always. Don’t cry, Merlin. Please.”
But Merlin couldn’t abide by that request. He let the tears fall, the emotion taking him over. He didn’t even care about the stranger being present, just standing there, but giving Merlin his space. Merlin didn’t think the man was a complete stranger after all, judging by his earlier contact with Zlota. This man was family, somehow.
“Who—who are you?” Merlin asked the man.
The man sat down beside him. Merlin was grateful as he didn’t have the energy to stand at the moment. He just wanted to sit here and keep Zlota close to him for as long as he could.
“My name is James. I’m your uncle. Your father was my older half-brother,” James explained to him calmly.
“My father died when I was four. Arthur saw him doing magic and then he told Uther about it, and my father was condemned,” Merlin said, relishing recalling how Arthur had hurt him yet again.
He would still have a father if Arthur had kept his mouth shut.
“But Arthur was only five,” his uncle reminded him. “The man to blame is his father for spinning those ideas about magic in his head. I blame Uther, and so should you. Fortunately now Uther is no longer an issue.”
Before the betrayal, Merlin had been able to see past Arthur’s mistake that led to terrible consequences. He had understood that Arthur had been too young then to realize the pain he would cause those who were left behind: Merlin without a father, his mother without her husband.
It had been an unintentional accident.
But now, Merlin just added Arthur’s long ago indiscretion as another reason to despise him.
“I hate Arthur,” Merlin declared flatly.
“He’s going to be King now,” James said.
“Good. I hope he’s happy. I’ll go find another world to live in, and then I’ll be happy too as far away from the bastard as possible,” Merlin said viciously. “What was I thinking? Trusting someone with a wolf dæmon? I hate wolves. They’re dangerous and wait for the right moment to turn traitor, proud that they made someone look the fool. It’s what all wolves do. Damn them all. Damn them all.” Merlin repeated with a deep frown.
He stroked Zlota’s feathers to calm himself, but still the litany of, “Arthur’s the wolf. He’s the traitor. He’s not to be trusted” went around his head and fueled his anger toward Arthur.
“Merlin,” his uncle began. He placed his hand on his shoulder. “These thoughts you’re having, they’re not right. You and Arthur are meant to be close. I understand after this ordeal, you may need some space and time away from him, but you must not break with Arthur completely. Promise me that, Merlin,” he asked of Merlin.
Merlin shrugged. He was barely listening to what his uncle was saying.
“What are you? You’re not human, are you?” Merlin asked him, sharply changing the subject.
His uncle sighed. “I’m the god of unnatural magic, meaning the magic inside humans. Whereas natural magic is--”
“In the flora and fauna,” Merlin concluded. “I understand. Was my father a god too?”
His uncle nodded. “He was. He was Father’s heir, the next god of magic, but your father fell in love with your mother, a mortal woman, and he wished to spend the rest of his life with her. And he wanted to be a proper father to you. You can’t live life as a god and as a human at the same time.”
“So he gave up being a god,” Merlin said. “And he didn’t even get to see me grow up. It seems like such a waste.”
“Every moment is precious. My mother was human, and I was with her for the first eleven years of my life. But then my father took me to attain my godly status and live as a god as was my fate, I guess. That sounds grim, I suppose, but it’s the truth,” James said in quiet resignation.
He continued, more assured this time, “But I know my mother loved me and she cherished the time she had with me. She may have had a heavy heart that I had to leave her when I was still only a child, but she knew it was for the best. I’m sure your father is watching over you, and he’s glad that he even had a few years with you. It was better than the alternative, him being a god and not able to be fully involved in your life. I know what that’s like. I have a son now who I can’t be a proper father to because I chose to remain a god.”
“His mother’s human?”
James nodded. “Except, unfortunately, his mother died in childbirth. My son has been adopted. His name is Gwydion. He’s ten now. Anyway.”
“Does Gwydion know you’re his birth father?” Merlin asked, having a feeling the answer was a no.
“Well! Would you look at the time. I better get going,” James declared a little too forcefully. He stood up. “Arthur and Ophelia, a sorceress from the World of Magic, should be coming here to see you.”
“Right,” Merlin said, half-distracted by the clear problem here of James having a son who didn’t even know James was his birth father.
Would Gwydion ever find out? He deserved the right to know in Merlin’s opinion. He had never even met this boy and he felt strangely defensive on Gwydion’s behalf.
Thinking about that was a welcome distraction from considering just how angry he was at Arthur and all the ways Arthur had slighted him over the two years they’d known each other.
It was a nice break from that. Merlin needed it.
“You’ll be all right, I hope?” James said. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you even so.”
“I can think for myself again, and I have my magic to use if necessary. I’ll be fine,” Merlin said, deciding it best not voice his interest in attacking Arthur. Having magic for that was quite helpful.
Merlin stood up to say goodbye, and his uncle pulled him into a strong embrace.
“Good luck.” James told him.
And then his godly uncle was gone. Outside the room, Merlin could hear hushed, urgent talks as people discussed the topic of the hour, King Uther’s death. Merlin used his magic to catch what the people of Camelot were saying in the castle and even down in the lower town. He wanted to know what people were thinking, and this was the safest, most convenient way to do so.
He overheard musings about where Prince Arthur was, and would he now be King after turning against his father so publicly?
The Prince’s behavior was most perplexing, Merlin heard people gossip. One moment, he was in exile with a sorcerer; and the next he was handing over the same sorcerer to a terrible fate. And yet the late King Uther still held his son in suspicion, not keeping him by his side but instead locking him away in a tall tower. A tower that the Prince had not long ago escaped to everyone’s surprise. And now he was being pursued by Uther’s men, a lady companion with the Prince as well.
The question was, Was Prince Arthur fit to be King of Camelot?
Now, Merlin’s answer to the question was a resounding no. He concealed himself with his magic as he wandered the corridors. He wanted to help enforce the talks of Arthur’s wavering mental state, but Merlin knew it was wisest to lie low and observe, not participate.
Camelot was still a bad place for a magic user to be especially during this time of upheaval following the King’s death.
The only thing to do now was to wait for Arthur to return from wherever he had ventured with this Ophelia. His ‘lady companion’ who, according to his uncle, was apparently a sorceress from the World of Magic. She must have been able to help Arthur drain the magic from the tower, and subsequently use that magic to escape the structure.
~ * ~
“Is this supposed to happen?” Arthur asked of Ophelia. He had released the extraordinary amount of magic inside him, and the result, apparently, was the creation of magical creatures.
There were five phoenixes, two winged horses and two unicorns before them. The four-legged creatures surrounded the mystical birds. Three phoenixes had similar colouring to Zlota’s while the remaining two were blue and then white respectively.
“Well it’s different for every person. Usually having these magical creatures appear is a reward for your good deed. You must insure the protection of these dear creatures, Arthur, as they are the hope of magic acceptance in your kingdom.”
Arthur nodded. “I will do my best.”
Krola was by his side, an ever-present source of assurance, as Arthur went and greeted each of the beautiful creatures. He pet the manes of the winged horses, and lightly touched each unicorn’s horn as if he were inspecting them. Kneeling for the phoenixes, Arthur looked upon them fondly, admiring these most magical of birds. He stroked their feathers gently as if he were afraid they’d come loose if he didn’t remain vigilant.
Arthur stood up then, his task done. He looked to Ophelia who smiled at him.
“As long as you believe in the goodness of magic, then these magical creatures shall thrive in your world,” she told him.
The newly created animals departed, either galloping or flying away. Only one remained.
And that was the snow-white phoenix.
Arthur looked at the lone phoenix thoughtfully.
“I think this little one is meant for a different purpose. Do you know what to do with her?” Ophelia asked.
“She looks so lovely. I would keep her,” Char, still in his small dragon form, spoke up enthusiastically.
“How do you know this phoenix is a female?” Arthur asked Ophelia.
“I’m from the World of Magic, Arthur. We learn a lot about phoenixes as they are one of the sacred magical creatures after all.”
“Right, of course. I should have guessed,” Arthur said with a nod. “I know what to do with her, I think. At least where to give her a good home.”
Arthur took the small white phoenix in his hands. The bird was not yet fully-grown, only about the size of his head. He walked purposefully to an oak tree that he knew well. Quietly, Ophelia walked beside him. Krola went a little ahead of them. Arthur knew that his dæmon was aware of where he wished to go.
When they reached the great big oak tree, it was still surrounded by three younger oak trees – a familiar, comforting sight to Arthur since he was five years old.
“The big oak tree will be the phoenix’s new home,” Arthur said out loud.
“What shall you name her?” Ophelia asked him.
“I don’t know…Snow-White, maybe?” Arthur suggested.
“That certainly is fitting,” she indicated, referring to the stark whiteness of the phoenix.
Arthur gave her an acknowledging smile. He lifted his hands and let the phoenix fly up into the tree.
“I bet Snow-White could hide very well in the snow. A perfect cover,” Krola remarked.
Arthur shook his head wryly at her, patting her furry white head.
“You would be as lucky as her, Krola, to hide in the snow just as efficiently,” Ophelia put in.
“Yes, you and the phoenix would make quite the team, Krola,” Arthur said, smiling in bemusement.
He then turned his attention back to the tree.
“Please take care of Snow-White,” Arthur solemnly spoke to the oak tree as if it could answer back.
Arthur knew the tree would understand his request. For the big oak tree was a dryad who could transform into a human-looking nymph as well as an oak tree. She was Merlin’s paternal grandmother, but Merlin didn’t even know.
The leaves of the oak tree rustled as if accepting what Arthur wanted of her.
Ophelia looked like she was bursting with questions about Arthur’s connection with the tree, but thankfully she let Arthur keep his secrets.
“What is this white rose engraving? Do you know who put it there?” Ophelia asked him.
Arthur shrugged. “I don’t know. Must have been an artist who had passed by the tree one day.”
“Quite a nice engraving,” Ophelia remarked sincerely.
He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah it is, isn’t it?” Then Arthur looked ahead toward Camelot. “I think it’s time we head to the castle, and save Merlin.”
“Yes.” Ophelia agreed. “And it’s best for you to change back into a mouse, Char. You’ll attract less attention then.”
They went on their way.
~ * ~
Arthur and Ophelia soon found out that King Uther and the blasted Court Physician were both death. Arthur could now be King. But most importantly, the terribly controlling spell on Merlin had been lifted.
When they encountered Merlin in a long abandoned dusty set of chambers, Arthur’s worst imagining came to light. Merlin stared coldly at Arthur, and Zlota just pretended that he and Krola didn’t exist. Instead, Merlin’s phoenix dæmon looked intently in Ophelia’s direction.
Soon, Merlin’s blue-eyed gaze turned toward Ophelia as well. It was as if Arthur wasn’t even there, like he was just a servant meant to be invisible and not to be acknowledged.
“Hello, you must be Ophelia,” Merlin assumed with a small, somewhat forced smile. Arthur wondered if his presence was bothering Merlin. Arthur didn’t doubt it, though that knowledge hurt him deeply.
“Yes,” Ophelia said politely, glancing at Arthur in silent apology at Merlin ignoring him. “And this little mouse is Char,” she told Merlin, pointing out Char who was on her shoulder. Char looked more interested in looking at Zlota than Merlin.
“Nice to meet the both of you,” Merlin said. “You’re from this World of Magic, right?” He asked Ophelia.
She nodded. “Yes. I can offer you to come to my world. King Merlin would be very pleased to see you. He’ll make sure you’re settled and comfortable, and I bet there are some tasks you can do to pass the time.”
Arthur just had to speak up. He couldn’t bear to be silent any longer. “And as soon as I’ve stabilized the situation here, Merlin, after I repeal the anti-magic laws, then you can return home,” he assured Merlin.
Merlin turned to face him. His expression tight. He glared at Arthur. “Nothing you ever do will be enough,” he said sharply, the words cutting Arthur to the core.
Then he swept out of the room without once looking back at Arthur.
“That could have gone better,” Ophelia said quietly. She looked as unhappy as Arthur felt. “I’ll go after him since he seems okay with speaking to me. I don’t know if I could appeal him to you, but…”
Arthur shook his head. “No, don’t worry about it. This is something I have to figure out myself. You’ve helped me more than enough, Ophelia. I thank you for that. Just take Merlin to the World of Magic. He’ll be happier there than here…”
Arthur wanted to add “with me”, but he couldn’t bear it. If the words were spoken out loud, that would make the terrible truth even truer.
Ophelia frowned, looking sad for him. “Oh Arthur. I’ll do my best, but I’m sure your Merlin is far from happy. He may be hiding it very well now, but I don’t doubt his heart aches for the bond you two shared. Please don’t lose hope,” she implored of him.
Then she embraced Arthur in a hug that Arthur found partly comforting while the other half of him yearned for the closeness he had had with Merlin. The closeness that may now be lost forever.
Ophelia gave him a small reassuring smile as she and Char went to find Merlin.
Arthur just stood there, Krola whining miserably beside him, in the empty room. He wanted to cry, but he would soon officially be the King of Camelot. Kings didn’t show weakness, so Arthur had to be strong. Even though on the inside, he was sobbing so hard that his vision was blurred with tears.
He’d always thought being crowned King of his land, of his people, would be a joyous occasion. But with the deep fracture in his relationship with Merlin, Arthur’s wish for that joy was not to be. Only a long hard road lay ahead of him now.
He feared he would break under the weight of the burden of his betrayal.
~ * ~
“It’s a pity, you know, that you have to die, Lord Bran,” said Sophia all too sweetly as she carried out her mission as per the instructions of the Prince of Darkness.
In his bed, Bran was incapacitated, his eyelids fluttering and he tried to move away from her, but he was too weak. The only solid chance of getting enough usable Immortal blood was to drain him completely. The level of Immortal blood decreased with each succeeding generation after all. So Sophia cut his palm with a sharp dagger, and she began magically collecting the blood from him.
“I know some people who would be very interested in despoiling you first. The Dark World has harems for youths, and you would be high in demand, I’d imagine. Exotic, even, being white as snow as you are, and eyes like gold.”
“I –hate—you,” whispered Bran harshly.
“Now, don’t say that,” Sophia chided him. She stroked his cheek, and then she moved her hand down to his chest, feeling the boy’s heart beat faster with adrenaline and anxiety. Then she smiled wickedly as she reached his waist and made it look like she would go a little lower, slipping a finger inside his breeches.
Bran made a small disapproving noise at her intent of fondling him. She could feel some of his magic sparking; attempting to make her leave, but the effort was feeble.
His magic couldn’t help him now. Sophia made sure of that.
“You will get away from Bran,” spoke a voice that she swore was Gwydion’s, but sounded strangely deeper, more commanding.
Sophia stood up, turning around sharply. “Gwydion?” She asked. Though it certainly looked like him, the deep, echoing voice coming from him was far from that of a ten-year old boy.
“Return his blood back to him.”
“What has gotten into you?” Sophia couldn’t help but utter.
Gwydion looked relaxed, confident in his own power, as he spoke and coolly stared down Sophia.
“Now please,” Gwydion said quietly, a clear threat underlying his words.
Sophia felt a bit foolish, but she was beginning to fear Gwydion. He looked like he would unleash terrible pain upon her if she disregarded his words. The Prince’s blasted little pawn rat of a child had something more to him than met the eye.
“Do it now, or else you will suffer.”
“All right! Fine. You stupid boy.”
She sat back down, turning his attention back to Bran who had now fallen unconscious from the blood loss. She magically returned the blood she had taken from Bran. She couldn’t concentrate all that well as she felt Gwydion’s blue eyes boring into the back of her head. The wretched child was unnerving her.
Once she had finished, Sophia felt herself growing warmer, too warm. And she didn’t think that she had suddenly contracted a fever.
“I’m not stupid,” said Gwydion simply.
And then Sophia screamed as she saw fire start to engulf her from the feet up.
“Bran is under my protection,” Gwydion spoke carefully with force.
And that was the last thing she heard before the flames licked her body fully, burning her to death.
~ * ~
Gwydion paid little mind to Sophia’s ashes in a pile on the ground.
He looked to Bran who had awoken, colour gradually returning to him as he started to recover thanks to his blood being regained.
“Are you all right?” He asked Bran earnestly. His voice was back to normal.
Gwydion couldn’t explain where that strange commanding voice had come from or the sensation he’d had of being so self-assured of his power and ability to get what he wanted. The voice had reminded him of the god of magic when he had spoken to him the night of the Feast.
He had just known that Bran had been in trouble and he had to save him. It had been that simple.
Gwydion approached him, but stopped to resist the temptation to reach out to Bran, to touch him to insure that he was well and truly all right and healed.
Bran stared at Gwydion oddly. Then he looked at the collection of ashes on the ground. “Gwydion…” He began, and then paused. He appeared especially uncertain about what to say.
“Your magic is okay, is it? You’re all right?”
“My magic is fine. I’m okay, it’s just…did you kill her? Lady Sophia?” Bran asked. “I only met you yesterday night. I didn’t expect you to save my life.”
“But I had to, Bran… you must feel it, don’t you? We’re connected, I think. I couldn’t let you die. You would do the same for me?”
“Yes of course. I wouldn’t leave you to die, of course not. It’s just, Gwydion, you’re younger than me…and you just killed someone. She was a bad person, yes, but still.”
“You’re not afraid of me, are you? You don’t need to be.”
“No, Gwydion, I’m not.”
“We’re still friends, right?”
“Yes, but…”
“You don’t feel it? You don’t feel what I feel?” Gwydion asked, a wave of sadness threatened to overwhelm him. He felt like he was about to cry, but he did his best to stifle the emotions. He had to be strong.
Bran looked thoughtful, which gave Gwydion hope. “I sometimes have strange dreams with a bluebird always on my shoulder. The bird feels comforting for some reason, like an old friend,” Bran recalled. “It’s odd because since I met you, I thought you and the dreams with the bluebird were connected somehow. So maybe you’re right, maybe we were meant to be friends. Maybe we were meant to meet.”
“A bluebird?” Gwydion asked, raising his brow. “That’s strange.” He remarked. “I should stay here with you for the rest of the night. I can protect you.”
“I have my magic, Gwydion. I’ll be perfectly all right. I promise.”
“Please, Bran.” He insisted, not above pleading.
Bran sighed. “Okay. Sure. I’d like that.”
Gwydion smiled.
He gripped Bran’s hand as he fell asleep, the hand an anchor for him, reminding him that Bran was still alive.
Gwydion was happy when he felt Bran return the pressure, and then he whispered to Gwydion, “Thank you for saving my life.”
They were truly friends now, Gwydion thought with a smile.
~ * ~
“What are they doing there? It looks like they’re trying to eavesdrop,” Gwydion noted.
He, Bran and Alice had decided to explore the forest because Gwydion hadn’t had a proper chance to yet. Bran had suggested that his younger sister, Arya, who was about Gwydion’s age, would want to come along too.
Arya and another girl, a redhead, were taking a cautious peek through the doors of the council chambers. Arya had the same white hair as Bran, but hers went past her shoulders and was knotted in a braid. Her eyes were dark in colour in contrast to Bran’s light golden eyes.
“Someone interesting must be speaking to King Merlin, I bet,” Bran declared.
“Who’s the girl with her?” Alice asked quietly.
Gwydion couldn’t miss Bran getting a little uncomfortable, rubbing the back of his head. Yet he answered as smoothly as he could, “That’s Lady Sansa. She’s a friend of mine.”
“She’s pretty,” Alice remarked.
Gwydion shrugged. He wasn’t really interested in admiring girls now. He’d much rather head into certain danger than deal with girls because that was much more exciting. But Alice was all right.
And from what Bran had told him about Arya, she seemed like just the sort of person Gwydion would want to spend time with.
“Thanks.” Bran said, and then he poked Gwydion in the shoulder in response to Gwydion’s disinterest.
Gwydion only grinned at him.
“Hey, what’s so interesting?” Gwydion raised his voice, calling Arya and Sansa’s attention.
Both girls startled, but then Arya smiled while Sansa looked a bit guilty for being caught eavesdropping.
“Oh, you must be Gwydion,” Arya said. “I’m Bran's much cleverer younger sister. I’m sure he told you.”
Bran gave a long sigh.
“I think I like her already,” Gwydion quipped. “Nice to meet you, Arya and Lady Sansa, is it?” He asked of her.
Sansa’s eyes were a pale blue and they managed to even outshine her fire-red hair.
Sansa nodded, smiling quietly. “Yes, that’s me. You can call me Sansa,” she said. “And you’re Alice?” She addressed the younger girl.
“Yes, hello. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Alice said. “You’re Bran’s friend then?”
“Yes, something like that,” Sansa acknowledged, giving Bran a significant look.
Gwydion was more concerned about what the girls were eavesdropping on than deciphering the look. Bran would surely tell him what he was missing at some point.
“So what’s going on in the chambers?” Gwydion asked.
“Yeah, I’d love to know,” Alice chimed in.
“King Merlin’s speaking to someone, right?” Bran guessed.
Arya nodded. “Sansa and I were lucky enough to see the visitor. So cool. He looked like the King a bit, but without a beard. And the best part is the man had a big scarlet-gold phoenix with him. It was the man’s dæmon, I think. I wish we could find out what they’re talking about, but the room’s been magically soundproofed.”
“Oh Gwydion,” Alice exclaimed. “that must be Myrddin or Merlin, that man I saw before I came to this world.”
“Great. Another world’s version of him in this world. It feels like the world’s getting smaller now,” Gwydion bemoaned.
Bran chuckled. “Don’t be so enthusiastic about it, Gwydion,” he remarked.
Gwydion gave him a pointed look. “I’ve half-a-mind to run away.”
Arya appeared excited, clapping her hands together. “Oh good! Then we could all run away together and make an adventure of it.”
“Yes, that sounds like a brilliant idea, Arya,” Bran said dryly.
She stuck her tongue out at him.
“We were thinking of exploring in the forest,” Alice brought up. “We were hoping the two of you would like to join us.”
“That sounds like a nice idea. I’d like to come,” agreed Sansa.
“I’m definitely up for that,” declared Arya easily with a grin.
So with that, the five of them navigated the corridors full of miniature dragons and floating fairies until they reached the entrance.
Once they were outside, Arya spoke up.
“We should play a game,” Arya decided. “What sort of creature would your dæmon be if you had one?” She suggested.
“Mine would be a lion!” Gwydion declared immediately. He magically conjured the sound of a lion’s roar, and smiled, pleased, at everyone’s impressed looks at the very realistic roar.
Bran raised his brow. “You just suggested that because you wanted to show off the roar. Isn’t a dæmon something that requires more thought? An animal that best fits your personality?”
“I’m positive my dæmon would be a lion. Without a doubt. Like yours would be a raven,” Gwydion said confidently.
“Bran’s dæmon is boring and so obvious,” Arya said smartly.
Bran raised his hands. “My name meaning raven doesn’t mean my dæmon will be a raven,” he defended.
“Nooo, it’s a raven…maybe a white raven though, ok, that would be amazing,” Arya suggested with interest.
“A white raven would be lovely,” Sansa remarked sincerely. “For me, I believe my dæmon would be a little bird of pale yellow colouring. Small but graceful.”
“Then you and Bran would work well together, both having bird dæmons,” Gwydion spoke up wisely.
“All of you are still assuming--” Bran started wearily.
“Don’t deny it, Bran,” Gwydion shot back.
“What is your answer then, Bran? If not a raven?” Sansa asked him.
Bran looked at her and at everyone else, Gwydion’s lips twisted in amusement.
“I respectfully choose not to answer the question,” Bran decided after a long moment.
Alice put in, wondering, “Maybe it could be a crow…”
Gwydion laughed out loud then as Bran also meant crow.
He congratulated Alice on her comment yet Alice didn’t quite understand what was so funny.
Bran groaned, and he glared at Gwydion to stop laughing. His face becoming red from mirth, Gwydion coughed, and his laughter subsided soon after.
“My dæmon would be a dolphin,” said Arya self-assuredly.
“With all those pictures and books you have on dolphins, I’m not surprised there,” said Bran.
Arya grinned.
“But you have to stay close to your dæmon, right? You have to spend all your life in the water then, Arya,” Gwydion told her.
She shrugged. “I’m more than ready for that.”
“You have to be a mermaid, I suspect,” Alice figured. She giggled.
“Even better,” Arya said with a nod. “Always wanted to be one,” she revealed.
“I’m not sure what my dæmon would be,” considered Alice. “While a small dragon would be nice, I do like furry animals more. A creature soft and warm to the touch. A dog, maybe?”
“Or a furry dragon?” Arya suggested.
“That’s one mutation I don’t want to see,” said Bran, looking like he was visualizing it that moment.
“I agree,” Alice said with a nod.
“So Alice, do you think your brother’s dæmon would be a dragon?” Gwydion wondered. “Once he’s a fully trained Dragonlord?”
Arya’s eyes widened. “Okay, now, that would be an epic dæmon. Your brother’s so lucky. It would make a lot of sense to have a dragon dæmon if you’re a Dragonlord.”
“I’m not sure, honestly, but I’d be proud of Robin if he did have a dragon dæmon,” said Alice.
“So I guess Alice’s brother wins this round and he’s not even here,” Bran declared.
“Oh no. My lion was clearly the victor,” Gwydion retorted stubbornly.
“I’ll race you, and whoever wins is right,” Bran suggested.
“You have a deal.” Gwydion acknowledged.
So the two of them raced through the forest, the girls cheering them on.
Gwydion and Bran ended up tying in their impromptu race. They collapsed on to the forest floor, grinning at each other.
~ * ~
Epilogue (Five Years Later)
“I’m glad you could come,” King Merlin told Merlin.
Merlin shrugged. “I couldn’t not come. I had to see Gwydion. I want to help him.”
King Merlin nodded. “Of course. I feel the same way. Since Gwydion is a younger Merlin, I feel protective of him quite often,” the King confided in Merlin. “Your Arthur was unable to come with you?” He inquired idly.
Merlin made a fist with one hand, his mouth set in a tight line. The last person he wanted to talk about was Arthur.
“Yes. He was unfortunately busy with important matters of state,” Merlin remarked. “He thought it best I come on my own and stay for Lord Bran and Lady Sansa’s wedding, as a representative of the kingdom. Of course I wanted to be here anyway to see Gwydion and help him if I can.”
Years after the betrayal, Merlin still hadn’t forgiven Arthur. He felt like he’d be the fool to make it easy for Arthur. He couldn’t forgive the one man who he used to trust above all others. Despite the circumstances of Arthur’s betrayal, the terrible pain and horror he felt when he thought of what Arthur had put him through couldn’t be forgotten.
Merlin wanted Arthur to suffer with his guilt. Maybe that made him seem petty for wanting to exact revenge on Arthur, but Merlin believed he had the right to cause Arthur pain in retribution for the betrayal.
His relationship – or more like acquaintance – with Arthur had remained strained and had settled into a tolerant politeness. Merlin was invested in the future of his world’s Camelot. He did what he could to help Arthur build the magic-friendly Camelot Merlin had always envisioned for the kingdom.
But Merlin had done his best to avoid spending time alone with Arthur. When that did happen, Arthur would usually start pleading with Merlin to properly forgive him. Merlin didn’t give into him, and all those times, he wanted to shake Arthur, scream at him, “How dare you??!! How could you do that to me?? I wish you’d just go away!”
He had been tempted to punch him in the face. A few times Merlin very nearly had done so, but instead he’d maintained his composure as best as he could and turned his back on Arthur. Merlin walked away from him. He was almost positive that if he had turned back around to see Arthur’s face – his face would bear a pitiful, almost lost expression.
That’s why Merlin couldn’t look. Seeing Arthur fall apart, revealing the crack in his kingly shield, would test Merlin’s resolve to never forgive the man.
King Merlin spoke, thankfully discussing Gwydion instead of commenting further on Arthur’s absence. “I’m afraid there’s not much you can do for Gwydion. We’re doing all we can already. He would be glad that you came, though, I know he would. Gwydion will heal and return to health. He is stronger than most thanks to the god’s blood in him. And he is only fifteen. At his age, his body is strong and able to overcome this sickness. The question is when he’ll be well again. It may take weeks. Poor lad.”
“So he definitely won’t be present at the wedding tomorrow? Couldn’t the ceremony be postponed? I know how close Gwydion is to Bran and Sansa. I would imagine he’d be unhappy about missing their wedding.”
“Regrettably, the wedding must continue on schedule. The Prince attempted to halt the union by making Bran fall terribly ill. It was only due to Gwydion’s selfless intervention that saved him. Bran’s parents are concerned that if they delay the wedding, the Prince will strike again to hurt Bran.”
“And you believe Bran getting married would be powerful enough to protect Bran from the Prince?” Merlin asked in undisguised skepticism. He didn’t particularly believe in the strength of such a spell.
King Merlin nodded. “With Bran and Sansa’s union being made official in matrimony, and then consummation, then the Prince cannot kill Bran. So the wedding must happen tomorrow. Gwydion will understand why. He would want Bran to be protected in the best manner possible.”
“Yet they’re both sixteen. It seems young to get married. I understand if the matter with the Prince is so dire that time is not on their side, but still…it is young.”
“It’s quite common for nobility to get married that young in this world. Freya and I were married at eighteen, actually. But as you’re aware, Bran’s case doesn’t allow for the luxury of time. And you know how Bran is. He is quite mature and grounded for his young age of sixteen. He’ll make a good husband for Sansa,” the King told Merlin confidently.
When they entered Gwydion’s chambers, Merlin could smell the staleness of sick in the room, futilely veiled by a light perfume.
Alice and Lady Sansa were on either side of Gwydion’s bed. At the foot of the bed, Gwydion’s rare star cat, Vaella, slept comfortably.
Alice, now twelve years old, was already proving to be a beautiful girl with long blonde hair and unforgettable blue eyes.
Alice smiled at Merlin when she saw him.
“Alice dear,” King Merlin asked her gently. “The Queen would like to see you.”
She nodded. “All right. Of course, Your Majesty.” Alice agreed.
She squeezed Gwydion’s limp hand yet the boy only murmured unintelligible words in response. His eyes stayed closed as he remained in the grips of the unrelenting vicious illness.
Alice frowned, but she leaned forward to press a quick kiss to his brow. Merlin heard her whisper to Gwydion, “I know you’re not fond of your birth father, Gwydion, but I don’t doubt he’s watching over you right now in the Heavens, making sure you’ll be well again. I’ll be back soon.”
After she finished with Gwydion, Alice greeted Merlin somberly and then she followed King Merlin out of the room.
He sat down in the chair previously occupied by Alice.
“I’ve heard from some servants that they swear Gwydion’s father has been visiting him during the night. They feel his presence,” Sansa confided in him.
“That’s good to hear,” said Merlin. “I didn’t doubt that James would be here for him.”
Sansa nodded. “This is hard on Bran as you can imagine. He feels guilty.”
“Bran didn’t want Gwydion to do it?” Merlin guessed.
She shook her head. “No, of course not. But unfortunately Gwydion can be stubborn at times.”
In the past, Merlin knew he would have acted the same way if Arthur’s life had been in danger. Yet now, he just couldn’t imagine sacrificing himself for the sake of a man who had betrayed him so deeply.
Then Bran came into the room. He looked wrecked. His eyes were red probably from crying, and his tawny golden eyes were darker than usual.
“It’s good to see you, Merlin,” Bran said quietly.
“Yes, you too,” Merlin answered him, unsure what to say to him considering the tragic situation with Gwydion.
“Oh Bran. You look terrible,” Sansa declared. She stood up and went over to him. He kissed her softly on the lips. “You know Gwydion will be all right. Of course he will be,” she reassured him.
“I just can’t help but think that this one time, he won’t be as invincible as sometimes he believes he is. I hate to think that, but I can’t let go of that thought,” Bran confessed with a heavy heart.
Sansa embraced him, and she whispered something into his ear.
He gave a slight nod. Though Merlin offered his chair to Bran, the younger man declined saying that Merlin had more right to stay because he was another world’s version of Gwydion, and more so his cousin as well.
Bran took Sansa’s seat instead. Sansa stood beside him as he reached out to hold Gwydion’s hand.
That was when unexpectedly, Gwydion began to choke.
Bran looked horrified, like his touch had caused it. He took his hand away from Gwydion.
Yet Gwydion continued to make gagging noises like something had gone down the wrong way. “Gwydion? Gwydion?” Bran called to him urgently.
Merlin, anxious to help, positioned Gwydion so that he was sitting upright. When he touched Gwydion, the worrying choking sound stopped fortunately. Merlin didn’t have to resort to slapping his back to stop his choking. Gwydion’s eyes opened and he started coughing, the cough turning into a dry, hoarse one.
Bran conjured a glass of water for Gwydion and he took it appreciatively.
“Do you know why you were choking?” Bran asked him.
“I’m not sure,” Gwydion admitted, his voice weak from disuse due to the illness ravaging his body. His gaze went to Merlin, then Sansa, and then lastly, to Bran. “But I think something is about to happen,” he declared, coughing as he did so.
Gwydion gave Bran a small smile, and he reached out to grasp his hand. Bran moved closer to him so that Gwydion could better grab his hand from his bed.
Suddenly, a golden light swept through the room. It looked like the light was coming directly from Gwydion. The light seemed to enter Bran and made him glow fleetingly, to Bran’s own surprise, and then the golden light only appeared to grow and spread out beyond the room. The four of them saw the light go out the window.
“The prophecy,” Sansa announced, guessing what the light meant.
At the same moment, Gwydion, still smiling and looking a little pleased, declared that he was awfully tired and he fell asleep.
Bran looked shaken. “I should go…King Merlin needs to be made aware.”
“But Bran, the prophecy,” Sansa reminded him gently. “You know what this means.”
Bran smiled at Sansa. “Yes I know. But all I honestly want now is for Gwydion to regain his health. We don’t know if Gwydion causing the prophecy to take effect will heal him. I hope it does.”
“I’m sure it will,” Merlin spoke up. “The prophecy is about defeating the Prince after all. It can only be a good omen for Gwydion’s sake.”
“Yes, you do have a point there,” Bran acknowledged.
He left the room.
Merlin turned to Sansa. “How can you marry Bran even though you know about the prophecy? Gwydion just expressed that his love for Bran is strong enough to save all the worlds from the Prince’s wrath.”
“I can’t come between them,” Sansa said reasonably. “I love Bran, I do, and maybe it isn’t as much as Gwydion loves him, but I’ve seen how strong their friendship is. Gwydion and Bran are meant for big things, the sort of things people will see as legendary one day. I can only accept that. They make each other happy. I know Bran truly loves me, that he has room in his heart to do so, and that’s enough for me.”
“Bran’s lucky to have you,” Merlin declared frankly.
“Thank you, Merlin,” Sansa said.
As Sansa tended to Gwydion, Merlin contemplated forgiving Arthur. He was inspired after seeing the prophecy unravel just now, the golden light sweeping through everywhere. It was a sight that he would never forget.
And then he thought that if things had gone differently for Gwydion and he had remained under the Prince’s care, then Bran would have still been his enemy since he was of the White Diamond Clan. Gwydion being kidnapped was the best thing that had happened to him. He had gained good friends, and a strong ally and confidante in Bran. Merlin knew that Gwydion would get better and succeed in making the Raven Knife, the knife that would have the same abilities as his Arthur’s Excalibur.
It was time. Arthur’s betrayal had been ugly and Merlin hated that Arthur had done that to him. But still, they had had a strong relationship before the betrayal. Did Merlin want to destroy that completely by never forgiving Arthur? Maybe he could give them a chance again at regaining the bond they had lost.
In her firefly form on his shoulder, Zlota spoke up, “I think we should give him a chance. For the bond between you and Arthur to be utterly irreparable is a tragedy. Like Sansa said about Gwydion and Bran being meant for legendary deeds as a pair. You and Arthur are the same way.”
“Yes, Zlota. You’re right. It’s time,” Merlin decided. “I wish I could have seen it sooner, but it’s not too late. I won’t let it be,” he declared fiercely.
With that decision made, Merlin looked forward to returning to his world’s Camelot after the wedding.
~ * ~
With her Scottish terrier dæmon, Troy, following after her; Gwen approached Merlin once he’d returned home after his time in the World of Magic for the wedding. Merlin was immediately concerned at the anxious expression upon Gwen’s face.
While Gwen enjoyed her time in the World of Magic, her sanctuary from Uther’s wrath when he had still been alive; she had returned home to the Dæmon World. She had told him that she still yearned for home no matter how lovely the World of Magic was, so she had come back. Her return was not long before Merlin’s return home four years ago.
It took Arthur about a year to establish an acceptable peace in Camelot. Though Merlin returned after a year in the World of Magic, their relationship wasn’t magically healed. Merlin was left advising Arthur, making sure not to make too great displays of magic in public so as not to unsettle Camelot’s citizens. After all, so long with the anti-magic measures, it would take longer for everyone to be comfortable with the free use of magic.
Fortunately, five years since Merlin left Arthur to spend time in the World of Magic, the people of the Dæmon World’s Camelot were starting to truly accept magic and the good it could do. Merlin could finally use his magic in public and most people didn’t shy away in fear. It was progress.
“What is it, Gwen? Arthur?” Merlin guessed easily. He knew Arthur had his bouts of his melancholy and despair because Merlin wouldn’t be open to forgiving him. These days, he was the only person that would leave Gwen so upset and seeking Merlin’s help.
Guilt swept through Merlin at being the reason why Arthur felt this way.
“He’s in a worse state than he’s ever been,” Troy informed him.
Gwen nodded. “He’s locked himself in his chambers. He won’t let anyone in. You need to do something. Of course--”
“Yes. I know it’d be best if I forgive Arthur. Don’t worry, Gwen. Being in the World of Magic for the wedding has changed my view on life. I’m ready to forgive him,” Merlin declared.
Gwen smiled softly, tears welling up in her eyes. “Oh Merlin!” She said, pleased, as she embraced him.
When she pulled away from him, Gwen said, “I wish you good luck. I’m so glad you’re ready to do this,” she told him emphatically.
“I am too,” Merlin acknowledged. “Come on, Zlota. Time to spread your wings,” he said to his dæmon .
She shifted from a firefly to her phoenix form and sat perched on his shoulder.
“See you later, Gwen, Troy,” Merlin said to her and her dæmon. He steeled himself for the task at hand.
“We can do this,” Zlota said to Merlin encouragingly.
Silently, Merlin was half-hopeful, half-worried that it was too late. That he’d had Arthur wait for too long that his chance of forgiving him was gone forever.
Once he reached Arthur’s chambers, Merlin opened the well-locked door with a touch of his magic.
“Arthur?” Merlin called out quietly.
Zlota flew away from him, and when she returned, she informed Merlin that Arthur was sitting in front of the hearth with Krola.
Merlin ventured in that direction. His heart broke when he saw Arthur just sitting there, staring listlessly at the hearth’s crackling flames.
He was also nursing a goblet of a liquid that Merlin sincerely hoped wasn’t alcohol. Arthur being drunk wasn’t going to help matters at all. He watched as Arthur tapped the goblet to a steady rhythm, a noise that felt like the loudest thing in the room at the moment. Merlin thought he would be driven mad if he was stuck with just that noise for a long time.
“Arthur?” Merlin spoke out loud, his tone tentative, as he approached Arthur.
Raising her head, Krola looked to Merlin and then Zlota, though she looked rather disinterested in them being there. She set her head back down and gazed at the fire. A small whine came from the wolf dæmon though.
Arthur still had his face turned away from Merlin, still intent at looking toward the hearth.
“Arthur, are you drunk?” Merlin wanted to know because dealing with a drunk Arthur was not ideal, and it’d be better to come at another time if that were the case.
Maybe he could make Arthur a hangover potion to use tomorrow morning.
“Go away,” Arthur finally spoke, though his voice was hoarse. He continued, his voice stronger this time but Merlin could still hear his torment inside his words. “I don’t need you, Merlin, you or your magic. Just go away. Leave me in peace. Go back to the World of Magic. It’d be better there for you, as far away from me as you can be. Then we can both be…happy,” Arthur finished, his voice choking on the last word.
“Oh god, Arthur. No, don’t say that. My true home is here in the Dæmon World. That will never change,” Merlin told him fiercely.
He knelt before Arthur and grasped his hand, the one not holding the goblet, and looked earnestly at him.
A quick movement, and a moment later Arthur released the goblet from his hand. The cup fell to the fur rug below with a soft thud. With relief, Merlin could see that the liquid was only water, the strong smell of alcohol absent.
Merlin let go of Arthur’s hand that he’d been holding on to. He waved his hand at the fallen goblet and the water returned inside the goblet as if it had never been spilled.
Arthur hung his head and he took both his hands to his face. Merlin heard a nearly imperceptible sob coming from his King.
“Arthur, please. I forgive you, truly, sincerely, I forgive you. I’m sorry. Please, I mean it. I forgive you,” Merlin told him firmly, hoping he could get through to Arthur.
Arthur set down his hands on his lap, and stared at Merlin in puzzlement. Silent tears streaked down Arthur’s cheeks and Merlin took out a handkerchief to wipe the wetness from his face.
“Really? What led to this?” Arthur wondered.
Merlin smiled. “I saw the light. All that matters is I want to be with you and work on repairing our relationship. I want that bond we had years ago. I miss it, Arthur. I miss us,” he told him.
Arthur slowly returned his smile, finally seeming to believe in the truth of Merlin’s words.
Merlin saw a golden light envelop Arthur – not unlike the golden light he’d witnessed enter Bran. This light made Arthur glow briefly as well.
As Merlin hugged Arthur to him, the bright light surrounded the both of them in a warm welcoming embrace.
Arthur returned the pressure, arms wrapping tightly around Merlin. He felt relief loosen the tension out of Arthur’s shoulders. Subtly, Merlin magically moved Arthur’s chair back so that Arthur was forced to sit down on the floor beside Merlin.
Merlin let Arthur settle his head on his shoulder and Merlin gently stroked his blond locks trying to comfort Arthur. It had been far too heavy a burden to carry for too long. And now that the burden was lifted, Merlin felt Arthur relax, exhaustion settling in. Merlin imagined Arthur could finally get a peaceful night’s rest after years of emotional turmoil.
But the greatest surprise came when Arthur reached out to Zlota, and he touched Merlin’s dæmon . Merlin was surprised yet ecstatic that he didn’t feel any pain at the contact. Instead he felt pleasure and pure happiness and love at Arthur touching Zlota. The promise he had made to himself long ago had lost its power. Merlin could only believe that the power and strength of his forgiveness of Arthur had allowed Arthur to finally touch his phoenix dæmon .
And maybe after so long of a broken relationship, Merlin’s renewed love for Arthur played a part as well. Merlin liked to think so.
“Merlin…?” Arthur asked. He pulled his hand away as if he’d remembered that he couldn’t touch Zlota based on the promise.
Merlin grinned at him. “It’s all right, Arthur. The promise isn’t an issue anymore. I don’t feel pain when you touch her,” he assured Arthur.
To prove his point, Merlin urged his dæmon to move closer to Arthur.
Merlin encouraged Arthur to touch her again.
And he did. Zlota leaned into Arthur as he hugged her to him and a great wave of pleasure came over Merlin. It was a brilliant feeling, and Merlin never wanted it to end.
Arthur looked to Merlin, a serious expression on his face. “Merlin, we need to talk about your father… I regret it now so much. And I’m sure he would have been a much better father to you than my father ever was to me. The wrong man died that day,” he said to Merlin in a firm, certain voice.
“There’s no changing the past. There’s only learning from your mistakes, and you have, Arthur. You’ve supported magic, even before I met you, even under your father’s magic-hating ways. And I love you for that, Arthur. I love you,” Merlin said sincerely, smiling fondly at him.
He could just see Krola standing up and wagging her tail in happiness, and Zlota still lay upon Arthur’s lap.
Merlin leaned toward Arthur and he kissed him deeply as if he was a sinking man and Arthur was his anchor. He needed Arthur and Arthur needed him.
Arthur had both his heart and soul and Merlin wanted to weep with elation at the hopeful, bright future he could see ahead of him.
He and Arthur were together again, two halves of a whole, and with their bond restored, Merlin felt they could face any trouble life sent their way.
~ * ~
As a part of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
paperlegends (Merlin Big Bang challenge), I wrote a sequel to this, entitled The Raven Knife. That story is complete and in the process of editing. The sequel will be officially posted sometime in August (I don't have a date yet). The Raven Knife will have Merlin and Arthur be reincarnated, and the sequel's present day is Summer 2011.
Author: dk323
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 9,295
Warnings: Child abuse (brief), angst, angst, angst… *hides*
Characters/Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Disclaimer: The show Merlin is property of the BBC. The “His Dark Materials” books are property of Philip Pullman. The Dark Is Rising book series is property of Susan Cooper. No money is being made.
Summary:
In another world where everyone has dæmons, Arthur is an exiled prince for saving Merlin from the King's blind crusade against magic. With Excalibur and magic on their side, Arthur and Merlin escape to a different world when the King's men catch up to them.
It's not the danger, but a damning prophecy that'll put their strong bond to the ultimate test.
Chapter 7 summary: Merlin has his free will back, but he can't forgive Arthur, denying Arthur the closeness they used to have. As Arthur barely manages to cope with Merlin's distance, how long will it take Merlin to open his heart to forgiveness?
A/N: A His Dark Materials crossover/fusion where Arthur and Merlin both have dæmons. A dæmon is a person’s soul that exists outside of one’s body in animal form. A dæmon can speak as well. Further notes on dæmons in Chapter 1.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5a | Chapter 5b | Chapter 6a | Chapter 6b
Chapter 7 (the final installment):
Finding the light and strengthening bonds
~ * ~
“This needs to be done, Zlota,” Merlin said quietly. “I – we – can’t live like this. This has to be done.”
Merlin wasn’t really focusing on his phoenix dæmon as he knelt beside the wooden tub he was drowning Zlota in. He felt pain course through him, but he wasn’t concentrating on that either.The pain hurt so much that it hurt to even breathe.
Merlin made it feel almost pleasant.
Pain was good. It meant he would die soon.
But then someone or something knocked him down, forcing Merlin to release his grip on Zlota. He had been keeping her submerged underwater, waiting until the moment where his life would end.
The person who had stopped him was an older man in his thirties. He had dark brown hair and expressive blue eyes. By all rights, he was a rather handsome-looking man who could probably charm his way out of any situation. But Merlin still felt reassured by the man’s presence.
“It’s done. It’s all right. I took care of the King and the Court Physician. You’re free, Merlin. You’ve been released,” The man informed him.
Standing up, Merlin stared, mouth open, as the man took hold of Zlota gently, removing her from the water. Merlin didn’t feel uncomfortable upon the stranger’s contact with his dæmon. Instead, a comforting warmth spread through Merlin, not unlike when his mother touched Zlota, but slightly weaker. Still, it was something Merlin couldn’t miss and wonder about.
Who was this man? And further, more perplexing, Merlin didn’t think this man was truly a mortal man at all. He was different…the magic surrounding him took Merlin’s breath away. And the man was speaking the truth. He felt the hold Uther had over him, thanks to the spellwork of the Physician, lift from his body.
Merlin was nearly overwhelmed with emotion to feel his free will return to him. He was of his own mind again. And he was horrified that he’d almost drowned Zlota. Something inside him had wanted to free Merlin from his subjugation and thought ending his life by killing his dæmon would be the solution.
Oh god. What could have happened if this strange man hadn’t come… the level Merlin had stooped to, to destroy his own dæmon, his own soul.
His trust in Arthur had been his greatest folly. He would be wary of Arthur from now on. Never again. Never again would he trust the man who had betrayed him so.
Merlin took Zlota from the man, who readily gave her back to him. He collapsed to the ground, hugging his dæmon desperately to him.
“I’m sorry, so sorry, so sorry. I’m sorry,” he told her earnestly. “Oh god, I didn’t mean to. Oh Zlota, Zlocisty, please forgive me. Don’t ever leave me.”
“It’s all right,” Zlota assured him softly. “I forgive you, always. Don’t cry, Merlin. Please.”
But Merlin couldn’t abide by that request. He let the tears fall, the emotion taking him over. He didn’t even care about the stranger being present, just standing there, but giving Merlin his space. Merlin didn’t think the man was a complete stranger after all, judging by his earlier contact with Zlota. This man was family, somehow.
“Who—who are you?” Merlin asked the man.
The man sat down beside him. Merlin was grateful as he didn’t have the energy to stand at the moment. He just wanted to sit here and keep Zlota close to him for as long as he could.
“My name is James. I’m your uncle. Your father was my older half-brother,” James explained to him calmly.
“My father died when I was four. Arthur saw him doing magic and then he told Uther about it, and my father was condemned,” Merlin said, relishing recalling how Arthur had hurt him yet again.
He would still have a father if Arthur had kept his mouth shut.
“But Arthur was only five,” his uncle reminded him. “The man to blame is his father for spinning those ideas about magic in his head. I blame Uther, and so should you. Fortunately now Uther is no longer an issue.”
Before the betrayal, Merlin had been able to see past Arthur’s mistake that led to terrible consequences. He had understood that Arthur had been too young then to realize the pain he would cause those who were left behind: Merlin without a father, his mother without her husband.
It had been an unintentional accident.
But now, Merlin just added Arthur’s long ago indiscretion as another reason to despise him.
“I hate Arthur,” Merlin declared flatly.
“He’s going to be King now,” James said.
“Good. I hope he’s happy. I’ll go find another world to live in, and then I’ll be happy too as far away from the bastard as possible,” Merlin said viciously. “What was I thinking? Trusting someone with a wolf dæmon? I hate wolves. They’re dangerous and wait for the right moment to turn traitor, proud that they made someone look the fool. It’s what all wolves do. Damn them all. Damn them all.” Merlin repeated with a deep frown.
He stroked Zlota’s feathers to calm himself, but still the litany of, “Arthur’s the wolf. He’s the traitor. He’s not to be trusted” went around his head and fueled his anger toward Arthur.
“Merlin,” his uncle began. He placed his hand on his shoulder. “These thoughts you’re having, they’re not right. You and Arthur are meant to be close. I understand after this ordeal, you may need some space and time away from him, but you must not break with Arthur completely. Promise me that, Merlin,” he asked of Merlin.
Merlin shrugged. He was barely listening to what his uncle was saying.
“What are you? You’re not human, are you?” Merlin asked him, sharply changing the subject.
His uncle sighed. “I’m the god of unnatural magic, meaning the magic inside humans. Whereas natural magic is--”
“In the flora and fauna,” Merlin concluded. “I understand. Was my father a god too?”
His uncle nodded. “He was. He was Father’s heir, the next god of magic, but your father fell in love with your mother, a mortal woman, and he wished to spend the rest of his life with her. And he wanted to be a proper father to you. You can’t live life as a god and as a human at the same time.”
“So he gave up being a god,” Merlin said. “And he didn’t even get to see me grow up. It seems like such a waste.”
“Every moment is precious. My mother was human, and I was with her for the first eleven years of my life. But then my father took me to attain my godly status and live as a god as was my fate, I guess. That sounds grim, I suppose, but it’s the truth,” James said in quiet resignation.
He continued, more assured this time, “But I know my mother loved me and she cherished the time she had with me. She may have had a heavy heart that I had to leave her when I was still only a child, but she knew it was for the best. I’m sure your father is watching over you, and he’s glad that he even had a few years with you. It was better than the alternative, him being a god and not able to be fully involved in your life. I know what that’s like. I have a son now who I can’t be a proper father to because I chose to remain a god.”
“His mother’s human?”
James nodded. “Except, unfortunately, his mother died in childbirth. My son has been adopted. His name is Gwydion. He’s ten now. Anyway.”
“Does Gwydion know you’re his birth father?” Merlin asked, having a feeling the answer was a no.
“Well! Would you look at the time. I better get going,” James declared a little too forcefully. He stood up. “Arthur and Ophelia, a sorceress from the World of Magic, should be coming here to see you.”
“Right,” Merlin said, half-distracted by the clear problem here of James having a son who didn’t even know James was his birth father.
Would Gwydion ever find out? He deserved the right to know in Merlin’s opinion. He had never even met this boy and he felt strangely defensive on Gwydion’s behalf.
Thinking about that was a welcome distraction from considering just how angry he was at Arthur and all the ways Arthur had slighted him over the two years they’d known each other.
It was a nice break from that. Merlin needed it.
“You’ll be all right, I hope?” James said. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you even so.”
“I can think for myself again, and I have my magic to use if necessary. I’ll be fine,” Merlin said, deciding it best not voice his interest in attacking Arthur. Having magic for that was quite helpful.
Merlin stood up to say goodbye, and his uncle pulled him into a strong embrace.
“Good luck.” James told him.
And then his godly uncle was gone. Outside the room, Merlin could hear hushed, urgent talks as people discussed the topic of the hour, King Uther’s death. Merlin used his magic to catch what the people of Camelot were saying in the castle and even down in the lower town. He wanted to know what people were thinking, and this was the safest, most convenient way to do so.
He overheard musings about where Prince Arthur was, and would he now be King after turning against his father so publicly?
The Prince’s behavior was most perplexing, Merlin heard people gossip. One moment, he was in exile with a sorcerer; and the next he was handing over the same sorcerer to a terrible fate. And yet the late King Uther still held his son in suspicion, not keeping him by his side but instead locking him away in a tall tower. A tower that the Prince had not long ago escaped to everyone’s surprise. And now he was being pursued by Uther’s men, a lady companion with the Prince as well.
The question was, Was Prince Arthur fit to be King of Camelot?
Now, Merlin’s answer to the question was a resounding no. He concealed himself with his magic as he wandered the corridors. He wanted to help enforce the talks of Arthur’s wavering mental state, but Merlin knew it was wisest to lie low and observe, not participate.
Camelot was still a bad place for a magic user to be especially during this time of upheaval following the King’s death.
The only thing to do now was to wait for Arthur to return from wherever he had ventured with this Ophelia. His ‘lady companion’ who, according to his uncle, was apparently a sorceress from the World of Magic. She must have been able to help Arthur drain the magic from the tower, and subsequently use that magic to escape the structure.
~ * ~
“Is this supposed to happen?” Arthur asked of Ophelia. He had released the extraordinary amount of magic inside him, and the result, apparently, was the creation of magical creatures.
There were five phoenixes, two winged horses and two unicorns before them. The four-legged creatures surrounded the mystical birds. Three phoenixes had similar colouring to Zlota’s while the remaining two were blue and then white respectively.
“Well it’s different for every person. Usually having these magical creatures appear is a reward for your good deed. You must insure the protection of these dear creatures, Arthur, as they are the hope of magic acceptance in your kingdom.”
Arthur nodded. “I will do my best.”
Krola was by his side, an ever-present source of assurance, as Arthur went and greeted each of the beautiful creatures. He pet the manes of the winged horses, and lightly touched each unicorn’s horn as if he were inspecting them. Kneeling for the phoenixes, Arthur looked upon them fondly, admiring these most magical of birds. He stroked their feathers gently as if he were afraid they’d come loose if he didn’t remain vigilant.
Arthur stood up then, his task done. He looked to Ophelia who smiled at him.
“As long as you believe in the goodness of magic, then these magical creatures shall thrive in your world,” she told him.
The newly created animals departed, either galloping or flying away. Only one remained.
And that was the snow-white phoenix.
Arthur looked at the lone phoenix thoughtfully.
“I think this little one is meant for a different purpose. Do you know what to do with her?” Ophelia asked.
“She looks so lovely. I would keep her,” Char, still in his small dragon form, spoke up enthusiastically.
“How do you know this phoenix is a female?” Arthur asked Ophelia.
“I’m from the World of Magic, Arthur. We learn a lot about phoenixes as they are one of the sacred magical creatures after all.”
“Right, of course. I should have guessed,” Arthur said with a nod. “I know what to do with her, I think. At least where to give her a good home.”
Arthur took the small white phoenix in his hands. The bird was not yet fully-grown, only about the size of his head. He walked purposefully to an oak tree that he knew well. Quietly, Ophelia walked beside him. Krola went a little ahead of them. Arthur knew that his dæmon was aware of where he wished to go.
When they reached the great big oak tree, it was still surrounded by three younger oak trees – a familiar, comforting sight to Arthur since he was five years old.
“The big oak tree will be the phoenix’s new home,” Arthur said out loud.
“What shall you name her?” Ophelia asked him.
“I don’t know…Snow-White, maybe?” Arthur suggested.
“That certainly is fitting,” she indicated, referring to the stark whiteness of the phoenix.
Arthur gave her an acknowledging smile. He lifted his hands and let the phoenix fly up into the tree.
“I bet Snow-White could hide very well in the snow. A perfect cover,” Krola remarked.
Arthur shook his head wryly at her, patting her furry white head.
“You would be as lucky as her, Krola, to hide in the snow just as efficiently,” Ophelia put in.
“Yes, you and the phoenix would make quite the team, Krola,” Arthur said, smiling in bemusement.
He then turned his attention back to the tree.
“Please take care of Snow-White,” Arthur solemnly spoke to the oak tree as if it could answer back.
Arthur knew the tree would understand his request. For the big oak tree was a dryad who could transform into a human-looking nymph as well as an oak tree. She was Merlin’s paternal grandmother, but Merlin didn’t even know.
The leaves of the oak tree rustled as if accepting what Arthur wanted of her.
Ophelia looked like she was bursting with questions about Arthur’s connection with the tree, but thankfully she let Arthur keep his secrets.
“What is this white rose engraving? Do you know who put it there?” Ophelia asked him.
Arthur shrugged. “I don’t know. Must have been an artist who had passed by the tree one day.”
“Quite a nice engraving,” Ophelia remarked sincerely.
He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah it is, isn’t it?” Then Arthur looked ahead toward Camelot. “I think it’s time we head to the castle, and save Merlin.”
“Yes.” Ophelia agreed. “And it’s best for you to change back into a mouse, Char. You’ll attract less attention then.”
They went on their way.
~ * ~
Arthur and Ophelia soon found out that King Uther and the blasted Court Physician were both death. Arthur could now be King. But most importantly, the terribly controlling spell on Merlin had been lifted.
When they encountered Merlin in a long abandoned dusty set of chambers, Arthur’s worst imagining came to light. Merlin stared coldly at Arthur, and Zlota just pretended that he and Krola didn’t exist. Instead, Merlin’s phoenix dæmon looked intently in Ophelia’s direction.
Soon, Merlin’s blue-eyed gaze turned toward Ophelia as well. It was as if Arthur wasn’t even there, like he was just a servant meant to be invisible and not to be acknowledged.
“Hello, you must be Ophelia,” Merlin assumed with a small, somewhat forced smile. Arthur wondered if his presence was bothering Merlin. Arthur didn’t doubt it, though that knowledge hurt him deeply.
“Yes,” Ophelia said politely, glancing at Arthur in silent apology at Merlin ignoring him. “And this little mouse is Char,” she told Merlin, pointing out Char who was on her shoulder. Char looked more interested in looking at Zlota than Merlin.
“Nice to meet the both of you,” Merlin said. “You’re from this World of Magic, right?” He asked Ophelia.
She nodded. “Yes. I can offer you to come to my world. King Merlin would be very pleased to see you. He’ll make sure you’re settled and comfortable, and I bet there are some tasks you can do to pass the time.”
Arthur just had to speak up. He couldn’t bear to be silent any longer. “And as soon as I’ve stabilized the situation here, Merlin, after I repeal the anti-magic laws, then you can return home,” he assured Merlin.
Merlin turned to face him. His expression tight. He glared at Arthur. “Nothing you ever do will be enough,” he said sharply, the words cutting Arthur to the core.
Then he swept out of the room without once looking back at Arthur.
“That could have gone better,” Ophelia said quietly. She looked as unhappy as Arthur felt. “I’ll go after him since he seems okay with speaking to me. I don’t know if I could appeal him to you, but…”
Arthur shook his head. “No, don’t worry about it. This is something I have to figure out myself. You’ve helped me more than enough, Ophelia. I thank you for that. Just take Merlin to the World of Magic. He’ll be happier there than here…”
Arthur wanted to add “with me”, but he couldn’t bear it. If the words were spoken out loud, that would make the terrible truth even truer.
Ophelia frowned, looking sad for him. “Oh Arthur. I’ll do my best, but I’m sure your Merlin is far from happy. He may be hiding it very well now, but I don’t doubt his heart aches for the bond you two shared. Please don’t lose hope,” she implored of him.
Then she embraced Arthur in a hug that Arthur found partly comforting while the other half of him yearned for the closeness he had had with Merlin. The closeness that may now be lost forever.
Ophelia gave him a small reassuring smile as she and Char went to find Merlin.
Arthur just stood there, Krola whining miserably beside him, in the empty room. He wanted to cry, but he would soon officially be the King of Camelot. Kings didn’t show weakness, so Arthur had to be strong. Even though on the inside, he was sobbing so hard that his vision was blurred with tears.
He’d always thought being crowned King of his land, of his people, would be a joyous occasion. But with the deep fracture in his relationship with Merlin, Arthur’s wish for that joy was not to be. Only a long hard road lay ahead of him now.
He feared he would break under the weight of the burden of his betrayal.
~ * ~
“It’s a pity, you know, that you have to die, Lord Bran,” said Sophia all too sweetly as she carried out her mission as per the instructions of the Prince of Darkness.
In his bed, Bran was incapacitated, his eyelids fluttering and he tried to move away from her, but he was too weak. The only solid chance of getting enough usable Immortal blood was to drain him completely. The level of Immortal blood decreased with each succeeding generation after all. So Sophia cut his palm with a sharp dagger, and she began magically collecting the blood from him.
“I know some people who would be very interested in despoiling you first. The Dark World has harems for youths, and you would be high in demand, I’d imagine. Exotic, even, being white as snow as you are, and eyes like gold.”
“I –hate—you,” whispered Bran harshly.
“Now, don’t say that,” Sophia chided him. She stroked his cheek, and then she moved her hand down to his chest, feeling the boy’s heart beat faster with adrenaline and anxiety. Then she smiled wickedly as she reached his waist and made it look like she would go a little lower, slipping a finger inside his breeches.
Bran made a small disapproving noise at her intent of fondling him. She could feel some of his magic sparking; attempting to make her leave, but the effort was feeble.
His magic couldn’t help him now. Sophia made sure of that.
“You will get away from Bran,” spoke a voice that she swore was Gwydion’s, but sounded strangely deeper, more commanding.
Sophia stood up, turning around sharply. “Gwydion?” She asked. Though it certainly looked like him, the deep, echoing voice coming from him was far from that of a ten-year old boy.
“Return his blood back to him.”
“What has gotten into you?” Sophia couldn’t help but utter.
Gwydion looked relaxed, confident in his own power, as he spoke and coolly stared down Sophia.
“Now please,” Gwydion said quietly, a clear threat underlying his words.
Sophia felt a bit foolish, but she was beginning to fear Gwydion. He looked like he would unleash terrible pain upon her if she disregarded his words. The Prince’s blasted little pawn rat of a child had something more to him than met the eye.
“Do it now, or else you will suffer.”
“All right! Fine. You stupid boy.”
She sat back down, turning his attention back to Bran who had now fallen unconscious from the blood loss. She magically returned the blood she had taken from Bran. She couldn’t concentrate all that well as she felt Gwydion’s blue eyes boring into the back of her head. The wretched child was unnerving her.
Once she had finished, Sophia felt herself growing warmer, too warm. And she didn’t think that she had suddenly contracted a fever.
“I’m not stupid,” said Gwydion simply.
And then Sophia screamed as she saw fire start to engulf her from the feet up.
“Bran is under my protection,” Gwydion spoke carefully with force.
And that was the last thing she heard before the flames licked her body fully, burning her to death.
~ * ~
Gwydion paid little mind to Sophia’s ashes in a pile on the ground.
He looked to Bran who had awoken, colour gradually returning to him as he started to recover thanks to his blood being regained.
“Are you all right?” He asked Bran earnestly. His voice was back to normal.
Gwydion couldn’t explain where that strange commanding voice had come from or the sensation he’d had of being so self-assured of his power and ability to get what he wanted. The voice had reminded him of the god of magic when he had spoken to him the night of the Feast.
He had just known that Bran had been in trouble and he had to save him. It had been that simple.
Gwydion approached him, but stopped to resist the temptation to reach out to Bran, to touch him to insure that he was well and truly all right and healed.
Bran stared at Gwydion oddly. Then he looked at the collection of ashes on the ground. “Gwydion…” He began, and then paused. He appeared especially uncertain about what to say.
“Your magic is okay, is it? You’re all right?”
“My magic is fine. I’m okay, it’s just…did you kill her? Lady Sophia?” Bran asked. “I only met you yesterday night. I didn’t expect you to save my life.”
“But I had to, Bran… you must feel it, don’t you? We’re connected, I think. I couldn’t let you die. You would do the same for me?”
“Yes of course. I wouldn’t leave you to die, of course not. It’s just, Gwydion, you’re younger than me…and you just killed someone. She was a bad person, yes, but still.”
“You’re not afraid of me, are you? You don’t need to be.”
“No, Gwydion, I’m not.”
“We’re still friends, right?”
“Yes, but…”
“You don’t feel it? You don’t feel what I feel?” Gwydion asked, a wave of sadness threatened to overwhelm him. He felt like he was about to cry, but he did his best to stifle the emotions. He had to be strong.
Bran looked thoughtful, which gave Gwydion hope. “I sometimes have strange dreams with a bluebird always on my shoulder. The bird feels comforting for some reason, like an old friend,” Bran recalled. “It’s odd because since I met you, I thought you and the dreams with the bluebird were connected somehow. So maybe you’re right, maybe we were meant to be friends. Maybe we were meant to meet.”
“A bluebird?” Gwydion asked, raising his brow. “That’s strange.” He remarked. “I should stay here with you for the rest of the night. I can protect you.”
“I have my magic, Gwydion. I’ll be perfectly all right. I promise.”
“Please, Bran.” He insisted, not above pleading.
Bran sighed. “Okay. Sure. I’d like that.”
Gwydion smiled.
He gripped Bran’s hand as he fell asleep, the hand an anchor for him, reminding him that Bran was still alive.
Gwydion was happy when he felt Bran return the pressure, and then he whispered to Gwydion, “Thank you for saving my life.”
They were truly friends now, Gwydion thought with a smile.
~ * ~
“What are they doing there? It looks like they’re trying to eavesdrop,” Gwydion noted.
He, Bran and Alice had decided to explore the forest because Gwydion hadn’t had a proper chance to yet. Bran had suggested that his younger sister, Arya, who was about Gwydion’s age, would want to come along too.
Arya and another girl, a redhead, were taking a cautious peek through the doors of the council chambers. Arya had the same white hair as Bran, but hers went past her shoulders and was knotted in a braid. Her eyes were dark in colour in contrast to Bran’s light golden eyes.
“Someone interesting must be speaking to King Merlin, I bet,” Bran declared.
“Who’s the girl with her?” Alice asked quietly.
Gwydion couldn’t miss Bran getting a little uncomfortable, rubbing the back of his head. Yet he answered as smoothly as he could, “That’s Lady Sansa. She’s a friend of mine.”
“She’s pretty,” Alice remarked.
Gwydion shrugged. He wasn’t really interested in admiring girls now. He’d much rather head into certain danger than deal with girls because that was much more exciting. But Alice was all right.
And from what Bran had told him about Arya, she seemed like just the sort of person Gwydion would want to spend time with.
“Thanks.” Bran said, and then he poked Gwydion in the shoulder in response to Gwydion’s disinterest.
Gwydion only grinned at him.
“Hey, what’s so interesting?” Gwydion raised his voice, calling Arya and Sansa’s attention.
Both girls startled, but then Arya smiled while Sansa looked a bit guilty for being caught eavesdropping.
“Oh, you must be Gwydion,” Arya said. “I’m Bran's much cleverer younger sister. I’m sure he told you.”
Bran gave a long sigh.
“I think I like her already,” Gwydion quipped. “Nice to meet you, Arya and Lady Sansa, is it?” He asked of her.
Sansa’s eyes were a pale blue and they managed to even outshine her fire-red hair.
Sansa nodded, smiling quietly. “Yes, that’s me. You can call me Sansa,” she said. “And you’re Alice?” She addressed the younger girl.
“Yes, hello. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Alice said. “You’re Bran’s friend then?”
“Yes, something like that,” Sansa acknowledged, giving Bran a significant look.
Gwydion was more concerned about what the girls were eavesdropping on than deciphering the look. Bran would surely tell him what he was missing at some point.
“So what’s going on in the chambers?” Gwydion asked.
“Yeah, I’d love to know,” Alice chimed in.
“King Merlin’s speaking to someone, right?” Bran guessed.
Arya nodded. “Sansa and I were lucky enough to see the visitor. So cool. He looked like the King a bit, but without a beard. And the best part is the man had a big scarlet-gold phoenix with him. It was the man’s dæmon, I think. I wish we could find out what they’re talking about, but the room’s been magically soundproofed.”
“Oh Gwydion,” Alice exclaimed. “that must be Myrddin or Merlin, that man I saw before I came to this world.”
“Great. Another world’s version of him in this world. It feels like the world’s getting smaller now,” Gwydion bemoaned.
Bran chuckled. “Don’t be so enthusiastic about it, Gwydion,” he remarked.
Gwydion gave him a pointed look. “I’ve half-a-mind to run away.”
Arya appeared excited, clapping her hands together. “Oh good! Then we could all run away together and make an adventure of it.”
“Yes, that sounds like a brilliant idea, Arya,” Bran said dryly.
She stuck her tongue out at him.
“We were thinking of exploring in the forest,” Alice brought up. “We were hoping the two of you would like to join us.”
“That sounds like a nice idea. I’d like to come,” agreed Sansa.
“I’m definitely up for that,” declared Arya easily with a grin.
So with that, the five of them navigated the corridors full of miniature dragons and floating fairies until they reached the entrance.
Once they were outside, Arya spoke up.
“We should play a game,” Arya decided. “What sort of creature would your dæmon be if you had one?” She suggested.
“Mine would be a lion!” Gwydion declared immediately. He magically conjured the sound of a lion’s roar, and smiled, pleased, at everyone’s impressed looks at the very realistic roar.
Bran raised his brow. “You just suggested that because you wanted to show off the roar. Isn’t a dæmon something that requires more thought? An animal that best fits your personality?”
“I’m positive my dæmon would be a lion. Without a doubt. Like yours would be a raven,” Gwydion said confidently.
“Bran’s dæmon is boring and so obvious,” Arya said smartly.
Bran raised his hands. “My name meaning raven doesn’t mean my dæmon will be a raven,” he defended.
“Nooo, it’s a raven…maybe a white raven though, ok, that would be amazing,” Arya suggested with interest.
“A white raven would be lovely,” Sansa remarked sincerely. “For me, I believe my dæmon would be a little bird of pale yellow colouring. Small but graceful.”
“Then you and Bran would work well together, both having bird dæmons,” Gwydion spoke up wisely.
“All of you are still assuming--” Bran started wearily.
“Don’t deny it, Bran,” Gwydion shot back.
“What is your answer then, Bran? If not a raven?” Sansa asked him.
Bran looked at her and at everyone else, Gwydion’s lips twisted in amusement.
“I respectfully choose not to answer the question,” Bran decided after a long moment.
Alice put in, wondering, “Maybe it could be a crow…”
Gwydion laughed out loud then as Bran also meant crow.
He congratulated Alice on her comment yet Alice didn’t quite understand what was so funny.
Bran groaned, and he glared at Gwydion to stop laughing. His face becoming red from mirth, Gwydion coughed, and his laughter subsided soon after.
“My dæmon would be a dolphin,” said Arya self-assuredly.
“With all those pictures and books you have on dolphins, I’m not surprised there,” said Bran.
Arya grinned.
“But you have to stay close to your dæmon, right? You have to spend all your life in the water then, Arya,” Gwydion told her.
She shrugged. “I’m more than ready for that.”
“You have to be a mermaid, I suspect,” Alice figured. She giggled.
“Even better,” Arya said with a nod. “Always wanted to be one,” she revealed.
“I’m not sure what my dæmon would be,” considered Alice. “While a small dragon would be nice, I do like furry animals more. A creature soft and warm to the touch. A dog, maybe?”
“Or a furry dragon?” Arya suggested.
“That’s one mutation I don’t want to see,” said Bran, looking like he was visualizing it that moment.
“I agree,” Alice said with a nod.
“So Alice, do you think your brother’s dæmon would be a dragon?” Gwydion wondered. “Once he’s a fully trained Dragonlord?”
Arya’s eyes widened. “Okay, now, that would be an epic dæmon. Your brother’s so lucky. It would make a lot of sense to have a dragon dæmon if you’re a Dragonlord.”
“I’m not sure, honestly, but I’d be proud of Robin if he did have a dragon dæmon,” said Alice.
“So I guess Alice’s brother wins this round and he’s not even here,” Bran declared.
“Oh no. My lion was clearly the victor,” Gwydion retorted stubbornly.
“I’ll race you, and whoever wins is right,” Bran suggested.
“You have a deal.” Gwydion acknowledged.
So the two of them raced through the forest, the girls cheering them on.
Gwydion and Bran ended up tying in their impromptu race. They collapsed on to the forest floor, grinning at each other.
~ * ~
Epilogue (Five Years Later)
“I’m glad you could come,” King Merlin told Merlin.
Merlin shrugged. “I couldn’t not come. I had to see Gwydion. I want to help him.”
King Merlin nodded. “Of course. I feel the same way. Since Gwydion is a younger Merlin, I feel protective of him quite often,” the King confided in Merlin. “Your Arthur was unable to come with you?” He inquired idly.
Merlin made a fist with one hand, his mouth set in a tight line. The last person he wanted to talk about was Arthur.
“Yes. He was unfortunately busy with important matters of state,” Merlin remarked. “He thought it best I come on my own and stay for Lord Bran and Lady Sansa’s wedding, as a representative of the kingdom. Of course I wanted to be here anyway to see Gwydion and help him if I can.”
Years after the betrayal, Merlin still hadn’t forgiven Arthur. He felt like he’d be the fool to make it easy for Arthur. He couldn’t forgive the one man who he used to trust above all others. Despite the circumstances of Arthur’s betrayal, the terrible pain and horror he felt when he thought of what Arthur had put him through couldn’t be forgotten.
Merlin wanted Arthur to suffer with his guilt. Maybe that made him seem petty for wanting to exact revenge on Arthur, but Merlin believed he had the right to cause Arthur pain in retribution for the betrayal.
His relationship – or more like acquaintance – with Arthur had remained strained and had settled into a tolerant politeness. Merlin was invested in the future of his world’s Camelot. He did what he could to help Arthur build the magic-friendly Camelot Merlin had always envisioned for the kingdom.
But Merlin had done his best to avoid spending time alone with Arthur. When that did happen, Arthur would usually start pleading with Merlin to properly forgive him. Merlin didn’t give into him, and all those times, he wanted to shake Arthur, scream at him, “How dare you??!! How could you do that to me?? I wish you’d just go away!”
He had been tempted to punch him in the face. A few times Merlin very nearly had done so, but instead he’d maintained his composure as best as he could and turned his back on Arthur. Merlin walked away from him. He was almost positive that if he had turned back around to see Arthur’s face – his face would bear a pitiful, almost lost expression.
That’s why Merlin couldn’t look. Seeing Arthur fall apart, revealing the crack in his kingly shield, would test Merlin’s resolve to never forgive the man.
King Merlin spoke, thankfully discussing Gwydion instead of commenting further on Arthur’s absence. “I’m afraid there’s not much you can do for Gwydion. We’re doing all we can already. He would be glad that you came, though, I know he would. Gwydion will heal and return to health. He is stronger than most thanks to the god’s blood in him. And he is only fifteen. At his age, his body is strong and able to overcome this sickness. The question is when he’ll be well again. It may take weeks. Poor lad.”
“So he definitely won’t be present at the wedding tomorrow? Couldn’t the ceremony be postponed? I know how close Gwydion is to Bran and Sansa. I would imagine he’d be unhappy about missing their wedding.”
“Regrettably, the wedding must continue on schedule. The Prince attempted to halt the union by making Bran fall terribly ill. It was only due to Gwydion’s selfless intervention that saved him. Bran’s parents are concerned that if they delay the wedding, the Prince will strike again to hurt Bran.”
“And you believe Bran getting married would be powerful enough to protect Bran from the Prince?” Merlin asked in undisguised skepticism. He didn’t particularly believe in the strength of such a spell.
King Merlin nodded. “With Bran and Sansa’s union being made official in matrimony, and then consummation, then the Prince cannot kill Bran. So the wedding must happen tomorrow. Gwydion will understand why. He would want Bran to be protected in the best manner possible.”
“Yet they’re both sixteen. It seems young to get married. I understand if the matter with the Prince is so dire that time is not on their side, but still…it is young.”
“It’s quite common for nobility to get married that young in this world. Freya and I were married at eighteen, actually. But as you’re aware, Bran’s case doesn’t allow for the luxury of time. And you know how Bran is. He is quite mature and grounded for his young age of sixteen. He’ll make a good husband for Sansa,” the King told Merlin confidently.
When they entered Gwydion’s chambers, Merlin could smell the staleness of sick in the room, futilely veiled by a light perfume.
Alice and Lady Sansa were on either side of Gwydion’s bed. At the foot of the bed, Gwydion’s rare star cat, Vaella, slept comfortably.
Alice, now twelve years old, was already proving to be a beautiful girl with long blonde hair and unforgettable blue eyes.
Alice smiled at Merlin when she saw him.
“Alice dear,” King Merlin asked her gently. “The Queen would like to see you.”
She nodded. “All right. Of course, Your Majesty.” Alice agreed.
She squeezed Gwydion’s limp hand yet the boy only murmured unintelligible words in response. His eyes stayed closed as he remained in the grips of the unrelenting vicious illness.
Alice frowned, but she leaned forward to press a quick kiss to his brow. Merlin heard her whisper to Gwydion, “I know you’re not fond of your birth father, Gwydion, but I don’t doubt he’s watching over you right now in the Heavens, making sure you’ll be well again. I’ll be back soon.”
After she finished with Gwydion, Alice greeted Merlin somberly and then she followed King Merlin out of the room.
He sat down in the chair previously occupied by Alice.
“I’ve heard from some servants that they swear Gwydion’s father has been visiting him during the night. They feel his presence,” Sansa confided in him.
“That’s good to hear,” said Merlin. “I didn’t doubt that James would be here for him.”
Sansa nodded. “This is hard on Bran as you can imagine. He feels guilty.”
“Bran didn’t want Gwydion to do it?” Merlin guessed.
She shook her head. “No, of course not. But unfortunately Gwydion can be stubborn at times.”
In the past, Merlin knew he would have acted the same way if Arthur’s life had been in danger. Yet now, he just couldn’t imagine sacrificing himself for the sake of a man who had betrayed him so deeply.
Then Bran came into the room. He looked wrecked. His eyes were red probably from crying, and his tawny golden eyes were darker than usual.
“It’s good to see you, Merlin,” Bran said quietly.
“Yes, you too,” Merlin answered him, unsure what to say to him considering the tragic situation with Gwydion.
“Oh Bran. You look terrible,” Sansa declared. She stood up and went over to him. He kissed her softly on the lips. “You know Gwydion will be all right. Of course he will be,” she reassured him.
“I just can’t help but think that this one time, he won’t be as invincible as sometimes he believes he is. I hate to think that, but I can’t let go of that thought,” Bran confessed with a heavy heart.
Sansa embraced him, and she whispered something into his ear.
He gave a slight nod. Though Merlin offered his chair to Bran, the younger man declined saying that Merlin had more right to stay because he was another world’s version of Gwydion, and more so his cousin as well.
Bran took Sansa’s seat instead. Sansa stood beside him as he reached out to hold Gwydion’s hand.
That was when unexpectedly, Gwydion began to choke.
Bran looked horrified, like his touch had caused it. He took his hand away from Gwydion.
Yet Gwydion continued to make gagging noises like something had gone down the wrong way. “Gwydion? Gwydion?” Bran called to him urgently.
Merlin, anxious to help, positioned Gwydion so that he was sitting upright. When he touched Gwydion, the worrying choking sound stopped fortunately. Merlin didn’t have to resort to slapping his back to stop his choking. Gwydion’s eyes opened and he started coughing, the cough turning into a dry, hoarse one.
Bran conjured a glass of water for Gwydion and he took it appreciatively.
“Do you know why you were choking?” Bran asked him.
“I’m not sure,” Gwydion admitted, his voice weak from disuse due to the illness ravaging his body. His gaze went to Merlin, then Sansa, and then lastly, to Bran. “But I think something is about to happen,” he declared, coughing as he did so.
Gwydion gave Bran a small smile, and he reached out to grasp his hand. Bran moved closer to him so that Gwydion could better grab his hand from his bed.
Suddenly, a golden light swept through the room. It looked like the light was coming directly from Gwydion. The light seemed to enter Bran and made him glow fleetingly, to Bran’s own surprise, and then the golden light only appeared to grow and spread out beyond the room. The four of them saw the light go out the window.
“The prophecy,” Sansa announced, guessing what the light meant.
At the same moment, Gwydion, still smiling and looking a little pleased, declared that he was awfully tired and he fell asleep.
Bran looked shaken. “I should go…King Merlin needs to be made aware.”
“But Bran, the prophecy,” Sansa reminded him gently. “You know what this means.”
Bran smiled at Sansa. “Yes I know. But all I honestly want now is for Gwydion to regain his health. We don’t know if Gwydion causing the prophecy to take effect will heal him. I hope it does.”
“I’m sure it will,” Merlin spoke up. “The prophecy is about defeating the Prince after all. It can only be a good omen for Gwydion’s sake.”
“Yes, you do have a point there,” Bran acknowledged.
He left the room.
Merlin turned to Sansa. “How can you marry Bran even though you know about the prophecy? Gwydion just expressed that his love for Bran is strong enough to save all the worlds from the Prince’s wrath.”
“I can’t come between them,” Sansa said reasonably. “I love Bran, I do, and maybe it isn’t as much as Gwydion loves him, but I’ve seen how strong their friendship is. Gwydion and Bran are meant for big things, the sort of things people will see as legendary one day. I can only accept that. They make each other happy. I know Bran truly loves me, that he has room in his heart to do so, and that’s enough for me.”
“Bran’s lucky to have you,” Merlin declared frankly.
“Thank you, Merlin,” Sansa said.
As Sansa tended to Gwydion, Merlin contemplated forgiving Arthur. He was inspired after seeing the prophecy unravel just now, the golden light sweeping through everywhere. It was a sight that he would never forget.
And then he thought that if things had gone differently for Gwydion and he had remained under the Prince’s care, then Bran would have still been his enemy since he was of the White Diamond Clan. Gwydion being kidnapped was the best thing that had happened to him. He had gained good friends, and a strong ally and confidante in Bran. Merlin knew that Gwydion would get better and succeed in making the Raven Knife, the knife that would have the same abilities as his Arthur’s Excalibur.
It was time. Arthur’s betrayal had been ugly and Merlin hated that Arthur had done that to him. But still, they had had a strong relationship before the betrayal. Did Merlin want to destroy that completely by never forgiving Arthur? Maybe he could give them a chance again at regaining the bond they had lost.
In her firefly form on his shoulder, Zlota spoke up, “I think we should give him a chance. For the bond between you and Arthur to be utterly irreparable is a tragedy. Like Sansa said about Gwydion and Bran being meant for legendary deeds as a pair. You and Arthur are the same way.”
“Yes, Zlota. You’re right. It’s time,” Merlin decided. “I wish I could have seen it sooner, but it’s not too late. I won’t let it be,” he declared fiercely.
With that decision made, Merlin looked forward to returning to his world’s Camelot after the wedding.
~ * ~
With her Scottish terrier dæmon, Troy, following after her; Gwen approached Merlin once he’d returned home after his time in the World of Magic for the wedding. Merlin was immediately concerned at the anxious expression upon Gwen’s face.
While Gwen enjoyed her time in the World of Magic, her sanctuary from Uther’s wrath when he had still been alive; she had returned home to the Dæmon World. She had told him that she still yearned for home no matter how lovely the World of Magic was, so she had come back. Her return was not long before Merlin’s return home four years ago.
It took Arthur about a year to establish an acceptable peace in Camelot. Though Merlin returned after a year in the World of Magic, their relationship wasn’t magically healed. Merlin was left advising Arthur, making sure not to make too great displays of magic in public so as not to unsettle Camelot’s citizens. After all, so long with the anti-magic measures, it would take longer for everyone to be comfortable with the free use of magic.
Fortunately, five years since Merlin left Arthur to spend time in the World of Magic, the people of the Dæmon World’s Camelot were starting to truly accept magic and the good it could do. Merlin could finally use his magic in public and most people didn’t shy away in fear. It was progress.
“What is it, Gwen? Arthur?” Merlin guessed easily. He knew Arthur had his bouts of his melancholy and despair because Merlin wouldn’t be open to forgiving him. These days, he was the only person that would leave Gwen so upset and seeking Merlin’s help.
Guilt swept through Merlin at being the reason why Arthur felt this way.
“He’s in a worse state than he’s ever been,” Troy informed him.
Gwen nodded. “He’s locked himself in his chambers. He won’t let anyone in. You need to do something. Of course--”
“Yes. I know it’d be best if I forgive Arthur. Don’t worry, Gwen. Being in the World of Magic for the wedding has changed my view on life. I’m ready to forgive him,” Merlin declared.
Gwen smiled softly, tears welling up in her eyes. “Oh Merlin!” She said, pleased, as she embraced him.
When she pulled away from him, Gwen said, “I wish you good luck. I’m so glad you’re ready to do this,” she told him emphatically.
“I am too,” Merlin acknowledged. “Come on, Zlota. Time to spread your wings,” he said to his dæmon .
She shifted from a firefly to her phoenix form and sat perched on his shoulder.
“See you later, Gwen, Troy,” Merlin said to her and her dæmon. He steeled himself for the task at hand.
“We can do this,” Zlota said to Merlin encouragingly.
Silently, Merlin was half-hopeful, half-worried that it was too late. That he’d had Arthur wait for too long that his chance of forgiving him was gone forever.
Once he reached Arthur’s chambers, Merlin opened the well-locked door with a touch of his magic.
“Arthur?” Merlin called out quietly.
Zlota flew away from him, and when she returned, she informed Merlin that Arthur was sitting in front of the hearth with Krola.
Merlin ventured in that direction. His heart broke when he saw Arthur just sitting there, staring listlessly at the hearth’s crackling flames.
He was also nursing a goblet of a liquid that Merlin sincerely hoped wasn’t alcohol. Arthur being drunk wasn’t going to help matters at all. He watched as Arthur tapped the goblet to a steady rhythm, a noise that felt like the loudest thing in the room at the moment. Merlin thought he would be driven mad if he was stuck with just that noise for a long time.
“Arthur?” Merlin spoke out loud, his tone tentative, as he approached Arthur.
Raising her head, Krola looked to Merlin and then Zlota, though she looked rather disinterested in them being there. She set her head back down and gazed at the fire. A small whine came from the wolf dæmon though.
Arthur still had his face turned away from Merlin, still intent at looking toward the hearth.
“Arthur, are you drunk?” Merlin wanted to know because dealing with a drunk Arthur was not ideal, and it’d be better to come at another time if that were the case.
Maybe he could make Arthur a hangover potion to use tomorrow morning.
“Go away,” Arthur finally spoke, though his voice was hoarse. He continued, his voice stronger this time but Merlin could still hear his torment inside his words. “I don’t need you, Merlin, you or your magic. Just go away. Leave me in peace. Go back to the World of Magic. It’d be better there for you, as far away from me as you can be. Then we can both be…happy,” Arthur finished, his voice choking on the last word.
“Oh god, Arthur. No, don’t say that. My true home is here in the Dæmon World. That will never change,” Merlin told him fiercely.
He knelt before Arthur and grasped his hand, the one not holding the goblet, and looked earnestly at him.
A quick movement, and a moment later Arthur released the goblet from his hand. The cup fell to the fur rug below with a soft thud. With relief, Merlin could see that the liquid was only water, the strong smell of alcohol absent.
Merlin let go of Arthur’s hand that he’d been holding on to. He waved his hand at the fallen goblet and the water returned inside the goblet as if it had never been spilled.
Arthur hung his head and he took both his hands to his face. Merlin heard a nearly imperceptible sob coming from his King.
“Arthur, please. I forgive you, truly, sincerely, I forgive you. I’m sorry. Please, I mean it. I forgive you,” Merlin told him firmly, hoping he could get through to Arthur.
Arthur set down his hands on his lap, and stared at Merlin in puzzlement. Silent tears streaked down Arthur’s cheeks and Merlin took out a handkerchief to wipe the wetness from his face.
“Really? What led to this?” Arthur wondered.
Merlin smiled. “I saw the light. All that matters is I want to be with you and work on repairing our relationship. I want that bond we had years ago. I miss it, Arthur. I miss us,” he told him.
Arthur slowly returned his smile, finally seeming to believe in the truth of Merlin’s words.
Merlin saw a golden light envelop Arthur – not unlike the golden light he’d witnessed enter Bran. This light made Arthur glow briefly as well.
As Merlin hugged Arthur to him, the bright light surrounded the both of them in a warm welcoming embrace.
Arthur returned the pressure, arms wrapping tightly around Merlin. He felt relief loosen the tension out of Arthur’s shoulders. Subtly, Merlin magically moved Arthur’s chair back so that Arthur was forced to sit down on the floor beside Merlin.
Merlin let Arthur settle his head on his shoulder and Merlin gently stroked his blond locks trying to comfort Arthur. It had been far too heavy a burden to carry for too long. And now that the burden was lifted, Merlin felt Arthur relax, exhaustion settling in. Merlin imagined Arthur could finally get a peaceful night’s rest after years of emotional turmoil.
But the greatest surprise came when Arthur reached out to Zlota, and he touched Merlin’s dæmon . Merlin was surprised yet ecstatic that he didn’t feel any pain at the contact. Instead he felt pleasure and pure happiness and love at Arthur touching Zlota. The promise he had made to himself long ago had lost its power. Merlin could only believe that the power and strength of his forgiveness of Arthur had allowed Arthur to finally touch his phoenix dæmon .
And maybe after so long of a broken relationship, Merlin’s renewed love for Arthur played a part as well. Merlin liked to think so.
“Merlin…?” Arthur asked. He pulled his hand away as if he’d remembered that he couldn’t touch Zlota based on the promise.
Merlin grinned at him. “It’s all right, Arthur. The promise isn’t an issue anymore. I don’t feel pain when you touch her,” he assured Arthur.
To prove his point, Merlin urged his dæmon to move closer to Arthur.
Merlin encouraged Arthur to touch her again.
And he did. Zlota leaned into Arthur as he hugged her to him and a great wave of pleasure came over Merlin. It was a brilliant feeling, and Merlin never wanted it to end.
Arthur looked to Merlin, a serious expression on his face. “Merlin, we need to talk about your father… I regret it now so much. And I’m sure he would have been a much better father to you than my father ever was to me. The wrong man died that day,” he said to Merlin in a firm, certain voice.
“There’s no changing the past. There’s only learning from your mistakes, and you have, Arthur. You’ve supported magic, even before I met you, even under your father’s magic-hating ways. And I love you for that, Arthur. I love you,” Merlin said sincerely, smiling fondly at him.
He could just see Krola standing up and wagging her tail in happiness, and Zlota still lay upon Arthur’s lap.
Merlin leaned toward Arthur and he kissed him deeply as if he was a sinking man and Arthur was his anchor. He needed Arthur and Arthur needed him.
Arthur had both his heart and soul and Merlin wanted to weep with elation at the hopeful, bright future he could see ahead of him.
He and Arthur were together again, two halves of a whole, and with their bond restored, Merlin felt they could face any trouble life sent their way.
~ * ~
As a part of
paperlegends (Merlin Big Bang challenge), I wrote a sequel to this, entitled The Raven Knife. That story is complete and in the process of editing. The sequel will be officially posted sometime in August (I don't have a date yet). The Raven Knife will have Merlin and Arthur be reincarnated, and the sequel's present day is Summer 2011.
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It was great to see James! I was very, very thankful for his timing, there. And the setup of Gwydion and hints of the sequel were very exciting.
The fact that when Arthur releases magic it creates unicorns is....somehow unsuprising. But still the Best Thing Ever.
I love the Bran and Gwydion parts so much. <3 So happy Gwydion was able to save him, even though it meant ~engulfing Sophia in flames~, holy beans. So much hope and sadness for 'Raven Knife' contained in those scenes.
Cute scene with the kids discussing their possible daemons, awww, lol "a furry dragon?"
And thank you, thank you for the happy ending after all the angst! Lol and now I want to re-read 'Raven Knife'! :D