Paperlegends: The Raven Knife (3)
Masterpost
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 & Epilogue
Merlin couldn’t hide how awed he was and felt as he and James walked along the winding bridge leading away from his castle. The bridge pathway looked like actual honest-to-goodness gold while an image of a silver and white Pegasus broke up the gold monotony. The winged steed glittered with majestic grace even as a stationary image. Merlin wondered how it would look as a live creature.
All Merlin could see below him were the clouds and he could tell he was very high up, yet he could still breathe of his own volition, thanks to magic undoubtedly. On either side of him, he could see other castles forming the remaining landscape. The castles of the other gods and goddesses as Ceridwen had mentioned to him.
The bridge had no railings to prevent walkers from accidentally falling if they stepped too close to either side. But James had assured him that he had placed invisible magical force fields along either side of the bridge as protection.
“I can’t speak for the others. I’m only responsible for the property surrounding my castle. I know other gods and goddesses have their bridges unprotected, and don’t see the same issue of safety as I do. Although, for me, it’s more a way to do something purposeful with my magic. I have so much magic, that I look for ways to alleviate the pressure by enacting spells. Of course, they must be white magic spells… dark magic opens a whole other set of troublesome issues. Always best to avoid those sorts of spells,” James advised him, his voice indicating just how distasteful he found dark magic.
“I’ve seen enough TV and movies throughout my life to know that dark magic is bad news,” Merlin said frankly. “ Oh. I uh - do you know about TV and movies?”
“Yes I do. I’ve always done my best to keep up with what’s going on in the human realms. I’ve made it a part of my duty. And I feel I owe it to my mother too. Even if she passed away long ago, I feel like I’m respecting her humanity by seeing what all of you are up to. With all your technological advances. I’ve gone to the cinema too.”
“Really?”
“Under an invisibility charm, yes, but I went. It was entertaining.”
“I almost don’t know if I should ask what films you saw.”
“I remember seeing the early films…I couldn’t help but be intrigued by this new human invention. Then one year, one of my young daughters wanted to see Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, and I couldn’t say no to her. That was in 1938? Yes. 1938, that was the year. She loved it, and it was nice to have seen that film when it first came out. It’s become a classic, hasn’t it? The amount of work put into it without magic? It must have been a labour of love.”
“Yes. It was the first full-length animated feature film to be produced in full color,” Merlin said.
He knew all this because his mum had told me how she enjoyed the movie when she was a child. How some moments made her dead-scared and she had nightmares after watching it. But still, she loved the movie - especially the seven dwarves.
But when Beauty and the Beast came out in the early ‘90s, his mum had been sure that one would’ve been her childhood favorite if the movie had been released years earlier. Merlin remembered his mum taking him along to see the film in the cinema when he was only eight. He had been more frightened of the wolves than the Beast himself, oddly enough.
Not wanting to think about those wolves, he added, “When you know Snow White and the Seven Dwarves was all hand-drawn, you can’t help but be impressed at the achievement. But why did you bring up seeing Snow White over another movie?” Merlin asked his uncle.
James shrugged. “I just remember how the film made my daughter smile and laugh at the dwarves’ antics. I was only being nostalgic. When you have children one day, you’ll understand.”
Still, he couldn’t help thinking that his uncle wasn’t telling him something. Something that Merlin believed he should know.
James smiled a bit sheepishly at him. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked about the Pegasus.”
“You mean the design on this bridge?” Merlin assumed.
He nodded. “He’s an actual creature, mine, as a matter of fact. His name is Silverlight. He aids me in traveling to different worlds. Other gods and goddesses might have gatekeepers, but for me and Ceridwen, we have our own magical animals. Ceridwen has an otter while a Pegasus is mine.”
“I was thinking how he would look as a live animal. I’d like to see him,” Merlin intimated.
“Of course you would. Silverlight is worth seeing.”
“Although,” Merlin couldn’t help but interject, “Are you not telling me something?”
James looked uncomfortable. He rubbed the back of his head. Merlin thought sometimes James seemed more human than a god. Once he had spent some time with his uncle, Merlin’s initial impression that James wasn’t human felt wrong. He had jumped to conclusions too soon. That was it.
“You’re overwhelmed with everything you’ve learned. You said as much yourself,” James reminded him. “I suggest visiting your mother. She’ll help you to understand. I don’t think she completely believes the truth, but she is only human, bless her.”
“Right. I can’t think of what she could tell me, but I’ll visit her,” Merlin agreed uncertainly. “Did she know about my father’s past life?”
“Trust me, Merlin, I don’t see how she could have kept it a secret from you if she had. I would hope your mother would have understood that you had a right to the truth about your father if she’d known.”
Merlin nodded. “I agree with you. My mum would’ve told me by now. I’m sure of it,” he decided confidently. “What about Silverlight?”
“Yes. I’d almost forgotten about him. I’ll call him.”
James appeared to be summoning the Pegasus non-verbally because he didn’t speak. With barely any movement from his uncle, Merlin watched as the winged horse, Silverlight, formed before them on the bridge.
The Pegasus was a stately creature. He was mostly white, but his mane, wings and tails shone a beautiful silver.
James stepped forward and he patted his steed on the head. Conjuring a carrot, he gave it to the magical creature, Silverlight eating it happily.
“How does this work?” Merlin wanted to know how Silverlight aided in traveling between worlds.
“Just watch,” James told him. “Go on then, my Silverlight. It’s one,” James told the Pegasus.
Silverlight neighed and then he shifted into a swirl of silver energy. A dark door with a silver handle appeared in his place. A small image of Silverlight trotted about the door like animated decoration before stopping at the head of the conjured door.
“You only have to open the door. You’ll barely feel anything. It’ll be like passing into another room. You may feel a little breeze passing by you, but that’s all,” his uncle reassured him.
“All right,” Merlin said, trying not to sound anxious. “Are you coming?”
James shook his head. “Unfortunately I have other things to attend to. There’s always something. It was good to see you, I have to say,” he said frankly. “Good luck. Make sure to visit your mother.” He requested of him.
“It was nice to meet you even if I’m feeling a little lost about this new reality I’m facing.”
James looked a bit guilty. “Come here,” he directed him.
Merlin let himself be pulled into his uncle’s embrace. He thought it would feel strange since he had only just met his uncle, but Merlin soon was able to relax and accept the sign of affection.
“I’m sure your father would do anything to be alive now. If only just to tell you that he loved you,” his uncle told him softly.
Merlin couldn’t help but recall the brief talk he had with that portrait version of the father of his past life. He believed his uncle.
“Thank you.” Merlin could only say before his voice betrayed him.
James looked on as Merlin took a deep breath and pressed down on the door’s handle. The dark door opened and all he saw was a long white hallway ahead of him. Like he had seen in films when people went on into the afterlife or heaven.
Although now it was the other way around.
He stepped through, looking back once to see his uncle giving him a small smile and a wave.
Merlin thought only a few seconds had gone by before he was back in his office. His office seemed so terribly normal and dull compared to where he had just been.
He looked at the clock on his wall and saw it was almost six. The best thing to do now would be to call Arthur. He had to tell him he was going to be home late. Hopefully his mum wouldn’t mind him stopping by unexpectedly.
Taking out his mobile, he went to Arthur’s number on it.
“Merlin?” Arthur answered the phone.
“Yeah it’s me. Listen, I’m sorry, but I’m going to see my mum. I’ll be home late.”
“Why the sudden need to see her?”
“I just got a sudden desire to learn more about my family history…it’s random, I know, but I want to do this now while it’s still on my mind. I hope you understand.”
“Yeah, sure. I don’t mind. You think there’s a dark secret in your family you don’t know about?” Arthur teased him.
“Ha, nothing that interesting, I’m sure of it. See you later. I love you.”
There was a long pause on the other end that made Merlin wonder if Arthur was still on the line. He was about to speak before Arthur finally broke the silence, “Merlin…” he said tentatively.
“What is it, Arthur? You sound off.”
“It’s nothing. It’s just been a long day. I’ll see you at home later.”
“Okay, bye.”
“I love you,” Arthur told him before Merlin heard him hang up.
Merlin clicked to end the call. It had seemed like Arthur had wanted to tell Merlin something, but he had decided against it. What could Arthur be hiding?
Merlin shook his head. No. He had to see his mum. Arthur would have to wait.
“Merlin! It’s so good to see you,” his mum greeted him at the door.
“Hello, Mum,” he said with a smile. “I’m sorry to drop in like this…”
“No need to apologize, dear. You must be hungry.”
“No, no, it’s all right. I’m not. I just - maybe we should sit down,” Merlin suggested them.
His mother nodded, and directed him to the kitchen so they could sit at the table.
Belle, her Merlin falcon, was perched on the kitchen counter.
She was a brown bird, about the size of a pigeon, and she held a curious gaze upon Merlin as he entered the kitchen.
“So this is Belle,” Merlin said with a smile.
His mother nodded. “She’s a good bird. Very intelligent. Sometimes I feel there’s more to Belle that meets the eye,” she confided in him.
“Can I touch her?” Merlin asked, unsure how this falcon was with strangers.
“Yes, it’s okay. You can,” his mother assured him.
Merlin reached out to pet the bird of prey on the head. Belle’s calculating eyes looked directly into Merlin’s own blue eyes. He suddenly got a flash in his mind’s eye of an orange and cream male cat. He wasn’t sure how he knew it was male, he was just absolutely certain of that.
He removed his hand from the falcon. Clearly he hadn’t experienced the last of his visions.
His mum went to make some tea.
“Mum, why did you get a falcon instead of a cat? I know you grew up learning to like birds, but I’d imagine a cat is a little easier to take care of than a falcon.”
At that, Belle appeared unhappy as she straightened herself to seem taller. It was as if she was trying to prove to Merlin that she was a good bird, not difficult to look after at all. She squawked in displeasure.
“Erm, I’m sorry, Belle,” Merlin apologized to her.
His mother turned around to face him and she confessed, “Why, I admit that it had crossed my mind to get a calm little cat to keep me company, but like you said, birds are a family thing. I recall how my grandmother, your great-grandmother, enjoyed the company of bluebirds. Those birds themselves were quite fond of her. It’s a longstanding tradition that I can’t help but continue. Although, you know those visions of the scarlet-gold phoenix you see?” His mother brought up.
Merlin nodded. “Yes what about them?”
“I didn’t want to tell you before because I thought I was only hearing things. I didn’t want you to think your poor mum was crazy,” she said with a half-smile.
“No, never. I thought you’d believe I’d be losing it after telling you about the phoenix,” Merlin countered.
“Oh Merlin, I’m your mum. I want you to confide in me. It was only the two of us for so long, that I wanted you to feel that you could trust me. And I could always see it in your eyes that you weren’t making up the story of the phoenix. A mother always knows.”
“Thanks,” Merlin said, finding it nice to know that his mother believed in his story. “What did you hear?”
“A cat meowing. I’ve never seen this cat, but I heard it calling out to me, it felt like. I was comforted by the sound.”
Merlin recalled how Arthur had told him that he had been calmed and even grateful to see Cavall in his strange white wolf form. And here was his mum dealing with a similar, positive feeling. Merlin didn’t doubt that the cat she had heard was most likely the orange and cream cat he had seen not a moment ago. It was far too much of a coincidence.
“So there it is. My confession. I haven’t heard the meowing since I took Belle home with me. I almost miss the sound, but oh, Belle is a sweetheart.”
“I believe you, Mum,” Merlin told her with a smile. “Did you say that my great-grandmother liked bluebirds? Her name was Mary Margaret, right?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?” She wondered. She set the cups of tea down on the table. They sat down across from each other.
Merlin was looking for the reason for why his uncle James had brought up Snow White. And it seemed a little too convenient that his own great-grandmother had held a fondness for bluebirds, the very type of bird commonly associated with the princess.
“Did she - this may sound crazy, maybe, but do you believe Mary Margaret looked like Snow White?”
His mother’s eyes widened. She looked more startled than Merlin had expected her to look.
“Sorry, nevermind,” Merlin said hurriedly. He started putting sugar in his tea, and it was only Athena’s subtle magical intervention that kept him from overloading his tea with the sweetener.
“No, no! I’m glad you asked. I just, oh, I can’t believe how the years have flown by. I had almost forgotten…” with that his mother trailed off, her brown eyes held a faraway look. Then she shook herself out of it and smiling at Merlin, she continued on, “But to answer your question, yes, from what I remember of my grandmother, she had a similar look to Snow White. She was quite a lovely, sweet grandmother, I recall. A professional singer too. Oh, she had an almost angelic voice. It’s a shame you never got to know her.”
“Did she ever believe she was Snow White?” Merlin asked her, his curiosity overcoming the feeling of how ridiculous the question was. If his great-grandmother had believed that, surely he would have known about it by now?”
His mother shook her head. “No it wasn’t like that. She never believed she was honestly Snow White. As far as I know at least. She saw her as a character in a fairytale like everyone else, not a real person. Really, any girl with pale skin, dark hair and red lips could claim resemblance to Snow White.”
“You’re right. I didn’t mean to suggest. I just wanted to make sense of some things,” Merlin confessed weakly, knowing that was a poor explanation for wondering if someone in his family looked like a fairytale character.
“I’m glad you’re asking actually. I must say that I found my grandmother to look quite like Disney’s Snow White. It was remarkable. I remember putting picture of her next to the animated Snow White and the similarity was impressive. But then I was young, so I couldn’t help seeing a resemblance. It was not long after seeing the Disney movie for the first time. The thought got into my mind…no matter how unbelievable it sounded.”
“There must be a reason for the possible resemblance,” Merlin mused, thinking aloud.
“Well, to add to that, there is your father’s mother. She’s still alive, I think. She relocated to New Zealand not long after your father died. His death was hard on her.”
“Yes, I remember you telling me that. Her name’s Ella…wait, are you trying to say…?”
As if things couldn’t get any weirder. What did this mean? Was there a reason for him being related to fairytale characters on both sides of his family tree? Could they be incarnations and like him, not even remember their past lives?
Other worlds existed after all. Ceridwen had mentioned the World of Magic - would it be stretching the realm of imagination to believe there was a Fairy Tale World as well? So Snow White and Cinderella could have originally been born in the Fairy Tale World. For some indiscernible reason, they had been reincarnated into a different world: this world Merlin currently called home. And he was the result of the union. His father’s mother was an incarnation of Cinderella and his mother’s grandmother was an incarnation of Snow White.
This fairytale connection on both sides of his family ancestry couldn’t be a fluke. How common was it that two people with fairytale heritage in their blood could come together and fall in love? It was as if fairy dust had been sprinkled, and Merlin was the lucky recipient, the receiver of such fantastical magic.
“It’s not a coincidence,” Athena confirmed to him silently. Her confident tone only served to bolster Merlin’s belief.
His mother answered him with a nod. “Yes, I did see a resemblance to Cinderella. Your dear father saw it too. He told me that his mother actually named him after Prince Phillip in Sleeping Beauty. I knew Ella as quite the romantic. You have her eyes, such a startling, forget-me-not blue as they call it.”
“And my dark hair?” Merlin played along.
“Well of course from me, sweetheart. Who else?” His mother said with a teasing smile. He reached out her hand to ruffle his hair.
Merlin smiled, weakly batting her hand away from his hair.
His mother relented and soon, her expression grew somber. “Now, I think it’s the right time to give you the box,” she declared solemnly as she stood up.
“What box?” Merlin asked.
“Your father wanted you to have it, but he told him it was very important that I give you the box at the proper time. I think now is that time. It looks like you’ve made some discoveries very recently. I can see it in your eyes, you look different. If you could just wait a moment, I have to retrieve the box.”
“All right.”
Merlin waited a few minutes until his mother returned with a golden box in her hands.
“Is that, is that real gold?”
“I think so. It certainly is heavy enough,” she indicated. Merlin moved aside his tea cup so that his mum could set the gold box down in front of him.
“I don’t know how your father got a hold of this box. The only answer can be magic. He gave it to me for safekeeping while he was still in the hospital, dying from cancer. There was no opportunity for him to procure such a box. I was very pregnant with you at that time, as you know. I came to see him during visiting hours one morning, and he was so desperate, adamant, during that visit,” his mother explained, a touch of sadness in her voice.
She continued, “His eyes were almost like looking in that of a stranger’s. He had such a wealth of burden and age in them. It was as if he had gained the wisdom of a much older man over night. He asked me to make sure I give this golden box to you. That there was a time that you would understand. And since he knew that he wouldn’t get to see you come into this world, he wanted to leave you something tangible to remember him by. I was curious, I admit, about what he put in the box, but I can’t open it. I think only you can.”
“Thank you, Mum,” Merlin said. He hadn’t been expecting this, that his father had left him something despite his father never getting the opportunity to see Merlin being born.
“I’ll open it now,” Merlin decided. He felt bad that his mother had kept this box all these years without knowing what was inside. It felt right to finally reveal the box’s contents with his mother beside him.
The box was the length of his hands when placed side by side of each other, so the box wasn’t too big. The size of a modest jewelry box honestly. There was a lock on the box, which Merlin opened as discreetly as he could with his magic. The lock clicked open and Merlin was able to lift the lid of the golden box.
One item in the box was a rolled up letter. The paper felt like high quality parchment and a blue ribbon bow kept the parchment in its current form.
“It’s a letter from your father,” his mother said gently.
“I don’t know if I’m ready to read it yet,” Merlin confessed.
“Of course, dear. Whenever you’re ready,” she assured him.
Setting the letter aside, he saw that there was only one other item in the box. It was a small lynx figurine.
Belle flew over to the table, to have a look herself at what was in the box. She pecked at the box’s lid. Or maybe she had just been feeling neglected, Merlin thought as he pet her on the head.
“Oh come here, Belle,” his mum cajoled her falcon. Belle did so, situating herself on his mother’s shoulder, her intelligent dark eyes ever watchful.
When Merlin touched the lynx, he was surprised to see the little lynx come to life. It was an animated figurine, but it was so sentient that Merlin could only conclude magic as an explanation to its nature.
His mother gasped. “Oh my,” she voiced, her hand over her mouth in shock. The lynx was half the size of Merlin’s palm and presently, the figurine was walking around and acting like any animal - minus any violent tendencies, thank goodness - as the creature circled and then settled down to clean his paws. Or was it a female?
“Mum, I can explain,” Merlin started, though he didn’t know how to begin to tell her that this was magic at work.
Athena spoke up inside his mind. No one but Merlin could hear her, which made for a secret conversation without others being aware of it.
“It’s clear, isn’t it?” she told him. “Your father remembered his past life. That included all the magic knowledge he had during his centuries as a god, before he chose to live a human life. And he also regained his magic not long before he died. That’s why he acted the way he did that day with your mother. And how he was able to conjure this golden box with its contents.”
“Yet he still died despite getting his magic back,” Merlin pointed out grimly, speaking mentally to Athena.
“I hate to say it, but maybe sometimes, magic doesn’t solve everything,” Athena said unhappily.
Merlin knew how hard it would be for Athena to say that considering she was literally magic. On his part, it was hard to accept the fact that possessing magic couldn’t save his father from succumbing to the fatal effects of his cancer.
“The lynx is magic. Real magic,” his mother uttered. Merlin was surprised to hear the seed of true belief in her voice.
“Mum?” Merlin asked, puzzled. What was his mum not telling him?
She gave him a small smile. “When I was a child, I saw a golden man in my dreams. He had eyes that shined like the finest white diamonds. After seeing him, I couldn’t help but open my mind to the possibility that maybe, things like magic are truly real.”
“You saw…?” Merlin breathed out, thoroughly surprised. The God of Magic had appeared to his mother probably years before she had even met his father? What if the God of Magic, his grandfather, had insured that his mum and father came together? That’s why he had been keeping an eye on her when she was still young. Merlin didn’t imagine that he just appeared in people’s dreams unless he had a very calculated reason for it. The thought seemed unnerving, to have one’s life to be dictated like that.
Hopefully the God of Magic had a well-meaning reason for his actions.
“I believe it was a man of magic,” his mother said thoughtfully. “Or not even a man at all. I can’t say. But I felt that he was made of magic. I couldn’t see it as anything else but that. Sometimes he even spoke, either saying my name, Hunith, or strangely, Snow White. I suppose that’s why I became so interested in the stories of Snow White, and then how my grandmother looked like her.”
“Mum, I think, no, I’m sure that dad had magic. Before he died at least, he had it. That’s how he was able to make this box and the lynx. And maybe the letter too.”
His mother breathed out shakily. “I suspected, but the idea was just so strange… yet how he acted and looked that day. It was like he had remembered something he had forgotten, but he didn’t tell me. Maybe he was trying to protect me, but it had worried me a little bit.”
“I can’t even begin to comprehend how he was feeling at the time,” Merlin said. He thought it would be best not to tell his mother about his father remembering an extraordinary past life. Small steps. It would be too much for her to handle. Frankly, he wished he hadn’t had all these revelations unveiled to him in a short span of time. But it was too late to get off this roller coaster now for him.
“But I possess magic myself, Mum. I inherited it from him, I’m sure of it. I gained the ability to use it recently, so that may be this is the right time for me to receive the box.”
“Goodness. Well I guess that means your father and I chose the most appropriate name for you. We had settled on ‘Merlin’ before he died, so he knew what your name would be even if he couldn’t see your birth.”
Merlin smiled at his mum. “Yes you’re right about that. I know this is a lot to take in for you. Having magic is still new to me, but you’re my mum, and you should know that I have it.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, sweetheart. Just don’t dabble in dark magic…I suppose that’s sort of advice I should be giving you now,” she said, looking quite bemused.
“Thanks, mum,” Merlin said. “I promise not to do any dark magic.” He flashed her a quick grin. “I better go. Arthur’s probably wondering what’s taking me so long.”
Merlin gently lifted the fragile tiny lynx who was now fast asleep. He could tell now that the lynx was most definitely a female. He placed her back into the box. Yet he was uncertain for a moment whether he should close the box on the little creature. But since the female lynx was magical, then he decided she should be okay. She had been in this box for years after all. Maybe the lynx returned to a non-sentient form when she was returned inside the golden box.
“Of course, of course. You must say hello to Arthur for me,” said his mother with a kind smile. They stood up and embraced each other as Belle ruffled her feathers, flustered, and flew off his mother’s shoulder.
“I will,” Merlin promised her.
Then she told him that she would get him a sturdy bag to carry the box in. Belle perched herself on Merlin’s forearm and then walked up his arm.
“Belle, what are you doing?” Merlin wondered, puzzled. Belle only looked at him like he was talking gibberish. She bent her head to survey what was inside of his ear.
“I don’t have anything in my ear,” Merlin said.
“She’s having you on, I bet,” declared Athena. Merlin could just see his twisted, mischievous smile inside his mind.
And then the falcon moved to roost on his head.
“Belle!” Merlin exclaimed.
His mother returned. “Oh dear. Belle, come here. Merlin’s head isn’t a nest,” she admonished the bird.
Merlin could hear Athena chuckling inside his mind.
“Haha,” Merlin said silently to his magic.
After his mother persuaded Belle to fly off his head, she gave him the bag for the box. “Here you go, sweetie. I hope to see you soon. Good luck with using your magic wisely.”
He thanked her and then after they exchanged goodbyes and brief hugs, Merlin left his mum’s. Athena lightened the weight of the golden box at Merlin’s request, so he could carry it more easily to his car.
In the car, Merlin asked the Diamantine Compass if it was true about the fairytale characters. That Ella and Mary Margaret, his own grandmother and then great-grandmother, were incarnations of the actual fairytale identities from the Fairy Tale World.
The Compass confirmed his belief.
When Merlin asked why he had fairytale characters on both sides of his family, the Compass said, “The fairytale magic accumulated from their happy endings insured that you would be as magically powerful as you need to be. This world you call home is dull, denying the chance for real magic users to thrive because most people here don’t believe in real magic. The fairytale magic you inherited has enabled you to possess true magic as is your burden.”
Burden, Merlin thought. Great. That sounded cheerful. He never thought those fairytale happy endings could have that sort of impact, but he was grateful to have his magic now and to actually interact with it -- or her really -- in the form of Athena.
He opened the box and took out the lynx from it. He couldn’t help but smile as the small creature licked his thumb and let Merlin pet her. He contemplated the reason why his father had left him this magical lynx. The letter he could understand, but there had to be more purpose to the lynx other than an interesting magical item to be entertained by.
Athena pointed out, “But the Compass does have storage space. I can store your golden box and everything inside it in the Compass. That way, you will never lose the box because the Compass is embedded into your forearm. Barring an axe murderer coming to cut off your arm, it’s the best thing to do to protect the box.”
“Thank you, Athena, for that great visual,” Merlin said dryly. “All right. If you can do that, then go ahead. I’d prefer to keep the box close to me. This is the best way to accomplish that.”
He returned the lynx to her home inside the box.
A glowing golden hand, undoubtedly that of a female’s, appeared to grasp the box of gold.
“Is that your hand?” Merlin asked, a bit unnerved at seeing a hand appear out of nowhere. It was odd to think that his magic had a hand. And he really could use the memories of his past life now to make sense of these things.
“Hands can be useful,” Athena only said matter-of-factly. Her ‘hand’ disappeared along with the box and a moment later, the Compass glowed fleetingly. “There. Your box is stored securely in the Compass.”
“Thank you, Athena,” he said to her. “Maybe I should name the lynx,” Merlin decided suddenly. “She deserves a name.”
“What are your choices?”
Merlin bit his lip. He turned on the ignition and backed the car out of his mum’s driveway. Then he felt like he was getting a light bulb moment and he declared, “Just the one. Perijä. It means ‘heir’ in Finnish. That name just seems right to me. That has to be her name: Perijä.”
“I say it’s never bad to go with your instincts. Even if your instincts give you a random Finnish word. You don’t know any Finnish, do you?”
“No, just that word. And I figure that the name choice is probably the least strange thing that has happened to me lately,” Merlin mused.
“You’re jealous,” the Prince remarked with an amused smile.
From his seat across from Morgaine, the Prince reached out to grab a red apple from the fruit bowl on the table. He bit into the apple as he stared his half-sister down.
“I am not, Arthur,” Morgaine said, sounding affronted. She stroked her black mink pet, Lumottu, as she spoke. “It’s just that I’m your sister and your wife! And Nimueh is just a conniving, manipulative witch. Surely you must see that.”
“It’s half-sister. And I don’t like you speaking ill of Nimueh. She is my advisor and highly regarded by me no matter what you say. You may be family by blood, but we only became familiar with each other in the eleventh century. I’ve known Nimueh for much longer than that. She helped me to look after Gwydion all those centuries ago.”
“Perhaps she was trying to stay on your good side,” Morgaine said curtly.
The Prince took another bite of the apple. His black wolf, Achilles, was getting restless. His glowing golden eyes showed his displeasure at Morgaine’s contrariness.
“The point is, Morgaine, that Nimueh is capable of expressing motherly affection as she was one to Gwydion. You, my dear half-sister, don’t have a maternal bone in your body. You rather seduce men and then you kill some of them when you’re especially bored.”
“Only the not so handsome ones. And so what, that simply means Nimueh is a good actress. She’s tricking you.”
“Which leads me back to my belief that you’re jealous. You are seeing what you want to see, Morgaine. Unfortunately, your version of the truth is a lie. If it bothers you that I may trust Nimueh more than you, then it’s a fact you must accept,” he said firmly.
Achilles started growling. “Quiet now, Achilles,” the Prince cajoled him, petting him on the head. He tossed the rest of the apple to his wolf.
“That’s not right. You shouldn’t trust her more than me,” Morgaine declared.
“Well then, maybe you should defect to the other side,” the Prince advised flippantly. “Though King Merlin would sooner set the Big Bad Wolf on you than ever trust you. I still can’t believe that bloody King managed to gain his loyalty.”
“Isn’t that Bran who inspired the Wolf’s loyalty?”
“Whatever,” the Prince remarked with a careless wave of his hand. “I’m sure that the King was the one who put the boy up to it.”
“Well this talk has been pointless,” Morgaine announced, sounding annoyed. She stood up, placing Lumottu over her shoulder.
“Goodbye, Morgaine,” the Prince wished her in mock-cheerfulness.
She rolled her eyes at him and left the room.
The next weekend, Merlin went over to Gwen and Lancelot’s. Over the last few days, Arthur hadn’t been feeling well and he had been in a rather grumpy mood Merlin had to admit. Yet unfortunately Arthur wouldn’t tell him what had led him to such a strop. Merlin assumed it was something at work that was stressing Arthur out.
At any rate, Arthur had gone to spend time with his mates while Merlin decided to pay Gwen and Lancelot a visit. Gwen had called a few days earlier telling him that she had a favour to ask of him. She and Lancelot were going with their young daughter, Lily, to Disneyland Paris and she was hoping Merlin could house-sit while they were away. Merlin had agreed and had set up a time to visit so they could go over any necessary details.
“Uncle Merlin!” five-year old Lily exclaimed happily after Gwen allowed him into the house.
Lily hugged him, and Merlin couldn’t help but smile at her exuberance. She was wearing a golden ballgown, a Belle costume no doubt, complete with fairy wings at her back and a star-topped magic wand. She looked ready to go to Disneyland.
Gwen greeted Merlin warmly. Lancelot came down the stairs and when he reached Merlin, he clapped him on the back.
Merlin got a sudden vision when Lancelot greeted him. It was of Lancelot dressed as a knight with a silver wolf by his side. Merlin was next to Arthur as Lancelot handed him a sword in its sheath.
“This is Excalibur. You must be aware though that this sword is more than a weapon of battle, Prince Arthur.”
“I’m in exile with Merlin, Sir Lancelot. I’m not a prince any longer,” Arthur informed him grimly. He slowly removed the powerful sword from its sheath.
“But you will be King one day,” Merlin assured him confidently.
“Your sorcerer is right,” agreed Sir Lancelot.
He heard Lancelot call him back to reality. “Merlin? Merlin?”
“Oh, sorry. My mind drifted off there,” Merlin apologized sheepishly.
“You looked like you were in another world,” Gwen remarked.
Merlin rubbed his brow. “It has been a strange past few days,” he admitted. “But nevermind me. I’m fine,” he assured Gwen who was looking at him in concern.
He gave her as big of a smile as he could, which appeared to assure her somewhat.
Merlin turned his attention to Lily, smiling at her. “And how excited are you to go to Disneyland for the first time?” he asked her.
She grinned up at him, and then spread her arms wide. “This much!” she answered enthusiastically.
Lancelot said, chuckling, “Gwen has been having a hard time getting Lily out of her costume. Who are you looking forward to seeing most, sweetheart?” He asked Lily.
“Oh honey, don’t start,” Gwen said with shake of her head. Merlin saw the amusement in his friend’s eyes.
“Belle!” Lily said easily.
Merlin smiled. The gown had completely given her away. He took the little girl into his arms. “Now I don’t remember Belle having fairy wings and a magic wand.”
“I’m being creative,” Lily declared.
Then she was looking at Merlin’s blue eyes as if she were transfixed by them. She turned to face her father and she asked him, “Daddy, will Cinderella be there too?”
Merlin was so shocked that he almost dropped Lily. That couldn’t be a fluke. Then again, children tended to believe in things that adults didn’t. And if it was true, and he had inherited Cinderella’s blue eyes, then Lily must have seen that. How, he had no idea.
“Yes, she probably will be,” Lancelot said to her.
“I could put some magic into that funny-looking wand she has,” Athena suggested through their mental communication.
“Don’t you dare. That’s just asking for trouble,” Merlin shot back at her silently.
“I’m bored. I need to be used. Come on, there must be some magic you’d like to do,” Athena probed him.
“Later. I promise, Athena. We’ll do something later. After I leave here,” Merlin told her firmly.
Arthur returned early from a game of footy with his mates. He had claimed that he was just feeling under the weather, and only Leon - good old sees through everything Leon - gave him a suspicious look as if he had sensed that there something more going on with Arthur. More than Arthur was willing to confess to anyone, especially - no matter how wrong it felt - to Merlin.
When he got home, Cavall and Lux greeted him, albeit Lux half-heartedly since the little dog obviously loved Merlin more than him.
He let the dogs out, and then sunk down on to the couch. Then he was overcome by the sound of a woman weeping in despair.
A vision followed where he was witnessing a memory of his five-year old self, but Arthur was positive it wasn’t from this life. The clothing more suitable for a history museum gave that away. It was him, without a doubt, but they were memories that he’d previously been unaware of. He had a feeling it was related to that forgotten dream he had days ago.
He was deep in the forest, and a shower of rain swept through the wooded area. In a clearing a few feet away from where his younger self hid anxiously, there was a heartbreaking scene taking place. A woman - no it was a nymph he was certain of that - with long blonde hair was collapsed over a body and she was weeping inconsolably.
Three brown-haired nymphs remained near the tearful nymph in a show of support.
Arthur saw the five-year old him appear guilty, but Arthur wasn’t sure why. Although he did notice the purple finch who was on the shoulder of his younger self.
“Krola,” the five-year old whispered to the finch. “Will the rain ever stop?”
“I don’t know,” the finch answered.
Arthur was startled to realize that the finch had actually spoken, but it felt right to him. Somehow it made all the sense in the world that the little bird could talk, and that his younger self had a close bond with the bird.
“Hephaestion, my son. I can’t bear it!” the blonde nymph exclaimed in anguish, continuing to cry. She looked up at the sky then. “No, please not yet,” she said, speaking to someone Arthur couldn’t see.
“It’s my fault,” the five-year old him said quietly to the finch, Krola, apparently. “I shouldn’t have come.”
The dead man’s mother whispered something in her son’s ear. She brushed his hair aside affectionately and kissed him on his brow.
A moment later, the mother and her nymph companions stepped back. They watched as the man’s body glowed and was lifted up into the skies, the rain still falling like tears to the ground.
The companions embraced the grieving mother. Then they separated and each nymph moved into particular positions, it seemed, and each one raised a hand. The blonde nymph magically transformed into a big old oak tree while her three devoted companions turned into younger oak trees around her. That change signified that they were dryads.
And the rain still fell.
The five-year old Arthur walked away. The finch had turned into a small grey furball of a kitten and the younger Arthur carried her in his arms, stroking her to undoubtedly soothe his nerves.
The scene shifted to another day in the forest, Arthur thought. Although with the rain still falling, it was difficult to tell.
Now his five-year old self had a Norwegian Elkhound walking nervously beside him. That had to be Krola again. Why it made sense to him that Krola could change into different creatures, he wasn’t sure.
The younger him was carrying a single white rose over to the oak tree that the blonde nymph had transformed into.
Solemnly, he placed the white rose in front of the tree, the flower leaning against the tree’s bark. Then he bowed his head, and the puppy did too.
“I’m sorry,” the five-year old Arthur said.
“Thank you, child,” the voice of the dead man’s mother echoed around the immediate area. “But do not blame yourself for the sins of your father. Stay true and you will have a blessed future, young prince.”
The scene changed yet again. Arthur was in what looked like a medieval dining hall. He saw himself and Merlin in the big room. Krola as a white wolf was beside the other him while this past version of Merlin had a scarlet-gold phoenix perched on his shoulder.
Unfortunately this memory had the two of them arguing, and Arthur found it hard to watch.
“I should have known. You condemned my father to death, and that was only the beginning,” Merlin shot out angrily. “You couldn’t stop there. But instead with me, you condemned me to hell. It may have been a few days, but as they say, a fleeting time in hell can feel like an eternity to the victim. So thank you, Arthur, for that.”
The Arthur from memory visibly cringed at the accusations. “I was just a boy when your father passed away--”
“Murdered,” Merlin interrupted him sharply, his blue eyes glittering with anger. “I may have been able to look past it before. You were so young and so pathetically under your father’s thumb after all. But I don’t have room for forgiveness now.”
“Merlin, please… I have faith we can work this out. I’ll give you all the time you need. I understand you’re upset with me. You have every right to be.”
“For days, Arthur, I had my free will stripped away and my magic - no one has any right to control it but me.”
“I told you the reason for why I did what I did,” said the Arthur of memory tiredly.
“I don’t care,” Merlin raged. “You still did it. Yours was the face I saw as my world collapsed around me. You just stood there, a cold unfeeling thing, and so ready to destroy the bond we had built especially during our time in exile.”
“Merlin, please, I’m sorry for all I’ve done to divide us. My heart aches with the loss of the closeness we used to share. I don’t know what else to say,” Arthur’s former self admitted wearily.
“Then I will speak,” Merlin said. “I want Camelot to thrive as a magic-accepting kingdom just as much as you do. I will continue to do my best to insure that. I may have sworn my loyalty to you and to Camelot, but I don’t love you any longer. Not like before.”
“Merlin, no, you don’t mean that,” he pleaded with him.
“What we had before, it will never be like that again,” Merlin continued to emphasize his stance.
Before Arthur’s past self could respond, Merlin and his phoenix magically vanished from the room.
“You don’t mean that,” Arthur’s past self repeated softly, but he looked like he didn’t quite believe his words since he looked devastated.
Arthur was grateful when the memories ended and he woke up. He desperately hoped he could forget what he’d seen particularly that last memory where his relationship with Merlin had gone sour. He never wanted that to happen to him and the Merlin he knew. He couldn’t bear it.
Unfortunately, he still remembered all that he had witnessed. Maybe seeing these memories of some past life of his was a good thing. He had been short with Merlin these last few days. He knew Merlin wasn’t happy that Arthur had been so moody and hadn’t confided in him as to the reason why. These visions had to be the push to get Arthur to rectify the situation before it could result in a break up. And that would be terrible considering they were engaged. To be on the path to getting married and ruin all that? Arthur couldn’t risk it.
It was that blasted Prince of Darkness’ fault. He had set Arthur on edge with talking about killing a child of all people. Arthur didn’t see a boy having some mind control power being enough reason to throw away his own life and murder him.
Seeing that blonde dryad, the mother of the dead man, made Arthur surer than ever that he didn’t want the loved ones left behind to suffer in grief. It was an awful feeling and he couldn’t inflict that on anyone.
And really, the Prince was a hypocrite as he himself had used mind control on Arthur. He was certain of that. Common man, his arse. Arthur was onto him, no matter how powerful this Prince appeared to be. He hadn’t won this time. Arthur hadn’t any inclination to follow what the Prince wanted him to do. After all, he had only told him he ‘understood’ what he meant about Bran needing to be destroyed. Arthur hadn’t actually agreed to kill anyone.
Yet it was probably best to avoid any contact with the boy in question. If Arthur ever encountered him, that was. Who knew what the Prince would make him do if Arthur met this Bran.
Part 4 -->
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 & Epilogue
Merlin couldn’t hide how awed he was and felt as he and James walked along the winding bridge leading away from his castle. The bridge pathway looked like actual honest-to-goodness gold while an image of a silver and white Pegasus broke up the gold monotony. The winged steed glittered with majestic grace even as a stationary image. Merlin wondered how it would look as a live creature.
All Merlin could see below him were the clouds and he could tell he was very high up, yet he could still breathe of his own volition, thanks to magic undoubtedly. On either side of him, he could see other castles forming the remaining landscape. The castles of the other gods and goddesses as Ceridwen had mentioned to him.
The bridge had no railings to prevent walkers from accidentally falling if they stepped too close to either side. But James had assured him that he had placed invisible magical force fields along either side of the bridge as protection.
“I can’t speak for the others. I’m only responsible for the property surrounding my castle. I know other gods and goddesses have their bridges unprotected, and don’t see the same issue of safety as I do. Although, for me, it’s more a way to do something purposeful with my magic. I have so much magic, that I look for ways to alleviate the pressure by enacting spells. Of course, they must be white magic spells… dark magic opens a whole other set of troublesome issues. Always best to avoid those sorts of spells,” James advised him, his voice indicating just how distasteful he found dark magic.
“I’ve seen enough TV and movies throughout my life to know that dark magic is bad news,” Merlin said frankly. “ Oh. I uh - do you know about TV and movies?”
“Yes I do. I’ve always done my best to keep up with what’s going on in the human realms. I’ve made it a part of my duty. And I feel I owe it to my mother too. Even if she passed away long ago, I feel like I’m respecting her humanity by seeing what all of you are up to. With all your technological advances. I’ve gone to the cinema too.”
“Really?”
“Under an invisibility charm, yes, but I went. It was entertaining.”
“I almost don’t know if I should ask what films you saw.”
“I remember seeing the early films…I couldn’t help but be intrigued by this new human invention. Then one year, one of my young daughters wanted to see Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, and I couldn’t say no to her. That was in 1938? Yes. 1938, that was the year. She loved it, and it was nice to have seen that film when it first came out. It’s become a classic, hasn’t it? The amount of work put into it without magic? It must have been a labour of love.”
“Yes. It was the first full-length animated feature film to be produced in full color,” Merlin said.
He knew all this because his mum had told me how she enjoyed the movie when she was a child. How some moments made her dead-scared and she had nightmares after watching it. But still, she loved the movie - especially the seven dwarves.
But when Beauty and the Beast came out in the early ‘90s, his mum had been sure that one would’ve been her childhood favorite if the movie had been released years earlier. Merlin remembered his mum taking him along to see the film in the cinema when he was only eight. He had been more frightened of the wolves than the Beast himself, oddly enough.
Not wanting to think about those wolves, he added, “When you know Snow White and the Seven Dwarves was all hand-drawn, you can’t help but be impressed at the achievement. But why did you bring up seeing Snow White over another movie?” Merlin asked his uncle.
James shrugged. “I just remember how the film made my daughter smile and laugh at the dwarves’ antics. I was only being nostalgic. When you have children one day, you’ll understand.”
Still, he couldn’t help thinking that his uncle wasn’t telling him something. Something that Merlin believed he should know.
James smiled a bit sheepishly at him. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked about the Pegasus.”
“You mean the design on this bridge?” Merlin assumed.
He nodded. “He’s an actual creature, mine, as a matter of fact. His name is Silverlight. He aids me in traveling to different worlds. Other gods and goddesses might have gatekeepers, but for me and Ceridwen, we have our own magical animals. Ceridwen has an otter while a Pegasus is mine.”
“I was thinking how he would look as a live animal. I’d like to see him,” Merlin intimated.
“Of course you would. Silverlight is worth seeing.”
“Although,” Merlin couldn’t help but interject, “Are you not telling me something?”
James looked uncomfortable. He rubbed the back of his head. Merlin thought sometimes James seemed more human than a god. Once he had spent some time with his uncle, Merlin’s initial impression that James wasn’t human felt wrong. He had jumped to conclusions too soon. That was it.
“You’re overwhelmed with everything you’ve learned. You said as much yourself,” James reminded him. “I suggest visiting your mother. She’ll help you to understand. I don’t think she completely believes the truth, but she is only human, bless her.”
“Right. I can’t think of what she could tell me, but I’ll visit her,” Merlin agreed uncertainly. “Did she know about my father’s past life?”
“Trust me, Merlin, I don’t see how she could have kept it a secret from you if she had. I would hope your mother would have understood that you had a right to the truth about your father if she’d known.”
Merlin nodded. “I agree with you. My mum would’ve told me by now. I’m sure of it,” he decided confidently. “What about Silverlight?”
“Yes. I’d almost forgotten about him. I’ll call him.”
James appeared to be summoning the Pegasus non-verbally because he didn’t speak. With barely any movement from his uncle, Merlin watched as the winged horse, Silverlight, formed before them on the bridge.
The Pegasus was a stately creature. He was mostly white, but his mane, wings and tails shone a beautiful silver.
James stepped forward and he patted his steed on the head. Conjuring a carrot, he gave it to the magical creature, Silverlight eating it happily.
“How does this work?” Merlin wanted to know how Silverlight aided in traveling between worlds.
“Just watch,” James told him. “Go on then, my Silverlight. It’s one,” James told the Pegasus.
Silverlight neighed and then he shifted into a swirl of silver energy. A dark door with a silver handle appeared in his place. A small image of Silverlight trotted about the door like animated decoration before stopping at the head of the conjured door.
“You only have to open the door. You’ll barely feel anything. It’ll be like passing into another room. You may feel a little breeze passing by you, but that’s all,” his uncle reassured him.
“All right,” Merlin said, trying not to sound anxious. “Are you coming?”
James shook his head. “Unfortunately I have other things to attend to. There’s always something. It was good to see you, I have to say,” he said frankly. “Good luck. Make sure to visit your mother.” He requested of him.
“It was nice to meet you even if I’m feeling a little lost about this new reality I’m facing.”
James looked a bit guilty. “Come here,” he directed him.
Merlin let himself be pulled into his uncle’s embrace. He thought it would feel strange since he had only just met his uncle, but Merlin soon was able to relax and accept the sign of affection.
“I’m sure your father would do anything to be alive now. If only just to tell you that he loved you,” his uncle told him softly.
Merlin couldn’t help but recall the brief talk he had with that portrait version of the father of his past life. He believed his uncle.
“Thank you.” Merlin could only say before his voice betrayed him.
James looked on as Merlin took a deep breath and pressed down on the door’s handle. The dark door opened and all he saw was a long white hallway ahead of him. Like he had seen in films when people went on into the afterlife or heaven.
Although now it was the other way around.
He stepped through, looking back once to see his uncle giving him a small smile and a wave.
Merlin thought only a few seconds had gone by before he was back in his office. His office seemed so terribly normal and dull compared to where he had just been.
He looked at the clock on his wall and saw it was almost six. The best thing to do now would be to call Arthur. He had to tell him he was going to be home late. Hopefully his mum wouldn’t mind him stopping by unexpectedly.
Taking out his mobile, he went to Arthur’s number on it.
“Merlin?” Arthur answered the phone.
“Yeah it’s me. Listen, I’m sorry, but I’m going to see my mum. I’ll be home late.”
“Why the sudden need to see her?”
“I just got a sudden desire to learn more about my family history…it’s random, I know, but I want to do this now while it’s still on my mind. I hope you understand.”
“Yeah, sure. I don’t mind. You think there’s a dark secret in your family you don’t know about?” Arthur teased him.
“Ha, nothing that interesting, I’m sure of it. See you later. I love you.”
There was a long pause on the other end that made Merlin wonder if Arthur was still on the line. He was about to speak before Arthur finally broke the silence, “Merlin…” he said tentatively.
“What is it, Arthur? You sound off.”
“It’s nothing. It’s just been a long day. I’ll see you at home later.”
“Okay, bye.”
“I love you,” Arthur told him before Merlin heard him hang up.
Merlin clicked to end the call. It had seemed like Arthur had wanted to tell Merlin something, but he had decided against it. What could Arthur be hiding?
Merlin shook his head. No. He had to see his mum. Arthur would have to wait.
“Merlin! It’s so good to see you,” his mum greeted him at the door.
“Hello, Mum,” he said with a smile. “I’m sorry to drop in like this…”
“No need to apologize, dear. You must be hungry.”
“No, no, it’s all right. I’m not. I just - maybe we should sit down,” Merlin suggested them.
His mother nodded, and directed him to the kitchen so they could sit at the table.
Belle, her Merlin falcon, was perched on the kitchen counter.
She was a brown bird, about the size of a pigeon, and she held a curious gaze upon Merlin as he entered the kitchen.
“So this is Belle,” Merlin said with a smile.
His mother nodded. “She’s a good bird. Very intelligent. Sometimes I feel there’s more to Belle that meets the eye,” she confided in him.
“Can I touch her?” Merlin asked, unsure how this falcon was with strangers.
“Yes, it’s okay. You can,” his mother assured him.
Merlin reached out to pet the bird of prey on the head. Belle’s calculating eyes looked directly into Merlin’s own blue eyes. He suddenly got a flash in his mind’s eye of an orange and cream male cat. He wasn’t sure how he knew it was male, he was just absolutely certain of that.
He removed his hand from the falcon. Clearly he hadn’t experienced the last of his visions.
His mum went to make some tea.
“Mum, why did you get a falcon instead of a cat? I know you grew up learning to like birds, but I’d imagine a cat is a little easier to take care of than a falcon.”
At that, Belle appeared unhappy as she straightened herself to seem taller. It was as if she was trying to prove to Merlin that she was a good bird, not difficult to look after at all. She squawked in displeasure.
“Erm, I’m sorry, Belle,” Merlin apologized to her.
His mother turned around to face him and she confessed, “Why, I admit that it had crossed my mind to get a calm little cat to keep me company, but like you said, birds are a family thing. I recall how my grandmother, your great-grandmother, enjoyed the company of bluebirds. Those birds themselves were quite fond of her. It’s a longstanding tradition that I can’t help but continue. Although, you know those visions of the scarlet-gold phoenix you see?” His mother brought up.
Merlin nodded. “Yes what about them?”
“I didn’t want to tell you before because I thought I was only hearing things. I didn’t want you to think your poor mum was crazy,” she said with a half-smile.
“No, never. I thought you’d believe I’d be losing it after telling you about the phoenix,” Merlin countered.
“Oh Merlin, I’m your mum. I want you to confide in me. It was only the two of us for so long, that I wanted you to feel that you could trust me. And I could always see it in your eyes that you weren’t making up the story of the phoenix. A mother always knows.”
“Thanks,” Merlin said, finding it nice to know that his mother believed in his story. “What did you hear?”
“A cat meowing. I’ve never seen this cat, but I heard it calling out to me, it felt like. I was comforted by the sound.”
Merlin recalled how Arthur had told him that he had been calmed and even grateful to see Cavall in his strange white wolf form. And here was his mum dealing with a similar, positive feeling. Merlin didn’t doubt that the cat she had heard was most likely the orange and cream cat he had seen not a moment ago. It was far too much of a coincidence.
“So there it is. My confession. I haven’t heard the meowing since I took Belle home with me. I almost miss the sound, but oh, Belle is a sweetheart.”
“I believe you, Mum,” Merlin told her with a smile. “Did you say that my great-grandmother liked bluebirds? Her name was Mary Margaret, right?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?” She wondered. She set the cups of tea down on the table. They sat down across from each other.
Merlin was looking for the reason for why his uncle James had brought up Snow White. And it seemed a little too convenient that his own great-grandmother had held a fondness for bluebirds, the very type of bird commonly associated with the princess.
“Did she - this may sound crazy, maybe, but do you believe Mary Margaret looked like Snow White?”
His mother’s eyes widened. She looked more startled than Merlin had expected her to look.
“Sorry, nevermind,” Merlin said hurriedly. He started putting sugar in his tea, and it was only Athena’s subtle magical intervention that kept him from overloading his tea with the sweetener.
“No, no! I’m glad you asked. I just, oh, I can’t believe how the years have flown by. I had almost forgotten…” with that his mother trailed off, her brown eyes held a faraway look. Then she shook herself out of it and smiling at Merlin, she continued on, “But to answer your question, yes, from what I remember of my grandmother, she had a similar look to Snow White. She was quite a lovely, sweet grandmother, I recall. A professional singer too. Oh, she had an almost angelic voice. It’s a shame you never got to know her.”
“Did she ever believe she was Snow White?” Merlin asked her, his curiosity overcoming the feeling of how ridiculous the question was. If his great-grandmother had believed that, surely he would have known about it by now?”
His mother shook her head. “No it wasn’t like that. She never believed she was honestly Snow White. As far as I know at least. She saw her as a character in a fairytale like everyone else, not a real person. Really, any girl with pale skin, dark hair and red lips could claim resemblance to Snow White.”
“You’re right. I didn’t mean to suggest. I just wanted to make sense of some things,” Merlin confessed weakly, knowing that was a poor explanation for wondering if someone in his family looked like a fairytale character.
“I’m glad you’re asking actually. I must say that I found my grandmother to look quite like Disney’s Snow White. It was remarkable. I remember putting picture of her next to the animated Snow White and the similarity was impressive. But then I was young, so I couldn’t help seeing a resemblance. It was not long after seeing the Disney movie for the first time. The thought got into my mind…no matter how unbelievable it sounded.”
“There must be a reason for the possible resemblance,” Merlin mused, thinking aloud.
“Well, to add to that, there is your father’s mother. She’s still alive, I think. She relocated to New Zealand not long after your father died. His death was hard on her.”
“Yes, I remember you telling me that. Her name’s Ella…wait, are you trying to say…?”
As if things couldn’t get any weirder. What did this mean? Was there a reason for him being related to fairytale characters on both sides of his family tree? Could they be incarnations and like him, not even remember their past lives?
Other worlds existed after all. Ceridwen had mentioned the World of Magic - would it be stretching the realm of imagination to believe there was a Fairy Tale World as well? So Snow White and Cinderella could have originally been born in the Fairy Tale World. For some indiscernible reason, they had been reincarnated into a different world: this world Merlin currently called home. And he was the result of the union. His father’s mother was an incarnation of Cinderella and his mother’s grandmother was an incarnation of Snow White.
This fairytale connection on both sides of his family ancestry couldn’t be a fluke. How common was it that two people with fairytale heritage in their blood could come together and fall in love? It was as if fairy dust had been sprinkled, and Merlin was the lucky recipient, the receiver of such fantastical magic.
“It’s not a coincidence,” Athena confirmed to him silently. Her confident tone only served to bolster Merlin’s belief.
His mother answered him with a nod. “Yes, I did see a resemblance to Cinderella. Your dear father saw it too. He told me that his mother actually named him after Prince Phillip in Sleeping Beauty. I knew Ella as quite the romantic. You have her eyes, such a startling, forget-me-not blue as they call it.”
“And my dark hair?” Merlin played along.
“Well of course from me, sweetheart. Who else?” His mother said with a teasing smile. He reached out her hand to ruffle his hair.
Merlin smiled, weakly batting her hand away from his hair.
His mother relented and soon, her expression grew somber. “Now, I think it’s the right time to give you the box,” she declared solemnly as she stood up.
“What box?” Merlin asked.
“Your father wanted you to have it, but he told him it was very important that I give you the box at the proper time. I think now is that time. It looks like you’ve made some discoveries very recently. I can see it in your eyes, you look different. If you could just wait a moment, I have to retrieve the box.”
“All right.”
Merlin waited a few minutes until his mother returned with a golden box in her hands.
“Is that, is that real gold?”
“I think so. It certainly is heavy enough,” she indicated. Merlin moved aside his tea cup so that his mum could set the gold box down in front of him.
“I don’t know how your father got a hold of this box. The only answer can be magic. He gave it to me for safekeeping while he was still in the hospital, dying from cancer. There was no opportunity for him to procure such a box. I was very pregnant with you at that time, as you know. I came to see him during visiting hours one morning, and he was so desperate, adamant, during that visit,” his mother explained, a touch of sadness in her voice.
She continued, “His eyes were almost like looking in that of a stranger’s. He had such a wealth of burden and age in them. It was as if he had gained the wisdom of a much older man over night. He asked me to make sure I give this golden box to you. That there was a time that you would understand. And since he knew that he wouldn’t get to see you come into this world, he wanted to leave you something tangible to remember him by. I was curious, I admit, about what he put in the box, but I can’t open it. I think only you can.”
“Thank you, Mum,” Merlin said. He hadn’t been expecting this, that his father had left him something despite his father never getting the opportunity to see Merlin being born.
“I’ll open it now,” Merlin decided. He felt bad that his mother had kept this box all these years without knowing what was inside. It felt right to finally reveal the box’s contents with his mother beside him.
The box was the length of his hands when placed side by side of each other, so the box wasn’t too big. The size of a modest jewelry box honestly. There was a lock on the box, which Merlin opened as discreetly as he could with his magic. The lock clicked open and Merlin was able to lift the lid of the golden box.
One item in the box was a rolled up letter. The paper felt like high quality parchment and a blue ribbon bow kept the parchment in its current form.
“It’s a letter from your father,” his mother said gently.
“I don’t know if I’m ready to read it yet,” Merlin confessed.
“Of course, dear. Whenever you’re ready,” she assured him.
Setting the letter aside, he saw that there was only one other item in the box. It was a small lynx figurine.
Belle flew over to the table, to have a look herself at what was in the box. She pecked at the box’s lid. Or maybe she had just been feeling neglected, Merlin thought as he pet her on the head.
“Oh come here, Belle,” his mum cajoled her falcon. Belle did so, situating herself on his mother’s shoulder, her intelligent dark eyes ever watchful.
When Merlin touched the lynx, he was surprised to see the little lynx come to life. It was an animated figurine, but it was so sentient that Merlin could only conclude magic as an explanation to its nature.
His mother gasped. “Oh my,” she voiced, her hand over her mouth in shock. The lynx was half the size of Merlin’s palm and presently, the figurine was walking around and acting like any animal - minus any violent tendencies, thank goodness - as the creature circled and then settled down to clean his paws. Or was it a female?
“Mum, I can explain,” Merlin started, though he didn’t know how to begin to tell her that this was magic at work.
Athena spoke up inside his mind. No one but Merlin could hear her, which made for a secret conversation without others being aware of it.
“It’s clear, isn’t it?” she told him. “Your father remembered his past life. That included all the magic knowledge he had during his centuries as a god, before he chose to live a human life. And he also regained his magic not long before he died. That’s why he acted the way he did that day with your mother. And how he was able to conjure this golden box with its contents.”
“Yet he still died despite getting his magic back,” Merlin pointed out grimly, speaking mentally to Athena.
“I hate to say it, but maybe sometimes, magic doesn’t solve everything,” Athena said unhappily.
Merlin knew how hard it would be for Athena to say that considering she was literally magic. On his part, it was hard to accept the fact that possessing magic couldn’t save his father from succumbing to the fatal effects of his cancer.
“The lynx is magic. Real magic,” his mother uttered. Merlin was surprised to hear the seed of true belief in her voice.
“Mum?” Merlin asked, puzzled. What was his mum not telling him?
She gave him a small smile. “When I was a child, I saw a golden man in my dreams. He had eyes that shined like the finest white diamonds. After seeing him, I couldn’t help but open my mind to the possibility that maybe, things like magic are truly real.”
“You saw…?” Merlin breathed out, thoroughly surprised. The God of Magic had appeared to his mother probably years before she had even met his father? What if the God of Magic, his grandfather, had insured that his mum and father came together? That’s why he had been keeping an eye on her when she was still young. Merlin didn’t imagine that he just appeared in people’s dreams unless he had a very calculated reason for it. The thought seemed unnerving, to have one’s life to be dictated like that.
Hopefully the God of Magic had a well-meaning reason for his actions.
“I believe it was a man of magic,” his mother said thoughtfully. “Or not even a man at all. I can’t say. But I felt that he was made of magic. I couldn’t see it as anything else but that. Sometimes he even spoke, either saying my name, Hunith, or strangely, Snow White. I suppose that’s why I became so interested in the stories of Snow White, and then how my grandmother looked like her.”
“Mum, I think, no, I’m sure that dad had magic. Before he died at least, he had it. That’s how he was able to make this box and the lynx. And maybe the letter too.”
His mother breathed out shakily. “I suspected, but the idea was just so strange… yet how he acted and looked that day. It was like he had remembered something he had forgotten, but he didn’t tell me. Maybe he was trying to protect me, but it had worried me a little bit.”
“I can’t even begin to comprehend how he was feeling at the time,” Merlin said. He thought it would be best not to tell his mother about his father remembering an extraordinary past life. Small steps. It would be too much for her to handle. Frankly, he wished he hadn’t had all these revelations unveiled to him in a short span of time. But it was too late to get off this roller coaster now for him.
“But I possess magic myself, Mum. I inherited it from him, I’m sure of it. I gained the ability to use it recently, so that may be this is the right time for me to receive the box.”
“Goodness. Well I guess that means your father and I chose the most appropriate name for you. We had settled on ‘Merlin’ before he died, so he knew what your name would be even if he couldn’t see your birth.”
Merlin smiled at his mum. “Yes you’re right about that. I know this is a lot to take in for you. Having magic is still new to me, but you’re my mum, and you should know that I have it.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, sweetheart. Just don’t dabble in dark magic…I suppose that’s sort of advice I should be giving you now,” she said, looking quite bemused.
“Thanks, mum,” Merlin said. “I promise not to do any dark magic.” He flashed her a quick grin. “I better go. Arthur’s probably wondering what’s taking me so long.”
Merlin gently lifted the fragile tiny lynx who was now fast asleep. He could tell now that the lynx was most definitely a female. He placed her back into the box. Yet he was uncertain for a moment whether he should close the box on the little creature. But since the female lynx was magical, then he decided she should be okay. She had been in this box for years after all. Maybe the lynx returned to a non-sentient form when she was returned inside the golden box.
“Of course, of course. You must say hello to Arthur for me,” said his mother with a kind smile. They stood up and embraced each other as Belle ruffled her feathers, flustered, and flew off his mother’s shoulder.
“I will,” Merlin promised her.
Then she told him that she would get him a sturdy bag to carry the box in. Belle perched herself on Merlin’s forearm and then walked up his arm.
“Belle, what are you doing?” Merlin wondered, puzzled. Belle only looked at him like he was talking gibberish. She bent her head to survey what was inside of his ear.
“I don’t have anything in my ear,” Merlin said.
“She’s having you on, I bet,” declared Athena. Merlin could just see his twisted, mischievous smile inside his mind.
And then the falcon moved to roost on his head.
“Belle!” Merlin exclaimed.
His mother returned. “Oh dear. Belle, come here. Merlin’s head isn’t a nest,” she admonished the bird.
Merlin could hear Athena chuckling inside his mind.
“Haha,” Merlin said silently to his magic.
After his mother persuaded Belle to fly off his head, she gave him the bag for the box. “Here you go, sweetie. I hope to see you soon. Good luck with using your magic wisely.”
He thanked her and then after they exchanged goodbyes and brief hugs, Merlin left his mum’s. Athena lightened the weight of the golden box at Merlin’s request, so he could carry it more easily to his car.
In the car, Merlin asked the Diamantine Compass if it was true about the fairytale characters. That Ella and Mary Margaret, his own grandmother and then great-grandmother, were incarnations of the actual fairytale identities from the Fairy Tale World.
The Compass confirmed his belief.
When Merlin asked why he had fairytale characters on both sides of his family, the Compass said, “The fairytale magic accumulated from their happy endings insured that you would be as magically powerful as you need to be. This world you call home is dull, denying the chance for real magic users to thrive because most people here don’t believe in real magic. The fairytale magic you inherited has enabled you to possess true magic as is your burden.”
Burden, Merlin thought. Great. That sounded cheerful. He never thought those fairytale happy endings could have that sort of impact, but he was grateful to have his magic now and to actually interact with it -- or her really -- in the form of Athena.
He opened the box and took out the lynx from it. He couldn’t help but smile as the small creature licked his thumb and let Merlin pet her. He contemplated the reason why his father had left him this magical lynx. The letter he could understand, but there had to be more purpose to the lynx other than an interesting magical item to be entertained by.
Athena pointed out, “But the Compass does have storage space. I can store your golden box and everything inside it in the Compass. That way, you will never lose the box because the Compass is embedded into your forearm. Barring an axe murderer coming to cut off your arm, it’s the best thing to do to protect the box.”
“Thank you, Athena, for that great visual,” Merlin said dryly. “All right. If you can do that, then go ahead. I’d prefer to keep the box close to me. This is the best way to accomplish that.”
He returned the lynx to her home inside the box.
A glowing golden hand, undoubtedly that of a female’s, appeared to grasp the box of gold.
“Is that your hand?” Merlin asked, a bit unnerved at seeing a hand appear out of nowhere. It was odd to think that his magic had a hand. And he really could use the memories of his past life now to make sense of these things.
“Hands can be useful,” Athena only said matter-of-factly. Her ‘hand’ disappeared along with the box and a moment later, the Compass glowed fleetingly. “There. Your box is stored securely in the Compass.”
“Thank you, Athena,” he said to her. “Maybe I should name the lynx,” Merlin decided suddenly. “She deserves a name.”
“What are your choices?”
Merlin bit his lip. He turned on the ignition and backed the car out of his mum’s driveway. Then he felt like he was getting a light bulb moment and he declared, “Just the one. Perijä. It means ‘heir’ in Finnish. That name just seems right to me. That has to be her name: Perijä.”
“I say it’s never bad to go with your instincts. Even if your instincts give you a random Finnish word. You don’t know any Finnish, do you?”
“No, just that word. And I figure that the name choice is probably the least strange thing that has happened to me lately,” Merlin mused.
“You’re jealous,” the Prince remarked with an amused smile.
From his seat across from Morgaine, the Prince reached out to grab a red apple from the fruit bowl on the table. He bit into the apple as he stared his half-sister down.
“I am not, Arthur,” Morgaine said, sounding affronted. She stroked her black mink pet, Lumottu, as she spoke. “It’s just that I’m your sister and your wife! And Nimueh is just a conniving, manipulative witch. Surely you must see that.”
“It’s half-sister. And I don’t like you speaking ill of Nimueh. She is my advisor and highly regarded by me no matter what you say. You may be family by blood, but we only became familiar with each other in the eleventh century. I’ve known Nimueh for much longer than that. She helped me to look after Gwydion all those centuries ago.”
“Perhaps she was trying to stay on your good side,” Morgaine said curtly.
The Prince took another bite of the apple. His black wolf, Achilles, was getting restless. His glowing golden eyes showed his displeasure at Morgaine’s contrariness.
“The point is, Morgaine, that Nimueh is capable of expressing motherly affection as she was one to Gwydion. You, my dear half-sister, don’t have a maternal bone in your body. You rather seduce men and then you kill some of them when you’re especially bored.”
“Only the not so handsome ones. And so what, that simply means Nimueh is a good actress. She’s tricking you.”
“Which leads me back to my belief that you’re jealous. You are seeing what you want to see, Morgaine. Unfortunately, your version of the truth is a lie. If it bothers you that I may trust Nimueh more than you, then it’s a fact you must accept,” he said firmly.
Achilles started growling. “Quiet now, Achilles,” the Prince cajoled him, petting him on the head. He tossed the rest of the apple to his wolf.
“That’s not right. You shouldn’t trust her more than me,” Morgaine declared.
“Well then, maybe you should defect to the other side,” the Prince advised flippantly. “Though King Merlin would sooner set the Big Bad Wolf on you than ever trust you. I still can’t believe that bloody King managed to gain his loyalty.”
“Isn’t that Bran who inspired the Wolf’s loyalty?”
“Whatever,” the Prince remarked with a careless wave of his hand. “I’m sure that the King was the one who put the boy up to it.”
“Well this talk has been pointless,” Morgaine announced, sounding annoyed. She stood up, placing Lumottu over her shoulder.
“Goodbye, Morgaine,” the Prince wished her in mock-cheerfulness.
She rolled her eyes at him and left the room.
The next weekend, Merlin went over to Gwen and Lancelot’s. Over the last few days, Arthur hadn’t been feeling well and he had been in a rather grumpy mood Merlin had to admit. Yet unfortunately Arthur wouldn’t tell him what had led him to such a strop. Merlin assumed it was something at work that was stressing Arthur out.
At any rate, Arthur had gone to spend time with his mates while Merlin decided to pay Gwen and Lancelot a visit. Gwen had called a few days earlier telling him that she had a favour to ask of him. She and Lancelot were going with their young daughter, Lily, to Disneyland Paris and she was hoping Merlin could house-sit while they were away. Merlin had agreed and had set up a time to visit so they could go over any necessary details.
“Uncle Merlin!” five-year old Lily exclaimed happily after Gwen allowed him into the house.
Lily hugged him, and Merlin couldn’t help but smile at her exuberance. She was wearing a golden ballgown, a Belle costume no doubt, complete with fairy wings at her back and a star-topped magic wand. She looked ready to go to Disneyland.
Gwen greeted Merlin warmly. Lancelot came down the stairs and when he reached Merlin, he clapped him on the back.
Merlin got a sudden vision when Lancelot greeted him. It was of Lancelot dressed as a knight with a silver wolf by his side. Merlin was next to Arthur as Lancelot handed him a sword in its sheath.
“This is Excalibur. You must be aware though that this sword is more than a weapon of battle, Prince Arthur.”
“I’m in exile with Merlin, Sir Lancelot. I’m not a prince any longer,” Arthur informed him grimly. He slowly removed the powerful sword from its sheath.
“But you will be King one day,” Merlin assured him confidently.
“Your sorcerer is right,” agreed Sir Lancelot.
He heard Lancelot call him back to reality. “Merlin? Merlin?”
“Oh, sorry. My mind drifted off there,” Merlin apologized sheepishly.
“You looked like you were in another world,” Gwen remarked.
Merlin rubbed his brow. “It has been a strange past few days,” he admitted. “But nevermind me. I’m fine,” he assured Gwen who was looking at him in concern.
He gave her as big of a smile as he could, which appeared to assure her somewhat.
Merlin turned his attention to Lily, smiling at her. “And how excited are you to go to Disneyland for the first time?” he asked her.
She grinned up at him, and then spread her arms wide. “This much!” she answered enthusiastically.
Lancelot said, chuckling, “Gwen has been having a hard time getting Lily out of her costume. Who are you looking forward to seeing most, sweetheart?” He asked Lily.
“Oh honey, don’t start,” Gwen said with shake of her head. Merlin saw the amusement in his friend’s eyes.
“Belle!” Lily said easily.
Merlin smiled. The gown had completely given her away. He took the little girl into his arms. “Now I don’t remember Belle having fairy wings and a magic wand.”
“I’m being creative,” Lily declared.
Then she was looking at Merlin’s blue eyes as if she were transfixed by them. She turned to face her father and she asked him, “Daddy, will Cinderella be there too?”
Merlin was so shocked that he almost dropped Lily. That couldn’t be a fluke. Then again, children tended to believe in things that adults didn’t. And if it was true, and he had inherited Cinderella’s blue eyes, then Lily must have seen that. How, he had no idea.
“Yes, she probably will be,” Lancelot said to her.
“I could put some magic into that funny-looking wand she has,” Athena suggested through their mental communication.
“Don’t you dare. That’s just asking for trouble,” Merlin shot back at her silently.
“I’m bored. I need to be used. Come on, there must be some magic you’d like to do,” Athena probed him.
“Later. I promise, Athena. We’ll do something later. After I leave here,” Merlin told her firmly.
Arthur returned early from a game of footy with his mates. He had claimed that he was just feeling under the weather, and only Leon - good old sees through everything Leon - gave him a suspicious look as if he had sensed that there something more going on with Arthur. More than Arthur was willing to confess to anyone, especially - no matter how wrong it felt - to Merlin.
When he got home, Cavall and Lux greeted him, albeit Lux half-heartedly since the little dog obviously loved Merlin more than him.
He let the dogs out, and then sunk down on to the couch. Then he was overcome by the sound of a woman weeping in despair.
A vision followed where he was witnessing a memory of his five-year old self, but Arthur was positive it wasn’t from this life. The clothing more suitable for a history museum gave that away. It was him, without a doubt, but they were memories that he’d previously been unaware of. He had a feeling it was related to that forgotten dream he had days ago.
He was deep in the forest, and a shower of rain swept through the wooded area. In a clearing a few feet away from where his younger self hid anxiously, there was a heartbreaking scene taking place. A woman - no it was a nymph he was certain of that - with long blonde hair was collapsed over a body and she was weeping inconsolably.
Three brown-haired nymphs remained near the tearful nymph in a show of support.
Arthur saw the five-year old him appear guilty, but Arthur wasn’t sure why. Although he did notice the purple finch who was on the shoulder of his younger self.
“Krola,” the five-year old whispered to the finch. “Will the rain ever stop?”
“I don’t know,” the finch answered.
Arthur was startled to realize that the finch had actually spoken, but it felt right to him. Somehow it made all the sense in the world that the little bird could talk, and that his younger self had a close bond with the bird.
“Hephaestion, my son. I can’t bear it!” the blonde nymph exclaimed in anguish, continuing to cry. She looked up at the sky then. “No, please not yet,” she said, speaking to someone Arthur couldn’t see.
“It’s my fault,” the five-year old him said quietly to the finch, Krola, apparently. “I shouldn’t have come.”
The dead man’s mother whispered something in her son’s ear. She brushed his hair aside affectionately and kissed him on his brow.
A moment later, the mother and her nymph companions stepped back. They watched as the man’s body glowed and was lifted up into the skies, the rain still falling like tears to the ground.
The companions embraced the grieving mother. Then they separated and each nymph moved into particular positions, it seemed, and each one raised a hand. The blonde nymph magically transformed into a big old oak tree while her three devoted companions turned into younger oak trees around her. That change signified that they were dryads.
And the rain still fell.
The five-year old Arthur walked away. The finch had turned into a small grey furball of a kitten and the younger Arthur carried her in his arms, stroking her to undoubtedly soothe his nerves.
The scene shifted to another day in the forest, Arthur thought. Although with the rain still falling, it was difficult to tell.
Now his five-year old self had a Norwegian Elkhound walking nervously beside him. That had to be Krola again. Why it made sense to him that Krola could change into different creatures, he wasn’t sure.
The younger him was carrying a single white rose over to the oak tree that the blonde nymph had transformed into.
Solemnly, he placed the white rose in front of the tree, the flower leaning against the tree’s bark. Then he bowed his head, and the puppy did too.
“I’m sorry,” the five-year old Arthur said.
“Thank you, child,” the voice of the dead man’s mother echoed around the immediate area. “But do not blame yourself for the sins of your father. Stay true and you will have a blessed future, young prince.”
The scene changed yet again. Arthur was in what looked like a medieval dining hall. He saw himself and Merlin in the big room. Krola as a white wolf was beside the other him while this past version of Merlin had a scarlet-gold phoenix perched on his shoulder.
Unfortunately this memory had the two of them arguing, and Arthur found it hard to watch.
“I should have known. You condemned my father to death, and that was only the beginning,” Merlin shot out angrily. “You couldn’t stop there. But instead with me, you condemned me to hell. It may have been a few days, but as they say, a fleeting time in hell can feel like an eternity to the victim. So thank you, Arthur, for that.”
The Arthur from memory visibly cringed at the accusations. “I was just a boy when your father passed away--”
“Murdered,” Merlin interrupted him sharply, his blue eyes glittering with anger. “I may have been able to look past it before. You were so young and so pathetically under your father’s thumb after all. But I don’t have room for forgiveness now.”
“Merlin, please… I have faith we can work this out. I’ll give you all the time you need. I understand you’re upset with me. You have every right to be.”
“For days, Arthur, I had my free will stripped away and my magic - no one has any right to control it but me.”
“I told you the reason for why I did what I did,” said the Arthur of memory tiredly.
“I don’t care,” Merlin raged. “You still did it. Yours was the face I saw as my world collapsed around me. You just stood there, a cold unfeeling thing, and so ready to destroy the bond we had built especially during our time in exile.”
“Merlin, please, I’m sorry for all I’ve done to divide us. My heart aches with the loss of the closeness we used to share. I don’t know what else to say,” Arthur’s former self admitted wearily.
“Then I will speak,” Merlin said. “I want Camelot to thrive as a magic-accepting kingdom just as much as you do. I will continue to do my best to insure that. I may have sworn my loyalty to you and to Camelot, but I don’t love you any longer. Not like before.”
“Merlin, no, you don’t mean that,” he pleaded with him.
“What we had before, it will never be like that again,” Merlin continued to emphasize his stance.
Before Arthur’s past self could respond, Merlin and his phoenix magically vanished from the room.
“You don’t mean that,” Arthur’s past self repeated softly, but he looked like he didn’t quite believe his words since he looked devastated.
Arthur was grateful when the memories ended and he woke up. He desperately hoped he could forget what he’d seen particularly that last memory where his relationship with Merlin had gone sour. He never wanted that to happen to him and the Merlin he knew. He couldn’t bear it.
Unfortunately, he still remembered all that he had witnessed. Maybe seeing these memories of some past life of his was a good thing. He had been short with Merlin these last few days. He knew Merlin wasn’t happy that Arthur had been so moody and hadn’t confided in him as to the reason why. These visions had to be the push to get Arthur to rectify the situation before it could result in a break up. And that would be terrible considering they were engaged. To be on the path to getting married and ruin all that? Arthur couldn’t risk it.
It was that blasted Prince of Darkness’ fault. He had set Arthur on edge with talking about killing a child of all people. Arthur didn’t see a boy having some mind control power being enough reason to throw away his own life and murder him.
Seeing that blonde dryad, the mother of the dead man, made Arthur surer than ever that he didn’t want the loved ones left behind to suffer in grief. It was an awful feeling and he couldn’t inflict that on anyone.
And really, the Prince was a hypocrite as he himself had used mind control on Arthur. He was certain of that. Common man, his arse. Arthur was onto him, no matter how powerful this Prince appeared to be. He hadn’t won this time. Arthur hadn’t any inclination to follow what the Prince wanted him to do. After all, he had only told him he ‘understood’ what he meant about Bran needing to be destroyed. Arthur hadn’t actually agreed to kill anyone.
Yet it was probably best to avoid any contact with the boy in question. If Arthur ever encountered him, that was. Who knew what the Prince would make him do if Arthur met this Bran.
Part 4 -->