Paperlegends: The Raven Knife (4)

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Masterpost



Bran (March 2011 photo manip by reni_m)

Merlin was grateful when Arthur appeared to be in a better mood the following week. He still didn’t tell Merlin what had been bothering him in the first place, but then Merlin was keeping information from Arthur too. So really, they were both even.

And as James had informed him, Merlin would remember all the details of his past life. Judging by his visions sometimes involving Arthur, but clearly a past version of him, Merlin had to conclude that Arthur had past life memories to remember too. Arthur could be having memory flashes like him. Hopefully they would both fully remember their past lives at the same time and they could have a proper talk about them.

While he debated attempting to bring up the subject with Arthur, he never felt it was the right time. Athena advised him against it because well, Merlin was only getting bits and pieces of a past life and some of Gwydion’s life. His magic thought it’d be better if he continued to sort out these new revelations and acclimate himself to his new reality of multiple worlds and possessing magic. And then, when he and Arthur both remembered, both of them would know and they could finally discuss where to go from there.

Although there was the matter of the Prince of Darkness. Merlin didn’t trust the Prince at all not to make a mess of things. He felt a sense of foreboding thinking about the black-eyed Arthur from another world.

Fortunately, a welcome distraction came that weekend when shockingly, people moved into the infamous haunted house. Arthur was out walking the dogs while Merlin had stayed at home to do some graphic design work.

Merlin couldn’t help but be uneasy. After all, there was still the issue of the cursed tree in the backyard. He had to warn the new neighbors about it.

So he walked across the street to talk to them. He had to admit that he was curious as well to see who would move into such a house. Surely the new people had to have heard the stories about the house and why no one had lived in it for years?

A boy rushed out of the house before Merlin could cross the walkway up to the front door to ring the doorbell.

The boy stopped when he saw Merlin. Merlin was surprised that this eleven year old boy appeared to recognize him. But truly what was most startling about the boy was well, everything about him. Merlin was positive the boy of slim stature had to be albino. To describe him in one word: colourless.

Virtually only his clothing gave the boy any colour to his appearance. He was wearing a grey shirt with Captain America’s shield emblazoned on it and jeans shorts. But barring that dose of normal, the boy’s skin was so pale that it looked like it had been bleached. His hair was pure white defying the idea that only older people had white hair. His eyelashes were near invisible that they only served to make his tawny golden eyes even more striking. Merlin didn’t even know people could have eyes that colour.

Merlin felt a bit awkward to be caught staring at him. The boy had appeared to notice and put on a pair of dark sunglasses to hide his startling eyes from sight. With his eyes hidden behind the dark shades, the effect helped slightly in masking his overall strangeness.

Merlin went up to him. “Hi, I’m Merlin. I live across the street. I’m sorry for staring… it’s just--”

“Not everyone sees an albino everyday, I know. There’s no need to apologize. You’re not the first to stare. I’m Bran, by the way,” the boy introduced himself.

Merlin was struck by how mature the boy sounded. But when he told Merlin his name, the pieces fell into place. This couldn’t be a coincidence. The boy’s name was Bran… Gwydion’s friend.

“Wait. Are you Gwydion’s friend? You’ve been reincarnated, I’m assuming.”

Bran nodded. “You’ve been in contact with James?”

“Yes. You know him?”

“Well, by virtue of him being Gwydion’s father, yes I do. I’ve remembered my past life since I was five, six years ago now. You’re lucky you haven’t remembered yet. It’s better to remember when you’re older.”

“How do you know I haven’t remembered?”

“You would’ve recognized me if you’d remembered,” answered Bran logically. “But don’t worry. It’ll all make sense soon.”

“Where’s Gwydion then? James told me he was reincarnated too?”

Bran twisted his lips in amusement. “Actually, I was on my way to hunt Gwydion down. He ran off again. He does that. I’m sure I’ll find him.”

“You’re not telling me something.”

“I can’t tell you what’s happened to Gwydion because it’s better to see for yourself. Oh, and if you’re going to see Robin and Ophelia, then you should know they’ve been reincarnated too and remember their past lives. So if they act a bit…odd to you, then that’s why. They know who you are - the you in your past life at least.”

“Did you all move here because of me?”

“Most likely yes. You live with Arthur, right?”

“Yes. We’ve been engaged as of six months ago. What difference does that make?”

Bran shrugged, appearing like he had misspoken. “None… just, congratulations on your engagement.”

Merlin raised his brow at Bran. “Thank you. Look, the reason I came over was to warn you about this house being haunted. And the cursed tree in the backyard. A girl died falling from that tree. It’s probably best to get it cut down.”

“Thanks for the warning. The tree has been taken care of. No one else will die from it.”

“Good. Well, I don’t want to keep you from finding Gwydion. It was nice to meet you, Bran.”

“Thank you, and to you likewise. It’s good to see you’re doing well in your reincarnated life. I had a lot of respect for you in my past life,” he said frankly.

Then Bran gave him a small wave and went on his way.

Merlin stood there. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to meet this Robin and Ophelia. He had accomplished what he had come here for: to warn about the cursed tree. And that led him to meeting this Bran who he had only heard about. Simply put, he had gained more than he had planned on. He was especially curious what Gwydion was like in this life.

He couldn’t help recall that dream about Gwydion, when that woman - Morgaine - brought up Gwydion possibly being reincarnated as something other than a human being. But as to what, Merlin could only guess. Had to be some sort of creature, right?

The door opened yet again before Merlin could ring the doorbell.

An older blond man with light blue eyes had opened it. “Oh, you must be Merlin. I’m Robin. Robin Lancaster.”

Merlin guessed that the man was probably in his mid-thirties, seven years older than him.

“Yes. I talked to Bran. He told me about you and Ophelia. That you knew me in my past life, the life I haven’t remembered yet. So maybe it’d be best if I come back when I remember. I suspect it’s a hassle to talk to someone who doesn’t have all his memories.”

“No, honestly, it’s not a problem. Come in,” Robin invited him in. Merlin couldn’t say no, so he walked into the house. What was the harm? And if Robin was okay with Merlin not being fully aware of things, then all the better. “My sister, Alice, well, twin sister knew you much better than me. She met you way long before I met you. She was quite fond of you, in a role model type of way. I remember how she really liked the little red dragon carving you gave her.”

“Oh okay. Thanks I guess. Is she--?” Merlin began to ask. He wondered if Alice had been reincarnated too, and if she had, then she appeared to live elsewhere

“Alice died six years ago, I’m sad to say,” said a woman’s voice from the top of the stairs. “I’m Ophelia. Nice to meet you,” she said to him as she came down the stairs.

Upon seeing Ophelia who looked to be in her teens - sixteen years old maybe -, Merlin could only assume she was Bran’s cousin or related to him in some way. She had the same pale skin and snow-white hair, though her eyes were a pale green shade and not as striking as Bran’s tawny eyes. Overall, she gave off an ethereal look as if she wasn’t of this world. She was wearing a turquoise summer dress with straps, and a necklace with a white raven pendant was around her neck.

“I’m sorry to hear she’s gone. Can I ask how Alice died?”

“Car accident,” Robin informed him shortly, obviously not much for discussing his twin’s death. “Alice had been interested in seeing you in this life, but it was tricky with you not remembering yet. And she and I were busy raising Ophelia and Bran. They kept our hands full.”

“Hey,” Ophelia protested, though she didn’t look serious about it. She shook hands with Merlin. “Don’t listen to a word Robin says,” she said conspiratorially to Merlin. “Poor man is in complete denial about getting a grey hair the other day.”

“You made that up, Ophelia,” Robin said firmly. “There was nothing there.”

“I made you look. I win,” she shot back at him, teasing him. She grinned.

“I guess this is what Bran meant about you two acting a little oddly,” Merlin put in, somewhat bemused by the interaction between the two of them. There had to be nearly a twenty year difference between Robin and Ophelia and yet they seemed to act like an old married couple, honestly. Or close friends who had known each other for years, which conceivably they probably did if their past lives were taken into account.

“Bran has a point,” Robin confessed. “But don’t worry. Ophelia behaves in public.”

“Oh you didn’t just go there.”

“Alice called you a little devil, didn’t she?”

“I thought it was a nice term of endearment,” countered Ophelia smartly.

“Where did all of you live before coming here?” Merlin wondered.

“Rosebrooke Castle,” Robin said smoothly. “The castle is still our main residence - well, mine actually since I inherited it from my mother. I don’t know how long we’ll stay here, but hopefully we’ll make some money when we sell this house.”

“What do you do for living, Robin?” Merlin asked him.

“I have an unconventional job, let’s say,” said Robin. “It’s not a 9 to 5 job. I collect important items that can be a bit tricky to get. I do get paid something for every item I get. It’s good work. At least it gives me something meaningful to do. These items…well, we all have things that we consider valuable to us even if maybe they don’t appear valuable to others. My job is to make sure the items go where they are most needed.”

“Sort of like a treasure hunter?” Merlin tried to deduce.

“Except without the ‘X marks the spot’ treasure maps,” Ophelia contributed.

“Something like that,” Robin agreed.

“Bran told me that you lot were here because of me and Arthur? Is that right?”

“Yes,” Robin acknowledged. “Sorry. The financial investment is more of our cover story. But yeah, we thought it’d be nice to be here when you two remembered. Ophelia actually had a little adventure with your Arthur back in her past life.”

“You did?” Merlin asked in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting that.

“Oh yes,” Ophelia confirmed. “I guess you can say Arthur and I became friends after it. I was a bit of an adventure-seeker in my past life. Now as well, I suppose.”

“I can vouch for that,” Robin said. “Why don’t we sit down? Are you hungry?” He asked Merlin.

Merlin had to admit he was feeling a little hungry. “Yes.”

The three of them entered the kitchen.

“I’ll get something together,” Robin said.

“I’m sure you’re curious about our past lives.”

“Did you two have a big age difference then too?” Merlin asked.

He and Ophelia sat down across from one another.

“Not as much as it is now,” Robin informed him as he prepared some sandwiches. “This new life of ours is a switcharound for us. I was nine years younger than Ophelia when I first met her. Ophelia likes to tease me, as you saw, because now I’m the older one. It goes to show how maddening reincarnation can be. Bran was four years older than me in my past life, and now I have to act as his parent. Fortunately since he has his past memories, he doesn’t require much disciplining.”

“I of course don’t have issues with the arrangement because Bran’s my cousin - in this life and the previous one,” said Ophelia. “I was always older than him. I’m used to putting my foot down. Not that Bran is a troublemaker.”

“That’s more you,” Robin teased her.

“Arthur and I lucked out then since we’re both around the same age.”

“Very lucky,” Ophelia emphasized. “Robin and I were married in our past lives. It’s never easy to adapt to a situation like this topsy-turvy one.”

Merlin could see the reason for that. After all, it was generally frowned upon for a sixteen year old girl and a man two decades older than her to be together. He could imagine Ophelia was just waiting to get older to make their relationship work.

“You two haven’t--? You know,” Merlin couldn’t believe he had just asked that. It was none of his business even if these people apparently knew him and Arthur too. The whole thing felt awkward to him. It shouldn’t matter to him if Robin and Ophelia had slept together - considering their peculiar situation, the rules got complicated.

Robin answered him as he set the sandwiches down on the kitchen table. “No, we haven’t. I won’t allow it. Not yet at least.”

Ophelia only sighed resignedly, not bothering to give her own answer. But her expression spoke volumes.




In the park, Bran’s attention was diverted to a brunette girl a little older than him. Maybe thirteen?

There was undeniably something about this girl. She was sitting on a picnic blanket reading a book. Nearby, a bag nearby spilled out a few more books and a small bowl full of strawberries was opposite it. A vase of red, yellow and lavender roses was stationed on the blanket; which was especially peculiar because what thirteen year old did that?

This world often felt like night and day to the world of his past life, the World of Magic. He remembered how everything just felt so alive, how the trees sang with life, and how when you listened closely enough, the nymphs played their lilting melodies as an ode to magic. Even now, the World of Magic was still like that despite the passing of time, change of fashions and advancement of magic-imbued technologies.

When he’d remembered and reunited with Gwydion, gaining his Raven Knife in the process, Bran had initially yearned to return to the World of Magic. He’d wanted to leave the dull world that he had been reborn into.

Now he recognized that it had been an impulsive decision brought on by the shock of remembering a past life where he’d lived to an old age. To be only five and remember all that was so painfully traumatizing. It didn’t help that Alice died in the car accident not long after Bran had remembered.

While Alice had been younger than him and Gwydion in their past lives, she had been a close friend of theirs. Gwydion had even married her.

During that traumatic time, Bran with Gwydion had run away to the World of Magic. They had managed it for a few weeks with Gwydion’s eighteen year old half-sister, Eilonwy, helping them out. But then Bran had grown guilty for leaving Robin and Ophelia. He knew that running away had been the wrong thing to do.

When they’d returned home, Robin and Ophelia had been grateful and relieved to see them return. Then, as expected, Robin had promptly taken away the Raven Knife and grounded Bran for half a year of no traveling to other worlds. Ophelia probably would’ve exacted a more severe punishment, but she hadn’t remembered until the following year. Bran had respected Robin’s decision.

He may remember being an adult, and he could act like one, but his body was small and there were things he couldn’t do and dangers that he couldn’t ignore. Not to mention he didn’t possess the full amount of magic that he had had in his past life. The only real magical abilities he had now were associated with being the Raven Knife’s wielder and that stupid mind control power.

Sure, he had Gwydion by his side who still had as much magic as he’d possessed in his past life. Gwydion was just as powerful magically as he’d always been. But Bran had realized, rationally, that he couldn’t continue to live in the World of Magic.

If there were people like this girl who seemed to be magical in a way, then there had to be more to this dull world than first impressions would give him. Despite this world not being on par with the magic levels of the World of Magic, it was not a world beyond hope.

“Hullo,” he introduced himself to the intriguing girl. “Sorry to interrupt you. I’m Bran.”

The brown-haired girl looked up at him, replacing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh hi. I’m Mithian,” she said, standing up.

She had a distinctly French accent. If that wasn’t another sign then Bran didn’t know what was.

“Are you from France?” he asked her.

Mithian nodded. “My family and I moved here last summer actually.”

“I just moved here with my godfather and cousin the other day. You know this area much better than I do, I’m sure.”

“Oh well yes. I guess,” she said with a shrug. Then Mithian bit her lip and looked down at the book she’d been reading. Bran could see that she seemed a bit uneasy at looking at him. “Are you - do you not go outside a lot? You just look so pale…um…,” she paused.

Bran could tell she was uncertain on how to bring up his strange appearance as politely as possible.

Here we go again, Bran thought.

“It’s just a genetic condition. That’s why I look how I look. I might burn more easily in the sun, but I can still live a normal life,” he told her.

Then he thought to himself that really, his life was far from normal by traditional standards.

Mithian appeared pensive. “Oh, I’m sure I read this in an encyclopedia one time…is it albinism?”

“Yes. But don’t worry it’s not contagious,” Bran joked lightly.

“I would never think that. Oh!” she exclaimed hurriedly. “I’m sorry if I said something offensive…”

“You didn’t. Really. Don’t worry about it,” Bran assured her. “I came here to look for my wayward bluebird. Have you seen him, Mithian?”

She smiled. “Well, there was a sweet little bluebird who approached me. I gave him a bug to eat and then he sang a little tune. He had the loveliest sky blue colouring. He flew up that big tree over there,” Mithian pointed to the tree up ahead to her right.

“That sounds like Gwydion. The flirt,” Bran informed her, grinning.

Mithian giggled. “Sorry to hear he flew off on you. Does he do that often?”

“No, he was just so excited to explore the new area that he couldn’t wait for me.”

“Why don’t you keep him in a cage?” Mithian wondered.

“Gwydion really doesn’t like that,” Bran explained. “But it’s all right. We make it work. He’s good about returning home.”

Of course he wouldn’t say that Gwydion could just magick himself out of a cage rendering the enclosure useless. And then Gwydion’d be all annoyed with him for caging him up. No, Gwydion was far from a typical bluebird.

“Good luck with getting him,” Mithian wished him.

“Thanks. I’ll be back,” he said before he headed off in the direction she had pointed out to him.



Merlin returned back home after the lunch with Robin and Ophelia.

He sat down at his desk in the study. After spending time with people who knew more about his past life than he did at the present distracted him from doing his work. It was all so jarring and well, Merlin felt frankly impatient to just remember this past life of his.

“Athena?” He asked her. “Could you bring out Perijä?”

Athena did just that and brought the lynx out of the Diamantine Compass.

“I think she was missing you,” remarked Athena.

Merlin smiled softly at the little lynx. He stroked the animal’s fur with one finger. “What’s the story behind you, I wonder? Why did my father leave you for me?”

He was taken aback by a flash of memory unraveling before him in his mind.

Merlin saw his father from his past life with Perijä - looking like a normal-sized lynx -- beside him. And then he saw himself at four years of age. He couldn’t help but marvel that he could actually remember something from that young age. But he didn’t mind at all considering he got to see the father he never knew in this life. He would take what he could get.

A fawn with shaky legs was beside his younger self. “Look, Father, Zlota’s a fawn for the first time,” his four-year old self said enthusiastically.

His father’s lynx nosed the fawn to help the smaller creature with her balance. Yet Zlota, as the fawn’s name was, still lost her footing and fell to the forest ground, her long legs splayed out.

“And how is it as a fawn, Zlota?” His father asked the fawn as if he expected her to speak.

Merlin felt that he shouldn’t have been surprised when the fawn did actually speak. Not to mention that he felt the presence of a strong bond between the fawn and him.

“It’s not for me,” Zlota said promptly, working on standing up again.

His younger self sat down beside Zlota and helped her out. Afterwards, he kissed his fawn on the forehead affectionately.

“It’s easy to see that Zlota will be some type of bird,” Perijä said self-assuredly.

“Yes, yes, you always say that, Perijä,” his father addressed the lynx with a wry shake of the head.

Then the memory faded away leaving Merlin more puzzled and yearning for more moments, more visions of his father.

Also, there was the matter of talking animals and the fawn he felt was especially close to him. Now he realized that in those other memories of his past life, Zlota had to have been there too. Even though he hadn’t seen her in those other visions, Merlin was convinced that her presence had still been a part of him. It was only now, in this flash of memory that he got to see Zlota come to life before his eyes, become a real entity.

What if Zlota was that scarlet-gold phoenix he had been seeing throughout his life? Maybe his anxiety attacks had wanted him to realize he was missing her, Zlota the phoenix. His father’s lynx had hinted at Zlota becoming some kind of bird. That had to be a clue that the phoenix and Zlota were one. Somehow.

Merlin knew he was missing a key detail. Although querying the Compass was tempting, he had enough new things to digest like what he’d learned about Alice, Robin’s twin sister. A person he had known in a past life had already long since died. It was almost painful to learn she was gone. After he remembered, he would never get the chance to talk to her and reminisce as it were about their past lives.

It was simply best to wait until he’d naturally remember on his own.

Merlin looked to the lynx sitting in his hand. “So you could talk at one point, right? Can you talk now?” He wondered thoughtfully.

The lynx stood up and she nuzzled herself against Merlin’s thumb. Merlin took that as a no.

“I guess you had a bond with my father. That’s why he left you for me. In some way, it’s like you’re here to look out for me when he can’t. But you’re so small,” Merlin said.

Athena spoke up then. “Actually, she has a lot of compressed magic inside of her. It’s rather impressive that your father made her when he was so ill. Maybe she can’t speak because the magic is meant for something else. Though I do think the lynx could’ve had the ability to speak if your father had engineered her that way. Don’t underestimate her. That’s all I can say.”

Merlin looked thoughtfully at the lynx. When he heard Arthur call his name, having returned with the dogs, Merlin put the lynx - after a little kiss to her forehead - back into the Compass for safekeeping.

He then left the study to see Arthur.




Bran looked up at the tree. “Mind helping me out, Gwydion?” he asked the bird silently.

“Okay. Hold on,” Gwydion said.

Gwydion sounded the same as he did when Bran first met him in their past lives. Their first meeting had taken place when they were just children. Gwydion had been ten while Bran had been eleven.

And now in this life, everything seemed to come full circle as Bran was again eleven, and Gwydion sounded like a ten-year old boy even though he looked far from a boy in this life. Not that Gwydion minded all that much as he had a fascination in dealing with new situations and disliked the hum-drum of repetitive tasks.

It was the opposite of Bran who had thrived in his past life as a nobleman’s son in the time of King Merlin’s Camelot. He had trained as a warrior using magic and weaponry. He found the regimented day comforting and right. His family had been a part of the warrior faction of the White Diamond Clan. As his family’s heir, he’d strived to always do his best and make his parents proud.

He had had three younger sisters to be a role model to. He’d made sure he set a good example for them. His next eldest sister, Arya, had always joked that Bran was too mature to be real. He remembered the many times he had trained with her, Arya always ambitious and determined to defeat her older brother. And there were even a few times that she had.

Bran saw grooves appear on the tree, so he could have footholds as he climbed up the trunk of it. He was high up in the tree before he spotted Gwydion. Bran grabbed a thick branch and held on to it, then boosted himself to sit on the branch. Years of his past life climbing trees in medieval forests certainly helped. The muscle memory was still there. Yet Bran really would rather not peer down to see how high up he was. He wasn’t afraid of heights - to have that fear had been considered a weakness in his past life and he had done his best to bottle it and overcome the fear.

Even so, he knew it wouldn’t be any help to test this “not being afraid of heights” developed skill.

At Bran’s eye level, Gwydion was perched on a little branch he probably conjured himself.

“What took you so long?” Gwydion spoke into Bran’s mind.

The rest of their conversation took place through their mind-to-mind communication.

Bran looked at him. “No wings,” he quipped back. He stroked Gwydion’s back gently with only two of his fingers. Gwydion only fidgeted a little bit. Bran knew that Gwydion didn’t want to admit he enjoyed it. The protests were usually half-hearted at best. “I heard you sang to that girl, Mithian.”

“I did not,” Gwydion protested.

“Gwydion…” Bran started.

“Well I didn’t want to freak her out if I started speaking in English. The only option was in my bird voice.”

“She thought you were sweet. I told her you were being a flirt.”

In his mind’s eye, Bran could imagine Gwydion sticking out his tongue as if he were human. “I was only being polite. I wanted to thank her for giving me a bug. I like to eat bugs,” Gwydion said plainly.

“The mysterious eating habits of bluebirds. It leaves me riveted,” Bran teased, smiling. “So Mithian is Belle’s incarnation, right? Somehow reborn into this world.”

Gwydion didn’t answer him. Instead he just fluttered his wings as if he was intentionally being stubborn about not giving a reply.

“Honestly, Gwydion. You’re the fairytale expert. After all, you were reborn into the Fairytale World and you were friends with Sleeping Beauty’s descendant. I guess it’s unsurprising that her name’s Aurora too. Royalty does like to recycle names,” he mused. “A lot of little girls in this world would be awfully envious of you. I myself thought Princess Aurora was pretty cool, though it was unexpected that she’s more of a tomboy,” Bran remarked, remembering two years back when he and Gwydion had gone to the Fairytale World.

“All right, okay. But it’s not like you need my confirmation,” he noted. “Mithian is definitely an incarnation of Belle. She had to have been born in the Fairytale World in her past life. And maybe one day, she’ll remember that. For now, it might be better if she doesn’t. She could be tempted to return to her old world. I wouldn’t blame her. It’s not like this world can compete with the Fairytale World especially to a fairytale character.”

“Hmmm…that brings me to Merlin, one of our new neighbors…”

“I wonder how he’s taking being Cinderella’s grandson and Snow White’s great grandson.”

“Not to mention he’s also your cousin and another world’s version of you, Gwydion. Couldn’t you have waited so you could speak to him? I didn’t tell him what you’d been reborn as, but I’m sure he suspects you’re not human now. I’d imagine he’d be surprised to see you as a bluebird.”

“I look quite normal though. I don’t see what there is to be surprised about,” said Gwydion.

Bran raised his brow at him. “You’re hilarious,” he said dryly.

“I try to be,” replied Gwydion and he moved to perch on Bran’s finger, his little talons curled around his finger. Bran held up the hand Gwydion was perched on before his face. “While we’re discussing Merlin, I found out that my bluebird parents--”

“Mr. Bluebird and Mrs. Bluebird, may they rest in peace,” Bran couldn’t help but say. Maybe being so high up in this tree was making him feel lightheaded and a bit silly. Trust Gwydion to always bring out the best in him.

“Well maybe not the rest in peace part so much. But this is good news though. They were reborn into this world as Merlin falcons a few years ago, and one of their offspring, a female, was recently adopted by Merlin’s mother.”

“Seriously? It really is a small world after all. Did James tell you about that?”

“Yes,” said Gwydion. “I guess it was some sort of ‘reward’ to be reborn as bigger, slightly more fearsome birds.”

“You’re plenty fearsome as a bluebird, Gwydion,” Bran pointed out to him.

Gwydion was about to respond when the big branch Bran was sitting on began to shake. Yet there was no strong wind that would merit such a strong shake. Gwydion left Bran’s finger and flew a little ways down as his sight was obstructed by the leafy foliage.

“What is it?” Bran asked of Gwydion.

“Morgaine! Damnit,” Gwydion declared, flying back up to Bran. “She knows you’re at this tree somehow. She’s here to kill you on the Prince’s bloody orders, I bet.”

“Can you do something?” Bran asked. The branch shook more violently than before and Bran shifted over closer to the tree trunk.

Gwydion used his magic to push back Morgaine’s magic. But it was hard going as both parties were just as determined to make their spells effective: one to protect Bran competing with the other to get him to fall from the tree.

“I could magically send you back to ground,” Gwydion suggested as his spell just managed to overpower Morgaine’s. The branch still shook, but it was like a table shaking yet the disturbance wasn’t strong enough to make an object fall from the table.

“Then she’ll just chase us by ground. We need a definitive solution,” he declared as he sat with his back against the trunk of the tree. “We need to make her leave at least this time around.”

“What about your mind control ability?” Gwydion brought up, a touch of trepidation in his voice. Bran knew that Gwydion was well aware about Bran’s opinion about that power. “I know it works by eye contact, but maybe it works without that too,” he suggested.

“That’s not an option,” answered Bran curtly.

“But just to compel Morgaine to leave,” Gwydion couldn’t help but push his point.

“No means no,” Bran said in return, not budging an inch.

“Nevermind. It was a dumb idea. Sorry,” Gwydion said quickly.

“No, it’s okay. It’s forgotten,” Bran assured him.

Then the branch began to shake even more viciously than before. It left Bran clinging for his life by one hand onto a branch that was becoming detached from the trunk.

Gwydion conjured a golden arm and hand, the arm attached to the trunk, and he grabbed Bran’s hand to keep him from falling. He nervously stood on the conjured arm, and monitoring to insure the hold on Bran was keeping steady.

Bran sighed. His fingers felt sweaty from the stress of keeping grip and he just felt heavy and tired. Something had to give. “I think I’d just better fall. I could do more on solid ground…if you could--”

“Yes of course I will,” Gwydion said promptly, understanding that Bran wanted him to guide his fall and make sure he didn’t injure himself.

Bran purposefully let go and fell from the tree. He felt his descent slow as Gwydion’s magic slowed him down so he wasn’t rushing up to meet the earth in an unpleasant way.

He landed on an adequately sized pile of hay. The troublesome branch fell a few feet away from him with a loud thud. “Really, Gwydion? Hay?” He asked to himself with a shake of his head. At least the hay felt soft.

Gwydion flew down to him as Bran sat up.

“How are you?” Gwydion asked.

“As well as I’m going to be landing in hay,” Bran answered with a shrug. “I don’t see Morgaine around. Maybe she left.”

“Yeah. It’s lucky I got rid of that cursed tree in our backyard,” Gwydion said with relish.

“I could even feel the dark magic coming off of it. There was no way I would have dared to climb that tree,” Bran said.

Then he saw Mithian approaching him. “Are you all right?” she asked as she neared Bran. “There was this creepy woman…I thought she was a witch or something because she gave off that impression. When I told her to go away, she did to my surprise. She ended up muttering something under her breath.”

“I’m fine. You didn’t tell her where I was, by any chance?”

“No. She didn’t even ask me about you. She looked annoyed. I’m not sure if it was because of my presence or what.”

Gwydion then told Bran silently. “What if Mithian sent Morgaine away?”

“And how’s that?”

“I’m pretty sure Morgaine can’t stand to be around reincarnated fairytale characters or just fairytale characters in general,” Gwydion confided in him. “They bother her. The ‘good ones’ that is.”

“That’s one weak point we can exploit,” Bran decided.

“Thanks, Mithian,” Bran spoke to her. “You’re right. She was bad news. Hopefully she won’t be coming around here again.”

“I hope not,” she said. She sat down beside him. “Oh, you found your bluebird. How nice,” Mithian enthused.

Gwydion flew to perch on her knee. Mithian stroked his feathery back.

“Watch it, Gwydion. She just may steal you away,” Bran joked in his mind to him.

“Haha,” said Gwydion dryly.

Mithian looked at him thoughtfully. “Why do you wear those dark sunglasses?” she asked curiously.

“To protect my eyes from the sun. My eyes are a very light colour leaving them sensitive to bright light.”

“Can I see them?”

“Okay,” Bran said quietly, trying to sound nonchalant about it. But truthfully, it was his eyes that made everyone gape without fail. With his eyes hidden by the sunglasses, he had the chance of blending in somewhat, but without them, it was a lost cause.

Not that he minded his strange appearance too much. In his past life, it had been easier of course since his family and the majority of the White Diamond Clan had similar pale colouring. It was a big part of their identity. Undoubtedly, it was a sharp contrast to how it was in this life where Bran felt like a minority, always standing out. He was grateful that he had Ophelia who sympathized contending with a startling appearance.

He took off his dark shades. He looked directly at her.

Gwydion couldn’t help but give his input to Bran. “Honestly I don’t see what the fuss is about.”

“Oh, I see what you mean,” Mithian remarked tentatively. Bran wasn’t sure what to make of her reaction.

Yet wait, was she blushing?

“I could put my glasses back on,” Bran offered for lack of anything better to say.

“No oh no. It’s perfectly fine. It’s just - you have a bit of hay in your hair,” she told him. She reached out to remove the piece of hay from his white hair.

And yes, Bran didn’t miss it now. She was blushing.

“Thanks.”

Mithian gave him a small smile.

“Should I sing?” Gwydion asked Bran rather cheekily. He had moved to perch on Bran’s shoulder, his usual spot, by then.

“It’s not necessary,” said Bran silently to him.

“I think it is,” Gwydion shot back at him stubbornly.

And Gwydion sang in his bird voice.

“Your bluebird is such a sweetheart,” Mithian commented.

“That’s one word to describe him,” Bran said dryly.

But when she smiled brightly at him, then he found that he didn’t mind Gwydion’s decision to sing.


Because of course his life couldn’t get any stranger now. Arthur had been overcome with another vision just as he was returning from walking Cavall and Lux. The intriguing thing about this vision is that he was sure it couldn’t have been a memory from his past life.

It felt like it could be from a future life, the life he could have after this one. He had looked a few years younger in this vision, so it definitely didn’t have anything to do with his future in his current life.

He was on a flying brown horse with golden brown wings. At least a dozen men were after him on flying steeds of their own.

“He must be stopped!” One of the pursuing men shouted. “You know Queen Morgaine’s orders. He must not meet that woman!”

“She’s no woman. She’s a mermaid!” exclaimed another man.

Some men laughed at that.

Appearing to ignore them all, Arthur said to his steed, “We have to find this Merlin. He’ll help. He has to, Krola.”

Then a deep voice sounded out over the skies, like an intercom had turned on somewhere.

“Attention, fliers, another world has collapsed. Mind the cracks.”

Arthur veered to avoid a crack just being formed. He saw the sea up ahead.

He prodded his steed to go faster, to lose their assailants.

And then the vision was over leaving Arthur confused. Although admittedly, he found the experience of flying on a winged horse thrilling. He wouldn’t mind at all doing that despite the circumstances of the flight involving him outracing adversaries. Whether they had planned to capture him or kill him, Arthur didn’t know, but he was glad he didn’t find out his possibly grim fate in the vision.

Back home, Arthur let the dogs loose in the house. He announced he was home, and Lux jumped on Merlin eagerly once he emerged from the study.

“Hey,” Merlin greeted him. He lifted Lux off the floor and carried the dog in his arms.

“Hey you too. We have new neighbors across the street? Just saw a car in the driveway. I didn’t see any of them.”

“Oh yeah. I went over to meet them. Family of three: a godfather and his two godchildren.”

“Sounds nice,” said Arthur distractedly. His mind still half on the vision he had seen not long ago.

“Yeah, they’re all right. Not at all deterred by the house being notoriously haunted,” Merlin said.

He lightly punched Arthur in the shoulder to get him to pay attention and get his drifting mind focused. To that effect, Arthur did his best to look like he was listening.

Merlin continued, “Robin’s the godfather. He’s in his thirties. Then there’s Ophelia who’s sixteen and Bran who’s eleven.”

Arthur was sure he paled at the mention of Bran despite not being able to see himself in a mirror. The Prince probably had been aware that this family was going to move near Arthur and Merlin. Arthur had to do his utmost to avoid the boy.

Merlin looked at him oddly. “Is there anything wrong, Arthur?” He asked as he adjusted Lux in his arms.

Arthur shook his head. “No, no. Nothing’s wrong,” he reassured.

He regretted speaking so quickly. Talking fast was a surefire indicator that he was lying.

And Merlin knew that. “Something’s unsettled you. Do you know any of the new neighbors now that I’ve told you their names?”

“No I don’t.”

Except for some self-entitled man calling himself the Prince of Darkness wanting Arthur to kill a boy named Bran, then no, he didn’t know them.

Well he had to admit the name Ophelia sounded vaguely familiar. Maybe she was someone from his past life. All he could recall is that he had been a bit overwhelmed by her presence. But Arthur couldn’t remember what exactly he did with this woman named Ophelia. Or if even the woman across the street was that same person from his past life. Maybe seeing her face to face would help.

“Merlin, do you - would you ever believe in the existence of mermaids? That they’re actually real?” Arthur asked him tentatively.

Merlin raised his questioning brow at him. “Why have you been thinking about mermaids?”

“Just please. Answer the question,” Arthur pleaded of him. His vision made little sense, and he wouldn’t know where to begin in explaining it to Merlin.

Merlin set Lux down on the ground. Undoubtedly the small dog went off to be with Cavall. “Well I’ve never personally seen a real mermaid, but that doesn’t mean they’re not real,” he said decisively.

He believed that Merlin was telling him the truth, that he wasn’t simply humouring Arthur.

“Thank you. I knew I could count on you to not look at me like I’ve lost it.”

Merlin gave him a small smile. “Of course not. I wouldn’t ever think that. With Cavall’s transformation and my seeing that scarlet-gold phoenix, we’re both on the same page with witnessing strange things. After all that, maybe mermaids do honestly exist.”

“Cavall...” Arthur uttered.

That had to be Krola, the white wolf always by his side in those memories and visions he’d been having. And sometimes, she had taken on a different form, had turned into a different animal like Cavall had been changing from a Norwegian Elkhound to a white wolf.

“Arthur, are you really all right?” Merlin asked him in deep concern.

Arthur nodded. “Yes. I’m good. Better than good. I know you were working on something. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“I’m thinking of going to Lancelot and Gwen’s. Since they’re on holiday with Lily, I might as well do my duty and house-sit. And with luck, I can get some work stuff done,” Merlin said hopefully.

“All right. I hope you do,” Arthur told him.

Merlin smiled at him and he kissed Arthur.


After Merlin had left, Arthur was swept up in another vision of the future. This time he figured it was of the future because it was just as peculiar as the last vision. At least this time no one mentioned mermaids.

He saw a dark-haired woman looking quite ill-tempered as she spoke to her advisors, Arthur assumed. She was addressed as Queen Morgaine. It had to be the same Queen Morgaine brought up in his earlier vision.

“Whoever holds that blasted child holds the hope of all the worlds,” said Queen Morgaine in obvious frustration. “I want that baby killed.”

“Queen Morgaine, there has been an incident,” one of her advisors said. He was a nervous looking man who seemed to be terrified of her.

“What is it?”

“Your Highness, I regret to inform you that --” yet the man couldn’t finish. Morgaine glaring daggers at him probably had something to do with it. Maybe he feared being killed by her himself.

“My Queen, what Gerald wishes to say is that the Princess Rapunzel is absent from the tower you imprisoned her in.”

“WHAT?!” Morgaine exclaimed angrily. “Do you know how valuable her hair is? How could you let her ESCAPE?”

All her advisors looked like they desperately wanted to be somewhere else at that moment.

Then the scene changed and Arthur saw a young woman with impossibly long blonde hair running away into the forest. She looked like she was carrying a precious bundle in her arms. Arthur concluded that the bundle had to be the baby Queen Morgaine had been so stirred up about. Looking up, Arthur noticed cracks spread out across the sky, similar to the sky he had witnessed in the previous vision. Yet this sky held fewer big cracks in it.

The scene faded away. Arthur decided that this future life of his was quite a strange one. It had appeared that some sort of end of the world or worlds as it were apocalyptic scenario was occurring. Yet there was this baby who had been deemed the hope of stopping the apocalypse.

Arthur wondered what the mermaid had to do with all this. His pursuers had mentioned her for a reason after all. He admittedly was bothered that this clearly unpleasant Queen was named Morgaine, which was similar to his dead sister Morgana’s name. Arthur took comfort in the fact that they physically didn’t look alike.



“I have a friend who’s coming over,” Bran announced to Robin and Ophelia.

They were in the living room. Robin was checking his mobile for messages from Charlie, most likely, and Ophelia had her legs across his lap, her feet bare. She was perusing some fashion magazine.

One thing about having a ridiculously magically powerful bird was that he speeded up the organisation process for their move. They still had some of their belongings back at Rosebrooke Castle, but the things they really needed were here at least.

Ophelia looked up. “Oh a friend? Already?”

Robin looked up too, clearly interested.

And then Gwydion, the traitor, couldn’t help but divulge, “The friend’s a girl.”

Ophelia smiled almost wickedly. “Oh my goodness, a girlfriend! Bran has a girlfriend!”

“It feels like just yesterday you were just a baby, drooling on my shirt,” Robin unhelpfully contributed. He looked just as gleeful as Ophelia.

“She’s not a girlfriend. She’s just - Her name is Mithian. I was being nice and invited her to come over.”

“Well you know what that means,” Robin said ominously. “Parental supervision.”

“As long as the supervision doesn’t involve talking too much about me.”

“Robin would never do that,” Ophelia said.

“Maybe yes, but you would, Ophelia.”

“Well I’m not your parent, so I think I can say whatever I like.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” said Bran with a resigned sigh.

“Bran, you haven’t told them the best part,” Gwydion reminded him. He poked Bran’s neck with his beak to gain his attention.

“Mithian’s an incarnation of Belle…the one born into the Fairytale World in her previous life.”

“Is she really?” Ophelia asked in astonishment. “What is she like?”

“Mithian’s all right. She’s from France and she likes to read. Gwydion says her magic signature is distinctive and --”

“Everyone in this world is rather blind not to see it,” declared Gwydion magnanimously.

“Not everyone is as clever as you,” Robin shot back lightly.

All of them laughed. Bran kissed Gwydion on his little blue head.

Sometimes Gwydion couldn’t stop himself and be all smug like he knew everything. And really, yes, he did know a lot of things, but certainly the first word Bran wouldn’t use to describe Gwydion was ‘humble.’ Yet as a bluebird now, Gwydion looked so sweet that it was difficult to despair of his faults for long.

“Did Charlie message you with anything interesting?” Gwydion asked after the laughter had subsided.

“Yeah, it’s a potential lead on the location of one of the Excaliburs. You know the one used by the Arthur originally born into this world long ago. His Merlin did a damn good job of hiding it. And while that’s good for the weapon not falling into the wrong hands, it’s bad for us because we can’t find it either. King Merlin doesn’t even know where it is, but says it’s the necessary price to pay for insuring that one Arthur’s sword is as well concealed as it could be,” Robin relayed all this wearily.

“Oh Robin,” said Ophelia sympathetically. She shifted position to sit down beside him, putting her head down on his shoulder. “I know how much you want to find that Excalibur since this was the world of your past life and that sword is a part of your world’s history. Or legend to most people of this world, but still my point remains. Don’t give up.”

“I’m sure if that Merlin is ever reincarnated, he’d appreciate your efforts. Maybe even hand you the sword himself,” Bran said with a smile.

“Thanks. But I’m sure I’d have to give him a really good reason to get Excalibur from him.”

Gwydion gave his input, “I’m sure saying you need the sword to aid in ending the apocalypse would be persuasive enough. And since I’m one world’s Merlin, then you can trust my word on that.”

“Good to know,” said Robin.

Then Bran impressed upon Gwydion the importance of removing a tree from his room. Just while Mithian was here. It wouldn’t do to have her see a tree growing right in a bedroom. She may be a reincarnated fairytale character, but she didn’t remember that, so best not to find opportunities to shock her.

Even though Gwydion had conjured his own mini-forest room (because what use was a bedroom meant for humans to a bluebird?), he still stuck in a tree in Bran’s bedroom. While Gwydion tried to deny it, Bran knew the real reason for the tree was because Gwydion didn’t like sleeping alone in his forest room. Bran refused to believe for a moment that Gwydion was sharing his bedroom with him just for protection purposes. Gwydion didn’t fool him.


Merlin couldn’t help but draw a red dragon, remembering what Robin had told him about it. How he had given a dragon carving to Alice in his past life. Somehow his subconscious mind couldn’t resist doing a doodle of a dragon amidst his graphic design work.

He sort of remembered Alice now as his mind was on her. The recollections were vague, but still something. She’d been a little girl, blonde hair, blue eyes. She had been crying, and Merlin had attempted to comfort her, to make her smile again, by making this red dragon carving with yellow-gold eyes. He told her…

What had he told her?

That she could think of the dragon as a good luck charm. That maybe she would find that real, live dragon she was seeking.

And Merlin recalled how he had discreetly placed protection spells on Alice because she was wandering on her own. She had declined his help to travel with her, so Merlin did the next best thing to insure she wasn’t harmed. She had been only seven then after all.

Then unexpectedly, a vision assailed him. This one seemed especially peculiar, which was saying a lot considering his previous visions.

Merlin saw a young woman with impossibly long blonde hair. He immediately couldn’t help but believe that had to be Alice. Though why she had such long hair here like Rapunzel, he didn’t know.

She was carrying a bundle of blankets in her arms. Merlin guessed there was a baby bundled inside, but he couldn’t get a look at the baby’s physical appearance.

She knocked urgently upon the doors of a great castle, though the castle appeared gloomy and sad.

A thin blond man opened it, and Merlin was startled to see that the man was Robin. Albeit a much younger version of him as he looked about eighteen, the same age as Alice here. Judging by his thinness, Merlin thought that he hadn’t been eating too well. It seemed ludicrous if Robin lived in this big castle, but maybe the lack of appetite had to do with some sort of loss he couldn’t shake. Robin’s expression looked sad and despondent, which gave credence to Merlin’s reasoning.

“Alice,” Robin breathed out like a prayer. His voice sounded scratchy from disuse. “Or is it Rapunzel now?”

The baby in her arms began to cry, calling for her attention. Alice hushed the child gently, which seemed to help as the baby quieted.

“Alice, if that baby is--” Robin started.

“Just help me get all my hair inside, please, Robin,” she asked of him. He nodded and dutifully moved her blonde hair inside, though he was careful not to step outside of the castle. Merlin wasn’t sure why he didn’t step out as it would have been much easier to maneuver the hair that way. While holding on to the baby with one arm, Alice was left pulling her hair closer to her and moving it inside the castle.

It took about a quarter of an hour, but they managed it, and Robin shut the door.

“And don’t think you’re going to continue with wasting away,” she declared fiercely. “You will eat properly, or I swear.”

Robin sighed tiredly, rubbing his brow. “You’ve been carrying the baby for too long, Alice. Let me,” he offered, opening up his arms.

Alice gratefully accepted the offer as she handed the blanketed baby to her brother. “Robin, you’re my brother, my twin, my only real family in this world. I can’t lose you because you can’t take care of yourself.”

Robin seemed not to paying attention to what she was saying. He was looking at the baby. “He’s so small,” he whispered.

“I could heal you, Robin, make you healthy again with my hair… if you’ll let me,” Alice pleaded with her brother.

Robin started trembling, and tears came down his face. He fell to the ground yet the baby was still securely in his arms. Alice fell down beside him. She put his head down on her shoulder and embraced him.

“I came here for you, and I promise you I won’t leave,” she assured him firmly. “You will get better. If you won’t do it for me, then do it for the baby. He will save us all, and he can’t do that without our help.”

“I’m sorry for being useless,” Robin said hopelessly.

“Don’t you dare apologize for something that’s not your fault,” Alice told him firmly.

Alice kissed her brother on the head. With that last image, the vision faded away and Merlin was brought back to reality, inside a spare room at Lancelot and Gwen’s.

Merlin wondered what in the world that was about. Was this a memory from a past life? He didn’t think it could be. It just didn’t make sense to him for Robin to have been in such a broken state of mind in his past life, and still be the same man he met earlier.

“Athena, do you think the Compass could tell me what year that vision took - or more like will take place?”

“I hope so,” said Athena, though she sounded a bit pessimistic about it.

Merlin went for it and asked the Diamantine Compass. Nothing to lose after all.

The Compass answered him, saying the year would be 2512 AD.

Merlin stared at the date. That was centuries away. And then there was Alice mentioning how the baby would save them all? Could that be implying that an apocalypse was happening at that time? Or was he just jumping to conclusions? He was both intrigued and anxious by this seemingly grim future. Hopefully it was true, that the baby would stop the apocalypse, and hopefully Robin would get better. He wondered what events led to Alice being reincarnated as Rapunzel. While it might have been nice to have magical healing hair, it must have been a right pain managing that long hair.

He hated to think that at some point in his future life, Robin would become a broken man, a shadow of himself. What a dismal thought. Merlin certainly didn’t want to tell Robin about it. It would only make him wonder and worry about a far off future when he’d be better off focusing on his life now.



Part 5 -->