AU Merlin fic: The Powerless Prince (2)

[dk323]

~ * ~

PART TWO

~ * ~
One week later:

Merlin was sitting in a chair by a window, staring unseeingly ahead of him, and appearing to be deep in thought. Mordred took note of the dark circles under Merlin’s eyes from a lack of sleep. In his hands, Merlin clutched the journal full of his memories of the month his amnesia had made him forget. Mordred had just managed to stop Merlin from burning the journal the other day. According to Merlin, writing down things before he forgot them only made the situation worse. That he’d never get those memories back where he wanted them - in his mind.

“It’s been a month now since you’ve been afflicted, Merlin. Not sleeping won’t stop the sun from rising.”

“You never know, it might,” Merlin said stubbornly. He threw the journal across the room. “I hate reading that journal…it’s like I’m reading about someone else’s life. It’s useless. What I felt, what I thought at the time… nothing.”

“A few more months and you’ll get used to it. The journal is the best thing you have to help you through this,” he reminded Merlin as he picked up the journal and returned it to him. “You should be grateful that you were spared your father’s affliction.”

“And that makes me feel terrible…that I’m complaining about this when I could’ve had a lot worse. But… what if I still could become as paranoid as my father? If it could be an inherited condition as well as his affliction?”

“You won’t. Believe me, Merlin. That’ll never happen,” said Mordred firmly. “You’re the last person who would lose yourself like that. You have your affliction now, and you should be happy that it’s something you can live with.”

“That it won’t destroy my life as it did with my father,” Merlin finished dismally.

Merlin sighed. He didn’t speak for what seemed like a long time. But Mordred could tell that Merlin wanted to say something more.

“In the journal, I wrote about a man I met. He was a little younger than me, and I think he’s important, Mordred,” he told him, but then he frowned. “Of course any sane person will grow weary of my problem and leave… and he deserves that. I just…based on what I wrote; I’d hate it if he left, if he gave up on me. I’ll never properly know him,” Merlin said, frustrated.

“What’s his name?” Mordred asked.

Merlin shrugged, idly turning the pages of his journal. “Arthur, I think.”

“Listen, if this Arthur cares about you, then he will stay. If he doesn’t give you a chance, then he isn’t worthy of you.”

“I wish I could believe that,” Merlin said, sounding hopeless, Mordred’s words not quite having the effect he wanted.

“That’s it. I’m going to have you drink a sleeping potion even if I have to force it down your throat. You will get a full night’s sleep, and you will stop dreading the sunrise and instead embrace your affliction. Living with your amnesia will get better. While I’ve never known life without my affliction, I understand what it is to yearn for what you’ve lost…or for what you never had in the first place in my case. Everyone who has an affliction knows this suffering, Merlin. You are not alone. You just have to be brave and don’t let this ruin your life. Please. For me.” Mordred almost pleaded with him.

“I’ll try,” Merlin said after a long moment. “I will do my best.”

Mordred counted that as a good start.

Five months later:

“Mother, I’m going to see the sunrise,” Arthur told her.

He kissed her on the cheek before leaving.

“Happy birthday, my dear. Eighteen years. I can’t believe time passed by so quickly,” she said, sighing wistfully.

Arthur embraced her and then he went on his way. It had become a tradition these last few years to wake up before dawn to see the sun rise on the anniversary of his birth. The sight never failed to fill him with hope and belief in a brighter tomorrow, that the next year would be a good one.

Of course he made sure he took Falcon with him. Arthur climbed a tree and kept Falcon grasped in one hand. He peered up at the sky and watched it lighten with warm golds, reds and yellows.

And that was when the world surrounding him changed.

~ * ~

“What is going on? Do you know, Pip?” Sir Lancelot asked the Faery prince who rested upon his shoulder.

He surveyed the suddenly white sky and the entire land around him turning white as if by a magical spell.

The young prince flew down off his shoulder, his delicate wings glinting with a light not unlike starlight. He landed on the ground and pressed his tiny hands to it, a thoughtful look in his eyes.

“I think the magic levels in the land have decreased,” he concluded. “It’s still at undesirable levels but lower than before. It’s a start at least. Only one person could do such a thing.”

“A Pristinely Ungifted one,” Lancelot answered, understanding. “So our hope was not in vain. Prince Arthur yet lives. The Queen will be glad to hear the news.”

“Yes. And he has turned eighteen. This act on his birthday is just the beginning. Soon, if all goes well, magic will no longer be poisoning the land. Afflictions will be a thing of the past. You’ll be cured, Lancelot,” Pip said with a smile.

“I hope so,” he said with a sigh, flinching as the pain in his glove-covered hands flared up.

Now, eighteen years after the prince’s kidnapping, Lancelot found little relief from keeping his hands covered. Even the powerful magic ointment didn’t provide him the long-lasting respite from pain he so yearned for. The only thing he could do is to stay true to his knights training and bear the pain as well as he could. There were worse pains than this, he knew. He felt proud of the fact that he had managed to live with this daily pain and still do his knightly duties. Though some days he had been tempted to cut off his hands for the relief, but Lancelot never succumbed to that temptation.

Fortunately too, the sixteen-year old Pip proved to be a welcome companion though he was only as tall as Lancelot’s longest finger. He helped Lancelot to be more positive when his affliction sometimes made him gloomier than he would’ve liked.

Due to Queen Ygraine’s alliance two years ago with the Faery kingdom, the Faery King offered the assistance of his youngest son, one of his many children, as a guide for Lancelot. While he served a sorceress Queen, Lancelot himself was not magic, but he did sympathize with those who possessed magic. So he was grateful to have Pip as a guide in all things magical by his side.

His attention was diverted when he felt the Faery return to his shoulder, concealing himself behind his ear. Lancelot didn’t miss Pip’s anxious expression.

“It’s a gremlin,” Pip said quietly. “Almost half of my Father’s kingdom has been killed by them. Ever since the afflictions began long ago, the gremlins have been thriving…”

Lancelot looked ahead of him, finally seeing the gremlin appear before his eyes. An unpleasant grin graced the creature’s face. “Come out, come out wherever you are,” said the gremlin.

He was a blue winged creature with dark glowing eyes. “You Faeries are so dull…never want to play.” The gremlin let out a cold laugh.

“Come closer, and you’ll know death,” said Lancelot as the troublesome creature set his sights on the knight.

“Aren’t you the knight harboring a Faery prince? I can fetch a nice price for one of those, even more for a dead one.” The gremlin remarked, looking amused with himself as he snickered.

Lancelot felt Pip trembling a little on his shoulder. The Faery had become invisible.

“A lot of foolhardiness you have facing the First Knight of Camelot,” said Lancelot.

“But I have magic, and you do not,” said the gremlin, sounding far too smug.

“Look around you. The land is white. A Pristinely Ungifted one is in our midst. I doubt you’d feel so confident facing such a being,” Lancelot pointed out, smiling slightly as the gremlin’s eyes widened, realizing the potential threat he might have to deal with.

Then the gremlin froze.

“Just kill him,” said Pip tiredly. “Please.”

Lancelot took out his dagger and cut off the creature’s head, the gremlin falling to the ground like an overgrown fly.

“Are you okay, Pip?” he asked him, seeing Pip reappear. The Faery flew to Lancelot’s open palm so he could face him properly.

“I’ve been better… it’s just when I was growing up, my older brothers told stories of close encounters with gremlins. One of my brothers was murdered by the gremlins when I was younger. They ripped him apart like animals…no shred of decency.”

Lancelot heard the anger underlying Pip’s words, the frustration he clearly felt about the terrible way his brother was killed.

“I’m sorry, Pip.”

Pip sighed, tracing the lifelines on Lancelot’s palm. “Thanks. I try not to let the fear overwhelm me…but it’s hard,” he admitted. “We should look for Queen Ygraine’s son. It’d be good to focus on that… hopefully no more gremlins will be about.”

“If there will be any, I’ll make sure nothing happens to you,” Lancelot promised.

Pip looked grateful, but Lancelot didn’t miss the worry still hanging over him.

~ * ~

Arthur didn’t know what to make of everything - from the sky above to the ground below and even the trees - suddenly turning a pure white colour.

Had he done this? His mother had told him in the past that he had a white glow surrounding him if one looked over him with a careful eye. Arthur expected that’s what Merlin saw too when he determined that Arthur had magic neutralizing abilities.

If Mystra said that he’d be able to change things upon his eighteenth birthday, then maybe this could be the start. Arthur headed home, planning to discuss this with his mother.

But when he neared the cottage, he was shocked to find his mother on the ground gasping for breath. Arthur rushed to her, dropping his pack with Falcon inside on the way.

“Mother?” He said in shock and deep worry. Was his mother dying?

Arthur collapsed beside her, grasping her hand.

“My time with you is at an end,” his mother said softly as she struggled to breathe.

“No, no. Don’t say that. I still need you.” Arthur assured her, desperation in his tone.

“I love you… I am sorry. Falcon was given to you by your true mother. I took him because you were crying, and he calmed you. Know that I loved you as a son, Arthur…please forgive me.”

“Mother? No, please, don’t leave me.”

It was too late. His mother was gone, dying before Arthur had a chance to process her confession.

Did his mother just admit to not being his real mother? And if she had been seeking forgiveness, then… did that mean that he’d been kidnapped?

Arthur didn’t know how to feel. Even if his mother - or who he had always seen as his mother - had actually been his kidnapper, Arthur couldn’t erase eighteen years of caring and affection she’d shown him. She had treated him like her own son, and Arthur had never thought to question his mother was truly his mother. Despite him being Pristinely Ungifted and his mother being a First Order witch, Arthur had just put that down to his gift being so rare that there were no rules about whether or not his parents should possess magic.

His head hurt as he was torn between deep betrayal by his mother and a numb aching grief at losing the only person who had been a constant, comforting presence in his life.

Before he’d met Merlin, Arthur had a nagging worry that he’d never fit in if he ventured out into the greater world when he had to leave his mother. Fortunately there was something about Merlin that gave Arthur the confidence to face the future. That with Merlin by his side, he could survive the uncertainty of a life without his mother. Curiosity gripped him whenever he thought of Merlin, and Arthur had to satisfy it.

Now though, Arthur knelt beside his mother’s dead body. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to go on after losing his mother?

“Arthur?” said a voice Arthur hadn’t heard in a while.

Merlin had returned.

Arthur turned his head, looking up to see the wizard he hadn’t laid eyes upon in months.

Merlin sat down beside him, a sombre look in his blue eyes. “I am sorry for the loss of your mother,” he said quietly yet Arthur didn’t miss the uncertainty in his tone.

Merlin had never met Arthur’s mother after all, so he wasn’t completely sure of how she looked like.

“I don’t even know how it happened, or why… and everything’s gone white,” Arthur said, then he finally gave a proper look at his surroundings.

The peculiar whiteness that had overcome the land had gone. Everything was its usual colour.

Merlin nodded. “Yes, I saw the white. It went away a few moments ago. Arthur, I think someone is looking for you…but we need to find the key Mystra told you about. I can help you with that. But we can’t let this person find you, not yet.”

“My mother made a confession,” Arthur told him, still unable to quite grasp his mother’s words before she died. “I don’t think she’s my real mother. I think she took me without permission…”

“She was telling the truth. I’m sorry. I would have told you once we got to know each other better. I don’t feel like I’m the right person to tell you this.”

“What is it? Who’s my real mother?” Arthur demanded to know. “My mother told me that I helped to cure her affliction. I should have realized then that it could have meant she had been desperate enough to… to…” Arthur stopped.

He found it hard to say the words out loud. To say that the woman he had seen as his mother for all his life was truly his kidnapper. She had stolen him so she could be rid of her premature aging affliction. True, it was a terrible fate and he couldn’t fault her for taking advantage of her only hope of a longer life…but kidnapping was still wrong. Arthur had lost the chance to be raised by the woman who’d given birth to him because of it.

“You are the son of Queen Ygraine of Camelot,” Merlin informed him.

Arthur stared at him. “My real mother is a Queen?”

Merlin nodded. “You’re still the sole heir to Camelot’s throne too. The Queen misses you very much. She loves you dearly, I don’t doubt it. And you will be able to see her again when the time is right.”

“We need to cure the land. Get the key,” Arthur finished, understanding.

“Unless you really want to go see the Queen first. It’s your right to see her, reunite with her. I won’t stop you.”

“I do want to see her. So much,” Arthur admitted. “But healing the land, ending the afflictions…it’s more important. It’d be nice to see my true mother after I’ve accomplished this. She’ll be proud of me…even if she doesn’t really know me, but…”

“I’m sure she’ll be proud just seeing you alive and well before her eyes. Yet the sooner we fix this land, the better. And many people will be grateful to you.”

“I hope this will work,” Arthur said.

He went to collect his pack. Arthur heard the sound of a person approaching from the forest.

“Get all you need for our journey,” Merlin urged him. “I’m under glamour now, which you can’t see. You’ll just have to believe me. The First Knight of Camelot is looking for you, but I know how to send him away. Then I’ll meet you.”

“What about my mother’s body?”

“She has a son, a natural-born son, Mordred…he’ll take care of her in the way a First Order member is traditionally dealt with after death.”

Arthur felt annoyed. Finding out his mother was his kidnapper wasn’t enough; he had to learn she had a son of her own blood too.

“Goodbye, Mother,” Arthur said.

He knelt down and kissed her on the brow. He couldn’t let bitterness overwhelm him. Regret at not saying his goodbyes to the woman he had long seen as his mother would be far worse. And he couldn’t think ill of the dead. That was wrong.

“Thank you for caring for me and for loving me. I…forgive you,” he said softly, finding those last words hard to form.

Then he left her and Merlin, returning home just as the knight appeared, emerging from the forest.

Merlin intercepted him. Arthur had gone inside his cottage before Merlin started speaking with the knight.

Instead, Arthur went to his bed and lay down on it, feeling terribly lost and hoping Merlin would be enough of an anchor to pull him through this confusing time.

A small, evil thought wormed its way into his mind. Had he been living a lie all these years then? He had been raised by his kidnapper…how could he even begin to make peace with that?

Maybe he hadn’t truly forgiven his mother after all.

~ * ~

“Hey,” Merlin said. “Not feeling well?”

“After all I’ve just learned? How am I supposed to accept the truth? That my mother kidnapped me?”

“I know it’s a lot to take, but she must have truly cared for if she kept you for eighteen years. She didn’t keep you a prisoner. There are far worse people than your mother in the world.”

Arthur sighed, sitting up in bed. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. And I guess this necklace won’t work any longer since she’s gone.”

Yet he didn’t have the heart to take off the hazel tree pendant necklace. Because that would mean his mother had truly passed away. Maybe now it would remain as a final physical memory of his mother. He had a feeling he’d regret it if he threw away the necklace no matter how conflicted his perception of his mother was now.

“What sort of necklace is it?”

“It’s a magical one. My mother used it to heal me magically when I was sick or hurt. I think it only worked with her.”

“Even if you’re Pristinely Ungifted, it still worked?” Merlin said.

“Yes,” Arthur acknowledged.

“Can I see it?” Merlin asked. “You don’t have to take it off…just…” he trailed off, kneeling in front of Arthur.

Arthur obliged him, lifting the hazel tree pendant from underneath his tunic. “The power is centered in the pendant.”

Merlin touched the pendant, looking it over thoughtfully. “Very powerful. It’s meant for one person to use it. And for this pendant, that was reserved only to your mother while she was alive as you know. Your condition can’t allow for more no matter what.”

He let go off the pendant, giving Arthur a small smile. With Merlin so close to him now, Arthur was taken in by how blue Merlin’s eyes were.

“Can another one be made? A pendant that will give you the ability to heal me by magic means?” Arthur wondered.

Merlin frowned, standing up. “It’ll take too much time to make one, and you wouldn’t want me being able to use magic on you.”

Arthur looked at him in disbelief. “I don’t see you as the sort to abuse the power.”

“I don’t even trust myself. It’s better this way,” Merlin said firmly.

“Okay. I don’t agree with you, but I’ll let that go for now. Where can we find the key I need?” Arthur wondered. “I know the keeper is an innocent soul.”

“That undoubtedly means a child. I’m certain the key will be in Ealdor.”

“Ealdor? Is that a village?”

“It’s the village where I was born,” Merlin told him quietly, an undertone of unhappiness in his voice. Arthur was left with the conclusion that Merlin’s old home village wasn’t a place full of fond memories for the wizard.

Another mystery about him. Arthur recalled the letter he’d read in which Merlin’s mother had to let Merlin go, to be put into Mystra’s care. That gave the impression that Ealdor was far from a safe home for Merlin. But why? What had happened?

“I can’t tell who exactly the child is, but he or she will come to you so they could fulfill their destiny,” Merlin assured him. “I haven’t been back to Ealdor in a while, but I remember most of the villagers kept to a tradition of wearing keys on chains about their necks. And there was a belief that one day, one villager would possess the magical key that the Pristinely Ungifted one - you - would need to cure the land.”

“Did you wear a key too?”

Merlin shook his head. “My mother and father weren’t natives of the village. They came when my mother was pregnant with me. They hoped Ealdor would be a quiet village they could settle down in. That didn’t last…but no, we didn’t wear keys. My younger sister, Freya, didn’t either.”

“You’re not going to tell me what went wrong?”

“No… it’s not something I like talking about. You have enough to deal with now. I don’t want to burden you further.”

And that was that. The rest of the morning was spent eating and then getting ready for the journey to Ealdor. Arthur didn’t speak much with Merlin during this time. He thought it was best as it looked like Merlin was in the grips of a dark mood. What if going to Ealdor and getting the key was a bad idea? Arthur hated the thought that Merlin would have to revisit an unpleasant past by helping him.

But Merlin seemed determined to go with Arthur, even despite him offering to Merlin to not go if it would be a problem for him.

Merlin had waved him away and said he would be fine.

“Two people traveling together is much safer than one.” Merlin noted logically.

Arthur couldn’t argue with that.

~ * ~

Staring deep into the great fire Merlin had conjured let Arthur’s mind wander. He stopped dwelling on his mother and just focused on the journey, and getting the chance to be with Merlin.

He reached out his hand to touch the flames, just for a moment, so he could feel that sensation of heat before pulling back his hand.

Except the moment his fingers touched the fire, the fire went out completely. It seemed that since the fire was magically conjured, Arthur’s gift put out the fire to neutralise the magic.

Merlin gave him a sharp look.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to put it out. I can build a new fire if you want.”

“It’s fine,” Merlin said wearily. “Unless you’re planning to make a habit of touching the fire…”

“No. No of course not,” Arthur said quickly.

“Well then.” Merlin’s eyes glowed golden as he called up another fire to blaze and flicker in the dark night.

“Merlin?” Arthur said then, curious. “Do you have an affliction?”

“Regrettably I do,” Merlin answered him sullenly.

“Is it memory loss? I remember you had trouble remembering me five months ago…that day you told me you were leaving.”

“I don’t like talking about this,” Merlin said stubbornly.

“Sorry…never mind. I promise I’ll keep it to myself. I won’t leave you just because you have memory loss. You’re not the only one who has an affliction. I’m sure other people have memory loss too.”

“And I look forward to meeting them. We could form a group,” Merlin suggested darkly.

“Sorry I brought it up. I’ll just go to sleep now,” Arthur declared.

He stood up to head over to where he had laid his blanket.

“No. Wait. I should tell you. In case something happens, you should know the details of my memory loss. It wouldn’t be good to keep you in the dark about it.”

Arthur sat back down beside Merlin and looked at him expectantly.

“I’ve had my affliction for the past six months now. When I first met you,” Merlin paused then, biting his lip. He got out his journal, the same one that read ‘Memories’ which Arthur had seen at Merlin’s cottage before. “I’d had it for a month then.” He said after perusing the journal by glow of firelight.

“Okay. So what’s the nature of your memory loss? It doesn’t seem too terrible.”

“If I read my journal every morning after the sun rises, then I can cope. You haven’t seen me before I read it, before I try to re-orient myself.”

Arthur wasn’t sure if he wanted to see that side of Merlin, or if maybe it would be a good thing. To get a fuller, more accurate picture of the wizard.

“Could your memory loss be why you were so bothered by me when I met you?”

Merlin gave him a look. “No, I think it was more that you came in when I wasn’t expecting anyone I didn’t know to find my home and get inside it. Just my luck that I decided to leave nearby someone who is Pristinely Ungifted.”

Arthur cringed. “Sorry again about that.”

Merlin waved his hand. “It was an accident. I know you mean no harm.”

He continued on, “The good thing is that I remember the first twenty years of my life. I still have those memories. The last day I remember was my twentieth birthday. I was afflicted two days after. The first day I forgot was the one following my twentieth birthday celebration. Once the sun rises the next day, the memories are gone. I have to write in this journal each day before I go to sleep as a record of memories. I read the journal when I wake up so I don’t miss any important details from the previous day. The trouble is…”

“Reading the journal doesn’t bring back the memories into your mind?” Arthur guessed, imagining how frustrating that could be.

It wasn’t like Merlin could recall the memories just by reading the journal…the memories were gone and words on a page simply paled in comparison to the richness of a memory.

Merlin nodded. “Yes, that’s the problem. The last six months of my life…I only know what I did by reading through my journal, which I did before I came to see you. Mystra told me about the key and why it was important I return to see you.”

“How do you know to check the journal everyday if you forget?”

“Fortunately Mystra gave me the journal some months before I was afflicted. She recommended I use it as a record of what I do every day. I remember I have it, and I’ve become accustomed looking it over every morning.”

“It’s useful to have me then with you. I can tell you what you need to know… in case the journal isn’t enough.”

“Thank you. I prefer to trust the journal than be dependent on another person, but I appreciate the offer.”

“Well it’s still open no matter what.”

Merlin gave him a small, grateful smile.

After Merlin wrote in his journal for about an hour, Arthur helping him out with any details, they went to bed.

~ * ~

Sombrely, Mordred watched as his mother’s funeral pyre floated out into the lake, the hungry fire the only true light in the darkness.

He wasn’t sure how to feel. He’d barely known her, had only seen her once during that brief meeting months ago. And then to discover she had raised another boy, not her own and even worse whom she had kidnapped, was a sharp blow for Mordred.

But he couldn’t be angry with the other person, who happened to be the Arthur Merlin was so intent on. Mordred didn’t doubt that if Arthur had known that his mother already had a son who she chose to give away, then he would have been on Mordred’s side. Especially once he’d learned that he’d been kidnapped by her.

There was no bigger lesson in learning that one’s elders were prone to making mistakes than Mordred seeing what his own mother had done. How desperation and a desire for a fuller life had driven Morgana Le Fay to take a child from his rightful mother. And that Mordred hadn’t fit into her plans as she raised Arthur.

Mordred conceded that maybe his mother leaving him in the care of Mystra and the ladies in her employ was the best choice in the end. Otherwise, he would not have met Merlin and found a true friend in him.

Suddenly, Mordred was startled out of his reverie upon seeing his mother before him in spirit form. She was wearing a dress though her skin was so pale, so unnaturally white, that he didn’t doubt that she was a ghost. He saw through her body to the peaceful lake behind her.

“Why are you here?” Mordred asked.

“You are my son, and my heir, Mordred. I wish to give you the family ring as is tradition.”

“I know about that, but you’re dead…and I was never a son to you, as I should have been.”

His mother looked sad. “I know. That is my fault. Not a day went by that I didn’t feel the guilt of not raising you. But you still came out of my womb. The day you were born was the happiest day of my life. I am proud of you and I trust you to carry on the family bloodline, and the honour of our family. Please, my child, take the ring.”

She held out her hand. Mordred saw the ring with the hazel tree, the family emblem, engraved into the stone.

Mordred knelt down and solemnly offered his hand so that his mother could slip the ring on to his finger.

“The hazel tree is a symbol of wisdom, inspiration and healing. One day soon, Mordred, your gift of seeing the world differently from others will heal the land.”

Mordred wanted to roll his eyes. That wasn’t his gift, but his affliction. He didn’t see how his affliction could possibly be helpful to anyone much less the land. But he didn’t dare tell his mother this as the present occasion was not the appropriate time to express disbelief.

“Thank you, Mother,” he said, realizing this was the first time he called her Mother. Hopefully this would help his mother gain peace in her afterlife, that he finally acknowledged her as his mother. He could see her teary-eyed smile as he used that word. “I would like nothing better than to aid in healing the land.”

“Watch for your friend, Merlin,” his mother advised him. “He will need you and you must help him.”

“Of course. I will always help him if he needs it.” Mordred told her easily as he stood up.

His mother smiled. “Thank you, my dear. I hate to leave you, but I must. I wish you well.”

“Goodbye, Mother,” he said softly, watching his mother fade away into the night.

Mordred walked away from the lake, feeling sadness at his mother’s passing finally creep inside of him.

He nearly jumped, startled again, when he heard a familiar voice speak.

“Hullo, Mordred,” said Pip.

The Faery prince was flying in front of him.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep right now in Sir Lancelot’s chambers at Camelot? Not to mention the danger traveling alone with the gremlin problem.”

“Well I’m with you now,” said Pip as if that was satisfactory enough. “I think I’ll be safe. I have the morning off tomorrow. Thought I’d stay with you? Merlin isn’t with you anymore?”

Mordred shook his head. He offered his hand, so that Pip could rest on it instead of tiring out his wings by sustaining flight as he talked. “No. He’s on a quest now.”

“I’m sure he is,” said Pip, standing on Mordred’s hand. “I saw him when I was with Sir Lancelot. Merlin was under glamour, pretending to be a physician with a salve for Sir Lancelot’s hand condition. I was concealed so he didn’t see me. I didn’t reveal the truth about Merlin because I knew he was trustworthy. Merlin’s like a brother to you, isn’t he? And the salve worked very well too, so I don’t think Sir Lancelot would have cared if Merlin had masked his identity. The Court Physician Taliesin is a bit envious, now, I believe because the salve was like a miracle. He was investigating the salve for most of the day…” Pip stopped, looking a bit sheepish at talking so much.

Mordred knew that the night - maybe the ease of gremlins sneaking up on you - made Pip skittish and as a result, he talked a lot and sometimes a little too fast.

“Well thank you for keeping quiet about him. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry about your mother, Mordred,” Pip said sincerely.

“Thanks. You can stay with me until tomorrow afternoon. I’d rather not be alone,” Mordred decided.

Pip yawned, and then grinned sleepily at him. “I’m glad you agree.”

The Faery fell asleep soon after and Mordred put a small, Faery-sized blanket over him before he magically transported them both away back to his home.

~ * ~

As dawn approached, Arthur was woken up by the sound of cruel laughter. He saw little blue winged creatures that he was sure were gremlins from the texts he had studied.

“Hey,” Arthur spoke up when he saw the trio of gremlins flying about Merlin’s head.

The gremlins turned to him, in surprise, clearly not anticipating Arthur to interrupt their trouble-making.

Arthur reached out for his sword and pointed it at them.

“Leave him alone,” he said in as commanding voice as he could muster.

The gremlins giggled amongst themselves. “It’s the strange one. Time to go!” They declared.

Then the three gremlins disappeared all too easily making Arthur suspicious. Had he woken up too late after the damage had been made? Had the gremlins done something to Merlin?

After returning his sword into its sheath, Arthur went to Merlin and nudged his shoulder to wake him up. Merlin must be a deep sleeper if he hadn’t woken up with the gremlins laughing so close to him.

Yet even after touching Merlin, Arthur was unsuccessful in waking the wizard.

“Merlin? Wake up. There were gremlins…” Arthur said, hoping to rouse him.

No luck.

Then he noticed a small vial that was half-empty beside Merlin. He hadn’t seen Merlin take anything before going to sleep hours ago. He must have done so later on, waking up while Arthur had still been sleeping.

Catching a whiff of the liquid in the vial, Arthur was certain it was a sleeping potion from the scent of poppy.

“Seriously, Merlin,” he muttered to himself. Why was Merlin taking a sleeping potion?

Maybe he had difficulty sleeping, knowing with the sun rise, his memory of the day would disappear. The potion could be Merlin’s only way of getting a decent slumber, Arthur decided. And he had hid it from Arthur by taking it while Arthur had been asleep.

Then he noticed that there was a ring now on Merlin’s right hand. It had Merlin’s family emblem on it - a dragon breathing out a phoenix. When had he received that? Arthur hadn’t seen it earlier.

The sun was about to rise, and Arthur tried to get Merlin to wake up again.

“Merlin, please. Wake up,” Arthur asked him.

Of course, just his luck, the sun was high in the sky when Merlin finally woke up. His memories of the last six months were gone.

Merlin looked at Arthur blankly, not recognizing Arthur due to the memory loss.

“I’m Arthur… you should read your journal,” Arthur advised him.

Merlin glared at him, irritated. “I always check my journal. Who do you think you are?” He shot back at him.

Arthur remained quiet. Merlin’s condition wasn’t an easy one and he wasn’t about to rile up a wizard of the First Order no matter if Merlin’s magic couldn’t hurt him.

Arthur watched as Merlin made his journal magically appear. Then he saw the confusion on Merlin’s face as he turned the pages.

“What the hell. Have you done something to my journal? Every page is blank. And how did I end up here when last I remember it was my twentieth birthday. I was nowhere near here, wherever here is. I don’t recall ever having seen you.”

Arthur was growing very concerned. That wasn’t right. How was his journal blank? Had the gremlins done something? Managed to gain access to Merlin’s journal?

He’d been too late to thwart the gremlins’ mischief and now Merlin was paying the price for it. Arthur felt guilt overcome him.

“You have an affliction, Merlin. You’ve forgotten the past six months of your life, including me. Every sun rise, you forget the previous day which is in addition to the other days you’ve forgotten. The journal was a written record for you, to inform of what you had experienced.”

“But the bloody memories won’t return into my mind, is that it? It’s like reading a story of someone else’s life,” Merlin said bitterly. He peered at Arthur. “You’re Arthur? And for some reason I’m traveling with you.”

Arthur nodded. “To get this special key from a child most likely. So I could heal the land and put an end to the afflictions. You’ll be cured.”

Merlin continued to look at him carefully. “Something else…” he said to himself. “You’re Pristinely Ungifted! Oh no, no, no… you’re the lost prince of Camelot, aren’t you? I don’t want anything to do with you.”

Merlin stood up and began backing away from him.

“What? Why are you acting like this?” Arthur asked in shock. He stood up as well, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. “You knew I had that gift before and that didn’t bother you then.”

“Well clearly I had temporarily lost my mind then! The blood of a Pristinely Ungifted one is poison to a wizard of the First Order. You stay away from me. I don’t care what you need to do. The last thing I want to do is consort with someone who could kill me,” Merlin shouted at him.

His hand was out as if he was about to perform magic against Arthur, but then he appeared to realise it would have no effect. He put his hand down.

“Merlin, please. I don’t want to kill you. I’ll do anything. I’ll be as careful as possible not to get my blood anywhere near you. Please. Just give me a chance. I only want us to be friends. Please,” Arthur pleaded with him earnestly.

Merlin shook his head. “No. I refuse. You won’t convince me.”

Desperate, Arthur took out his stuffed toy, Falcon, and showed it to Merlin. “This was given to me by my real mother the day I was born. It’s a Merlin falcon. Maybe this was a sign that one day I would meet you, Merlin. That we are destined to be together, to be a team, to be friends…maybe even something more. Please, I need you with me. I’m just asking for you to give me a chance.”

Merlin looked at Arthur then looked at Falcon. “Give me the bird,” he ordered Arthur.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “What? So you could destroy it? You’re not acting like yourself...I don’t know if I can completely trust you now. At least with Falcon. I’ve had him all my life.”

“I won’t destroy him. I promise,” Merlin assured him.

And there was a sincere look in Merlin’s blue eyes that left Arthur believing in Merlin’s words. And anyway, Merlin couldn’t magically manipulate Arthur into trusting his word. So maybe this wouldn’t end in disaster.

Arthur handed Falcon over to him. Merlin took the bird, only holding it with one hand and giving it a little squeeze. He made no move to set Falcon on fire to Arthur’s relief.

Merlin studied the bird with interest. “Beautifully made,” he remarked pleasantly, a change of tone that threw Arthur off. Would Merlin be more willing to accept him now?

“Thanks,” Arthur said.

Merlin held a question in his eyes as he looked at Arthur. “Tell me where we need to find this key and I’ll give you Falcon back.”

Arthur swore to himself. Based on his past impression, Ealdor was one of the last places Merlin would ever want to go to, or return to as the case may be. It had been with great luck that Merlin had agreed to accompany Arthur to his old home village.

But now with the journal blank and Merlin’s behavior being rather erratic, Arthur didn’t think saying the location was Ealdor would be very persuasive in getting Merlin to go with him.

“Judging by how your face has fallen, I imagine the place to be a happy one,” Merlin remarked, the sarcasm thick in his words.

“It’s Ealdor,” Arthur told him. “I’m sorry. If I had to choose, it wouldn’t be there, but it is. I know you had a troubled past there…”

Merlin looked at him in disbelief. “Oh do you? You know that my father had a nasty affliction that made him paranoid, causing him to magically attack and kill most of the people of Ealdor? That some had managed to flee, but I’m sure they’ve returned by now and are waiting to make me pay. Simply because I’m his son. Like father like son, they say. That’s why I desperately prayed for an affliction that wasn’t like his.”

Then Merlin started breathing hard, his hands on his knees. He was hyperventilating.

“Merlin, please. Calm down,” Arthur spoke to him softly, rubbing his shoulders. He took Falcon back, the bird loosened in Merlin’s grip.

Arthur was relieved when Merlin seemed to come back to himself, calming down. Merlin turned to Arthur then. He stared at him like he was seeing a new person entirely.

“I - I didn’t know the details. I’m so sorry,” said Arthur apologetically.

Merlin gave a small shrug. “That was over ten years ago. I’m fine,” he said. Then he placed his hand over Arthur’s cheek. “I need…to feel you,” Merlin whispered to him.

“Wait. Merlin. You’re confusing me…what…” Arthur stopped when Merlin pressed his lips to his.

Arthur fell back on to the ground, though he still clung to Falcon in his hand. Merlin was on top of him, and he let Merlin’s tongue gain entrance inside his mouth.

Arthur had never kissed a man before, or anyone else in the way of lovers, so he wasn’t sure how to do this.

Despite the inexperience, he gathered up his courage and he deepened the kiss, feeling the sweetness of Merlin’s mouth. Soon Arthur felt Merlin’s fingers unlacing his breeches. His breath hitched at the physical contact of Merlin’s hand touching his cock.

He never thought his blood could travel so fast down to his cock, and he was feeling lightheaded as a result.

“Gods, Merlin… please,” he uttered when Merlin pulled away, letting him breathe. “I don’t…I’ve never done this before.”

“Don’t worry,” Merlin gave him an encouraging smile. It made Arthur wonder what the hell was going on Merlin’s quick shifts in behavior. Was this some sort of strange side effect of his affliction? That now that he didn’t have his journal to depend on, he was acting oddly?

“I’ve done this before. I have a daughter after all,” Merlin told him.

Arthur stared at him in surprise. He pushed Merlin away from him, forcing him to remove his hand from his length. While Arthur quickly missed the feel of Merlin’s deft fingers on him, he had to do it.

He couldn’t let this revelation go. “I didn’t know you had a child. Is she living with her mother then?”

Merlin frowned, looking puzzled why Arthur wanted to discuss this when they were in the middle of something more pleasurable. Well he would just have to cope with it, Arthur thought grimly. “No. Forridel passed away not long after she gave birth to our daughter. She’s in the care of a friend I trust in Mystra’s protected lands. I visit her, of course, when I can. She means everything to me,” Merlin said with a small tender smile as he spoke of his daughter.

Then he gave Arthur a pointed look. “Now can we go back to what we were doing? There’s so much I can show you,” Merlin promised him with a quick grin.

Arthur was tempted to let Merlin win but then he realized that this made everything worse. If Merlin would agree to go with Arthur to Ealdor, a place where Merlin could be facing execution, then Merlin’s daughter would be without a father. She’d be an orphan. Now Arthur understood why Merlin was against going to Ealdor. He couldn’t believe Merlin had even agreed to head to Ealdor before the gremlin mess. Maybe before, Merlin had thought helping Arthur heal the land was worth the risk, even entering a village that would mean a likely death for him.

And now without the journal to remind him of what he should know, Merlin’s opinion had changed. Quite possibly Mystra had persuaded Merlin to head to Ealdor with Arthur. He must have written it in his journal. Yet now, all those words of persuasion were gone. All that was left was Merlin’s knowledge that he had a daughter who depended on him while Arthur was a stranger asking Merlin to risk his life and potentially leave his child an orphan.

Arthur swallowed, rubbing his brow. He laced his breeches back up. “I can’t… your daughter, Merlin. What is her name?” He asked him.

“Arthur…I love my daughter, but I don’t understand why you want to talk about her. It’s too early for this,” Merlin said, slightly irritated.

Arthur sighed. “I just want to know her name.”

“Lily Rose, okay? That’s her name. Lily was after Forridel’s mother and Rose was after my…my… ” Merlin stopped.

“Merlin?” Arthur prompted quietly.

Merlin pressed his fingers to his brow. “My little sister Freya… she died when I was ten. She was only five…and her second name was Rose. That’s where Rose came from. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Merlin said.

“You’re right, Merlin. You shouldn’t go with me to Ealdor,” Arthur decided. “I don’t want you to risk death when you have Lily to think of. I wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye, tell her why you died. I don’t want her to live without her father. My mother died only yesterday, and the ache of the loss hurts. Even if she wasn’t my real mother…eighteen years of her caring for me and loving me, that still means something to me.”

Even as Arthur spoke of his mother, he felt he was the wrong person to address this subject considering the complicated feelings he had toward his mother. The weight of eighteen years of her raising him and loving him did feel stronger than the moment of revelation that she was his kidnapper. To balance those two conflicting perceptions of his deceased mother gave Arthur a rotten headache.

“Your daughter’s still so young,” Arthur pressed on earnestly. “If you die now, it’ll be harder for her to remember you, to remember how much you love her.”

Merlin stayed silent, a thoughtful expression on his face. Then he spoke, “I’m glad you understand the risk more clearly now. But you said we need to get the key from Ealdor. That this object will heal the land, cure everyone with afflictions. I need to help you, don’t I?”

Arthur nodded. “A moment ago, you seemed against the idea. What changed your mind?”

“I don’t think Lily would be happy with me if I didn’t offer my help to a good cause. She hasn’t gained an affliction yet, and if helping you get the key will spare my daughter from dealing with an affliction, then I will do it.”

“It’s your decision in the end,” he said, deciding it was Merlin’s choice and it wasn’t worth arguing with him. After all, Arthur wanted Merlin come with him. “So how do we get to Ealdor?” Arthur asked Merlin, intent on gaining that key as fast as possible. Preferably without a threat to Merlin’s life.

“That’s not hard. The difficult part is surviving the Winter Barrier protecting the entrance to the village. It’s a challenge making it through the barrier without freezing to death. Magic loses most of its strength while you’re in the Winter Barrier. I tried it once when I was young, but I couldn’t last. My mum had to pull me out before I lost my fingers to the cold.”

The dreaded barrier only took them an hour to get to, which left Arthur grateful.

Yet what bewildered him was that he didn’t see any signs of winter in this Winter Barrier.

“Merlin, are you sure this is the barrier?” Arthur asked, looking at the expansive clearing of grass and a few trees dotted here and there on either side.

Merlin looked unhappy and a touch, envious? Did Arthur see that right?

“It is. But you’re Pristinely Ungifted, and this barrier is wholly magic-made. Your condition won’t allow you to see the magic-caused winter. Perhaps, even, you won’t feel the chill of the cold.”

Arthur frowned. He stepped inside the barrier and confirmed Merlin’s suspicion. He didn’t feel the winter cold. It only felt like the cool autumn day it should be.

“I’m okay, but if your magic is weaker in the barrier, then maybe you shouldn’t come,” Arthur told him, feeling unhappy.

“I’ll be fine. I knew about the barrier when I agreed to help you. I still want to help,” Merlin said in a stubborn tone.

With that, Merlin headed right into the barrier and walked past Arthur. Almost immediately, Arthur saw Merlin shivering from the cold Arthur didn’t feel. He saw Merlin glow briefly, like he was trying to warm himself magically. Then he heard Merlin swear when it appeared the warming spell wasn’t strong as it could have been outside the barrier.

“I have a blanket,” Arthur offered as he caught up to Merlin.

Merlin was only wearing blue robes that looked more appropriate for springtime weather. At least the robes had a hood to cover his head if necessary.

Merlin glanced at him. He grudgingly took the blanket and wrapped it around himself.

“I suppose for now the non-magic way is the best option,” Arthur remarked. “You don’t want to lose energy using your magic when it won’t be working at full strength here.”

“Thank you,” Merlin said all too politely, giving Arthur an odd look.

Arthur nodded. “I should tell you…not that it’ll be much help now, but there were three gremlins last night. I think they might have removed the contents of your journal. I woke up too late to stop them. You’d taken a sleeping potion that kept you from being roused awake by their raucous.”

Merlin didn’t look as angry as Arthur expected him to be. Instead, he just looked defeated and tired.

“Of course. Gremlins will take any measure to exact mischief. Even if you’d woken up earlier, they would have done anything to accomplish their trouble-making,” Merlin told him, glaring off into the distance.

“But maybe you can make up for it now. You should be able to continue using your journal. You can write down what you did today at least. And then since magic won’t affect me, I can keep your journal in my possession and then the gremlins…”

“…won’t be able to use magic to tamper with the journal.” Merlin finished. “That would be good.”

They ended up having to stay the night in the Winter Barrier. After dinner, Arthur could see how hard the cold weather was on Merlin. His magic wasn’t helping and a thick blanket could only do so much.

“I can write in your journal for you,” Arthur suggested as he watched Merlin rub his hands together to keep them warm. Arthur saw a small glow appear inside his hands as Merlin still persisted in using a bit of warming magic.

“Okay. I appreciate that,” Merlin said.

He gave Arthur his journal and a quill with ink.

“I have some mittens. You can have them,” Arthur said, pulling a pair of dark red mittens with a little falcon in the center of each. His mother had knitted them for him.

Merlin took the offered mittens and put his hands inside the mittens. “You prepared for all weather, didn’t you?” Merlin remarked, flashing him an ‘I can’t believe you’re real’ grin.

Arthur shrugged. “I tried my best.”

Merlin laid down then, still wrapped snuggly in his blanket and his hood covering his head. And now with mittens covering his hands, he wouldn’t lose any fingers Arthur hoped.

For the next hour or two, they talked about what to write in the journal. Merlin seemed to be coping well enough with the cold. He answered Arthur readily and gave solid input about he wanted in his journal. Arthur made sure to include all that Merlin wanted.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked after they were finished.

“I think I may die here. You should write a eulogy for me,” Merlin muttered darkly.

“Don’t be like that,” Arthur told him. “Maybe a fire will help?”

“A magic-based fire probably won’t give off much heat here,” Merlin countered.

“I can build one instead of a magical fire. So you can focus more on keeping warm,” Arthur decided. “There are some branches littered around here. I can manage.”

“Hopefully this’ll work,” Merlin said, though he sounded far from hopeful.

Arthur gave him a concerned look. Then he took out another blanket from his pack.

“Here…one more blanket should help.”

Arthur covered Merlin with the other blanket until he could barely see the wizard. He could only spot the top of his hooded head.

Then Arthur gave him Falcon. “Falcon can keep you company,” he said as Merlin accepted the stuffed bird with a gloved hand and snuck it back under the blankets.

“Thank you. I’ll look after him for you,” Merlin promised him.

“I know you will,” Arthur said, looking and feeling confident of his words. Maybe he pitied Merlin a bit now because he was suffering, but he did trust that Falcon, his most treasured possession, would be safe with Merlin.

Arthur collected branches and twigs as quickly as he could to start a fire close to Merlin, so he would benefit from the warmth.

The fire was made, and Arthur sat beside Merlin huddling as close as he could to him. He hoped that some of his body heat would seep into Merlin.

“I’m taking all the blankets,” Merlin indicated, but shortly after he sneezed. His nose was as red as strawberry. “You should have one. Even if you’re not affected by this bitter cold.”

“It’s more important you don’t get ill. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m the older one here. I make the final decision,” Merlin argued. Without allowing Arthur to protest, he removed one of his blankets and put it firmly in Arthur’s lap.

“Use it, please,” Merlin ordered him.

“Okay, okay. If you insist,” Arthur gave in. Better to appease Merlin or he’d get sicker. The last thing Arthur wanted was to make Merlin more miserable than he already was.

“Tomorrow…we’ll make it to Ealdor. We won’t spend…another night… here,” Merlin said, stuttering.

“I almost think we should just go through the night. The less time you spend here, the better, but we need to get some rest. You look exhausted.”

“Yeah,” Merlin admitted quietly.

He dropped his head on to Arthur’s shoulder, and Arthur was left watching the dancing flames of the fire as Merlin fell into a restless sleep.

The final part