Paperlegends: The Raven Knife (8)
Masterpost
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 & Epilogue
“So this is goodbye,” said Gwydion quietly. He looked unhappy as he hung his head from his perch of a conjured floating branch at Bran’s eye level.
“No, just sort of a ‘see you later’,” Bran told him, trying to reassure him.
He was sitting a thick grey stone bench out in the rose garden of Rosebrooke Castle.
“Maybe in the Fairytale World I had a mate and had nestlings, but that was before I remembered my past life. I was only doing what bluebirds do. Once I remembered you, I knew I just had to return to you. That was just how it had to be. I don’t think I even want to leave you…”
“You can still visit me. I’ve been thinking that there’s a reason why you were reincarnated as a bluebird. And maybe it’s better for you if you live among other bluebirds and not with us humans. I mean, really, Gwydion you sleep in a nest now. I know most other bluebirds were never human in a past life, and on that level, they can’t understand what you know, but other bluebirds comprehend what it truly is to be a bluebird. That’s something that I can’t quite fully grasp. I think you’ll be happier. Don’t tell me that you like people thinking you’re a pet bird with your wings clipped.”
“No I don’t like that, but I don’t want to be away from you. And with the situation with Robin…”
“If your father contacts you about him, then you can let me, Ophelia or Charlie know. This is hard for me too, Gwydion, but sometimes I feel I’m holding you back from being who you truly are in this life. So you’ll live your life and I’ll live mine, and we’ll catch up every so often.”
“All right. Okay. I understand. Maybe you’re right. I was considering going to North America. I could relocate there next week maybe.”
“Thanks to the wonders of magic, you’ll get there in excellent time,” Bran joked lightly.
“Yeah. I want to see Mithian before I leave too.”
“How sweet. You like her.”
“You do too,” Gwydion retorted.
“We’re both guilty on that count,” Bran acknowledged. “Sansa will always hold a special place in my heart, but I know she’d want me to be happy in this life too even if it’s not with her.”
“Sansa would be very glad you have me in this life. I don’t doubt that,” said Gwydion solemnly.
“Of course she’d be thrilled,” said Bran dryly, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Do you want to go back to our home in Oxford?”
“No, I think I’ll stay at Rosebrooke for a little while longer,” Bran told him. He kissed Gwydion on his feathery head.
“I’ll see you later,” Bran reassured Gwydion, reiterating his earlier words. “I love you,” he told Gwydion in a heartfelt tone.
“I love you too. See you,” Gwydion told him just as fondly. He flew away. Bran waved at him in farewell and watched Gwydion in the sky until he was a blue dot off in the distance.
“Merlin, oh god, Merlin,” Arthur said in a rush, still in disbelief. There was nothing he could do. Merlin’s heart had stopped and he’d stopped breathing before Arthur could even make an effort to revive him.
The Prince of Darkness had something to do with this. And he would pay. Arthur couldn’t accept that he’d lose Merlin like this. He would get Merlin back.
Because Merlin couldn’t be dead. Even if his heart had stopped beating, and his breathing had halted, Arthur wouldn’t, couldn’t believe it.
He beckoned Cavall to come with him, in hopefully confronting the Prince. Even though he wasn’t Krola, truly, he still had a part of Arthur’s daemon inside him. Arthur felt grateful to even have that.
Predictably, Lux stayed by Merlin, propping his little head on Merlin’s arm. The palm-sized, almost fragile-looking phoenix that he’d seen Merlin stroking earlier flew down to perch on Lux’s head. The miniature phoenix looked concerned down at Merlin.
“Merlin isn’t really dead. I’ll fix this,” Arthur said out loud. He felt a little better declaring that.
He decided to summon the Prince of Darkness from the lower level of his and Merlin’s house. Arthur knew he’d look like a mad person if he started shouting obscenities out in the open. And he didn’t want to stray too far away from Merlin, so leaving the house was out of the question.
“Come here, you arsehole. I want to talk to you!” Arthur called him out.
Fortunately, or unfortunately -- depending on how you saw it -- his connection to the Prince by being another world’s version of him allowed him to ‘contact’ the Prince in such a manner.
“Seriously, what the hell is your problem? Why are you being so loud?” The Prince said in mild irritation as if he didn’t know what he’d done to anger Arthur so much.
This time, the Prince had no hat. He wore a white dress shirt with a black silken tie and grey trousers, which seemed relatively casual for him.
“You killed Merlin,” accused Arthur flatly. “You think you’re just going to get away with that?”
“Well he managed to cure you, which wouldn’t do. He had to die.”
By Arthur’s side, Cavall growled reproachfully.
“I doubt Merlin knew that detail.”
The Prince didn’t appear too concerned. “Oh well. That’s not something I was interested in telling him. Ruins the surprise.”
“I want to know what’s happened to the Daemon World. I know you know yet you won’t tell me. I deserve to know the truth.”
“Can’t you put 1 and 1 together?” The Prince said condescendingly.
“You’re ruling my world now?” Arthur concluded after a moment, desperately wishing that this wasn’t true. “How dare you? What made you think you had any right to?”
“Really, you only were King of Camelot - even if your territory expanded to all of Albion, that’s still just a fraction of the Daemon World. That doesn’t make the world all yours.”
“It’s still my world because I was born in it. You’re an outsider coming into a world you never truly understood.”
“Considering I’ve been Emperor of the Daemon World since the twelfth century, I beg to differ that my knowledge is lacking.”
“Why did you do it? Why the Daemon World?”
“Because I took pleasure in knowing how angry you’d be at taking ‘your’ world. I found that entertaining. And you may not believe it, but I have been a good leader of the Daemon World. It’s far from a miserable place.”
“The only thing I believe about you is that you’re a miserable liar. And what are you - five? You wanted my world because you enjoyed seeing me angry about it? That’s pathetic.”
“The golden age of five… now isn’t that when you condemned Merlin’s father to death in your past life? Someone shouldn’t have been eavesdropping…” the Prince sing-songed the last bit, sounding quite amused.
“Shut up. That doesn’t count. I was too young then, and I regret it every day of my life.”
“Yes I’m sure you do. You know, there’s one thing I don’t regret. It’s actually pretty funny.”
Arthur had a bad feeling that he’d find this far from amusing. Something inside him made him dread what the Prince would say next.
“That cancer Merlin’s father had in this life? I might have strengthened the cancer with a bit of dark magic to prevent him from fighting it off as well as he otherwise might have. I’m rather proud of succeeding in that.”
Arthur nearly growled at him and pushed him to the ground. He wrapped his hands around the Prince’s throat, wanting to strangle him even if his immortality wouldn’t give Arthur the satisfaction of his death.
“I don’t know what your problem is. It means we have something in common now - well besides the glaringly obvious. Your actions led to the death of Merlin’s father in one life, and my actions led to his father’s death in a different life. Here I’d thought you’d be congratulating me.”
“No. What you did was a deliberate act of evil. I hate being connected to you. All the worlds would be happier without you, I’m certain of that. You disgust me,” Arthur declared fiercely, his eyes blazing.
He removed himself from the Prince. As the Prince stood up, unaffected as he swiped invisible lint off his clothing, Arthur flexed his fingers.
Arthur felt his power to drain magic from magic users return. He could only hold the magic until a magic user said the spell to awaken the magic within him. Then he could wield magic just as well as any magic user. That was how he’d escaped the tower Uther had locked him in. Ophelia, since she was a sorceress from the World of Magic, gave Arthur the ability to use magic and leave his prison by magic means.
Arthur concentrated and attempted to drain some of the Prince’s magic.
It seemed to work a little as the Prince’s face started to wrinkle, the magic keeping him ageless being drained by Arthur.
The Prince laughed. “I haven’t lived this long life while you slept for centuries to be thwarted so easily. But nice try,” he said.
Arthur felt the magic he’d taken leaving him, returning to the Prince. The Prince’s skin de-aged again smoothly like it’d never been wrinkled.
Arthur relaxed his hand, feeling frustrated that the draining didn’t last on the Prince. “I’d like to see you say to Merlin’s face that you’re responsible for his father’s death.”
“That’s kind of hard, isn’t it? Since Merlin is dead and all. Maybe this is a good thing. He’ll get to see his father in the afterlife. And my plan to separate you and Merlin is coming along nicely,” the Prince decided with a smirk that Arthur wanted to rip off his face.
Then the Prince of Darkness magically disappeared in a mix of fierce wind and lightning.
“You’re a bastard!” Arthur shouted after the Prince even though he was long gone.
It didn’t make him feel any better, unfortunately.
As Arthur headed back up the stairs with Cavall, he noticed in passing that it had started to rain lightly.
Entering his and Merlin’s bedroom, he wondered if he was asleep and was now in the midst of a dream.
He wasn’t sure how to rationalize what looked like honest-to-goodness Aslan being in the room. And Arthur was sure this lion was an actual lion and not the result of movie magic.
Aslan had one of his big paws over Merlin’s heart. Lux and the little phoenix still on the dog had moved a little away from Merlin’s body. The two creatures adopted respectful stances in the presence of the great lion. Cavall too bowed his head in Aslan’s presence.
The lion looked up when Arthur came in. Arthur felt the lion’s gaze pierce deep into his soul.
“Are you the God of Magic?” Arthur guessed tentatively, not sure if he should look at the lion directly or not. That guess felt right to him. He remembered Merlin telling him in his past life that the God of Magic couldn’t be seen in his true form by mortal eyes. There was the risk of madness. So it made sense that the God of Magic would appear in an animal form. “Merlin’s grandfather?”
“Yes I am. I’m glad you can tell who I am. I do like it when people are intelligent.”
“You’re here to save Merlin, right?”
“Yes. The Prince of Darkness overstepped his bounds. Merlin is not meant to die now. His magic is keeping him alive even now, but only just. I’ll be able to revive him. You’ll have him back.”
“Thank you, honestly. I know there are all these rules with magic and bringing the dead back to life is frowned upon, but, I’m not ready to lose Merlin in this life. We still need to get married and grow old together, and do everything we’re meant to do.”
“I am the God of Magic, Arthur. It falls to me to make those rules. Of course when it comes to family, I help them when I can. I regret not being able to help Hephaestion as my power isn’t infinite,” the God of Magic admitted, a deep terrible sadness lacing his words. “Regardless of that, what matters now is that Merlin can be saved. He should wake up soon.”
Arthur saw, to his immense relief, Merlin’s chest rising up and going down as he breathed in and out slowly in his slumber.
Arthur felt tears prickle at his eyes. He swiped at them hurriedly, preventing the tears from falling.
“I need a moment with my grandson,” Merlin’s grandfather told him not unkindly.
Arthur nodded, moving away so that he could still see Merlin, but it was enough distance to give him and his grandfather some privacy. Cavall stood beside him while Lux and the phoenix remained by Merlin.
He watched Merlin open his eyes and wake up, shifting to a sitting position. He could tell that Merlin knew right away who the lion was by the way he smiled at seeing him. Merlin put his arms around the lion’s head in an embrace and laid his head upon the lion’s mane, his face now concealed. Arthur wondered if Merlin was crying.
Not wanting to intrude longer than necessary, he decided to leave the room completely. He needed to give Cavall his food.
Arthur looked forward to spending time with Merlin after nearly losing him. But he respected the need to be with family first. Maybe not from a personal perspective as he’d never been close to his own father. And his father had long since died, so the point was moot. Not to mention he’d never known his mother who died shortly after he was born.
Yet if she hadn’t died when he was little, Arthur would’ve liked to think he would’ve been close to Morgana like he was in his past life.
Nevertheless, it had been a very long time since Merlin had seen his grandfather after all. They deserved this reunion. Arthur would have Merlin for the rest of their lives together either way.
Bran was startled, but he tried his best to hide it, when he saw the Prince of Darkness in his room at Rosebrooke.
The Prince didn’t speak, and the silence only made Bran more unsettled. As Bran moved to retrieve something from the wardrobe, he could feel the Prince’s black-eyed gaze upon him.
“I think you know where this came from,” Bran said, taking out the blue blanket with Bambi the fawn, Thumper the rabbit and Flower the skunk featured on it. He showed it to the Prince.
The Prince’s black eyes prevented any expression of emotion through his eyes. Yet Bran could still tell that the sight of the blanket didn’t leave the Prince unmoved.
“When I was left as a baby at Rosebrooke Castle, I was wrapped in this blanket.”
The Prince remained quiet. He only looked at Bran, seeming to do his best to keep his mask in his place.
Bran grew frustrated and he threw the blanket onto his bed. “I am a very old man in a child’s body. Whatever you need to say, say it. Don’t use the excuse that I’m too young because you and I both know how wrong that is.”
“It doesn’t matter now. I still need to kill you. You were a mistake, a cruel joke played on me. It doesn’t matter.”
But Bran saw how the Prince’s black eyes were shifting colour before returning to darkness. His eyes were blue momentarily, which proved that the Prince’s control was faltering. Bran didn’t think the Prince meant what he was saying.
“I tried to deny it, but I knew it was true. You kept sending people after me, but only now, it’s you who are actually here to take up the task. You kept delaying because killing me became all too personal for you. Not like in my past life. And also, you knew about Robin, Alice and Ophelia. Only you could have placed me with them,” Bran told him. Pausing, he then admitted, “I didn’t tell anyone about my suspicions.”
“Not even Gwydion?”
“No.”
“This doesn’t change what I need to do.”
“You don’t have to do this. You can just let me live,” Bran suggested, though he had a bad feeling that the Prince wouldn’t be so easily dissuaded from his plan.
“It has to be this way. I can promise you that it will be painless,” the Prince assured him, a touch of unhappiness in his voice.
“No, please,” Bran said quietly.
Yet it was too late. He was already feeling very tired, and he couldn’t resist the urge to close his eyes and sleep.
“Don’t fight it,” the Prince advised in a whisper.
Unable to defeat the spell’s power, Bran succumbed to it.
TEN YEARS EARLIER:
The Prince wasn’t sure why he had gone through with it. The woman, Amelia, had intrigued him due to her having a grandmother who was an incarnation of Ariel. Just looking at her very red hair was an indicator, to those who believed, that there was a touch of fairytale magic inside her. He should have foreseen that he would’ve been played for a fool. Her eyes were tawny gold just like Bran’s had been. But the last person on his mind at that time was Gwydion’s blasted friend.
Nine months after he had slept with her, he was horrified to discover that their newborn was Bran reincarnated. If the startling albino appearance wasn’t the clincher, then the reincarnation energy that the Prince could sense inside the baby was undeniable proof.
He took away the newborn Bran from his mother, knowing that Amelia wouldn’t quite understand just who her child was. He made sure to erase her memory of ever having a child as well as meeting him in the first place. It was a kinder thing to do.
He made great strides to insure King Merlin was unaware of the identity of Bran’s birth father in his reincarnated life. And it was just short of miraculous that he had kept the truth about Bran from Morgaine.
Nimueh had known about Bran because the Prince had entrusted her to help look after the baby for the first six months of Bran’s life. After all, she had helped him with taking care of Gwydion all those centuries ago.
But then Nimueh advised him to give Bran up, that it would get too unpleasant if Bran remembered his old life and was faced with the Prince as his current father.
Fortunately, the Prince knew just where to place him. Rosebrooke Castle. Bran’s five year old cousin, Ophelia, was living with those twins, Robin and Alice, who were in their mid-twenties.
King Merlin had done his own maneuvering with help from the God of Magic. He had insured his Queen, Freya, would be reborn as a duchess and would raise the reincarnated Robin and Alice as her children. They had inherited her wealth which had gained them financial security. More importantly, Robin and Alice had remembered their past lives for years at that point. They understood who Ophelia was though she hadn’t remembered herself yet. And also, the twins would understand that this baby was Bran and they would know best what to do.
It was the only option and it was the best one, the Prince knew. Because now, he didn’t have the heart to kill a helpless baby. So he had to give Bran away to those who could best look after him.
He bought a blue blanket with Bambi the fawn, Thumper the rabbit and Flower the skunk on it. Hopefully that would throw Robin and Alice off about the identity of the person who had left them Bran. And honestly, he thought the blanket was nice-looking and soft enough to suffice for the baby.
When the Prince, carefully concealed of course, was near enough to Rosebrooke Castle, he said his goodbye to his son. He knew Bran wouldn’t understand a word he said, but the Prince said them anyway.
He told the baby that he would hate him when he remembered. That this was for the best. And to stop looking at him like that with those wide golden eyes.
Bran gurgled, smiling up at him, as he clapped his hands together. He was just a baby, and all he had known was that the Prince and Nimueh had been good to him.
“Please don’t, just stop that,” the Prince pleaded with him. “This is goodbye, okay? I…” he paused, and the baby just stared at him, his unusual golden eyes piercing his dark ones as if Bran was more perceptive than a baby should be.
No, the Prince was seeing things. No one was supposed to remember their past lives at this young age. It just wasn’t allowed.
“I love you,” he said quickly, so fast that he wasn’t sure it was even coherent. He kissed Bran on his forehead, and then did the spell to transport Bran to the front entrance of the castle. He didn’t trust that he wouldn’t be sighted if he had carried Bran directly to the entrance. Better to do this at a distance.
He did a mild inclination spell to insure someone opened the door right away to find Bran. And the spell worked.
Alice opened the door, and he saw her gasp in surprise to see the baby on the ground before her. The Prince heard her call for her brother Robin as she took the baby in her arms.
Robin came to the door with a little Ophelia fast on his heels.
He saw Ophelia clap her hands excitedly and exclaim in delight, “Oh a baby!”
Robin pulled her up into his arms so that she could better see the baby. The Prince heard Ophelia comment on how the baby looked similar to her except for the eyes.
Robin and Alice exchanged knowing looks with one another. That was when the Prince decided it was his time to leave.
He had done what he’d come to do.
Trying to set aside those distracting memories, the Prince carried Bran to his bed. He grabbed a pillow. Though he felt some reluctance set in, he did his best to bury it, and he covered Bran’s face with the pillow. Applying pressure on the pillow, the Prince smothered his son to death. His jaw was clenched, and his mind was carefully not focused on the unpleasant task at hand.
He removed the pillow when he knew that he had succeeded.
Bran was dead.
The Prince took the Raven Knife, and he placed the knife’s hilt in his son’s hands, the blade facing up. It was a harkening back to the past. After all, dead knights of old were sent to the afterlife with their faithful swords in their cold hands.
He took the Bambi blanket from the bed and he looked at it, trying not to let the tears fall.
“You didn’t have to kill Bran. He was your son, and killing him is killing you. Don’t deny it,” James said from behind him, having suddenly appeared.
The Prince didn’t have the energy to be irritated at the god’s abrupt arrival.
“He was better off dead than alive and living with the knowledge that his father is a terrible man. His Clan abhorred me, and Bran learned that growing up in his past life. I can’t have asked him to accept that in this incarnation, he was the son of the man he had always seen as the enemy. I was sparing him.”
“I heard what Bran had said. He wanted to live. You didn’t give him a chance. Being a father means you have to listen, and not assume you believe you know what’s best for your children.”
“You’re the last person I’d ask for advice on this matter. Just leave me. Go away,” the Prince demanded of James, glaring at him.
“Very well. I’ll be monitoring you. It would be best if you lie low, and don’t go about ruining people’s lives like you did with Merlin and Arthur.”
“Fine!” The Prince agreed in an angry shout, his dark eyes blazing. “Go away,” he demanded once again of James.
“Gladly,” agreed James. He magically disappeared from the room.
The Prince returned his attention to the blanket in his hands. He couldn’t look at Bran lying lifeless on the bed.
Feeling the softness and warmth of the blanket, the Prince could almost remember how Bran had felt, wrapped as a baby in this very blanket all those years ago.
The truth was that he hadn’t deserved a son like Bran. The Prince had needed him to die. Bran had been a false hope to him. That the bloody King Merlin had been wrong: that he could father a child who wasn’t a monster. Yet the King had been right because Bran hadn’t truly been the Prince’s son. Not if he had carried the memories of another life, another existence where the Prince was his enemy.
Of course it wouldn’t matter who Bran was reborn to. Once he remembered his past life, his steadfast nature and his inherent nobility would prevail. And Bran had proved that by not abusing his mind control power despite being damned with an appearance that would never allow him to blend in, to always have others staring at him and whispering behind his back.
Those reasons were why he had given Bran the ability of mind control after all. As a way to deal with close-minded people. The Prince, painfully, had to admit that Bran had been a stronger person than he ever could be.
And now, he was stuck with the knowledge that he had killed his own son.
That terrible realization was one of the worst feelings in the world.
“I’ll be going now, Arthur,” the God of Magic told him.
“Wait,” Arthur spoke up before the god could magically disappear. “Could I ask you something?”
“Of course. What is it?”
“I want to know more about the odd future visions I’ve been having. I’m assuming they’re of my future life.”
“Merlin asked me about this too. He has been having visions of the future as well. So yes, they are snapshots of your future life, the next time you’ll be reincarnated. But that’s hundreds of years away.”
“Is there any reason why I’m having them?”
“You’ll remember your past lives in your future incarnation, as usual. Yet before then, the visions you’re having now will aid you though you may not consciously be aware of it. Still, having seen the visions once, you can never truly forget them. They will quietly guide you into doing what is needed of you. For you, the most important thing is to meet the mermaid.”
Arthur was going to ask ‘why?’ but the look on the God of Magic’s lion face told him that he probably wouldn’t give him an answer.
Some things had to remain a mystery, unfortunately.
“What about the baby Morgaine was so up in arms about? The one to end the apocalypse?”
“I’m certain you’ll figure that out on your own. I insist though that you try to focus on this life, spend time with Merlin, be happy together. You’ve both had a chaotic summer so far, and need a bit of a break.”
Then the God of Magic vanished with the roar of a lion marking his departure.
Arthur smiled lightly when he saw Merlin with Lux and his little phoenix hitchhiker come down the stairs.
“I thought I’d really lost you there,” Arthur told him.
“It was terrible,” said Merlin emphatically. “I can’t believe I only remembered my past life yesterday and it feels like my life before remembering is so far away. How do I deal with it all?”
“Believe me. I’m in the same boat as you. It’ll be a challenge, but we’ll get through it together.”
“Yeah.”
“I put out some food for Lux too,” Arthur told him. “Where did you get the miniature phoenix from?” he asked.
Merlin gently lifted the almost palm-sized phoenix off Lux as the puppy went off to eat.
“There you go, Sweetie,” Merlin murmured to the phoenix.
He let her on to the kitchen table, but she chose to fly about the kitchen instead.
“Bran got it for me,” Merlin answered Arthur. “He has the Raven Knife, so he went to the World of Magic to get the cure to save you. I wasn’t expecting the phoenix, but it was a thoughtful gift all the same.”
“Has Gwydion been reincarnated too?”
“He’s a bluebird. Feel free to wrap your head around that,” said Merlin.
“Huh. If I’d choose a bird for Gwydion it’d be more of a raven or crow.”
“Not a Merlin?” Merlin retorted.
“No. That would be a bit redundant, wouldn’t it?” Arthur decided.
“Yeah, suppose so. Are you hungry?” Merlin asked him as he shuffled around the kitchen looking to prepare lunch. “After being cursed and everything.”
“It appears that cure satiated my hunger for the moment, oddly enough. But if you’re hungry, go ahead,” Arthur told him. “Are you going to name your phoenix?”
Merlin put together a sandwich for himself as he spoke, “Yeah, that’d be a good idea. I can’t name her Zlota since that wouldn’t be fair to either of them. This phoenix needs her own identity. Greythorne will be her name. Grey for short.”
Arthur raised his brow. “That sounds like a name more meant for a grey wolf, not a scarlet-gold phoenix.”
“Then it’s perfect. An unexpected name is what I need,” Merlin told him with a nod. “What do you think of Greythorne?” he asked of the little phoenix who had landed on his shoulder.
The phoenix chirped in what Merlin assumed was acceptance of the name.
Merlin spoke to the phoenix as Arthur continued to put on an air of disbelief. “It makes you feel ten times bigger doesn’t it? No fluffy names for you.”
The phoenix seemed to nod in response.
“I should tell you,” Arthur slowly began once Merlin had sat down with his sandwich and drink. Greythorne was now on the table, peering at Merlin’s plate with interest.
While Arthur knew he just had to tell Merlin this, he disliked talking about a sore subject. And the Prince was the sorest of them all.
“I met with the Prince to give him a piece of my mind when I thought you’d died,” Arthur told him. “I just knew he was the culprit, and I wasn’t wrong. He told me the truth about your father’s death.”
“What did he say?” Merlin asked quietly.
“The Prince confessed that he added some dark magic to the cancer your father was contending with. That this made the cancer more powerful and more difficult to fight off.”
“Right. Dark magic. I should’ve guessed,” Merlin said grimly.
“Sorry. I know it’s the last thing you want to talk about. I don’t know what the Prince got out of doing that to your father. Maybe he wanted to prevent you from knowing your father in this life. After all, the Prince was our enemy… any way to ruin our lives, he’d take it.”
“Yeah. That’s certainly like him,” Merlin nodded, half-listening. Then he sat up straighter. “Wait. I almost forgot. Before he died, my father left me a letter. He remembered his past life and regained his magic not long before he died, you see. So he conjured a golden box with a letter and a miniature lynx for me. The lynx is gone now as she’s already served her purpose. My mother had been keeping the golden box until a few weeks ago when she decided it was the right time to give it to me. I haven’t looked at the letter yet.”
“Wasn’t your father’s daemon in our past lives a lynx?” Arthur remembered.
Merlin nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be back. I need to go get the letter.”
He stopped halfway up the stairs. “Wait. I could use my magic.”
“Handy that,” Arthur quipped.
Merlin gave him a sardonic look. He called for the letter to appear in his hand.
Merlin took a breath. “Well here it goes.” He declared.
Arthur reached out to grasp his hand. “It’ll be all right.”
Merlin gave him a small smile. He unrolled the letter and silently read:
Dear Merlin,
I dearly wish I were still alive now to watch you grow up. Maybe in one life, I will finally be granted that chance. After two lives, maybe the third one will prove to be a success.
I’m sure my Father is watching over you. He loves you very much, you know, just as he does all his grandchildren.
Your mother (for she would frown upon me not mentioning her, so I must) and I love you, and we hope that you’ll lead a happy, satisfying life. I don’t doubt your mother will support me on this.
You may face danger and trouble what with the magical abilities you possess, but as long as you have an understanding and loving confidante by your side, then you will be all right.
I’ve included a biography of sorts of my past life and this life. It’s been magically copied from the memories inside my head. I hope the text will prove readable as I’m not feeling very well at the moment. I’m writing this with my magic because writing by hand seems like a bad idea now.
I miss you, Son. Even though you haven’t been born yet, I still do. I remember when you were a little boy in my past life, not even five. You were such a good, happy child. I enjoyed spending time with you and teaching you what I knew.
Though my time with you was fleeting in my past life, and you may barely remember me, I’m grateful for every moment I had with you. From cradling you in my arms for the first time with your dear Zlocisty as a small baby rosefinch on your little chest to seeing your curiosity shine as you began to explore the world.
I have left you a bit of Perija to spend some time with you before she carries out her task.
Fare well, Merlin.
Your father,
Hephaestion
Merlin smiled to himself at the touching letter. He’d almost forgotten about Zlota being a rosefinch first. He recalled how in his past life, his mother had told him about it.
“You okay?” Arthur asked him.
“Yeah. I’m good. Brilliant, actually. I wish I’d read the letter sooner.”
Two books appeared, one thick the other thin, upon the table.
Arthur eyed them, puzzled. “What are those books?”
“Oh, my father said he’d leave me a biography of his life or lives I suppose would be the right word.”
“You’ll get to know more about your father now after never getting the chance to before,” said Arthur with a smile.
Merlin nodded, touching the covers of the books in anticipation of reading them both.
“I have some good news about Morgana. I know she’ll live into adulthood in her next life. She’ll be Robin and Alice’s mother.”
Merlin didn’t want put a downer on the story by then telling Arthur that Morgana would die when Robin and Alice were fourteen. Still, Morgana would finally live a longer life than she’d managed in her last two lives. And finally having her chance at establishing her own family was a nice thing too.
“That’s good to know. Did you see her with me at any point in a vision?”
Merlin shook his head. “No, sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t have one future vision where I saw my future self. Now that was rather frustrating. I asked my grandfather on why that was the case, and he said I’m not meant to see my future self. That it’s far too soon to see what I’ll be up to in my next incarnation.”
“Makes you really curious, doesn’t it?” Arthur acknowledged. “I’ve seen my future self in my own visions, but it only makes me more curious. Your grandfather told me it’s important I meet this mermaid. And apparently Queen Morgaine, in the future, doesn’t want me to do that. But she was evil, I think, so that’s a perfect reason to defy her, right?”
“Yeah. I bet you that’s the same Morgaine who’s currently the Prince’s wife even though she’s also his half-sister.”
“Seriously? An Arthur and Morgaine united never goes well. They haven’t made a Mordred yet, have they?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Merlin told him unhelpfully. “Although King Merlin told me that it’s Nimueh who the Prince trusts more. She’s his advisor now.”
“Same Nimueh who was Gwydion’s adoptive mother until he was ten?”
“Yes the very one. I don’t know how reassuring that is. I could only speculate why the Prince chose to marry Morgaine instead of just marrying Nimueh who has been his ‘partner in crime’ for longer.”
“The Prince was sometimes called the ‘Mad Prince’, yeah? There’s your answer,” decided Arthur.
“Maybe that’s it,” Merlin said, twisting his lips into an amused smile. “No, Greythorne,” he admonished half-heartedly as the little phoenix hopped onto his plate and investigated the leftover crumbs on the plate.
She just looked too sweet as a small bird that Merlin just couldn’t find it in himself to scold her. Luckily, because Greythorne was a magically made miniature, she didn’t require food for sustenance. According to Athena’s expert advice. Yet Merlin didn’t think that the phoenix having a little food and water here and there would hurt. For the taste.
So he let her take a crumb or two into her beak. He stroked her scarlet-gold feathers with a smile, hearing her chirp happily in response, the sound similar to a baby chick.
“I think Lux with Greythorne may prove to be a thorn in everyone’s sides if they decide to strategize together. They’ll soon take over the whole world,” joked Arthur.
“Yeah, shut up, Arthur,” Merlin shot back at him, rolling his eyes.
“By the way, did you see a baby in your future visions? The one that would stop the apocalypse?”
“Yeah, there was a baby in one of my visions. Same one, I’m sure. I never got a good look at him.” Then Merlin started, sitting up straighter.
“What is it?”
“My grandfather told you that you have to meet a mermaid, right?”
“Yes.”
“And Morgaine didn’t want you to…and what’s one reason to avoid a man and woman from uniting?”
“But this is a mermaid, not a woman.”
“You’re ruining my point, Arthur,” Merlin pointed out, frowning at him.
“All right, I get it. Maybe, maybe this baby we both saw is my son or will be my son. But how would that work? I mean, with a mermaid?”
Merlin couldn’t help but let out a laugh.
“Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed at him.
Greythorne ended up looking at Arthur with intense curiosity, tilting her to the side.
“Sorry, sorry. But there’s the ‘The Little Mermaid’…Ariel got legs there, didn’t she?”
“Yes Merlin, and if real life was a Disney movie, that would be brilliant.”
“Hey, I’m related to Snow White and Cinderella’s incarnations…and the Fairytale World is a real world.”
“Well then why don’t you go off and live in the Enchanted Forest?”
“Too late. You’ve already enchanted me,” Merlin retorted with a grin.
Then he began to laugh again, the Arthur with a mermaid thing still unbearably funny to him.
Arthur waved his hand resignedly. “Yes, yes. Go ahead. Just continue laughing, Merlin.”
In the corner of one of Rosebrooke’s smaller gardens, Bran was put in a coffin inside a small mausoleum beside a young apple tree. Gwydion had conjured the mausoleum and coffin. It was the last thing he ever wanted to do as he’d thought that Bran would surely live into adulthood in this life. Surely.
But Gwydion had been wrong.
The Raven Knife, the blade that bound the two of them together, had been placed in Bran’s hands, to be with him even in death.
Nearby, Ophelia sat cross-legged on the wrought iron bench that Alice had gotten for the garden and had spray-painted a bright blue. Gwydion was perched on a branch of the apple tree.
“So the raven will be responsible for looking after the Knife?” Ophelia asked.
Gwydion nodded. “It would be best since the raven is always with the Raven Knife either way. I’ll get updates and check on the Knife, of course, and my father said he’ll insure the Knife’s protection.”
After a long moment where they looked to the mausoleum, both lost in thought and memories.
Gwydion broke the silence by saying, “I still can’t believe Bran’s gone. He was encouraging me to leave, but I hadn’t expected Bran to die. I feel like I failed him.”
“Isn’t it always like this? When the Prince wants to carry out something, he’ll make sure to get it done? He’s probably pleased now that we’re all feeling guilty for not doing enough. And poor Robin, when he’s able to come back, he won’t like to hear Bran’s died. It will break his heart.”
“I wish I knew more about how Robin is. My father only said that he managed to rescue him, and that Robin’s alive. The fact he didn’t want to go into more detail has me worried.”
“We just have to be patient,” said Ophelia with a sigh. “I’m sure with the help of your grandfather, father and your Aunt Ceridwen; Robin will recover.”
“Yes, yet it’s hard to be patient,” Gwydion noted in frustration. “I did figure out who cured Bran when he was sick. It was the Prince of Darkness.”
“But then how could turn right around and kill Bran afterwards?” Ophelia wondered. “It makes no sense.”
“I don’t understand it either,” agreed Gwydion.
He didn’t want to tell her that he believed the Prince had been Bran’s birth father in this life because there was only so much a person could take. Gwydion worried it was his own fault.
With him being one world’s Merlin, and his close bond with Bran, that could’ve twisted fate to make Bran a son of Arthur in his reincarnated life. So that they’d fit the Arthur-Merlin mould in some manner. As to why that was necessary, Gwydion didn’t know.
But if it was true, then there was a high chance the next time Bran would be reincarnated, an Arthur would be his birth father again. He hoped desperately the Prince wouldn’t be that Arthur.
“Gwydion?” Ophelia addressed him, taking him out of his reverie. “Are you still relocating to North America?”
“Yeah. I don’t have a definite date, but I will keep in touch, of course. I just want to see what it’s like, but with Bran, well, you know… I’m not so sure what to do anymore.”
“He wanted you to go where you’d like to, Gwydion. If you’re interested in going across the pond, then go. As long as you visit. I’ll be holding you to that,” Ophelia told him sternly.
“I’ll do my very best. I promise, Ophelia,” Gwydion told her. “I think Charlie will be coming soon.”
“Yes,” said Ophelia too softly. She then put her hands over her face, covering it. Gwydion heard her let out a sob.
The only thing keeping Gwydion from breaking down was the belief that Bran would be reincarnated again.
This wasn’t the end of Bran’s story.
Final Part & Epilogue
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 & Epilogue
“So this is goodbye,” said Gwydion quietly. He looked unhappy as he hung his head from his perch of a conjured floating branch at Bran’s eye level.
“No, just sort of a ‘see you later’,” Bran told him, trying to reassure him.
He was sitting a thick grey stone bench out in the rose garden of Rosebrooke Castle.
“Maybe in the Fairytale World I had a mate and had nestlings, but that was before I remembered my past life. I was only doing what bluebirds do. Once I remembered you, I knew I just had to return to you. That was just how it had to be. I don’t think I even want to leave you…”
“You can still visit me. I’ve been thinking that there’s a reason why you were reincarnated as a bluebird. And maybe it’s better for you if you live among other bluebirds and not with us humans. I mean, really, Gwydion you sleep in a nest now. I know most other bluebirds were never human in a past life, and on that level, they can’t understand what you know, but other bluebirds comprehend what it truly is to be a bluebird. That’s something that I can’t quite fully grasp. I think you’ll be happier. Don’t tell me that you like people thinking you’re a pet bird with your wings clipped.”
“No I don’t like that, but I don’t want to be away from you. And with the situation with Robin…”
“If your father contacts you about him, then you can let me, Ophelia or Charlie know. This is hard for me too, Gwydion, but sometimes I feel I’m holding you back from being who you truly are in this life. So you’ll live your life and I’ll live mine, and we’ll catch up every so often.”
“All right. Okay. I understand. Maybe you’re right. I was considering going to North America. I could relocate there next week maybe.”
“Thanks to the wonders of magic, you’ll get there in excellent time,” Bran joked lightly.
“Yeah. I want to see Mithian before I leave too.”
“How sweet. You like her.”
“You do too,” Gwydion retorted.
“We’re both guilty on that count,” Bran acknowledged. “Sansa will always hold a special place in my heart, but I know she’d want me to be happy in this life too even if it’s not with her.”
“Sansa would be very glad you have me in this life. I don’t doubt that,” said Gwydion solemnly.
“Of course she’d be thrilled,” said Bran dryly, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Do you want to go back to our home in Oxford?”
“No, I think I’ll stay at Rosebrooke for a little while longer,” Bran told him. He kissed Gwydion on his feathery head.
“I’ll see you later,” Bran reassured Gwydion, reiterating his earlier words. “I love you,” he told Gwydion in a heartfelt tone.
“I love you too. See you,” Gwydion told him just as fondly. He flew away. Bran waved at him in farewell and watched Gwydion in the sky until he was a blue dot off in the distance.
“Merlin, oh god, Merlin,” Arthur said in a rush, still in disbelief. There was nothing he could do. Merlin’s heart had stopped and he’d stopped breathing before Arthur could even make an effort to revive him.
The Prince of Darkness had something to do with this. And he would pay. Arthur couldn’t accept that he’d lose Merlin like this. He would get Merlin back.
Because Merlin couldn’t be dead. Even if his heart had stopped beating, and his breathing had halted, Arthur wouldn’t, couldn’t believe it.
He beckoned Cavall to come with him, in hopefully confronting the Prince. Even though he wasn’t Krola, truly, he still had a part of Arthur’s daemon inside him. Arthur felt grateful to even have that.
Predictably, Lux stayed by Merlin, propping his little head on Merlin’s arm. The palm-sized, almost fragile-looking phoenix that he’d seen Merlin stroking earlier flew down to perch on Lux’s head. The miniature phoenix looked concerned down at Merlin.
“Merlin isn’t really dead. I’ll fix this,” Arthur said out loud. He felt a little better declaring that.
He decided to summon the Prince of Darkness from the lower level of his and Merlin’s house. Arthur knew he’d look like a mad person if he started shouting obscenities out in the open. And he didn’t want to stray too far away from Merlin, so leaving the house was out of the question.
“Come here, you arsehole. I want to talk to you!” Arthur called him out.
Fortunately, or unfortunately -- depending on how you saw it -- his connection to the Prince by being another world’s version of him allowed him to ‘contact’ the Prince in such a manner.
“Seriously, what the hell is your problem? Why are you being so loud?” The Prince said in mild irritation as if he didn’t know what he’d done to anger Arthur so much.
This time, the Prince had no hat. He wore a white dress shirt with a black silken tie and grey trousers, which seemed relatively casual for him.
“You killed Merlin,” accused Arthur flatly. “You think you’re just going to get away with that?”
“Well he managed to cure you, which wouldn’t do. He had to die.”
By Arthur’s side, Cavall growled reproachfully.
“I doubt Merlin knew that detail.”
The Prince didn’t appear too concerned. “Oh well. That’s not something I was interested in telling him. Ruins the surprise.”
“I want to know what’s happened to the Daemon World. I know you know yet you won’t tell me. I deserve to know the truth.”
“Can’t you put 1 and 1 together?” The Prince said condescendingly.
“You’re ruling my world now?” Arthur concluded after a moment, desperately wishing that this wasn’t true. “How dare you? What made you think you had any right to?”
“Really, you only were King of Camelot - even if your territory expanded to all of Albion, that’s still just a fraction of the Daemon World. That doesn’t make the world all yours.”
“It’s still my world because I was born in it. You’re an outsider coming into a world you never truly understood.”
“Considering I’ve been Emperor of the Daemon World since the twelfth century, I beg to differ that my knowledge is lacking.”
“Why did you do it? Why the Daemon World?”
“Because I took pleasure in knowing how angry you’d be at taking ‘your’ world. I found that entertaining. And you may not believe it, but I have been a good leader of the Daemon World. It’s far from a miserable place.”
“The only thing I believe about you is that you’re a miserable liar. And what are you - five? You wanted my world because you enjoyed seeing me angry about it? That’s pathetic.”
“The golden age of five… now isn’t that when you condemned Merlin’s father to death in your past life? Someone shouldn’t have been eavesdropping…” the Prince sing-songed the last bit, sounding quite amused.
“Shut up. That doesn’t count. I was too young then, and I regret it every day of my life.”
“Yes I’m sure you do. You know, there’s one thing I don’t regret. It’s actually pretty funny.”
Arthur had a bad feeling that he’d find this far from amusing. Something inside him made him dread what the Prince would say next.
“That cancer Merlin’s father had in this life? I might have strengthened the cancer with a bit of dark magic to prevent him from fighting it off as well as he otherwise might have. I’m rather proud of succeeding in that.”
Arthur nearly growled at him and pushed him to the ground. He wrapped his hands around the Prince’s throat, wanting to strangle him even if his immortality wouldn’t give Arthur the satisfaction of his death.
“I don’t know what your problem is. It means we have something in common now - well besides the glaringly obvious. Your actions led to the death of Merlin’s father in one life, and my actions led to his father’s death in a different life. Here I’d thought you’d be congratulating me.”
“No. What you did was a deliberate act of evil. I hate being connected to you. All the worlds would be happier without you, I’m certain of that. You disgust me,” Arthur declared fiercely, his eyes blazing.
He removed himself from the Prince. As the Prince stood up, unaffected as he swiped invisible lint off his clothing, Arthur flexed his fingers.
Arthur felt his power to drain magic from magic users return. He could only hold the magic until a magic user said the spell to awaken the magic within him. Then he could wield magic just as well as any magic user. That was how he’d escaped the tower Uther had locked him in. Ophelia, since she was a sorceress from the World of Magic, gave Arthur the ability to use magic and leave his prison by magic means.
Arthur concentrated and attempted to drain some of the Prince’s magic.
It seemed to work a little as the Prince’s face started to wrinkle, the magic keeping him ageless being drained by Arthur.
The Prince laughed. “I haven’t lived this long life while you slept for centuries to be thwarted so easily. But nice try,” he said.
Arthur felt the magic he’d taken leaving him, returning to the Prince. The Prince’s skin de-aged again smoothly like it’d never been wrinkled.
Arthur relaxed his hand, feeling frustrated that the draining didn’t last on the Prince. “I’d like to see you say to Merlin’s face that you’re responsible for his father’s death.”
“That’s kind of hard, isn’t it? Since Merlin is dead and all. Maybe this is a good thing. He’ll get to see his father in the afterlife. And my plan to separate you and Merlin is coming along nicely,” the Prince decided with a smirk that Arthur wanted to rip off his face.
Then the Prince of Darkness magically disappeared in a mix of fierce wind and lightning.
“You’re a bastard!” Arthur shouted after the Prince even though he was long gone.
It didn’t make him feel any better, unfortunately.
As Arthur headed back up the stairs with Cavall, he noticed in passing that it had started to rain lightly.
Entering his and Merlin’s bedroom, he wondered if he was asleep and was now in the midst of a dream.
He wasn’t sure how to rationalize what looked like honest-to-goodness Aslan being in the room. And Arthur was sure this lion was an actual lion and not the result of movie magic.
Aslan had one of his big paws over Merlin’s heart. Lux and the little phoenix still on the dog had moved a little away from Merlin’s body. The two creatures adopted respectful stances in the presence of the great lion. Cavall too bowed his head in Aslan’s presence.
The lion looked up when Arthur came in. Arthur felt the lion’s gaze pierce deep into his soul.
“Are you the God of Magic?” Arthur guessed tentatively, not sure if he should look at the lion directly or not. That guess felt right to him. He remembered Merlin telling him in his past life that the God of Magic couldn’t be seen in his true form by mortal eyes. There was the risk of madness. So it made sense that the God of Magic would appear in an animal form. “Merlin’s grandfather?”
“Yes I am. I’m glad you can tell who I am. I do like it when people are intelligent.”
“You’re here to save Merlin, right?”
“Yes. The Prince of Darkness overstepped his bounds. Merlin is not meant to die now. His magic is keeping him alive even now, but only just. I’ll be able to revive him. You’ll have him back.”
“Thank you, honestly. I know there are all these rules with magic and bringing the dead back to life is frowned upon, but, I’m not ready to lose Merlin in this life. We still need to get married and grow old together, and do everything we’re meant to do.”
“I am the God of Magic, Arthur. It falls to me to make those rules. Of course when it comes to family, I help them when I can. I regret not being able to help Hephaestion as my power isn’t infinite,” the God of Magic admitted, a deep terrible sadness lacing his words. “Regardless of that, what matters now is that Merlin can be saved. He should wake up soon.”
Arthur saw, to his immense relief, Merlin’s chest rising up and going down as he breathed in and out slowly in his slumber.
Arthur felt tears prickle at his eyes. He swiped at them hurriedly, preventing the tears from falling.
“I need a moment with my grandson,” Merlin’s grandfather told him not unkindly.
Arthur nodded, moving away so that he could still see Merlin, but it was enough distance to give him and his grandfather some privacy. Cavall stood beside him while Lux and the phoenix remained by Merlin.
He watched Merlin open his eyes and wake up, shifting to a sitting position. He could tell that Merlin knew right away who the lion was by the way he smiled at seeing him. Merlin put his arms around the lion’s head in an embrace and laid his head upon the lion’s mane, his face now concealed. Arthur wondered if Merlin was crying.
Not wanting to intrude longer than necessary, he decided to leave the room completely. He needed to give Cavall his food.
Arthur looked forward to spending time with Merlin after nearly losing him. But he respected the need to be with family first. Maybe not from a personal perspective as he’d never been close to his own father. And his father had long since died, so the point was moot. Not to mention he’d never known his mother who died shortly after he was born.
Yet if she hadn’t died when he was little, Arthur would’ve liked to think he would’ve been close to Morgana like he was in his past life.
Nevertheless, it had been a very long time since Merlin had seen his grandfather after all. They deserved this reunion. Arthur would have Merlin for the rest of their lives together either way.
Bran was startled, but he tried his best to hide it, when he saw the Prince of Darkness in his room at Rosebrooke.
The Prince didn’t speak, and the silence only made Bran more unsettled. As Bran moved to retrieve something from the wardrobe, he could feel the Prince’s black-eyed gaze upon him.
“I think you know where this came from,” Bran said, taking out the blue blanket with Bambi the fawn, Thumper the rabbit and Flower the skunk featured on it. He showed it to the Prince.
The Prince’s black eyes prevented any expression of emotion through his eyes. Yet Bran could still tell that the sight of the blanket didn’t leave the Prince unmoved.
“When I was left as a baby at Rosebrooke Castle, I was wrapped in this blanket.”
The Prince remained quiet. He only looked at Bran, seeming to do his best to keep his mask in his place.
Bran grew frustrated and he threw the blanket onto his bed. “I am a very old man in a child’s body. Whatever you need to say, say it. Don’t use the excuse that I’m too young because you and I both know how wrong that is.”
“It doesn’t matter now. I still need to kill you. You were a mistake, a cruel joke played on me. It doesn’t matter.”
But Bran saw how the Prince’s black eyes were shifting colour before returning to darkness. His eyes were blue momentarily, which proved that the Prince’s control was faltering. Bran didn’t think the Prince meant what he was saying.
“I tried to deny it, but I knew it was true. You kept sending people after me, but only now, it’s you who are actually here to take up the task. You kept delaying because killing me became all too personal for you. Not like in my past life. And also, you knew about Robin, Alice and Ophelia. Only you could have placed me with them,” Bran told him. Pausing, he then admitted, “I didn’t tell anyone about my suspicions.”
“Not even Gwydion?”
“No.”
“This doesn’t change what I need to do.”
“You don’t have to do this. You can just let me live,” Bran suggested, though he had a bad feeling that the Prince wouldn’t be so easily dissuaded from his plan.
“It has to be this way. I can promise you that it will be painless,” the Prince assured him, a touch of unhappiness in his voice.
“No, please,” Bran said quietly.
Yet it was too late. He was already feeling very tired, and he couldn’t resist the urge to close his eyes and sleep.
“Don’t fight it,” the Prince advised in a whisper.
Unable to defeat the spell’s power, Bran succumbed to it.
TEN YEARS EARLIER:
The Prince wasn’t sure why he had gone through with it. The woman, Amelia, had intrigued him due to her having a grandmother who was an incarnation of Ariel. Just looking at her very red hair was an indicator, to those who believed, that there was a touch of fairytale magic inside her. He should have foreseen that he would’ve been played for a fool. Her eyes were tawny gold just like Bran’s had been. But the last person on his mind at that time was Gwydion’s blasted friend.
Nine months after he had slept with her, he was horrified to discover that their newborn was Bran reincarnated. If the startling albino appearance wasn’t the clincher, then the reincarnation energy that the Prince could sense inside the baby was undeniable proof.
He took away the newborn Bran from his mother, knowing that Amelia wouldn’t quite understand just who her child was. He made sure to erase her memory of ever having a child as well as meeting him in the first place. It was a kinder thing to do.
He made great strides to insure King Merlin was unaware of the identity of Bran’s birth father in his reincarnated life. And it was just short of miraculous that he had kept the truth about Bran from Morgaine.
Nimueh had known about Bran because the Prince had entrusted her to help look after the baby for the first six months of Bran’s life. After all, she had helped him with taking care of Gwydion all those centuries ago.
But then Nimueh advised him to give Bran up, that it would get too unpleasant if Bran remembered his old life and was faced with the Prince as his current father.
Fortunately, the Prince knew just where to place him. Rosebrooke Castle. Bran’s five year old cousin, Ophelia, was living with those twins, Robin and Alice, who were in their mid-twenties.
King Merlin had done his own maneuvering with help from the God of Magic. He had insured his Queen, Freya, would be reborn as a duchess and would raise the reincarnated Robin and Alice as her children. They had inherited her wealth which had gained them financial security. More importantly, Robin and Alice had remembered their past lives for years at that point. They understood who Ophelia was though she hadn’t remembered herself yet. And also, the twins would understand that this baby was Bran and they would know best what to do.
It was the only option and it was the best one, the Prince knew. Because now, he didn’t have the heart to kill a helpless baby. So he had to give Bran away to those who could best look after him.
He bought a blue blanket with Bambi the fawn, Thumper the rabbit and Flower the skunk on it. Hopefully that would throw Robin and Alice off about the identity of the person who had left them Bran. And honestly, he thought the blanket was nice-looking and soft enough to suffice for the baby.
When the Prince, carefully concealed of course, was near enough to Rosebrooke Castle, he said his goodbye to his son. He knew Bran wouldn’t understand a word he said, but the Prince said them anyway.
He told the baby that he would hate him when he remembered. That this was for the best. And to stop looking at him like that with those wide golden eyes.
Bran gurgled, smiling up at him, as he clapped his hands together. He was just a baby, and all he had known was that the Prince and Nimueh had been good to him.
“Please don’t, just stop that,” the Prince pleaded with him. “This is goodbye, okay? I…” he paused, and the baby just stared at him, his unusual golden eyes piercing his dark ones as if Bran was more perceptive than a baby should be.
No, the Prince was seeing things. No one was supposed to remember their past lives at this young age. It just wasn’t allowed.
“I love you,” he said quickly, so fast that he wasn’t sure it was even coherent. He kissed Bran on his forehead, and then did the spell to transport Bran to the front entrance of the castle. He didn’t trust that he wouldn’t be sighted if he had carried Bran directly to the entrance. Better to do this at a distance.
He did a mild inclination spell to insure someone opened the door right away to find Bran. And the spell worked.
Alice opened the door, and he saw her gasp in surprise to see the baby on the ground before her. The Prince heard her call for her brother Robin as she took the baby in her arms.
Robin came to the door with a little Ophelia fast on his heels.
He saw Ophelia clap her hands excitedly and exclaim in delight, “Oh a baby!”
Robin pulled her up into his arms so that she could better see the baby. The Prince heard Ophelia comment on how the baby looked similar to her except for the eyes.
Robin and Alice exchanged knowing looks with one another. That was when the Prince decided it was his time to leave.
He had done what he’d come to do.
Trying to set aside those distracting memories, the Prince carried Bran to his bed. He grabbed a pillow. Though he felt some reluctance set in, he did his best to bury it, and he covered Bran’s face with the pillow. Applying pressure on the pillow, the Prince smothered his son to death. His jaw was clenched, and his mind was carefully not focused on the unpleasant task at hand.
He removed the pillow when he knew that he had succeeded.
Bran was dead.
The Prince took the Raven Knife, and he placed the knife’s hilt in his son’s hands, the blade facing up. It was a harkening back to the past. After all, dead knights of old were sent to the afterlife with their faithful swords in their cold hands.
He took the Bambi blanket from the bed and he looked at it, trying not to let the tears fall.
“You didn’t have to kill Bran. He was your son, and killing him is killing you. Don’t deny it,” James said from behind him, having suddenly appeared.
The Prince didn’t have the energy to be irritated at the god’s abrupt arrival.
“He was better off dead than alive and living with the knowledge that his father is a terrible man. His Clan abhorred me, and Bran learned that growing up in his past life. I can’t have asked him to accept that in this incarnation, he was the son of the man he had always seen as the enemy. I was sparing him.”
“I heard what Bran had said. He wanted to live. You didn’t give him a chance. Being a father means you have to listen, and not assume you believe you know what’s best for your children.”
“You’re the last person I’d ask for advice on this matter. Just leave me. Go away,” the Prince demanded of James, glaring at him.
“Very well. I’ll be monitoring you. It would be best if you lie low, and don’t go about ruining people’s lives like you did with Merlin and Arthur.”
“Fine!” The Prince agreed in an angry shout, his dark eyes blazing. “Go away,” he demanded once again of James.
“Gladly,” agreed James. He magically disappeared from the room.
The Prince returned his attention to the blanket in his hands. He couldn’t look at Bran lying lifeless on the bed.
Feeling the softness and warmth of the blanket, the Prince could almost remember how Bran had felt, wrapped as a baby in this very blanket all those years ago.
The truth was that he hadn’t deserved a son like Bran. The Prince had needed him to die. Bran had been a false hope to him. That the bloody King Merlin had been wrong: that he could father a child who wasn’t a monster. Yet the King had been right because Bran hadn’t truly been the Prince’s son. Not if he had carried the memories of another life, another existence where the Prince was his enemy.
Of course it wouldn’t matter who Bran was reborn to. Once he remembered his past life, his steadfast nature and his inherent nobility would prevail. And Bran had proved that by not abusing his mind control power despite being damned with an appearance that would never allow him to blend in, to always have others staring at him and whispering behind his back.
Those reasons were why he had given Bran the ability of mind control after all. As a way to deal with close-minded people. The Prince, painfully, had to admit that Bran had been a stronger person than he ever could be.
And now, he was stuck with the knowledge that he had killed his own son.
That terrible realization was one of the worst feelings in the world.
“I’ll be going now, Arthur,” the God of Magic told him.
“Wait,” Arthur spoke up before the god could magically disappear. “Could I ask you something?”
“Of course. What is it?”
“I want to know more about the odd future visions I’ve been having. I’m assuming they’re of my future life.”
“Merlin asked me about this too. He has been having visions of the future as well. So yes, they are snapshots of your future life, the next time you’ll be reincarnated. But that’s hundreds of years away.”
“Is there any reason why I’m having them?”
“You’ll remember your past lives in your future incarnation, as usual. Yet before then, the visions you’re having now will aid you though you may not consciously be aware of it. Still, having seen the visions once, you can never truly forget them. They will quietly guide you into doing what is needed of you. For you, the most important thing is to meet the mermaid.”
Arthur was going to ask ‘why?’ but the look on the God of Magic’s lion face told him that he probably wouldn’t give him an answer.
Some things had to remain a mystery, unfortunately.
“What about the baby Morgaine was so up in arms about? The one to end the apocalypse?”
“I’m certain you’ll figure that out on your own. I insist though that you try to focus on this life, spend time with Merlin, be happy together. You’ve both had a chaotic summer so far, and need a bit of a break.”
Then the God of Magic vanished with the roar of a lion marking his departure.
Arthur smiled lightly when he saw Merlin with Lux and his little phoenix hitchhiker come down the stairs.
“I thought I’d really lost you there,” Arthur told him.
“It was terrible,” said Merlin emphatically. “I can’t believe I only remembered my past life yesterday and it feels like my life before remembering is so far away. How do I deal with it all?”
“Believe me. I’m in the same boat as you. It’ll be a challenge, but we’ll get through it together.”
“Yeah.”
“I put out some food for Lux too,” Arthur told him. “Where did you get the miniature phoenix from?” he asked.
Merlin gently lifted the almost palm-sized phoenix off Lux as the puppy went off to eat.
“There you go, Sweetie,” Merlin murmured to the phoenix.
He let her on to the kitchen table, but she chose to fly about the kitchen instead.
“Bran got it for me,” Merlin answered Arthur. “He has the Raven Knife, so he went to the World of Magic to get the cure to save you. I wasn’t expecting the phoenix, but it was a thoughtful gift all the same.”
“Has Gwydion been reincarnated too?”
“He’s a bluebird. Feel free to wrap your head around that,” said Merlin.
“Huh. If I’d choose a bird for Gwydion it’d be more of a raven or crow.”
“Not a Merlin?” Merlin retorted.
“No. That would be a bit redundant, wouldn’t it?” Arthur decided.
“Yeah, suppose so. Are you hungry?” Merlin asked him as he shuffled around the kitchen looking to prepare lunch. “After being cursed and everything.”
“It appears that cure satiated my hunger for the moment, oddly enough. But if you’re hungry, go ahead,” Arthur told him. “Are you going to name your phoenix?”
Merlin put together a sandwich for himself as he spoke, “Yeah, that’d be a good idea. I can’t name her Zlota since that wouldn’t be fair to either of them. This phoenix needs her own identity. Greythorne will be her name. Grey for short.”
Arthur raised his brow. “That sounds like a name more meant for a grey wolf, not a scarlet-gold phoenix.”
“Then it’s perfect. An unexpected name is what I need,” Merlin told him with a nod. “What do you think of Greythorne?” he asked of the little phoenix who had landed on his shoulder.
The phoenix chirped in what Merlin assumed was acceptance of the name.
Merlin spoke to the phoenix as Arthur continued to put on an air of disbelief. “It makes you feel ten times bigger doesn’t it? No fluffy names for you.”
The phoenix seemed to nod in response.
“I should tell you,” Arthur slowly began once Merlin had sat down with his sandwich and drink. Greythorne was now on the table, peering at Merlin’s plate with interest.
While Arthur knew he just had to tell Merlin this, he disliked talking about a sore subject. And the Prince was the sorest of them all.
“I met with the Prince to give him a piece of my mind when I thought you’d died,” Arthur told him. “I just knew he was the culprit, and I wasn’t wrong. He told me the truth about your father’s death.”
“What did he say?” Merlin asked quietly.
“The Prince confessed that he added some dark magic to the cancer your father was contending with. That this made the cancer more powerful and more difficult to fight off.”
“Right. Dark magic. I should’ve guessed,” Merlin said grimly.
“Sorry. I know it’s the last thing you want to talk about. I don’t know what the Prince got out of doing that to your father. Maybe he wanted to prevent you from knowing your father in this life. After all, the Prince was our enemy… any way to ruin our lives, he’d take it.”
“Yeah. That’s certainly like him,” Merlin nodded, half-listening. Then he sat up straighter. “Wait. I almost forgot. Before he died, my father left me a letter. He remembered his past life and regained his magic not long before he died, you see. So he conjured a golden box with a letter and a miniature lynx for me. The lynx is gone now as she’s already served her purpose. My mother had been keeping the golden box until a few weeks ago when she decided it was the right time to give it to me. I haven’t looked at the letter yet.”
“Wasn’t your father’s daemon in our past lives a lynx?” Arthur remembered.
Merlin nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be back. I need to go get the letter.”
He stopped halfway up the stairs. “Wait. I could use my magic.”
“Handy that,” Arthur quipped.
Merlin gave him a sardonic look. He called for the letter to appear in his hand.
Merlin took a breath. “Well here it goes.” He declared.
Arthur reached out to grasp his hand. “It’ll be all right.”
Merlin gave him a small smile. He unrolled the letter and silently read:
Dear Merlin,
I dearly wish I were still alive now to watch you grow up. Maybe in one life, I will finally be granted that chance. After two lives, maybe the third one will prove to be a success.
I’m sure my Father is watching over you. He loves you very much, you know, just as he does all his grandchildren.
Your mother (for she would frown upon me not mentioning her, so I must) and I love you, and we hope that you’ll lead a happy, satisfying life. I don’t doubt your mother will support me on this.
You may face danger and trouble what with the magical abilities you possess, but as long as you have an understanding and loving confidante by your side, then you will be all right.
I’ve included a biography of sorts of my past life and this life. It’s been magically copied from the memories inside my head. I hope the text will prove readable as I’m not feeling very well at the moment. I’m writing this with my magic because writing by hand seems like a bad idea now.
I miss you, Son. Even though you haven’t been born yet, I still do. I remember when you were a little boy in my past life, not even five. You were such a good, happy child. I enjoyed spending time with you and teaching you what I knew.
Though my time with you was fleeting in my past life, and you may barely remember me, I’m grateful for every moment I had with you. From cradling you in my arms for the first time with your dear Zlocisty as a small baby rosefinch on your little chest to seeing your curiosity shine as you began to explore the world.
I have left you a bit of Perija to spend some time with you before she carries out her task.
Fare well, Merlin.
Your father,
Hephaestion
Merlin smiled to himself at the touching letter. He’d almost forgotten about Zlota being a rosefinch first. He recalled how in his past life, his mother had told him about it.
“You okay?” Arthur asked him.
“Yeah. I’m good. Brilliant, actually. I wish I’d read the letter sooner.”
Two books appeared, one thick the other thin, upon the table.
Arthur eyed them, puzzled. “What are those books?”
“Oh, my father said he’d leave me a biography of his life or lives I suppose would be the right word.”
“You’ll get to know more about your father now after never getting the chance to before,” said Arthur with a smile.
Merlin nodded, touching the covers of the books in anticipation of reading them both.
“I have some good news about Morgana. I know she’ll live into adulthood in her next life. She’ll be Robin and Alice’s mother.”
Merlin didn’t want put a downer on the story by then telling Arthur that Morgana would die when Robin and Alice were fourteen. Still, Morgana would finally live a longer life than she’d managed in her last two lives. And finally having her chance at establishing her own family was a nice thing too.
“That’s good to know. Did you see her with me at any point in a vision?”
Merlin shook his head. “No, sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t have one future vision where I saw my future self. Now that was rather frustrating. I asked my grandfather on why that was the case, and he said I’m not meant to see my future self. That it’s far too soon to see what I’ll be up to in my next incarnation.”
“Makes you really curious, doesn’t it?” Arthur acknowledged. “I’ve seen my future self in my own visions, but it only makes me more curious. Your grandfather told me it’s important I meet this mermaid. And apparently Queen Morgaine, in the future, doesn’t want me to do that. But she was evil, I think, so that’s a perfect reason to defy her, right?”
“Yeah. I bet you that’s the same Morgaine who’s currently the Prince’s wife even though she’s also his half-sister.”
“Seriously? An Arthur and Morgaine united never goes well. They haven’t made a Mordred yet, have they?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Merlin told him unhelpfully. “Although King Merlin told me that it’s Nimueh who the Prince trusts more. She’s his advisor now.”
“Same Nimueh who was Gwydion’s adoptive mother until he was ten?”
“Yes the very one. I don’t know how reassuring that is. I could only speculate why the Prince chose to marry Morgaine instead of just marrying Nimueh who has been his ‘partner in crime’ for longer.”
“The Prince was sometimes called the ‘Mad Prince’, yeah? There’s your answer,” decided Arthur.
“Maybe that’s it,” Merlin said, twisting his lips into an amused smile. “No, Greythorne,” he admonished half-heartedly as the little phoenix hopped onto his plate and investigated the leftover crumbs on the plate.
She just looked too sweet as a small bird that Merlin just couldn’t find it in himself to scold her. Luckily, because Greythorne was a magically made miniature, she didn’t require food for sustenance. According to Athena’s expert advice. Yet Merlin didn’t think that the phoenix having a little food and water here and there would hurt. For the taste.
So he let her take a crumb or two into her beak. He stroked her scarlet-gold feathers with a smile, hearing her chirp happily in response, the sound similar to a baby chick.
“I think Lux with Greythorne may prove to be a thorn in everyone’s sides if they decide to strategize together. They’ll soon take over the whole world,” joked Arthur.
“Yeah, shut up, Arthur,” Merlin shot back at him, rolling his eyes.
“By the way, did you see a baby in your future visions? The one that would stop the apocalypse?”
“Yeah, there was a baby in one of my visions. Same one, I’m sure. I never got a good look at him.” Then Merlin started, sitting up straighter.
“What is it?”
“My grandfather told you that you have to meet a mermaid, right?”
“Yes.”
“And Morgaine didn’t want you to…and what’s one reason to avoid a man and woman from uniting?”
“But this is a mermaid, not a woman.”
“You’re ruining my point, Arthur,” Merlin pointed out, frowning at him.
“All right, I get it. Maybe, maybe this baby we both saw is my son or will be my son. But how would that work? I mean, with a mermaid?”
Merlin couldn’t help but let out a laugh.
“Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed at him.
Greythorne ended up looking at Arthur with intense curiosity, tilting her to the side.
“Sorry, sorry. But there’s the ‘The Little Mermaid’…Ariel got legs there, didn’t she?”
“Yes Merlin, and if real life was a Disney movie, that would be brilliant.”
“Hey, I’m related to Snow White and Cinderella’s incarnations…and the Fairytale World is a real world.”
“Well then why don’t you go off and live in the Enchanted Forest?”
“Too late. You’ve already enchanted me,” Merlin retorted with a grin.
Then he began to laugh again, the Arthur with a mermaid thing still unbearably funny to him.
Arthur waved his hand resignedly. “Yes, yes. Go ahead. Just continue laughing, Merlin.”
In the corner of one of Rosebrooke’s smaller gardens, Bran was put in a coffin inside a small mausoleum beside a young apple tree. Gwydion had conjured the mausoleum and coffin. It was the last thing he ever wanted to do as he’d thought that Bran would surely live into adulthood in this life. Surely.
But Gwydion had been wrong.
The Raven Knife, the blade that bound the two of them together, had been placed in Bran’s hands, to be with him even in death.
Nearby, Ophelia sat cross-legged on the wrought iron bench that Alice had gotten for the garden and had spray-painted a bright blue. Gwydion was perched on a branch of the apple tree.
“So the raven will be responsible for looking after the Knife?” Ophelia asked.
Gwydion nodded. “It would be best since the raven is always with the Raven Knife either way. I’ll get updates and check on the Knife, of course, and my father said he’ll insure the Knife’s protection.”
After a long moment where they looked to the mausoleum, both lost in thought and memories.
Gwydion broke the silence by saying, “I still can’t believe Bran’s gone. He was encouraging me to leave, but I hadn’t expected Bran to die. I feel like I failed him.”
“Isn’t it always like this? When the Prince wants to carry out something, he’ll make sure to get it done? He’s probably pleased now that we’re all feeling guilty for not doing enough. And poor Robin, when he’s able to come back, he won’t like to hear Bran’s died. It will break his heart.”
“I wish I knew more about how Robin is. My father only said that he managed to rescue him, and that Robin’s alive. The fact he didn’t want to go into more detail has me worried.”
“We just have to be patient,” said Ophelia with a sigh. “I’m sure with the help of your grandfather, father and your Aunt Ceridwen; Robin will recover.”
“Yes, yet it’s hard to be patient,” Gwydion noted in frustration. “I did figure out who cured Bran when he was sick. It was the Prince of Darkness.”
“But then how could turn right around and kill Bran afterwards?” Ophelia wondered. “It makes no sense.”
“I don’t understand it either,” agreed Gwydion.
He didn’t want to tell her that he believed the Prince had been Bran’s birth father in this life because there was only so much a person could take. Gwydion worried it was his own fault.
With him being one world’s Merlin, and his close bond with Bran, that could’ve twisted fate to make Bran a son of Arthur in his reincarnated life. So that they’d fit the Arthur-Merlin mould in some manner. As to why that was necessary, Gwydion didn’t know.
But if it was true, then there was a high chance the next time Bran would be reincarnated, an Arthur would be his birth father again. He hoped desperately the Prince wouldn’t be that Arthur.
“Gwydion?” Ophelia addressed him, taking him out of his reverie. “Are you still relocating to North America?”
“Yeah. I don’t have a definite date, but I will keep in touch, of course. I just want to see what it’s like, but with Bran, well, you know… I’m not so sure what to do anymore.”
“He wanted you to go where you’d like to, Gwydion. If you’re interested in going across the pond, then go. As long as you visit. I’ll be holding you to that,” Ophelia told him sternly.
“I’ll do my very best. I promise, Ophelia,” Gwydion told her. “I think Charlie will be coming soon.”
“Yes,” said Ophelia too softly. She then put her hands over her face, covering it. Gwydion heard her let out a sob.
The only thing keeping Gwydion from breaking down was the belief that Bran would be reincarnated again.
This wasn’t the end of Bran’s story.
Final Part & Epilogue