Paperlegends: The Raven Knife (9) Finale + Epilogue
Masterpost
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 & Epilogue
Merlin and Arthur were walking their dogs and Greythorne. She was magically concealed so the average person wouldn’t do a double take at seeing a small scarlet-gold bird on top of Lux’s furry head. For his part, Lux seemed quite comfortable with having this new bird companion. Certainly the pair was an odd couple.
They were in the park, having let Cavall and Lux loose to play and Greythorne to fly around amongst the trees.
Then the two of them with their pets were transported elsewhere as their surroundings changed.
They were now on the shore of a fast-moving stream. Merlin bet that if he fell into it, the water would overwhelm him, taking him away before he even had the chance to think of a magic spell to save himself.
Merlin shooed Lux and Greythorne away from the raging stream, not wanting them near the tumultuous water. Fortunately, they obeyed him and the pair went off to follow Cavall who was walking about, sniffing at everything in investigation.
James appeared before them. “Hello again, Merlin, and it’s good to see you, Arthur. I’m sorry to say this is where I must come bearing bad news.”
“Is it Robin?” Merlin guessed immediately. “He was taken by the Prince,” he informed Arthur.
James rubbed the back of his head, looking quite uncomfortable. “Actually, the good news is that we have Robin now. He’s alive, and while he’s not too physically injured, he still isn’t exactly well. But we’ll make sure he has a smooth recovery.”
Merlin noted the tone of James’s voice - clearly he wouldn’t get anywhere with getting more details out of his uncle. The discussion was closed.
Was this a precursor though? To what Robin would go through in his future incarnation? Did Morgaine now have anything to do with what Robin briefly went through under the Prince’s captivity?
Merlin sincerely hoped not.
“What is the bad news?” Arthur asked.
“I fear it’s something I don’t like having to tell you, but you must know. Bran is dead. The Prince killed him.”
“No, that can’t be true,” uttered Merlin, stepping back in shock. “He was only a child! He was supposed to live a long life. It’s not supposed to be like this. No one’s meant to die that young. That can’t be…”
“Merlin,” Arthur started quietly.
But Merlin ripped his arm away from him. “No.”
“Merlin, at least you got the chance to know him a little in this life,” Arthur reminded him. “I didn’t even meet his incarnation.”
“This is still wrong. How dare the Prince. How dare he!” declared Merlin angrily.
“We are looking into putting an end to the Prince,” James spoke up, attempting to be reassuring. “The downside is that when the Prince’s time comes to an end, we may be inviting a greater evil.”
“As long as I get to kill the Prince of Darkness,” said Merlin viciously.
Then he walked off in the direction that the dogs and Greythorne had headed off to. Arthur didn’t even have a chance to stop him.
“What is this place?” Arthur asked James, thinking a change of subject would be wise.
Though he was half-tempted to go after Merlin before he found a rabbit or some other creature to strangle in his frustration.
Arthur could only imagine how he felt. While he’d known Bran well enough in his past life, that still seemed like ages ago to him. But Merlin had interacted with Bran as he was now, and Greythorne had been a gift from Bran after all. Seeing him not long ago, Merlin must be reeling from the shock that Bran was now dead.
“It’s uh,” James began, looking unsettled as he watched Merlin leave. He looked to Arthur, regaining his bearings. “Yes right. This is the Oasis. Ceridwen and King Merlin helped to create and design the place. All of this is a sanctuary for ghosts as only in the Oasis can ghosts look solid as if they’ve never died. It’s a nice respite for them.”
“Is Bran here? As a ghost?” Arthur asked. After all, ghosts became ghosts because of unfinished business. And being murdered was certainly grounds for becoming a ghost.
James nodded. “King Merlin has been a ghost for centuries and he will help Bran to cope with being a ghost. It is best for now that Bran not see anyone currently living as he still needs to properly deal with his new unfortunate situation. But Bran won’t be alone at least. That’s the important thing.”
Arthur smiled tightly. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”
A fleeting vision swept his mind’s eye as he saw himself falling into the sea, Krola back in wolf form falling beside him. Arthur could even smell the sea breeze. It seemed so real. He knew it had to be a continuation of that one vision he had where he’d been chased in the skies by Morgaine’s men.
Arthur willed himself to stop the vision as he could feel himself struggling to tread the uncooperative waters of the sea. He didn’t think he would last long.
Thankfully, the vision ended as he’d wanted.
“You all right there, Arthur?” James asked him, gripping his arm to keep him from falling down. “You’d paled and looked shaky on your feet.”
Arthur nodded, pressing his fingers to his brow. “Yeah. I’m okay. I should,” he paused. The scent of sea breeze was still upon his nose. It distracted him. “I should find Merlin before he gets lost here.”
“Thank you,” Bran told King Merlin. “I appreciate your help. What should I address you as? I’m used to calling you, ‘Your Majesty’ and the like.”
“Merlin is fine. There’s no need for formal titles here. I know you must still be in shock, Bran.”
“I just think I need to be alone for a bit. I’ll see you in a little later,” Bran assured him.
King Merlin nodded. He patted his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’ll always be here.”
Bran hung his head. “Yeah. Yeah.” He said quietly.
The word ‘always’ equaled to ‘forever’ to him, and he half-feared that he’d forever be a ghost, that he’d never be reincarnated again. Reincarnation wasn’t an absolute guarantee after all.
Or what if he would be reincarnated and die as a baby? His future seemed so uncertain now.
King Merlin departed, a slight frown on his face as if he knew just what Bran was thinking.
Bran decided to climb a rocky outcrop in the midst of a deep blue lake. A dive would be nice.
As he dived in the water, Bran swore he saw a vision of Branwen, but this time a young raven was on her shoulders.
“Bran, my child,” she spoke softly in her melodic voice.
Bran reached out to her, seeking the comfort of her touch, but then she vanished like a wisp of smoke.
He swam back up to the surface, lying down on the lakeshore.
“Oh god oh god oh god,” he said in a near panic.
He put his hand over his eyes. He didn’t want to be a ghost. Why couldn’t he just go home?
Why couldn’t it be that simple?
He wanted to see Gwydion again, and Ophelia, and Robin…
“Hullo,” a voice next to him said casually. “Are you all right?”
Bran turned to his right, where the small voice was coming from. The speaker was a male hooded siskin - a black and golden bird of smaller size than even Gwydion.
“Hi. I’ve died, and now I’m a ghost. I’m not quite all right. Maybe I’ll get there, but now I just I don’t know…I’m not sure what to do. I’ll just lie here for now.”
“I understand. I’m a ghost too. I was eaten by a scary big bird, and I ended up here. It’s a nice place.”
“What world were you born into?” Bran asked him. He propped his elbow up, his hand now resting on his cheek.
“The World of Magic. I lived in South America.”
“Oh lucky that. I lived my first life in the World of Magic. In Albion.”
“What a great coincidence! What’s your name?”
“Bran. Yours?”
“I’m just a little bird. I don’t have one,” the hooded siskin told him, sounding a bit sad about not having a name.
“Do you want me to give you one?”
“Oh, would you? That would make my day. How exciting, a name!” The black-gold bird exclaimed. He practically jumped to his right then left. Then the small bird hovered a few inches above ground, flapping his wings in his exuberance. “Do you need time to come up with one?” He wondered as he settled back down on the ground.
“What about, ‘Rhys’?”
“Rhys…” the bird tilted his head to the side, contemplating. “Rhys I like it! Thank you.”
“It suits you, I think,” Bran said with a soft smile. ‘Rhys’ meant enthusiasm, and this hooded siskin certainly had some of that.
“If I can ask, how did you die, Bran?”
Bran shrugged. “I didn’t feel a thing when I died. It was uneventful. I can’t imagine being eaten by a big bird.”
“That’s because you’re too big for the big bird that had me for a meal,” said Rhys with a sure nod.
Bran smiled, shaking his head. “Yeah suppose I am.”
“Mind if I touch you?” Bran asked him then.
He sort of missed being able to stroke Gwydion’s feathers now that they were separated by the divide of life and death.
“Okay. I don’t mind at all,” Rhys agreed.
So Bran stroked his black-gold feathers, getting a closer look at the bird.
~ * ~
Robin wasn’t sure what to do with the baby ring-tailed lemur he’d been given but to pet it. The little lemur seemed to enjoy it when Robin rubbed his belly. Certainly, the lemur helped to take his attention away from wondering when he’d regain his missing memories.
Now he just felt so, so confused and everything was unfamiliar to him. Robin wasn’t even quite sure what sort of person he was, how was he supposed to act? What was his personality? His likes and dislikes? Who were his loved ones? Besides his twin sister - he was grateful that he at least remembered Alice, though the full details were still rather vague.
Did he have friends? Enemies? Well, he already knew the Prince of Darkness didn’t like him as that’s why he was here according to James: to try to recover from the damage this Prince did on him.
There were so many questions that he needed answered, but nothing would compare to actually getting those memories back. Now only uncertainty lay ahead of him, and Robin couldn’t stand it.
As he watched the steady glow of the fireflies come into the room, Robin spoke, “You’re here to help me, right? James told me you’d be in the form of fireflies. Would you be able to recover the memories I’ve lost?” he asked hopefully.
“If all goes well, then yes. I’ll assess you to see the extent of the loss and if there will be anything preventing me from healing you. The Prince of Darkness has his tricks that make it necessary to be thorough.”
“Yeah, James told me about that. What do I call you? James told me you were his father, and that you were very powerful, but not your name.”
“Kian. Call me Kian,” the deep voice coming from the fireflies informed him.
“Okay then. Kian.”
“Now what do you remember?”
“I remember my name is Robin, and that I have a sister, my twin, Alice… and then there are the dragons. I see a lot of dragons. Is that all right?”
“It’s a start. A good one though. Now please, I need you to relax while I look you over. Concentrate your attention on the young lemur. This may take some time, but it won’t hurt.”
So Robin did just that, feeding the lemur with some of the food on the little table next to him.
There were leaves, fruit and flowers to choose from. The monkey-like creature took the big leaf he’d been offered in his small hands and proceeded to eat it. The lemur made squeaky noises that Robin thought sounded happy enough.
Mithian entered the small mausoleum with a heavy heart, but she wanted to be here to say goodbye. She had been shocked to learn from Bran’s cousin Ophelia that Bran had died. That was the last thing she had ever expected to happen. It was terribly sad, and just wrong as he had even been younger than her. But there was no changing the past now. There was only hope for the future.
There was a sufficient glow inside the enclosure, giving off just enough light for her to see.
Besides the coffin in the middle of the mausoleum, the small round table caught her eye. An image of a white raven spreading its wings was painted on one half of the table. On the empty portion, there stood a statue of a young woman with long white hair and crystal clear tiara upon her head. She wore a white medieval dress. The only colour on the pleasant looking woman was her remarkably purple eyes. She cradled a baby in her arms, and she looked down upon the child fondly as a mother would.
To the woman’s left, a white piece of paper with the thickness of cardboard was propped up by a stand. On the paper, the words in fluid cursive script said,
Our Beloved Lady Branwen
Guide our passage into the afterlife
Fly us home
Mithian touched the statue briefly, finding it a lovely piece of work. She turned her attention to the coffin. The coffin was constructed of well-polished stone of a deep blue colour. She heard the sound of a raven cawing as she considered the coffin. There was something she wanted to put inside of it, but she didn’t think she had the strength to shift the lid.
A black raven suddenly appeared on top of the coffin in front of her. The raven tilted his head at her, cawing at her in question.
Mithian held up the miniature blue bird statue she had brought. “I just want to put this in the coffin if that’s all right.”
The lid opened halfway then of its own accord almost as if the raven had something to do with it.
The raven appeared to vanish into thin air, and then she saw the raven reappear on the hilt of the Raven Knife that was in Bran’s hands.
But she thought it wasn’t the time to contemplate this clear use of magic. She had more important things to concern herself about.
A seemingly preserving glow enveloped Bran as he lay upon a cushion of white silk. He only looked like he was sleeping. Not seeing his chest rise and fall as breath left and exited his body proved that he was truly dead.
He wore an outfit consisting of a dark blue jacket with moon silver buttons and dark trousers. Upon his head rested a silver coronet encrusted with white diamonds. It was like Bran was a young prince or lord, gone far before his time. Even in death, with his startlingly golden eyes closed forever, Bran still exuded that intriguing strangeness that had caught her eye when she had first met him.
She laid the blue bird statue beside him, near his shoulder.
She spoke then for though she knew that Bran couldn’t hear her, Mithian still had the desire to explain herself.
“I brought you a blue bird because I thought that way; Gwydion could always be with you symbolically. I didn’t know you for very long, but I liked you, truly. I miss you, Bran.”
Mithian kissed him softly on the lips. She pulled away and the coffin lid slid closed
Images from her frequent dreams came to her mind’s eye. Of being imprisoned in a castle, of the beast in the shadows, of the enchanted red rose in a glass bell jar. Of the beast turning into a handsome prince, and the power of requited love.
Mithian wasn’t sure why she was being reminded of the dreams now. She shook her head, extinguishing the images from her head.
She sadly looked back one last time to the coffin.
When she exited the mausoleum, Mithian saw a little rosefinch on the ground. The poor bird looked like it had a broken wing. The rosefinch made sad, pained sounds, requesting help.
Mithian knelt down before the rosefinch.
“Oh you poor creature. Let me see you,” she said. She gently put the male rosefinch on to the palm of her hand.
The small bird fell quiet and she wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t an expert on fixing broken wings, and thought maybe to take the bird back home to ask her mum what to do. Yet she couldn’t help but kiss the rose red bird on his feathery head.
Mithian was surprised when the bird was able to fly again, the injured wing had miraculously healed. Had her kiss something to do with it? That made no sense, and yet, she couldn’t discredit the idea completely. She’d seen magic inside the mausoleum after all.
She thought the rosefinch would fly away now that he was healed, and she said goodbye to him, and went on her way.
But the rosefinch remained close to her for some inexplicable reason.
“I’m sure you have family to go back to? Or would you like to come home with me?”
The rosefinch answered her in birdsong, and perched on her shoulder. He looked intent to stay there.
“Um okay… nice to meet you. I’m still not sure what’s going on, but you seem like a sweet bird, so we’ll just take it one day at a time. How about that?”
The bird sounded like he was approving of her suggestion.
So she nodded and started walking back home with her new rosefinch. He needed a name, Mithian thought.
And so she considered possible names on her way home, passing them by the smart little bird for his opinion.
“Merlin,” Athena said quietly. Arthur and Merlin were back home with Lux, Cavall and Greythorne.
Merlin had fallen asleep on the couch while reading one of the books his father left him.
It had been an emotionally exhausting day for him, and he wished that some things were just a bad dream. It was just wrong that Bran was dead. Because he couldn’t be.
“Yeah?” Merlin murmured, rustling himself from his unhappy slumber.
“Your engagement ring is still in your car, remember? It would be a good idea to retrieve it…” Athena suggested. “I know you’re upset about what the Prince did to Bran, but can’t you feel it? This life isn’t the end of Bran’s story. You have to have faith in that, Merlin.”
“I know, I hope so too…but still, he was a child. Doesn’t matter how many memories he was carrying inside his head, he still only lived eleven years in this life. I can’t get over how wrong that is. And how the Prince believed he had the right to cut Bran’s life short like that,” Merlin said bitterly. “But yes, you’re right, Athena. I need to get my ring back,” he acknowledged.
Arthur entered the room. Greythorne was perched on Arthur’s head, which would have made Merlin laugh any other day, but he didn’t feel much like laughing at the moment.
“Hey, you’re awake,” Arthur said. “The dogs have fallen asleep. Busy day for them.”
“Yeah. Yeah,” Merlin said idly, giving Arthur a small smile.
“Look, Merlin,” Arthur began.
But Merlin didn’t want to hear it. Arthur had already said enough to try to make him feel a little better about the dreadful news of Bran’s death.
Merlin put up a hand. “I’m fine. I appreciate you trying to help, but I just need some time. I have to get my engagement ring back, actually. It’s in the glovebox of my car.”
Arthur raised his brow. “And why is that?”
Merlin looked sheepish. “Well when we had that fight and I left, I took off the ring because I was so frustrated with you,” he explained. “That’s all in the past now, of course.”
“I could retrieve your ring for you,” Arthur offered easily. “No problem.”
“No, you don’t have to,” Merlin started, standing up.
Arthur shook his head. “I want to do this. No point in arguing over it. I’ll just take your keys.”
“Greythorne’s on your head,” Merlin told him randomly.
Arthur smiled at him. “I know,” he said. He gently grabbed the phoenix off his head and gave her back to Merlin.
“There you go, your own mini-daemon,” Arthur quipped, winking at him.
Merlin eyed him, and then he smiled fondly as Greythorne blinked up at him and nuzzled against his stomach.
Arthur grabbed Merlin’s keys and waved at Merlin before he left the house.
~ * ~
Arthur stared; transfixed by the silver band he’d retrieved from the glovebox. He was reminded of the silver of his Excalibur, the great sword that had granted him the ability to travel to other worlds. Excalibur had been the blade that had inspired the Raven Knife’s creation.
A memory came unbidden to him then.
It was during his and Merlin’s year in exile, and it wasn’t long after Arthur had gained Excalibur.
Merlin had been persuading him to use the sword to travel to another world as they’d yet to do that.
“Come on, Arthur. It’ll be an adventure,” Merlin told him as they lay by the fireside.
Zlota was beside Merlin in her nest and Krola was lying on his side by Arthur.
“But we’re in exile, Merlin. If we go to another world, we’ll be escaping our problems in this world. What if we decide to never come back? And leave Camelot to my father’s tyranny?”
“Arthur, the Daemon World will always be our world. Going to see other worlds doesn’t mean we’ll never return here. I love this world just as much as you. It’s our home,” Merlin said sincerely. “But we need to get a break from the grimness of exile. We deserve a chance to explore a different world. You have Excalibur now, Arthur, and you need to see all it can do.”
And then Krola and Zlota chimed in, agreeing with Merlin.
“It’ll be like a quest,” said Krola.
“Discovering other worlds would be exciting, and Uther’s men won’t suspect where we are,” put in Zlota.
“All right, all right!” Arthur said, raising his hands. “It’s three to one. I know when I’m beaten.”
Merlin grinned at him. “Let’s see Excalibur again,” he declared.
Arthur unsheathed his precious sword, the reflective silver catching the firelight.
Arthur smiled to himself as the memory faded out.
Everything would be all right. He had to believe it would be.
Epilogue
~ * ~
2112 AD
~ * ~
One hundred and one years after killing the only natural son he’d ever had, the Prince of Darkness was in the World of Magic at the shores of the Baltic Sea.
Curious children approached him, their parents watching them with uncertainty since the Prince was a notorious enemy of the World of Magic after all.
The children’s winged creatures were on alert as the children asked the Prince questions.
He answered them in their native Polish language. The Prince spoke quite fluently as living a very long life had given him the chance to learn different languages at a high level.
Though the Prince never told the children exactly why he was just sitting here at the beach.
Later, one particularly fair-haired boy recalled how the Prince had trouble looking him directly in the eye, and a guilty, sad look came over the Prince’s face as the boy spoke to him.
As the sun began to set, the Prince stood upon the sea shore, watching intently as the sun descended.
The final known account of the Prince was that he had started walking into the Baltic Sea as darkness began to fall upon the land.
His body wasn’t found in the sea, so drowning was ruled out. People were left to believe he had vanished like a ghost in the wind.
The Prince of Darkness was gone.
In the following centuries, the Prince’s wife, Morgaine, became known as the Evil Queen by those who opposed her.
Yet the gods had the Prince’s advisor, Nimueh, on their side. She had yielded to what they wished of her, on the condition that she keep her immortality and agelessness. On the other hand, Morgaine was stripped of both and was forced to find other means of keeping her beauty and youth; her own magic helping her a little bit. The god of unnatural magic was particularly vocal about Morgaine’s punishment.
Nimueh was nothing if not smart enough to take an opportunity when it was presented to her. Morgaine was too far gone for the gods to even consider pulling her to their side. And Nimueh knew that it was the Prince who had suggested it be Nimueh that serve the gods, as her motherly qualities had served the Prince well.
Nimueh became known as the Lady of the Lake.
She gave birth to a beautiful raven-haired daughter, who she named Morgana as Nimueh knew she was an incarnation of the Daemon World’s Morgana.
Twenty years later, Morgana gave birth to equally beautiful twins, a boy and a girl, both with golden hair and blue eyes. She named them Robin and Alice under her mother’s suggestion.
Nimueh doted on her grandchildren. Though she told Robin and Alice to address her as Nimueh. “Grandma” made her feel old, though her skin was always young and smooth.
Like any woman, she wanted to keep the perception that she was still just a young woman though she had lived through hundreds of centuries already.
Meanwhile, worlds began to collapse under the weight of Queen Morgaine’s dark vengeance, and people cried doomsday. That the apocalypse, the end of the worlds, had come. Most worlds turned away from electricity and began to rely on the land, on nature again as electrical systems shut down - all Morgaine’s doing.
Worlds once unaware that other worlds existed besides their own now had seen the light. Formerly dull worlds accepted the reality of more than one world in existence.
Public access between many worlds opened up and for a decent price, people could travel to one world to another. Yet as the worlds collapsed and fell, this travel became more harrowing and dangerous.
Formerly dull worlds began to turn to magic, real magic, and the always resilient World of Magic sought to help. Worlds like the Daemon World adopted speedy winged steeds as a popular form of transportation.
Morgaine made a terrible blow against Nimueh when she killed her daughter, and forced Robin and Alice apart, locking Alice away in a tower to use her magical golden hair for herself, and trapping Robin in the castle that once was home. Now at only fourteen years old, it was his prison.
Nimueh was unable to help either of her grandchildren. For four years she waited until she could bring her grandchildren back together. The twins were stronger together after all.
She bided her time, and hoped that the Arthur of the Daemon World would encounter one of the last few mermaids remaining in the worlds.
~ * ~
2510 AD
~ * ~
Robin walked slowly, the wounds on his back from Queen Morgaine’s whipping making it difficult to move. He heard the melancholy melody of Ortega’s “It’s hard to say goodbye” piece coming from the Piano Room. That upset him as the last person to ever play the piano had been his mother. The piano had remained silent since then. She had played Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7. That same day, she had died at the Queen’s hand.
Now two years later, Robin feared that he was forgetting how his mother looked when she smiled or that intent look she had had while she played the piano, her skillful fingers gliding across the keys.
He entered the Piano Room, the melody halting as he arrived. Robin let out a sigh, collapsing face down on the cool hardwood floor so as not exacerbate his wounds.
He would just stay here, easy, and wait for infection to set in, and for the fever to come. Maybe he could get hallucinations - that way, he could see his mother again, and have Alice back with him.
Then he heard the sound of a raven’s call for attention.
Robin peered up, his chin over his folded hands. A raven was perched on the piano bench. The bird looked like he was carrying something in his beak. “You again, huh? I don’t know how you got inside, but I suppose it’s nice to have company. Even if it’s with a bird meant to come when you die. Which I probably will, soon enough,” he said, tiredly resigned to his fate.
The raven cawed again, this time in disagreement. He flew down to land in front of Robin’s face. He gently put down what he’d been carrying in his beak. The raven prodded Robin’s cheek with his cheek, drawing his attention to the small pouch.
“All right. Okay. I’ll open it,” Robin acquiesced.
He untied the string of the pouch and looked inside to find golden fairy dust that sparkled as he exposed it to the light of the room.
“Fairy dust. Nice. That should help with my back. Thanks,” he said to the raven.
The raven touched the pouch with the beak, clearly insisting that Robin use the fairy dust now.
“You’re a strange guardian angel,” Robin noted to the raven as he went to pour some fairy dust into a glass. Ingesting it should help in healing the damage on his back. “But you’ll have to do.”
Robin smiled at the raven who rolled around on the table in a mood for play, his task done.
~ * ~
2511 AD
~ * ~
Arthur opened his eyes on the sandy shore. Krola had returned to her white wolf form, and his daemon now shook out her wet fur beside him.
Sitting up, he coughed, expelling the water caught in his lungs.
A mermaid with vividly red hair and blue eyes was looking down on him. She wore white seashells on her chest and her tail was green with her fins as white as the seashells.
The mermaid must have saved him, retrieved him from the sea he’d been forced to fall into.
“Are you all right?” the mermaid asked in concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said with a slight smile. “What’s your name?” Arthur asked breathlessly.
“Ariel,” the red-headed mermaid told him.
Her blue eyes had flecks of gold in them. She was beautiful.
“My name’s Arthur,” he told her, still a little overwhelmed that he was talking to a mermaid.
Merfolk were one of the more elusive beings in all the worlds.
Arthur stood, looking up to see Queen Morgaine’s men, still on winged steeds, had reached him. They looked ready to shoot him down with arrows. He knew he couldn’t stay still for long. He needed shelter.
“They’re after me. They didn’t want me to meet you I think.”
“I can help you,” Ariel told him.
Before Arthur could ask how, he nearly got hit with an arrow that he managed to avoid by moving quickly out of its way. Krola was getting anxious.
Unexpectedly, Ariel’s mermaid tail turned into legs, and she now wore a simple white summer dress. The work of magic, it had to be.
“Run. I know the way,” she told him quickly.
Then Ariel started to go into a run, as if having legs wasn’t new to her at all. She was quite strange, Arthur thought.
Arthur ran, following where she led. Krola raced a bit faster than him due to her wolf form. As consequence, Krola reached the cliff overlooking a deep lake first. It looked to be a long way down.
With trepidation, Arthur saw Morgaine’s men gaining on them by foot. There wasn’t much time before the men caught up to Arthur.
Jumping the cliff was the only way out. Unless he wanted to be at the mercy of Morgaine’s lackeys.
“Here,” Ariel said, offering her hand.
He looked at her hand then at her smile of reassurance, locks of her red hair being whipped about in the wind.
He took her hand.
“Ready Krola?”
“No choice but to be ready,” his daemon said logically, though she sounded nervous.
“It’ll be fine. Trust me,” Ariel assured him. “You know how to swim?”
Arthur nodded.
Then there was nothing else for it. The three of them jumped.
When they landed in the water, danger averted for the moment, Arthur couldn’t help but kiss her. She smiled brilliantly at him.
~ * ~
2512 AD
~ * ~
“You looked tired, so I let you sleep,” Robin told Alice with a small smile.
He held Bran in his arms, feeding him a bottle of milk.
Alice smiled appreciatively at her brother. “Yeah, I guess I was. The journey was exhausting. Bran’s looking all right.”
“Children are resilient, aren’t they?” Robin said thoughtfully. “That’s enough for you, little one,” he said to the baby.
The baby looked up at him with wide golden eyes as Robin took the bottle away and set it down on a nearby table. He patted his hand over the little bluebird tattoo just above Bran’s heart. Nimueh had deigned to put the marking on Bran the day he was born. She’d acted as midwife to Bran’s mother when she’d given birth. Nimueh had cited the bluebird was there for protective purposes, like a sort of magical marking.
The baby giggled, and Robin smiled at him affectionately.
“He’s a lovely little child,” Alice said.
Robin looked to Alice. “We aren’t kidnapping him, are we?”
“No. Nimueh assured me that she got the mother’s indisputable consent. And according to the mother, the father had left long before she started showing signs of pregnancy, their brief time together more like a fling. We aren’t doing anything wrong. Anyway, Bran’s birth parents live in the Daemon World, a different world completely.”
“Right,” said Robin still sounding a bit uncertain.
“Nimueh wanted me to take the baby, and really what else I was supposed to do? She’s our grandmother, Robin,” Alice reminded him. “She may be a bit off-kilter sometimes, but when Nimueh says how important the child is and that you and I must look after him, I can’t just give the poor baby to someone else. And now, at least, Morgaine won’t be able to trouble us while Bran is growing up.”
“Well when you put it that way…” Robin remarked, bemused.
Alice stood up, and leaned down to kiss the baby on the brow. “Mummy and daddy love you very much,” she said warmly to Bran.
~ * ~
2513 AD
~ * ~
Arthur visited the apothecary to get a potion for a shoulder strain. Seeing most people inside the potions store showed the evolving state of the Daemon World. Maybe it was a result of the apocalypse, but his world was beginning to lose the reason for why it was called the ‘Daemon World.’
Possibly as a defensive mechanism, daemons started retreating inside their humans, becoming souls inside their bodies as humans of other worlds were more familiar with. That meant for the unlucky of the Daemon World, there was a loss of an actual conversation with one’s daemons as the humans could only speak to themselves. Their daemons turned into shapeless souls and remained dreadfully silent.
To possess a healthy daemon was growing rarer these days.
And he could see most customers in this place didn’t have daemons, indicating that their daemons had retreated inside their bodies. What pained Arthur more was to see those who looked like they had ailing daemons, whose heads were bowed and they looked just plain unhappy.
He was lucky to have Krola, who was still quite healthy, though she certainly wasn’t like the daemons of old. She hadn’t settled into one form when he matured. Instead, Krola was able to transform into a white wolf and a brown Pegasus with golden-brown wings. Arthur didn’t know what to make of it, but the Pegasus form was certainly useful for traveling.
Arthur wanted to make this a quick trip as others were staring at him - half in envy at his healthy daemon and the other half in annoyance at him daring to come here flaunting his daemon while they weren’t so lucky.
So Arthur stood firm as best as he could and tried to ignore the judging stares. He wouldn’t feel guilty, no he wouldn’t.
At the counter, there was a young woman of about fifteen, a decade younger than him, with a short haircut and dark eyes. She was nearly pleading with the seller for a certain potion.
Arthur’s eyes widened because he knew just what this transformation potion did. But by the look of the girl’s hooded siskin daemon, he understood why she asking for it. The poor black-gold bird looked disinterested in everything around him and he looked underfed like he’d lost his appetite.
“You don’t know what I went through to get the money for this potion. It has to be enough. Seriously, I’m this close to considering suicide! Just have a heart, for goodness sake!”
“Listen, young lady. You’re not of age. You need parental consent,” said the seller stubbornly.
“My parents are out of the equation. They’re dead,” the girl said flatly. “Just look, please, my daemon Rhys is miserable and this potion will help us both. Please.”
“Nothing wrong with having a soul inside your body. There’s a reason why all the other worlds have it that way and we don’t.”
“I don’t want to conform,” retorted the girl.
“Hey,” Arthur spoke up. He dropped two gold coins on the counter. “Just give her the potion. Don’t punish her just because she doesn’t have parents. You’ll be saving a life if you help her,” Arthur advised him.
The seller stared at him, then at Krola, and he mumbled something about, “a hoity-toity person thinks he’s so great because he has a healthy daemon.”
But fortunately the seller relented and shoved the potion into the young woman’s hand. “Ah whatever. With the gold coins, that’s more than the potion is worth. Money wins this one. Just a word of warning: the potion tastes like crap,” told the seller curtly.
“I didn’t pay for it to taste good,” replied the girl. “As long as it works.”
She moved aside for the next customer.
“Thanks,” she told Arthur. “I appreciate it--?”
“Arthur. My name’s Arthur.”
“My name is Laynie,” she introduced herself. They shook hands. “This little fighter is Rhys,” she said with a sad smile.
The poor hooded siskin only moved closer to the crook of her neck, nuzzling her, as if he were afraid of Arthur and sought comfort from Laynie.
“Laynie, Laynie, Laynie…” Rhys only murmured.
“Sssh, you’ll be well soon enough,” she assured.
“I hope the potion works and Rhys gets better,” said Arthur.
“Thanks. What an impressive daemon you have.”
“This is Krolewska, but I just call her Krola.”
“Hello,” Krola said. “Thank you for the compliment.”
Arthur could definitely see that Rhys was even more anxious when Krola spoke. Of course to a small ailing bird daemon, Krola’s big wolf form was far from a calming sight.
“Well, here it goes,” Laynie announced, as she got ready to down the potion.
“Good luck. Hopefully I’ll see you around,” Arthur told her, and he meant it.
Laynie smiled at him. “I hope so too,” she said before she drank the potion.
She transformed into a female hooded siskin - a change that would be permanent. Her male daemon finally was beginning to look well again, flying around Laynie who now was the same species as him.
The hooded siskin pair flew out of the apothecary when Arthur went to open the door for them. He waved goodbye to Laynie and Rhys wondering if he’d ever actually see them again.
But at least now, they were together and both were healthy and happy. That’s what mattered.
Still after months of the number of cracks decreasing in the skies, Arthur couldn’t help but smile at the gradual improvements in these apocalyptic days. It felt like hope was in the air, a hope for a brighter future.
As the grey skies began to let drops of rain fall, Arthur sought shelter in a half-damaged church. It looked like the stone structure had been bombed.
He walked up the aisle with Krola walking resolutely beside him. Arthur was silent, the drip-drop of rainfall the loudest sound he heard.
Seeing a slightly worse for the wear statue of the Virgin Mary with child, he was compelled to kneel before it.
But the silence of the sanctuary was broken by an angry voice that had Arthur turning around immediately.
The voice came from Queen Morgaine. The last person he ever wanted to see.
“You men are all the same!” She exclaimed. “How dare you! Do you realize how you’ve destroyed everything??”
“Well if I’ve done something to upset you, then I’m clearly doing something right,” Arthur shot back sarcastically.
Krola readied her attack stance, growling under her breath. “Leave now,” she warned the Queen.
“You and your stupid daemon!” Queen Morgaine said in irritation. “You’ve done enough damage for a lifetime. I’ll make sure you won’t be able to do anymore,” she threatened.
Arthur fell as the air was sucked out of his lungs by magic.
Then a dark-haired man with an extraordinary scarlet-gold phoenix magically arrived, standing in front of him. He blasted Morgaine away with his hand.
Arthur could breathe again. He knew the man his age just had to be Merlin, as he was known as the only person to have a phoenix daemon.
“Arthur is under my protection, Morgaine. The wisest thing for you to do is to leave,” Merlin said loud and clear. His voice was so commanding and firm that Arthur was glad not to be the one on the receiving end of it.
Queen Morgaine glared at Merlin, standing up and straightening her dress roughly. “I want that child! That wretched child is a nightmare.”
“And this is the sound of me not caring,” Merlin said flippantly. He approached her slowly. “You know what I do to people who intend to kill the child? I rip their hearts out, slowly and so painfully that they scream in agony for hours afterwards. Then I let them die. Watch it, Morgaine. Leave Arthur ALONE,” he demanded.
Morgaine growled in anger, and left abruptly without deigning to deliver a response.
“Thanks for saving my life,” Arthur told him. “If you really are Merlin, then let me tell you, you are not an easy man to find. I’ve been searching for you for almost two years now.”
“Yes I am Merlin,” he confirmed with an odd little smile on his face like he knew far more than Arthur did. “Why did you need to find me?” Merlin asked.
“People have told me that you know how to end the apocalypse, that you know how to contact the Lady of the Lake who is working toward the same goal. Nimueh is her name, I think… I wanted to see you, to lend my support to you in ending this apocalypse. But now looking at you, you seem familiar to me. Have I met you before?” Arthur asked suddenly.
“Quite possibly yes,” Merlin said, again with a secret smile. Arthur felt desperate to unravel the secrets this Merlin knew. “It’ll all make sense soon. I can help you, but you see, you have done quite well without me. You’ve seen the better state of the skies, haven’t you?”
Arthur nodded. “I don’t know what that has to do with me, but well, I did meet a mermaid if that means anything. After all not everyone can say they’ve met one of the merfolk. She saved my life and we spent some time together…”
“Sounds like a fairytale,” Merlin remarked casually.
“Maybe a little bit,” Arthur acknowledged.
He wasn’t the type to relate his life to fairytales, but certainly meeting a mermaid was an experience beyond imagining. One he’d be hard-pressed to ever forget.
“You sound so enthusiastic,” Merlin’s phoenix daemon voiced her opinion.
“Zlocisty,” Merlin admonished her gently.
“Is that how big true phoenixes are?” Krola asked. “I never saw a real, live phoenix before.”
Merlin nodded. “Yes phoenixes are this big.”
“And most have scarlet-gold feathers like me. Good luck finding the ones who have shades of blue in their colouring,” Zlota said matter-of-factly.
“This is Krola,” Arthur told Merlin, indicating his daemon. “But I’m guessing you knew that already,” he said shrewdly.
Then Arthur couldn’t resist asking, “Is your father alive?” He paused, confused why his mind decided to ask that. “I don’t know where that came from.”
“Yes, he is. Alive and well,” Merlin answered him easily.
He looked so happy that the happiness was contagious. Arthur grinned.
Arthur didn’t know why it was important whether or not Merlin’s father was alive, but he was glad that his question yielded a positive answer all the same.
“And don’t worry about asking questions like that. It’s a good thing. It means you’ll soon remember what you need to,” Merlin assured him. “Would you like to go hiking in the mountains, Arthur? It’s just in Wales.”
Arthur raised his brow. “Is this a date?”
Merlin shrugged, flashing a grin. “Sort of. It’s really whatever you make of it,” he said logically.
“Okay, yeah. Sure. And then we can strategize.”
“Of course, but first, you must appreciate the view.”
Arthur nodded. “I’m up for that. It could be an adventure.”
Merlin corrected him amicably, “Well more like a quest because there’s this sword waiting for you and…”
~ THE END ~
End Notes: My intention was that Rhys, Merlin's apprentice, was reincarnated as a hooded siskin, and then a hooded siskin daemon in the life after that. I guess Rhys wins with interesting incarnations. ;)
And my favorite Disney princess/heroine is Belle from "Beauty and the Beast" so I couldn't resist the chance to insert her into the story prominently what with the fairy tale touches in the story. I really liked Mithian from "Merlin", so I thought it'd be cool to give her that name in her reincarnated life.
A potential of a sequel is not likely now. I will be using ideas from "The Wolf and The Phoenix" and this sequel, "The Raven Knife" in other stories. Currently, the "Merlin's Fall" series deals with ideas from the TWATP-universe, but it's very much an AU. I don't want to jump the gun and promise a sequel to "The Raven Knife." I apologize for saying there would be one, but I'm honestly just not feeling the desire to dive into writing the sequel.
Thank you for reading this story! I'm so glad I finished it. The story was definitely a labor of love (even on the not so good days, the scenes that I was so proud of kept me going in finishing this longer than expected story *cheers*).
I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did writing it. <3
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 & Epilogue
Merlin and Arthur were walking their dogs and Greythorne. She was magically concealed so the average person wouldn’t do a double take at seeing a small scarlet-gold bird on top of Lux’s furry head. For his part, Lux seemed quite comfortable with having this new bird companion. Certainly the pair was an odd couple.
They were in the park, having let Cavall and Lux loose to play and Greythorne to fly around amongst the trees.
Then the two of them with their pets were transported elsewhere as their surroundings changed.
They were now on the shore of a fast-moving stream. Merlin bet that if he fell into it, the water would overwhelm him, taking him away before he even had the chance to think of a magic spell to save himself.
Merlin shooed Lux and Greythorne away from the raging stream, not wanting them near the tumultuous water. Fortunately, they obeyed him and the pair went off to follow Cavall who was walking about, sniffing at everything in investigation.
James appeared before them. “Hello again, Merlin, and it’s good to see you, Arthur. I’m sorry to say this is where I must come bearing bad news.”
“Is it Robin?” Merlin guessed immediately. “He was taken by the Prince,” he informed Arthur.
James rubbed the back of his head, looking quite uncomfortable. “Actually, the good news is that we have Robin now. He’s alive, and while he’s not too physically injured, he still isn’t exactly well. But we’ll make sure he has a smooth recovery.”
Merlin noted the tone of James’s voice - clearly he wouldn’t get anywhere with getting more details out of his uncle. The discussion was closed.
Was this a precursor though? To what Robin would go through in his future incarnation? Did Morgaine now have anything to do with what Robin briefly went through under the Prince’s captivity?
Merlin sincerely hoped not.
“What is the bad news?” Arthur asked.
“I fear it’s something I don’t like having to tell you, but you must know. Bran is dead. The Prince killed him.”
“No, that can’t be true,” uttered Merlin, stepping back in shock. “He was only a child! He was supposed to live a long life. It’s not supposed to be like this. No one’s meant to die that young. That can’t be…”
“Merlin,” Arthur started quietly.
But Merlin ripped his arm away from him. “No.”
“Merlin, at least you got the chance to know him a little in this life,” Arthur reminded him. “I didn’t even meet his incarnation.”
“This is still wrong. How dare the Prince. How dare he!” declared Merlin angrily.
“We are looking into putting an end to the Prince,” James spoke up, attempting to be reassuring. “The downside is that when the Prince’s time comes to an end, we may be inviting a greater evil.”
“As long as I get to kill the Prince of Darkness,” said Merlin viciously.
Then he walked off in the direction that the dogs and Greythorne had headed off to. Arthur didn’t even have a chance to stop him.
“What is this place?” Arthur asked James, thinking a change of subject would be wise.
Though he was half-tempted to go after Merlin before he found a rabbit or some other creature to strangle in his frustration.
Arthur could only imagine how he felt. While he’d known Bran well enough in his past life, that still seemed like ages ago to him. But Merlin had interacted with Bran as he was now, and Greythorne had been a gift from Bran after all. Seeing him not long ago, Merlin must be reeling from the shock that Bran was now dead.
“It’s uh,” James began, looking unsettled as he watched Merlin leave. He looked to Arthur, regaining his bearings. “Yes right. This is the Oasis. Ceridwen and King Merlin helped to create and design the place. All of this is a sanctuary for ghosts as only in the Oasis can ghosts look solid as if they’ve never died. It’s a nice respite for them.”
“Is Bran here? As a ghost?” Arthur asked. After all, ghosts became ghosts because of unfinished business. And being murdered was certainly grounds for becoming a ghost.
James nodded. “King Merlin has been a ghost for centuries and he will help Bran to cope with being a ghost. It is best for now that Bran not see anyone currently living as he still needs to properly deal with his new unfortunate situation. But Bran won’t be alone at least. That’s the important thing.”
Arthur smiled tightly. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”
A fleeting vision swept his mind’s eye as he saw himself falling into the sea, Krola back in wolf form falling beside him. Arthur could even smell the sea breeze. It seemed so real. He knew it had to be a continuation of that one vision he had where he’d been chased in the skies by Morgaine’s men.
Arthur willed himself to stop the vision as he could feel himself struggling to tread the uncooperative waters of the sea. He didn’t think he would last long.
Thankfully, the vision ended as he’d wanted.
“You all right there, Arthur?” James asked him, gripping his arm to keep him from falling down. “You’d paled and looked shaky on your feet.”
Arthur nodded, pressing his fingers to his brow. “Yeah. I’m okay. I should,” he paused. The scent of sea breeze was still upon his nose. It distracted him. “I should find Merlin before he gets lost here.”
“Thank you,” Bran told King Merlin. “I appreciate your help. What should I address you as? I’m used to calling you, ‘Your Majesty’ and the like.”
“Merlin is fine. There’s no need for formal titles here. I know you must still be in shock, Bran.”
“I just think I need to be alone for a bit. I’ll see you in a little later,” Bran assured him.
King Merlin nodded. He patted his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’ll always be here.”
Bran hung his head. “Yeah. Yeah.” He said quietly.
The word ‘always’ equaled to ‘forever’ to him, and he half-feared that he’d forever be a ghost, that he’d never be reincarnated again. Reincarnation wasn’t an absolute guarantee after all.
Or what if he would be reincarnated and die as a baby? His future seemed so uncertain now.
King Merlin departed, a slight frown on his face as if he knew just what Bran was thinking.
Bran decided to climb a rocky outcrop in the midst of a deep blue lake. A dive would be nice.
As he dived in the water, Bran swore he saw a vision of Branwen, but this time a young raven was on her shoulders.
“Bran, my child,” she spoke softly in her melodic voice.
Bran reached out to her, seeking the comfort of her touch, but then she vanished like a wisp of smoke.
He swam back up to the surface, lying down on the lakeshore.
“Oh god oh god oh god,” he said in a near panic.
He put his hand over his eyes. He didn’t want to be a ghost. Why couldn’t he just go home?
Why couldn’t it be that simple?
He wanted to see Gwydion again, and Ophelia, and Robin…
“Hullo,” a voice next to him said casually. “Are you all right?”
Bran turned to his right, where the small voice was coming from. The speaker was a male hooded siskin - a black and golden bird of smaller size than even Gwydion.
“Hi. I’ve died, and now I’m a ghost. I’m not quite all right. Maybe I’ll get there, but now I just I don’t know…I’m not sure what to do. I’ll just lie here for now.”
“I understand. I’m a ghost too. I was eaten by a scary big bird, and I ended up here. It’s a nice place.”
“What world were you born into?” Bran asked him. He propped his elbow up, his hand now resting on his cheek.
“The World of Magic. I lived in South America.”
“Oh lucky that. I lived my first life in the World of Magic. In Albion.”
“What a great coincidence! What’s your name?”
“Bran. Yours?”
“I’m just a little bird. I don’t have one,” the hooded siskin told him, sounding a bit sad about not having a name.
“Do you want me to give you one?”
“Oh, would you? That would make my day. How exciting, a name!” The black-gold bird exclaimed. He practically jumped to his right then left. Then the small bird hovered a few inches above ground, flapping his wings in his exuberance. “Do you need time to come up with one?” He wondered as he settled back down on the ground.
“What about, ‘Rhys’?”
“Rhys…” the bird tilted his head to the side, contemplating. “Rhys I like it! Thank you.”
“It suits you, I think,” Bran said with a soft smile. ‘Rhys’ meant enthusiasm, and this hooded siskin certainly had some of that.
“If I can ask, how did you die, Bran?”
Bran shrugged. “I didn’t feel a thing when I died. It was uneventful. I can’t imagine being eaten by a big bird.”
“That’s because you’re too big for the big bird that had me for a meal,” said Rhys with a sure nod.
Bran smiled, shaking his head. “Yeah suppose I am.”
“Mind if I touch you?” Bran asked him then.
He sort of missed being able to stroke Gwydion’s feathers now that they were separated by the divide of life and death.
“Okay. I don’t mind at all,” Rhys agreed.
So Bran stroked his black-gold feathers, getting a closer look at the bird.
~ * ~
Robin wasn’t sure what to do with the baby ring-tailed lemur he’d been given but to pet it. The little lemur seemed to enjoy it when Robin rubbed his belly. Certainly, the lemur helped to take his attention away from wondering when he’d regain his missing memories.
Now he just felt so, so confused and everything was unfamiliar to him. Robin wasn’t even quite sure what sort of person he was, how was he supposed to act? What was his personality? His likes and dislikes? Who were his loved ones? Besides his twin sister - he was grateful that he at least remembered Alice, though the full details were still rather vague.
Did he have friends? Enemies? Well, he already knew the Prince of Darkness didn’t like him as that’s why he was here according to James: to try to recover from the damage this Prince did on him.
There were so many questions that he needed answered, but nothing would compare to actually getting those memories back. Now only uncertainty lay ahead of him, and Robin couldn’t stand it.
As he watched the steady glow of the fireflies come into the room, Robin spoke, “You’re here to help me, right? James told me you’d be in the form of fireflies. Would you be able to recover the memories I’ve lost?” he asked hopefully.
“If all goes well, then yes. I’ll assess you to see the extent of the loss and if there will be anything preventing me from healing you. The Prince of Darkness has his tricks that make it necessary to be thorough.”
“Yeah, James told me about that. What do I call you? James told me you were his father, and that you were very powerful, but not your name.”
“Kian. Call me Kian,” the deep voice coming from the fireflies informed him.
“Okay then. Kian.”
“Now what do you remember?”
“I remember my name is Robin, and that I have a sister, my twin, Alice… and then there are the dragons. I see a lot of dragons. Is that all right?”
“It’s a start. A good one though. Now please, I need you to relax while I look you over. Concentrate your attention on the young lemur. This may take some time, but it won’t hurt.”
So Robin did just that, feeding the lemur with some of the food on the little table next to him.
There were leaves, fruit and flowers to choose from. The monkey-like creature took the big leaf he’d been offered in his small hands and proceeded to eat it. The lemur made squeaky noises that Robin thought sounded happy enough.
Mithian entered the small mausoleum with a heavy heart, but she wanted to be here to say goodbye. She had been shocked to learn from Bran’s cousin Ophelia that Bran had died. That was the last thing she had ever expected to happen. It was terribly sad, and just wrong as he had even been younger than her. But there was no changing the past now. There was only hope for the future.
There was a sufficient glow inside the enclosure, giving off just enough light for her to see.
Besides the coffin in the middle of the mausoleum, the small round table caught her eye. An image of a white raven spreading its wings was painted on one half of the table. On the empty portion, there stood a statue of a young woman with long white hair and crystal clear tiara upon her head. She wore a white medieval dress. The only colour on the pleasant looking woman was her remarkably purple eyes. She cradled a baby in her arms, and she looked down upon the child fondly as a mother would.
To the woman’s left, a white piece of paper with the thickness of cardboard was propped up by a stand. On the paper, the words in fluid cursive script said,
Our Beloved Lady Branwen
Guide our passage into the afterlife
Fly us home
Mithian touched the statue briefly, finding it a lovely piece of work. She turned her attention to the coffin. The coffin was constructed of well-polished stone of a deep blue colour. She heard the sound of a raven cawing as she considered the coffin. There was something she wanted to put inside of it, but she didn’t think she had the strength to shift the lid.
A black raven suddenly appeared on top of the coffin in front of her. The raven tilted his head at her, cawing at her in question.
Mithian held up the miniature blue bird statue she had brought. “I just want to put this in the coffin if that’s all right.”
The lid opened halfway then of its own accord almost as if the raven had something to do with it.
The raven appeared to vanish into thin air, and then she saw the raven reappear on the hilt of the Raven Knife that was in Bran’s hands.
But she thought it wasn’t the time to contemplate this clear use of magic. She had more important things to concern herself about.
A seemingly preserving glow enveloped Bran as he lay upon a cushion of white silk. He only looked like he was sleeping. Not seeing his chest rise and fall as breath left and exited his body proved that he was truly dead.
He wore an outfit consisting of a dark blue jacket with moon silver buttons and dark trousers. Upon his head rested a silver coronet encrusted with white diamonds. It was like Bran was a young prince or lord, gone far before his time. Even in death, with his startlingly golden eyes closed forever, Bran still exuded that intriguing strangeness that had caught her eye when she had first met him.
She laid the blue bird statue beside him, near his shoulder.
She spoke then for though she knew that Bran couldn’t hear her, Mithian still had the desire to explain herself.
“I brought you a blue bird because I thought that way; Gwydion could always be with you symbolically. I didn’t know you for very long, but I liked you, truly. I miss you, Bran.”
Mithian kissed him softly on the lips. She pulled away and the coffin lid slid closed
Images from her frequent dreams came to her mind’s eye. Of being imprisoned in a castle, of the beast in the shadows, of the enchanted red rose in a glass bell jar. Of the beast turning into a handsome prince, and the power of requited love.
Mithian wasn’t sure why she was being reminded of the dreams now. She shook her head, extinguishing the images from her head.
She sadly looked back one last time to the coffin.
When she exited the mausoleum, Mithian saw a little rosefinch on the ground. The poor bird looked like it had a broken wing. The rosefinch made sad, pained sounds, requesting help.
Mithian knelt down before the rosefinch.
“Oh you poor creature. Let me see you,” she said. She gently put the male rosefinch on to the palm of her hand.
The small bird fell quiet and she wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t an expert on fixing broken wings, and thought maybe to take the bird back home to ask her mum what to do. Yet she couldn’t help but kiss the rose red bird on his feathery head.
Mithian was surprised when the bird was able to fly again, the injured wing had miraculously healed. Had her kiss something to do with it? That made no sense, and yet, she couldn’t discredit the idea completely. She’d seen magic inside the mausoleum after all.
She thought the rosefinch would fly away now that he was healed, and she said goodbye to him, and went on her way.
But the rosefinch remained close to her for some inexplicable reason.
“I’m sure you have family to go back to? Or would you like to come home with me?”
The rosefinch answered her in birdsong, and perched on her shoulder. He looked intent to stay there.
“Um okay… nice to meet you. I’m still not sure what’s going on, but you seem like a sweet bird, so we’ll just take it one day at a time. How about that?”
The bird sounded like he was approving of her suggestion.
So she nodded and started walking back home with her new rosefinch. He needed a name, Mithian thought.
And so she considered possible names on her way home, passing them by the smart little bird for his opinion.
“Merlin,” Athena said quietly. Arthur and Merlin were back home with Lux, Cavall and Greythorne.
Merlin had fallen asleep on the couch while reading one of the books his father left him.
It had been an emotionally exhausting day for him, and he wished that some things were just a bad dream. It was just wrong that Bran was dead. Because he couldn’t be.
“Yeah?” Merlin murmured, rustling himself from his unhappy slumber.
“Your engagement ring is still in your car, remember? It would be a good idea to retrieve it…” Athena suggested. “I know you’re upset about what the Prince did to Bran, but can’t you feel it? This life isn’t the end of Bran’s story. You have to have faith in that, Merlin.”
“I know, I hope so too…but still, he was a child. Doesn’t matter how many memories he was carrying inside his head, he still only lived eleven years in this life. I can’t get over how wrong that is. And how the Prince believed he had the right to cut Bran’s life short like that,” Merlin said bitterly. “But yes, you’re right, Athena. I need to get my ring back,” he acknowledged.
Arthur entered the room. Greythorne was perched on Arthur’s head, which would have made Merlin laugh any other day, but he didn’t feel much like laughing at the moment.
“Hey, you’re awake,” Arthur said. “The dogs have fallen asleep. Busy day for them.”
“Yeah. Yeah,” Merlin said idly, giving Arthur a small smile.
“Look, Merlin,” Arthur began.
But Merlin didn’t want to hear it. Arthur had already said enough to try to make him feel a little better about the dreadful news of Bran’s death.
Merlin put up a hand. “I’m fine. I appreciate you trying to help, but I just need some time. I have to get my engagement ring back, actually. It’s in the glovebox of my car.”
Arthur raised his brow. “And why is that?”
Merlin looked sheepish. “Well when we had that fight and I left, I took off the ring because I was so frustrated with you,” he explained. “That’s all in the past now, of course.”
“I could retrieve your ring for you,” Arthur offered easily. “No problem.”
“No, you don’t have to,” Merlin started, standing up.
Arthur shook his head. “I want to do this. No point in arguing over it. I’ll just take your keys.”
“Greythorne’s on your head,” Merlin told him randomly.
Arthur smiled at him. “I know,” he said. He gently grabbed the phoenix off his head and gave her back to Merlin.
“There you go, your own mini-daemon,” Arthur quipped, winking at him.
Merlin eyed him, and then he smiled fondly as Greythorne blinked up at him and nuzzled against his stomach.
Arthur grabbed Merlin’s keys and waved at Merlin before he left the house.
~ * ~
Arthur stared; transfixed by the silver band he’d retrieved from the glovebox. He was reminded of the silver of his Excalibur, the great sword that had granted him the ability to travel to other worlds. Excalibur had been the blade that had inspired the Raven Knife’s creation.
A memory came unbidden to him then.
It was during his and Merlin’s year in exile, and it wasn’t long after Arthur had gained Excalibur.
Merlin had been persuading him to use the sword to travel to another world as they’d yet to do that.
“Come on, Arthur. It’ll be an adventure,” Merlin told him as they lay by the fireside.
Zlota was beside Merlin in her nest and Krola was lying on his side by Arthur.
“But we’re in exile, Merlin. If we go to another world, we’ll be escaping our problems in this world. What if we decide to never come back? And leave Camelot to my father’s tyranny?”
“Arthur, the Daemon World will always be our world. Going to see other worlds doesn’t mean we’ll never return here. I love this world just as much as you. It’s our home,” Merlin said sincerely. “But we need to get a break from the grimness of exile. We deserve a chance to explore a different world. You have Excalibur now, Arthur, and you need to see all it can do.”
And then Krola and Zlota chimed in, agreeing with Merlin.
“It’ll be like a quest,” said Krola.
“Discovering other worlds would be exciting, and Uther’s men won’t suspect where we are,” put in Zlota.
“All right, all right!” Arthur said, raising his hands. “It’s three to one. I know when I’m beaten.”
Merlin grinned at him. “Let’s see Excalibur again,” he declared.
Arthur unsheathed his precious sword, the reflective silver catching the firelight.
Arthur smiled to himself as the memory faded out.
Everything would be all right. He had to believe it would be.
Epilogue
~ * ~
2112 AD
~ * ~
One hundred and one years after killing the only natural son he’d ever had, the Prince of Darkness was in the World of Magic at the shores of the Baltic Sea.
Curious children approached him, their parents watching them with uncertainty since the Prince was a notorious enemy of the World of Magic after all.
The children’s winged creatures were on alert as the children asked the Prince questions.
He answered them in their native Polish language. The Prince spoke quite fluently as living a very long life had given him the chance to learn different languages at a high level.
Though the Prince never told the children exactly why he was just sitting here at the beach.
Later, one particularly fair-haired boy recalled how the Prince had trouble looking him directly in the eye, and a guilty, sad look came over the Prince’s face as the boy spoke to him.
As the sun began to set, the Prince stood upon the sea shore, watching intently as the sun descended.
The final known account of the Prince was that he had started walking into the Baltic Sea as darkness began to fall upon the land.
His body wasn’t found in the sea, so drowning was ruled out. People were left to believe he had vanished like a ghost in the wind.
The Prince of Darkness was gone.
In the following centuries, the Prince’s wife, Morgaine, became known as the Evil Queen by those who opposed her.
Yet the gods had the Prince’s advisor, Nimueh, on their side. She had yielded to what they wished of her, on the condition that she keep her immortality and agelessness. On the other hand, Morgaine was stripped of both and was forced to find other means of keeping her beauty and youth; her own magic helping her a little bit. The god of unnatural magic was particularly vocal about Morgaine’s punishment.
Nimueh was nothing if not smart enough to take an opportunity when it was presented to her. Morgaine was too far gone for the gods to even consider pulling her to their side. And Nimueh knew that it was the Prince who had suggested it be Nimueh that serve the gods, as her motherly qualities had served the Prince well.
Nimueh became known as the Lady of the Lake.
She gave birth to a beautiful raven-haired daughter, who she named Morgana as Nimueh knew she was an incarnation of the Daemon World’s Morgana.
Twenty years later, Morgana gave birth to equally beautiful twins, a boy and a girl, both with golden hair and blue eyes. She named them Robin and Alice under her mother’s suggestion.
Nimueh doted on her grandchildren. Though she told Robin and Alice to address her as Nimueh. “Grandma” made her feel old, though her skin was always young and smooth.
Like any woman, she wanted to keep the perception that she was still just a young woman though she had lived through hundreds of centuries already.
Meanwhile, worlds began to collapse under the weight of Queen Morgaine’s dark vengeance, and people cried doomsday. That the apocalypse, the end of the worlds, had come. Most worlds turned away from electricity and began to rely on the land, on nature again as electrical systems shut down - all Morgaine’s doing.
Worlds once unaware that other worlds existed besides their own now had seen the light. Formerly dull worlds accepted the reality of more than one world in existence.
Public access between many worlds opened up and for a decent price, people could travel to one world to another. Yet as the worlds collapsed and fell, this travel became more harrowing and dangerous.
Formerly dull worlds began to turn to magic, real magic, and the always resilient World of Magic sought to help. Worlds like the Daemon World adopted speedy winged steeds as a popular form of transportation.
Morgaine made a terrible blow against Nimueh when she killed her daughter, and forced Robin and Alice apart, locking Alice away in a tower to use her magical golden hair for herself, and trapping Robin in the castle that once was home. Now at only fourteen years old, it was his prison.
Nimueh was unable to help either of her grandchildren. For four years she waited until she could bring her grandchildren back together. The twins were stronger together after all.
She bided her time, and hoped that the Arthur of the Daemon World would encounter one of the last few mermaids remaining in the worlds.
~ * ~
2510 AD
~ * ~
Robin walked slowly, the wounds on his back from Queen Morgaine’s whipping making it difficult to move. He heard the melancholy melody of Ortega’s “It’s hard to say goodbye” piece coming from the Piano Room. That upset him as the last person to ever play the piano had been his mother. The piano had remained silent since then. She had played Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7. That same day, she had died at the Queen’s hand.
Now two years later, Robin feared that he was forgetting how his mother looked when she smiled or that intent look she had had while she played the piano, her skillful fingers gliding across the keys.
He entered the Piano Room, the melody halting as he arrived. Robin let out a sigh, collapsing face down on the cool hardwood floor so as not exacerbate his wounds.
He would just stay here, easy, and wait for infection to set in, and for the fever to come. Maybe he could get hallucinations - that way, he could see his mother again, and have Alice back with him.
Then he heard the sound of a raven’s call for attention.
Robin peered up, his chin over his folded hands. A raven was perched on the piano bench. The bird looked like he was carrying something in his beak. “You again, huh? I don’t know how you got inside, but I suppose it’s nice to have company. Even if it’s with a bird meant to come when you die. Which I probably will, soon enough,” he said, tiredly resigned to his fate.
The raven cawed again, this time in disagreement. He flew down to land in front of Robin’s face. He gently put down what he’d been carrying in his beak. The raven prodded Robin’s cheek with his cheek, drawing his attention to the small pouch.
“All right. Okay. I’ll open it,” Robin acquiesced.
He untied the string of the pouch and looked inside to find golden fairy dust that sparkled as he exposed it to the light of the room.
“Fairy dust. Nice. That should help with my back. Thanks,” he said to the raven.
The raven touched the pouch with the beak, clearly insisting that Robin use the fairy dust now.
“You’re a strange guardian angel,” Robin noted to the raven as he went to pour some fairy dust into a glass. Ingesting it should help in healing the damage on his back. “But you’ll have to do.”
Robin smiled at the raven who rolled around on the table in a mood for play, his task done.
~ * ~
2511 AD
~ * ~
Arthur opened his eyes on the sandy shore. Krola had returned to her white wolf form, and his daemon now shook out her wet fur beside him.
Sitting up, he coughed, expelling the water caught in his lungs.
A mermaid with vividly red hair and blue eyes was looking down on him. She wore white seashells on her chest and her tail was green with her fins as white as the seashells.
The mermaid must have saved him, retrieved him from the sea he’d been forced to fall into.
“Are you all right?” the mermaid asked in concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said with a slight smile. “What’s your name?” Arthur asked breathlessly.
“Ariel,” the red-headed mermaid told him.
Her blue eyes had flecks of gold in them. She was beautiful.
“My name’s Arthur,” he told her, still a little overwhelmed that he was talking to a mermaid.
Merfolk were one of the more elusive beings in all the worlds.
Arthur stood, looking up to see Queen Morgaine’s men, still on winged steeds, had reached him. They looked ready to shoot him down with arrows. He knew he couldn’t stay still for long. He needed shelter.
“They’re after me. They didn’t want me to meet you I think.”
“I can help you,” Ariel told him.
Before Arthur could ask how, he nearly got hit with an arrow that he managed to avoid by moving quickly out of its way. Krola was getting anxious.
Unexpectedly, Ariel’s mermaid tail turned into legs, and she now wore a simple white summer dress. The work of magic, it had to be.
“Run. I know the way,” she told him quickly.
Then Ariel started to go into a run, as if having legs wasn’t new to her at all. She was quite strange, Arthur thought.
Arthur ran, following where she led. Krola raced a bit faster than him due to her wolf form. As consequence, Krola reached the cliff overlooking a deep lake first. It looked to be a long way down.
With trepidation, Arthur saw Morgaine’s men gaining on them by foot. There wasn’t much time before the men caught up to Arthur.
Jumping the cliff was the only way out. Unless he wanted to be at the mercy of Morgaine’s lackeys.
“Here,” Ariel said, offering her hand.
He looked at her hand then at her smile of reassurance, locks of her red hair being whipped about in the wind.
He took her hand.
“Ready Krola?”
“No choice but to be ready,” his daemon said logically, though she sounded nervous.
“It’ll be fine. Trust me,” Ariel assured him. “You know how to swim?”
Arthur nodded.
Then there was nothing else for it. The three of them jumped.
When they landed in the water, danger averted for the moment, Arthur couldn’t help but kiss her. She smiled brilliantly at him.
~ * ~
2512 AD
~ * ~
“You looked tired, so I let you sleep,” Robin told Alice with a small smile.
He held Bran in his arms, feeding him a bottle of milk.
Alice smiled appreciatively at her brother. “Yeah, I guess I was. The journey was exhausting. Bran’s looking all right.”
“Children are resilient, aren’t they?” Robin said thoughtfully. “That’s enough for you, little one,” he said to the baby.
The baby looked up at him with wide golden eyes as Robin took the bottle away and set it down on a nearby table. He patted his hand over the little bluebird tattoo just above Bran’s heart. Nimueh had deigned to put the marking on Bran the day he was born. She’d acted as midwife to Bran’s mother when she’d given birth. Nimueh had cited the bluebird was there for protective purposes, like a sort of magical marking.
The baby giggled, and Robin smiled at him affectionately.
“He’s a lovely little child,” Alice said.
Robin looked to Alice. “We aren’t kidnapping him, are we?”
“No. Nimueh assured me that she got the mother’s indisputable consent. And according to the mother, the father had left long before she started showing signs of pregnancy, their brief time together more like a fling. We aren’t doing anything wrong. Anyway, Bran’s birth parents live in the Daemon World, a different world completely.”
“Right,” said Robin still sounding a bit uncertain.
“Nimueh wanted me to take the baby, and really what else I was supposed to do? She’s our grandmother, Robin,” Alice reminded him. “She may be a bit off-kilter sometimes, but when Nimueh says how important the child is and that you and I must look after him, I can’t just give the poor baby to someone else. And now, at least, Morgaine won’t be able to trouble us while Bran is growing up.”
“Well when you put it that way…” Robin remarked, bemused.
Alice stood up, and leaned down to kiss the baby on the brow. “Mummy and daddy love you very much,” she said warmly to Bran.
~ * ~
2513 AD
~ * ~
Arthur visited the apothecary to get a potion for a shoulder strain. Seeing most people inside the potions store showed the evolving state of the Daemon World. Maybe it was a result of the apocalypse, but his world was beginning to lose the reason for why it was called the ‘Daemon World.’
Possibly as a defensive mechanism, daemons started retreating inside their humans, becoming souls inside their bodies as humans of other worlds were more familiar with. That meant for the unlucky of the Daemon World, there was a loss of an actual conversation with one’s daemons as the humans could only speak to themselves. Their daemons turned into shapeless souls and remained dreadfully silent.
To possess a healthy daemon was growing rarer these days.
And he could see most customers in this place didn’t have daemons, indicating that their daemons had retreated inside their bodies. What pained Arthur more was to see those who looked like they had ailing daemons, whose heads were bowed and they looked just plain unhappy.
He was lucky to have Krola, who was still quite healthy, though she certainly wasn’t like the daemons of old. She hadn’t settled into one form when he matured. Instead, Krola was able to transform into a white wolf and a brown Pegasus with golden-brown wings. Arthur didn’t know what to make of it, but the Pegasus form was certainly useful for traveling.
Arthur wanted to make this a quick trip as others were staring at him - half in envy at his healthy daemon and the other half in annoyance at him daring to come here flaunting his daemon while they weren’t so lucky.
So Arthur stood firm as best as he could and tried to ignore the judging stares. He wouldn’t feel guilty, no he wouldn’t.
At the counter, there was a young woman of about fifteen, a decade younger than him, with a short haircut and dark eyes. She was nearly pleading with the seller for a certain potion.
Arthur’s eyes widened because he knew just what this transformation potion did. But by the look of the girl’s hooded siskin daemon, he understood why she asking for it. The poor black-gold bird looked disinterested in everything around him and he looked underfed like he’d lost his appetite.
“You don’t know what I went through to get the money for this potion. It has to be enough. Seriously, I’m this close to considering suicide! Just have a heart, for goodness sake!”
“Listen, young lady. You’re not of age. You need parental consent,” said the seller stubbornly.
“My parents are out of the equation. They’re dead,” the girl said flatly. “Just look, please, my daemon Rhys is miserable and this potion will help us both. Please.”
“Nothing wrong with having a soul inside your body. There’s a reason why all the other worlds have it that way and we don’t.”
“I don’t want to conform,” retorted the girl.
“Hey,” Arthur spoke up. He dropped two gold coins on the counter. “Just give her the potion. Don’t punish her just because she doesn’t have parents. You’ll be saving a life if you help her,” Arthur advised him.
The seller stared at him, then at Krola, and he mumbled something about, “a hoity-toity person thinks he’s so great because he has a healthy daemon.”
But fortunately the seller relented and shoved the potion into the young woman’s hand. “Ah whatever. With the gold coins, that’s more than the potion is worth. Money wins this one. Just a word of warning: the potion tastes like crap,” told the seller curtly.
“I didn’t pay for it to taste good,” replied the girl. “As long as it works.”
She moved aside for the next customer.
“Thanks,” she told Arthur. “I appreciate it--?”
“Arthur. My name’s Arthur.”
“My name is Laynie,” she introduced herself. They shook hands. “This little fighter is Rhys,” she said with a sad smile.
The poor hooded siskin only moved closer to the crook of her neck, nuzzling her, as if he were afraid of Arthur and sought comfort from Laynie.
“Laynie, Laynie, Laynie…” Rhys only murmured.
“Sssh, you’ll be well soon enough,” she assured.
“I hope the potion works and Rhys gets better,” said Arthur.
“Thanks. What an impressive daemon you have.”
“This is Krolewska, but I just call her Krola.”
“Hello,” Krola said. “Thank you for the compliment.”
Arthur could definitely see that Rhys was even more anxious when Krola spoke. Of course to a small ailing bird daemon, Krola’s big wolf form was far from a calming sight.
“Well, here it goes,” Laynie announced, as she got ready to down the potion.
“Good luck. Hopefully I’ll see you around,” Arthur told her, and he meant it.
Laynie smiled at him. “I hope so too,” she said before she drank the potion.
She transformed into a female hooded siskin - a change that would be permanent. Her male daemon finally was beginning to look well again, flying around Laynie who now was the same species as him.
The hooded siskin pair flew out of the apothecary when Arthur went to open the door for them. He waved goodbye to Laynie and Rhys wondering if he’d ever actually see them again.
But at least now, they were together and both were healthy and happy. That’s what mattered.
Still after months of the number of cracks decreasing in the skies, Arthur couldn’t help but smile at the gradual improvements in these apocalyptic days. It felt like hope was in the air, a hope for a brighter future.
As the grey skies began to let drops of rain fall, Arthur sought shelter in a half-damaged church. It looked like the stone structure had been bombed.
He walked up the aisle with Krola walking resolutely beside him. Arthur was silent, the drip-drop of rainfall the loudest sound he heard.
Seeing a slightly worse for the wear statue of the Virgin Mary with child, he was compelled to kneel before it.
But the silence of the sanctuary was broken by an angry voice that had Arthur turning around immediately.
The voice came from Queen Morgaine. The last person he ever wanted to see.
“You men are all the same!” She exclaimed. “How dare you! Do you realize how you’ve destroyed everything??”
“Well if I’ve done something to upset you, then I’m clearly doing something right,” Arthur shot back sarcastically.
Krola readied her attack stance, growling under her breath. “Leave now,” she warned the Queen.
“You and your stupid daemon!” Queen Morgaine said in irritation. “You’ve done enough damage for a lifetime. I’ll make sure you won’t be able to do anymore,” she threatened.
Arthur fell as the air was sucked out of his lungs by magic.
Then a dark-haired man with an extraordinary scarlet-gold phoenix magically arrived, standing in front of him. He blasted Morgaine away with his hand.
Arthur could breathe again. He knew the man his age just had to be Merlin, as he was known as the only person to have a phoenix daemon.
“Arthur is under my protection, Morgaine. The wisest thing for you to do is to leave,” Merlin said loud and clear. His voice was so commanding and firm that Arthur was glad not to be the one on the receiving end of it.
Queen Morgaine glared at Merlin, standing up and straightening her dress roughly. “I want that child! That wretched child is a nightmare.”
“And this is the sound of me not caring,” Merlin said flippantly. He approached her slowly. “You know what I do to people who intend to kill the child? I rip their hearts out, slowly and so painfully that they scream in agony for hours afterwards. Then I let them die. Watch it, Morgaine. Leave Arthur ALONE,” he demanded.
Morgaine growled in anger, and left abruptly without deigning to deliver a response.
“Thanks for saving my life,” Arthur told him. “If you really are Merlin, then let me tell you, you are not an easy man to find. I’ve been searching for you for almost two years now.”
“Yes I am Merlin,” he confirmed with an odd little smile on his face like he knew far more than Arthur did. “Why did you need to find me?” Merlin asked.
“People have told me that you know how to end the apocalypse, that you know how to contact the Lady of the Lake who is working toward the same goal. Nimueh is her name, I think… I wanted to see you, to lend my support to you in ending this apocalypse. But now looking at you, you seem familiar to me. Have I met you before?” Arthur asked suddenly.
“Quite possibly yes,” Merlin said, again with a secret smile. Arthur felt desperate to unravel the secrets this Merlin knew. “It’ll all make sense soon. I can help you, but you see, you have done quite well without me. You’ve seen the better state of the skies, haven’t you?”
Arthur nodded. “I don’t know what that has to do with me, but well, I did meet a mermaid if that means anything. After all not everyone can say they’ve met one of the merfolk. She saved my life and we spent some time together…”
“Sounds like a fairytale,” Merlin remarked casually.
“Maybe a little bit,” Arthur acknowledged.
He wasn’t the type to relate his life to fairytales, but certainly meeting a mermaid was an experience beyond imagining. One he’d be hard-pressed to ever forget.
“You sound so enthusiastic,” Merlin’s phoenix daemon voiced her opinion.
“Zlocisty,” Merlin admonished her gently.
“Is that how big true phoenixes are?” Krola asked. “I never saw a real, live phoenix before.”
Merlin nodded. “Yes phoenixes are this big.”
“And most have scarlet-gold feathers like me. Good luck finding the ones who have shades of blue in their colouring,” Zlota said matter-of-factly.
“This is Krola,” Arthur told Merlin, indicating his daemon. “But I’m guessing you knew that already,” he said shrewdly.
Then Arthur couldn’t resist asking, “Is your father alive?” He paused, confused why his mind decided to ask that. “I don’t know where that came from.”
“Yes, he is. Alive and well,” Merlin answered him easily.
He looked so happy that the happiness was contagious. Arthur grinned.
Arthur didn’t know why it was important whether or not Merlin’s father was alive, but he was glad that his question yielded a positive answer all the same.
“And don’t worry about asking questions like that. It’s a good thing. It means you’ll soon remember what you need to,” Merlin assured him. “Would you like to go hiking in the mountains, Arthur? It’s just in Wales.”
Arthur raised his brow. “Is this a date?”
Merlin shrugged, flashing a grin. “Sort of. It’s really whatever you make of it,” he said logically.
“Okay, yeah. Sure. And then we can strategize.”
“Of course, but first, you must appreciate the view.”
Arthur nodded. “I’m up for that. It could be an adventure.”
Merlin corrected him amicably, “Well more like a quest because there’s this sword waiting for you and…”
~ THE END ~
End Notes: My intention was that Rhys, Merlin's apprentice, was reincarnated as a hooded siskin, and then a hooded siskin daemon in the life after that. I guess Rhys wins with interesting incarnations. ;)
And my favorite Disney princess/heroine is Belle from "Beauty and the Beast" so I couldn't resist the chance to insert her into the story prominently what with the fairy tale touches in the story. I really liked Mithian from "Merlin", so I thought it'd be cool to give her that name in her reincarnated life.
A potential of a sequel is not likely now. I will be using ideas from "The Wolf and The Phoenix" and this sequel, "The Raven Knife" in other stories. Currently, the "Merlin's Fall" series deals with ideas from the TWATP-universe, but it's very much an AU. I don't want to jump the gun and promise a sequel to "The Raven Knife." I apologize for saying there would be one, but I'm honestly just not feeling the desire to dive into writing the sequel.
Thank you for reading this story! I'm so glad I finished it. The story was definitely a labor of love (even on the not so good days, the scenes that I was so proud of kept me going in finishing this longer than expected story *cheers*).
I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did writing it. <3