The Calm Before The Murder {cont'd}
Arthur woke up in his room adjoined to Merlin’s father’s rooms.
“Hullo, feeling all right?” asked Pip with a smile. He was the official naiad-assistant for the family of Merlin’s Aunt Ceridwen. “Bran’s doing fine… just a stab wound, but Merlin got better and I made him heal Bran… um…”
“What?” Arthur asked.
“Merlin’s magical abilities aren’t functioning at the best level… understandably considering the abrupt change back. Merlin’s father told me about that. Bran has a bit of a fever. I helped with some of my powers, but they’re limited to water as you know. I think he’ll be all right. Best to let his body heal naturally. Having a fever is a good thing for humans, right? For a little while at least.”
Pip was the son of a naiad and a human. His naiad mother raised him along with all his brothers and sisters in a lake in one of the human worlds. In Pip’s view, Arthur understood, being able to reside in the world of immortals was a step up the social ladder for him. Even if he was simply an assistant, little better than Arthur himself.
Yet Pip had special talents associated with water, which made him quite the asset. Pip could use the water that was a part of his very being to cool a hot fever. The magical naiad talent was more effective than the usual cool cloth over the brow. Arthur himself had experienced this talent of Pip’s when he had been ill as a boy, so he could attest to that.
“Yeah. Yeah. I’m glad he’s fine. I was worried.” Arthur said honestly.
There was the fact that Gwydion had gone with his father to take care of some official business. So it was fortunate Pip came to help Bran and him when Gwydion couldn’t be there. Arthur cringed to think of Gwydion’s displeasure at Bran being harmed by Merlin. Even if Gwydion was aware of Merlin’s frustrating condition, he tended to be irrationally protective of Bran. He wouldn’t let that reason excuse Merlin’s behavior. Arthur couldn’t blame him. He too hated Bran getting hurt as Bran was like a younger - even if it was only by a year -- brother to him.
“It was good I got there in time, and that Merlin returned to normal before the situation got out of control. Now Bran’s safely resting in his room…Geraint is looking after him. ”
“Geraint’s a lion,” Arthur stated flatly.
Pip nodded. “Yes, but he’s an excellent caretaker. Great listener - probably because he can’t really speak himself, but yet there is that charm to that old furry creature.”
“Right. Of course.”
The deep red colored lion with a golden mane had been a gift by Gwydion and Merlin’s grandfather to Gwydion on his sixteenth birthday a few months ago. The lion didn’t act like an aggressive lion, but more like a calm, steady-tempered dog. Yet Geraint the lion could roar like any true-blooded male lion. He was not one to be crossed. Though the lion was quite loyal to Gwydion and to Bran.
“So, you got back from seeing how Cerulean and Amelia were doing? How are they?” Arthur asked after the twin children of Merlin’s aunt.
Merlin’s twin cousins were non-identical twins, and in their twenties. Cerulean had brown hair and such captivating blue eyes that it was unsurprising why his mother named him after a shade of blue. Amelia had flaming red hair to match her passionate personality and green eyes. This worked out well as Cerulean had a calmer temperament to balance his sister’s more impulsive inclinations.
“I can’t help but feel envious of them sometimes. It almost makes me want to return to live in a human world. Getting to visit all those museums and solving mysteries. All the tales they have to tell! I think being heirs of guarding creative magic is exciting - the way they go on about all they do.” Pip told Arthur enthusiastically.
“Right now with how Merlin is, being far away from here is a wise choice,” Arthur said grimly.
Pip frowned and nodded. “I’m with you there.”
“I’ll go see how Bran is doing.” Arthur announced. “Thanks for your help.”
“Yeah, no problem. It’s what I’m here for,” Pip said smoothly, saluting him, as Arthur departed his room.
~ * ~
“Merlin…” Arthur said to him tentatively when he saw him in the hallway.
“Fuck off, Arthur,” Merlin told him dismissively and continued on his way, walking in the opposite direction of Arthur.
“Merlin, you hurt Bran. Even with your condition, you can’t go hurting people…there’s only so much others can excuse. If you can try controlling it somehow?” Arthur suggested, wanting desperately to help his friend. He couldn’t give up on Merlin, not completely. He wouldn’t turn his back on Merlin though him hurting Bran - who was as good as a brother to Arthur - bothered Arthur deeply. He couldn’t deny that.
Abruptly, Merlin turned around to face Arthur. “Why don’t you complain to my father about it? Since he claimed you and all. I’m sure he’ll listen to your stupid issues. Just leave me alone.” He told Arthur firmly.
He promptly disappeared magically, preventing Arthur the courtesy of a response.
What worried Arthur the most was that Merlin’s eyes were their normal blue. He wasn’t under the thrall of his troublesome condition, and yet clearly the knowledge of his condition was taking its toll on him. And Merlin was pushing him away as a result.
Then Mary, Merlin’s druid friend, approached him in the hall. She looked upset about something.
“Mary, are you all right?” Arthur asked her in concern.
She smiled weakly at him, waving her hand. “Oh yes, I’m perfectly fine.”
“Did Merlin have a fight with you?” Arthur ventured.
Mary shook her head. “No, oh no. I heard about his condition, but no. I haven’t talked privately with him yet. I’m okay, I promise, Arthur. But thank you for your concern.”
Arthur didn’t quite believe her on the okay bit because something or someone had clearly rattled her.
“Okay, if you say so. But you know you can talk to me if there’s anything worrying you…” Arthur offered.
“Yes, I know. Thank you, Arthur. I really should go…” Mary said with a nod to herself and she swept past him.
Arthur looked thoughtfully after her, perplexed by her odd behavior.
Great. Now it wasn’t just Merlin who was acting unusually.
~ * ~
The most familiar sound in Gwydion’s room was the song of the bluebirds. Merlin’s cousin took his creature symbol to heart, and had a sort of bluebird sanctuary in his chambers. Half of Gwydion’s room was full of trees with nesting cavities for the bluebirds.
Bran had told him that sometimes he’d wake up to find a bluebird perched beside him on the bed, staring intently at him as if the bird wanted to play a staring contest first thing in the morning.
The pale grey walls of Gwydion’s room had a mural of a flock of bluebirds. The wall birds were magically bespelled to fly like moving images on the wall. Bran’s room had wall ravens - both black and white - with the same magical treatment too.
Geraint was resting at the end of Bran’s bed when Arthur came into the room. The perceptive lion looked up as Arthur approached the bed. Arthur pet his thick mane, and Geraint gave a loud purr in response.
Sitting up in bed, Bran smiled at Arthur.
“Hey, how are you?” Arthur asked Bran. “Pip told me you had a bit of a fever.”
“Yeah, but I’m feeling better now.”
Arthur pressed his hand to Bran’s brow. His forehead felt normal, the fever had passed from what Arthur could discern. Pip’s treatment of Bran had worked.
“Where did Merlin get you?” Arthur asked.
“It doesn’t matter…it’s healed, so…”
“Bran, please,” Arthur pressed him. He didn’t miss Bran’s tone of voice like he was hiding something. “You may be able to convince Pip that everything’s all right, but I want to know the whole truth. We’re in this together and I don’t want you hiding any pain you feel. When Gwydion returns, and that’s the case…”
“Well I figure Gwydion already isn’t going to be happy with Merlin for hurting me without just provocation.”
“But it’s better not to have him angrier if he sees evidence of the injury. I just think if there’s any way to decrease the degree of anger, you should take it. I admit I’m concerned about Merlin, and the thought of him potentially fighting his own cousin is an event I’d like to avoid. Or at least avoid a physical fight between them.”
Bran sighed. “All right. Um…here…” He said tentatively.
He pulled up his shirt, and there was long red-purplish scar running across his abdomen. Arthur could just imagine how much that had to hurt upon Merlin’s attack.
“Merlin healed my internal organs, to stem the blood loss, but there’s still this scar. Looks bad, but it only feels itchy. More of an eyesore than painful, honestly.”
Arthur shook his head. “No, we have to fix this. You and I both know that proper magical healing means that you don’t have any scars. That you’re good as new.”
“I know…it’s just… the question will be asked about how I got injured, and I can’t just lie. But then Merlin will get lectured. And clearly Merlin isn’t having an easy time of it already. I do feel mad at him for hurting me, yes, but like you said he’s not himself. He should probably avoid contact with others.”
“Hmm…understatement,” Arthur noted lightly. “This isn’t something to debate about though. We’ll get Merlin and Gwydion’s grandfather to heal you completely. He does have the penchant to show up when he’s needed,” he mused.
And also since the former god of magic was now retired, he had more time on his hands and spent it looking after an interesting collection of animals. But if that failed, then Arthur was sure Merlin’s father Hephaestion would help, taking some time out of his busy schedule. Yet Arthur dreaded seeing Hephaestion’s reaction to learning who had hurt Bran.
There was Merlin and Gwydion’s Aunt Ceridwen too. She was like a mother to Arthur as she was to Merlin since she resided in the immortal world whereas Merlin’s birth mother lived far away. Yet Arthur wasn’t familiar with Ceridwen’s schedule so he wouldn’t know where to find her. In contrast, due to the claiming and Arthur working for Hephaestion as a result, he had to be aware of the current god of magic’s day-to-day schedule.
Upon Arthur’s urging, Bran climbed out of bed and Geraint followed after them as they sought out the retired god.
Fortunately Merlin and Gwydion’s grandfather did appear before them in the hallway.
He had an endearing-looking baby ring-tailed lemur attached on his arm. The lemur’s golden eyes stared at them with curiosity.
“And how are you, Arthur, Bran?” Merlin’s grandfather asked them. His wise blue eyes probably guessing what they wished of him. Arthur wouldn’t be surprised.
“Good day, My Lord. Bran needs some healing,” Arthur told him, cutting straight to the point.
Bran nodded. “Yes, I would appreciate it if you could help.”
“Of course. Arthur, if you could hold my lemur while I concentrate on the healing?” He asked. “Poor creature lost her mother. She’s quite content to get as much physical touch as she can get.”
“All right?”Arthur said uncertainly. He’d never carried such a creature, but it looked so small. It couldn’t be much trouble, right?
Arthur took the offered lemur into his arms and the baby lemur wrapped her hands around his neck, her long ringed tail coiling about his upper arm.
If Arthur had been a girl, he’d probably be tempted to coo at the furry monkey-like creature as she looked at him with rapt attention. But he wasn’t a girl, so of course he would do no such thing as ‘coo’. So he settled for clearing his throat.
“She certainly isn’t shy,” Arthur commented as Geraint looked rather interested in the lemur.
Arthur pet the lion on the head, hoping his interest didn’t translate into wanting to eat the lemur. But Geraint was well-trained - well, enough not to jump on Arthur and grab his lemur ‘meal’ impulsively.
“Does the lemur have a name?” Bran asked.
“Her name is Belle.” The retired god said. “Now, Bran, show me where you’re hurt.”
Bran pulled up his shirt to reveal the ugly scar Arthur had seen.
Arthur was relieved that the former god of magic didn’t inquire about the case of the scar before he set about healing it. A golden glow appeared within his palm and he swept it over the injured site.
A moment later and the scar was completely gone. No physical evidence remained of what had happened to Bran.
Yet as Bran worried, Merlin’s grandfather did ask about the story behind the scar after the healing.
Bran told him quietly.
Understandably, Merlin’s grandfather looked especially dismayed.
“It’s Merlin’s condition, My Lord. It’s making him do and say things that I’m sure he regrets very much once he’s his normal self,” Arthur defended Merlin quickly.
He wasn’t quite sure why he still felt the need to defend Merlin even though he had been a victim too of Merlin’s actions. Merlin had used magic against him, but compared to Merlin stabbing Bran, it didn’t seem as bad.
Then there was Merlin saying such terrible words to him, words that Arthur never imagined Merlin would say to him. To call him a whore of all things?
Yet Arthur didn’t feel right about turning his back on the years of close friendship he had with Merlin. Just because of one day of Merlin being a bit of a nightmare wouldn’t deter Arthur from defending a good friend of his.
“Yes. I’m aware of this unfortunate condition. But for my grandson to attack a human is upsetting. No matter his condition, this behavior cannot be tolerated. You did not provoke him, correct, Bran?”
Bran shook his head. “No, My Lord. I swear. He just came after me, and managed to stab me with a sharp dagger. Fortunately he returned back to normal before he could injure me further. And luckily Pip came by to help me.”
“Very well. Thank you, Bran, Arthur. I will speak to Merlin.”
With that, he took the affectionate lemur from Arthur and he left them with a nod.
Arthur exchanged concerned looks with Bran.
~ * ~
As they walked to the hall for dinner, Arthur broached the sore subject. He could see Merlin looked very unhappy, unsurprisingly, but he seemed to be his usual self. His eyes weren’t a blinding gold at least.
“Merlin, I heard you attacked Gwydion. I thought you talked with your grandfather? Did he not help you?”
Merlin shrugged. “Gwydion could defend himself,” he said. “He punched me in the face, saying that was for hurting Bran. I was annoyed Gwydion returned so soon with his father. I hate looking at his face and seeing him resembling me.”
Arthur raised his brow, staring at him oddly. Before, Merlin was never bothered by Gwydion’s clear physical similarities to him as if they could be twins born a few years apart. This condition brought out an unexpected side of Merlin, undoubtedly.
“Well you were going to have to confront your cousin sooner or later. You think an extra day would have helped you in calming down?” Arthur wondered, unable to help the disbelief in his voice.
“Maybe.”
“Merlin…how did things go with your grandfather?” Arthur asked him again.
“Don’t want to talk about it,” Merlin muttered.
“Well if you went after Gwydion after your talk, then I guess it didn’t go well at all?”
“Oh look! The dining hall. I’m starving. Come on, Arthur,” Merlin swiftly changed the subject and beckoned Arthur to come with him into the hall.
Fine, Arthur thought. If Merlin wanted to be stubborn like that, then all right. But if Merlin’s condition continued on for weeks, then Arthur’s optimism and patience would surely get worn down.
~ * ~
Arthur had an inkling that this dinner would be a disaster, or a near thing, but ultimately, Merlin wasn’t the cause of the evening going south.
Besides him and Merlin, Mary, Merlin’s father, Uncle James, and Aunt Ceridwen were at the table. Merlin’s grandfather rarely had dinner with them except on special occasions. Gwydion, Bran and Pip elected to eat dinner in Gwydion’s rooms. Arthur hadn’t been sure why Pip chose to be with Gwydion and Bran. Of course Gwydion was angry with Merlin over the assault on Bran. Hence the boycott of this dinner. And Bran usually stuck with Gwydion, preferring to be with his oldest friend over others.
With Pip, Arthur guessed that maybe he just wanted to have an informal dinner with a smaller group versus the stress of being on his best behavior in a dinner with older gods as well as his employer, Merlin’s Aunt Ceridwen. Or he could simply be making his opinion known about the Bran attack by going against Merlin. Either reason fit.
“I heard you and Bran had a small altercation,” Merlin’s father brought up, a clear note of disapproval in his voice.
Arthur looked sharply at Merlin, who was seated at his right, to see his clenched jaw and the clear amount of restraint Merlin was trying his best to exercise.
“That’s right, Father,” Merlin admitted like it was quite painful.
“I know it has only been a day, but I can’t allow you to continue to act like this. Your uncle’s mother was human - what do you think she would say about what you did? You must control your condition, son. I’m sure we can find a way to help you with a treatment, but the greatest show of strength is to defeat a difficult enemy,” said Hephaestion in an almost earnest voice, trying to get through to Merlin, Arthur imagined.
“We will help you as best as we can,” Ceridwen said.
“Though I fear it will take a while for Gwydion to forgive you. You know how important it is for you and my son to cooperate with each other in the future. For your sake, I hope Gwydion will come around.” James told him.
Merlin frowned, not looking too optimistic about Gwydion’s change of heart.
“I think we should discuss the fact that Mary is pregnant,” Merlin said swiftly and, rather viciously in Arthur’s opinion, changed the subject. “She’s my friend, Father. I know mother doesn’t live here, and she’s not much of a wife for you, but this is ridiculous. But I guess the problem is solved now! You’ll have another son to replace me because I’m defective! Congratulations!” Merlin said sarcastically.
Arthur wished he could spell Merlin to make him mute. Even if Mary could be pregnant, this was not the place to bring it up in front of others. And Mary looked horrified; implicating that Merlin’s words might just be true after all.
Was this what had upset Mary when Arthur had seen her earlier? Had she just learned she was unexpectedly pregnant?
“I’m sorry! I didn’t think it would happen… I - I’ll get rid of it… I never meant to hurt you, Merlin. I would never want a child of mine to replace you… I’m so sorry.” Mary said tearfully.
Merlin’s father Hephaestion put up his hand. “There will be no talk of getting rid of the child, Mary,” he told her. “I admit I didn’t act rightly but I cannot regret what I did if it will bring a child into the world. But you will be always my heir, Merlin, don’t doubt that. That fact will not change and despite your condition, I have the greatest faith in your ability to overcome it.”
“Why did you do it?” Merlin demanded. “What was the purpose of it? Why Mary my friend when you can have anyone else?”
Ceridwen intervened, “Really. It isn’t the time or place to discuss this.”
“It’s all right. I’ll answer,” Merlin’s father said. “I chose Mary because I could trust her not to use my time with her as an opportunity to get as many special favors as she can from me. I don’t know if you fully understand how most goddesses and nymphs can be - ambition can drive them to take advantage of my position and power. It took me quite a while to finally decide on your mother, Merlin, to bear you, my first child. I knew she was noble enough not to abuse the favor I bestowed upon her,” he explained. “If I were a stronger man maybe I could be okay without female companionship on a regular basis. I’m sorry to disappoint you, son. Yet this doesn’t excuse you harming Bran and Arthur too, though I know he won’t admit it. I can see it in your eyes, Arthur, that you haven’t been left untouched. I have no doubt it pains you to see Merlin like this. You are a good friend to stay by him,” Hephaestion praised him.
“Thank you,” Arthur said softly, feeling a bit embarrassed for the compliment even as he felt he wasn’t doing enough for Merlin.
“If you steal my friend for ‘female companionship’, I’d appreciate you telling me about it first, Father. Before she gets pregnant,” Merlin gritted out.
“I should go,” Mary said, looking quite embarrassed at this whole conversation centered around her. Arthur saw her face reddening. “I’m not feeling very hungry. I apologize, My Lord.” She spoke to Merlin’s father.
“It’s all right,” he assured her.
Merlin simply continued to look annoyed.
And with that, she swept out of the hall in a rush.
“Merlin, please, just let it go,” Arthur hissed at him. “Whatever your father or Mary has done - it wasn’t to intentionally spite you. You realize that deep down, I know you do. All of us just want to help you like your aunt said.” He spoke earnestly, determined to get Merlin to see reason and calm down.
“Why should I listen to you, Arthur?” Merlin said to him darkly. “My father’s claimed you! Anything you say or do, he’ll be behind it. You’re his puppet, damnit!” Merlin declared, his eyes glowing a harsh gold.
“That’s not true! You know that’s not true.” Arthur retorted, defending himself.
“Want to prove that to me?” Merlin challenged, looking like he was rumbling for a fight.
“Stop this at once!” Merlin’s father raised his voice, standing up. “Merlin, you will apologize to Arthur.”
“No, I won’t!” Merlin answered him defiantly.
Then before the argument could turn into a full-blown fight, something invisible yet strong forced Hephaestion back into his seat. He was knocked unconscious before he even realized what was happening, Arthur thought anxiously.
Then Ceridwen started coughing hard, covering her nose as if there was an odor that was irritating her nose.
His gold eyes returning to a downcast blue, Merlin stared in disbelief at his unconscious father. Now Arthur saw Hephaestion’s face turn an almost grey color, and blood trickled down his nose yet he hadn’t been punched. What was going on?
“Father?” Merlin asked, sounding at a loss at seeing his father in such an unresponsive, defenseless state.
Then to Arthur’s growing concern, Merlin started to cough like his aunt.
“What is it?” Arthur asked Merlin’s uncle who seemed to be as unaffected as Arthur himself by the mystery odor. An invisible toxic gas maybe?
But it was Ceridwen who spoke, struggling to between coughs, “Remember what he told you, James? The cost that Hephaestion…agreed…to… oh, Hephaestion…oh…James, it’s up to you…” she told him.
Arthur caught the confusion on Merlin’s face when his aunt discussed the cost his father had agreed to. So at least he wasn’t alone in not knowing about it. Though the not knowing made Arthur want to find out what this apparent secret entailed. Especially since it led to this very worrisome situation.
Merlin’s aunt fell unconscious, not able to overcome whatever invisible force or gas was plaguing her. Merlin followed after her, slumping in his seat as his eyes closed. Fortunately Merlin nor his aunt looked as bad as Merlin’s father who looked like all the vitality had been sucked out of him, lines of blood flowing down from his nose. In contrast, Merlin and his aunt simply looked like they were put into a deep slumber of which Arthur hoped they would both awaken. Hephaestion’s prognosis didn’t look as good, concerning Arthur.
“Arthur, we don’t have much time. I need you to do something for me. There’s this sword, made of gold, called the Sword of Avalon. You need to retrieve it and make it stop this…”
“Wait. A sword is doing this? But how? And why are you and I okay?”
“Because the sword is targeting full-blooded immortals, not humans like you. Though I do not have human blood in me most of the time, my human mother’s blood returns in moments of need to protect me. The sword is powerful, Arthur, so powerful that it doesn’t simply need to stab someone to cause pain and suffering. The sword can release toxic gases from a distance…it’s in the wrong hands now, and you must take it for your own. Otherwise I fear Hephaestion, Ceridwen and Merlin may die for good. The sword is one of the few weapons a human can use to kill a god or goddess…”
“Are you sure the sword is still here?”
Merlin’s Uncle James nodded. “Yes. The intruder who possesses the sword now is still within the palace. You must hurry, Arthur.”
Arthur nodded. “I’ll get the sword. I promise,” he said.
He ran out of the hall.
~ * ~
“Who are you?”
“My name is Mordred.”
“I will not let you have that sword.”
“Are you willing to pay the price for getting the sword?” The man calling himself Mordred said.
“You are hurting those I care for. I can’t allow you to get away with this!”
“Fine. Here.” Mordred said with a shrug.
Arthur stared at him when he dropped the sheathed sword to the ground. Warily, Arthur walked forward to pick it up.
Mordred smirked. “Good luck.” He wished him in a very insincere voice. He disappeared.
Arthur removed the sword from its sheath. The Sword of Avalon looked unreal as Arthur had never seen a sword made of such rich gold. He doubted slightly if it worked properly because gold wasn’t a common metal for swords. But Merlin’s uncle had said it could kill even the gods with its toxic gases…then maybe anything was possible with the sword. He told the sword to stop hurting others, unsure of how else to do it. The command appeared to work as he felt the static atmosphere surrounding the sword decline, the glow of the blade subsiding. The sword was quiet. Hopefully everyone who had been harmed by the sword would be okay now.
Unexpectedly, he felt the ground shift beneath him and a force pulling him somewhere. Mordred said…he’d pay a price for getting the sword. Of course this all seemed too easy…this Mordred had something up his sleeve. Arthur could sense that Mordred wasn’t a god, but just a human.
Why was Mordred doing this in the first place?
But he had little time to consider all this as the reality around him faded away.
~ * ~
Arthur woke up in a big field of grass. He distinctly felt like he had forgotten something, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Something horrible had happened…and oh fuck. The Sword of Avalon wasn’t in his grasp anymore. What was he forgetting? Someone had bloody messed with his memory. What if it was that Mordred? Damnit.
He felt a small wet lump at the back of his head. Bringing his hand back, Arthur was dismayed to see blood coating his fingers. He had suffered a concussion, he otherwise felt all right besides being very confused about where he was and what had happened. Losing this all-powerful sword just made everything so much worse. What if Mordred had it?
Arthur wondered if he was living his own twisted version of Arthurian legend what with him dealing with a Mordred. He really just wanted to go home now. And he could sense that he was in a human world. Even a human like him without born magical talents could sense the differences between the immortal world and a human world after living in the immortal world for years.
Now Arthur was a bit lost. He needed to figure out what to do because as far as he knew, he was on his own far from home in a different world completely. He bet Merlin and his family were occupied with recovering, and potentially Hephaestion could be stuck in a coma. Certainly they wouldn’t have the time now to worry about Arthur.
So he stood up, wavering on his feet a bit as his balance was shaky, and he began to walk across the seemingly endless meadow. He smelled the fresh breeze coming from the sea, and he was positive there was a castle-like structure off in the distance.
~ * ~
Merlin stared in disbelief as he saw his father disappear before his eyes.
He had been sitting there by his father’s bedside for at least an hour hoping that his father would wake up. That if he held his hand and apologized again and again…that his father would wake up and be better. That it would be as if nothing had ever happened. Yet that was a lie he couldn’t delude himself into thinking.
Merlin had learned that Mary had been adversely affected by the Sword of Avalon too like himself, his father and his aunt. And Merlin felt terrible for her. The child - what would have been his half-brother -- she carried had died, the power of the sword had been too strong for such a small soul not yet born. His grandfather was still in a coma.
Along with his Uncle James, Gwydion, Bran and Pip had fared well enough against the sword’s attack due to their human blood. The human blood of Gwydion’s paternal grandmother had protected him.
Unfortunately Arthur had gone missing, taking the Sword of Avalon with him as far as Merlin’s uncle was aware.
His attention was refocused on himself when he saw his hand growing transparent. He was beginning to fade away exactly like his father had.
What was going on?
“I can help you.” An unfamiliar male voice spoke from behind him.
Merlin turned around, his right and left forearms were now gone, vanished. He would not panic. He wouldn’t.
“Who are you?” Merlin asked.
The twenty-something man before him was a ghost but though he was transparent, he was not devoid of color. His hair was a shade of orange that matched the exact color of an orange fruit in Merlin’s opinion. His eyes were pale brown in color. His whole expression spoke of sadness and past regrets.
“My name is Riordan… I was your father’s friend. I’m not surprised he never mentioned me… considering what I…anyway, like I said, I can help you before you cease to exist.”
This peaked Merlin’s interest. While he hadn’t known his father’s friend was named Riordan, Merlin recalled a living relative of his going by the same name.
His uncle’s human mother had three human children - Kahlan, Caspian and Corin. Uncle James had been her youngest and the only child she conceived with Merlin’s grandfather. The current King of Avalon in one of the human worlds, Robin, was a direct descendant of Caspian. The Golden Age reign of the Isle of Avalon had begun with the mother of Merlin’s uncle, Queen Caillean, during Roman times. And even in the 22nd century, the people of Avalon revered the royal family of Avalon despite the change time brings. Avalon remained steady and true as a protected kingdom for magic wielders.
And Robin had a nephew named Riordan, interestingly enough. After Robin’s sister Alice died soon after childbirth, Robin adopted Riordan as his own. Now, ten years later, Riordan was accepted as Robin’s son. Most seemed to have forgotten that he was truly his nephew.
“Were you my father’s human companion? Is that who you are?”
Riordan nodded. “I owe it to him to help you since you’re his son.”
“What’s happened then? What has caused him to fade away? And me too very soon?”
His legs were beginning to disappear and Merlin wondered how he was still standing.
“Something awful has happened… and I’m sorry, Merlin, but I don’t think you’ll ever see your father again. Reality has been altered. Now, your father died when he was a ten-year old boy. You were never born…you are being removed from this new reality as a result.”
“What? But how?” Merlin paused. He didn’t have time now to learn the particulars of his father’s death. Riordan would surely tell him later, he hoped. “How can you help me?”
“I can give you a chance to still live with your memories intact. You will live in a human world, and I think you’ll have some magic, but you will lose your godly status. Your family will not remember you, but you will remember them… it’s that or ceasing to exist. I’ll be with you to help and guide you,” Riordan said. “Do you agree to do this?”
“I’ll take anything over ceasing to exist. Yes, I agree.” Merlin said. “How did you die? Why did my father never even give me your name?”
“It wasn’t his fault…I had this bleeding illness not even the magic of the gods could remove permanently. One day…I died.”
“Did you cut yourself on accident and it wouldn’t stop bleeding?”
“No. Please don’t,” Riordan stopped abruptly, looking anxious. “I killed myself…” he confessed quietly.
He showed Merlin the inside of his wrists, both of which bore deep scars of cuts into the skin. The scars hadn’t left him even after death, even as he lived as a ghost.
“It wasn’t your father’s fault,” he was quick to say. “When I died, I was a young man, twenty fours years of age, and I was stupid…and I’m trying to make up for it now. I will help you, I promise.”
“So my father didn’t talk about you because you had committed suicide?”
“Yes. That’s it,” Riordan agreed.
Merlin was suspicious that Riordan was too earnest in wanting Merlin to make that conclusion when the truth was something Merlin hadn’t even grazed the surface of. But everything was a mess now. His father was gone and he himself was continuing to disappear. There just wasn’t the time to delve into Riordan’s - and by extension his father’s - long ago past.
“I hope you’re okay working with me since I killed myself. I’ll be all you have though.” Riordan told him, giving him a half-smile.
Maybe he realized he wasn’t doing the best job at endearing himself. Merlin of course couldn’t help but give pause that he was dealing with a ghost who died by suicide and for reasons still unclear to him. Yet Riordan was his father’s old friend and companion. Merlin could see it in Riordan’s eyes. He wasn’t lying about his friendship with his father. So Merlin could only trust his instincts. And who knew, maybe his infuriating condition - that had caused him to say such terrible things to his father before disaster struck at dinner -- would go away if he went with Riordan, losing his godly status as he said. Maybe that would be the antidote Merlin needed. He really hoped so. He hated the thought that the last words his father heard from him were full of anger and frustration. The guilt and regret were a numbing mix of pain and grief he couldn’t shake.
Merlin sighed. “It’s fine. My friend, Arthur, he’s missing. Do you know where he is?”
Riordan shook his head a little too quickly. “No, I don’t. Are you ready to start your new life?” He asked.
Merlin wanted to say no, but he knew he had to just jump in. The alternative of not just dying but ceasing to exist entirely was too awful. He at least wanted to have the opportunity of living life even if his family would not remember him. A heavy price, but one he simply had to accept and cope with.
“I’m ready,” Merlin declared.
Before his world shifted, Merlin wished his father had forgiven him for what he had said at the dinner. And now, he may never see his father again. No one would.
If he could find Arthur…if Arthur would remember him, then maybe he could survive this change after all.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Arthur reached the gate to the castle where a tall broad man with short-cropped blond hair.
“Good evening. I am Sir Percival, Knight of the Kingdom of Avalon. Please state your name.”
“Hi,” said Arthur uncertainly, feeling intimidated by the tall strong-looking man. Even if this knight was only human, Arthur knew he’d have a time trying to defeat him in a fight. “My name is Arthur Pendragon.”
Sir Percival gave him a careful once-over, then he looked startled, which made Arthur nervous in turn.
The knight consulted the electronic tablet he had in his hands. After a few moments of perusing the device, a grim expression overtook his face.
He peered at Arthur again.
“Arthur Pendragon, you say?”
Arthur nodded. “Yes. I’m a little lost. I don’t live in this world…I er…I serve the god of magic’s family.”
“That’s a lie,” Percival cut in sharply.
“What?” Arthur asked, confused. “It’s the truth. I’ve lived in the immortal world for most of my life.”
“I don’t imagine His Lordship Cerulean would ever allow you to serve in his household. Considering what you did. And judging by your unchanged appearance, you have access to time travel technology. You don’t know how long we’ve been waiting for you.”
Arthur stared at him. What was going on? Why was he talking about Cerulean, Merlin’s cousin and the son of Merlin’s aunt, like he was the god of all magic?
“I don’t understand. What did I do?” Arthur wanted to know.
Two more knights - both brown of hair and with dark eyes that didn’t help to soothe Arthur’s growing fear - appeared beside Sir Percival.
Sir Percival declared, “Arthur Pendragon, you are under the arrest for the murder of King Robin’s ancestral relative and His Lordship Cerulean’s uncle, Hephaestion, who you killed in cold blood.”
“What? No! That’s not true!” Arthur cried out, horrified at the charge laid out against him.
Sir Percival handcuffed him regardless of his denial.
“Killing a ten-year old boy. What is wrong with you?” One of the brown-haired knights remarked in disapproval.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Arthur protested.
“Child-killer,” the other dark-haired knight muttered as he and his partner walked behind Sir Percival and Arthur. Arthur heard him, and wished he had awful hearing so he hadn’t.
Arthur wanted to wake up so badly. Because this had to be a nightmare.
And he would wake up.
He had to believe that.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
“Hullo, feeling all right?” asked Pip with a smile. He was the official naiad-assistant for the family of Merlin’s Aunt Ceridwen. “Bran’s doing fine… just a stab wound, but Merlin got better and I made him heal Bran… um…”
“What?” Arthur asked.
“Merlin’s magical abilities aren’t functioning at the best level… understandably considering the abrupt change back. Merlin’s father told me about that. Bran has a bit of a fever. I helped with some of my powers, but they’re limited to water as you know. I think he’ll be all right. Best to let his body heal naturally. Having a fever is a good thing for humans, right? For a little while at least.”
Pip was the son of a naiad and a human. His naiad mother raised him along with all his brothers and sisters in a lake in one of the human worlds. In Pip’s view, Arthur understood, being able to reside in the world of immortals was a step up the social ladder for him. Even if he was simply an assistant, little better than Arthur himself.
Yet Pip had special talents associated with water, which made him quite the asset. Pip could use the water that was a part of his very being to cool a hot fever. The magical naiad talent was more effective than the usual cool cloth over the brow. Arthur himself had experienced this talent of Pip’s when he had been ill as a boy, so he could attest to that.
“Yeah. Yeah. I’m glad he’s fine. I was worried.” Arthur said honestly.
There was the fact that Gwydion had gone with his father to take care of some official business. So it was fortunate Pip came to help Bran and him when Gwydion couldn’t be there. Arthur cringed to think of Gwydion’s displeasure at Bran being harmed by Merlin. Even if Gwydion was aware of Merlin’s frustrating condition, he tended to be irrationally protective of Bran. He wouldn’t let that reason excuse Merlin’s behavior. Arthur couldn’t blame him. He too hated Bran getting hurt as Bran was like a younger - even if it was only by a year -- brother to him.
“It was good I got there in time, and that Merlin returned to normal before the situation got out of control. Now Bran’s safely resting in his room…Geraint is looking after him. ”
“Geraint’s a lion,” Arthur stated flatly.
Pip nodded. “Yes, but he’s an excellent caretaker. Great listener - probably because he can’t really speak himself, but yet there is that charm to that old furry creature.”
“Right. Of course.”
The deep red colored lion with a golden mane had been a gift by Gwydion and Merlin’s grandfather to Gwydion on his sixteenth birthday a few months ago. The lion didn’t act like an aggressive lion, but more like a calm, steady-tempered dog. Yet Geraint the lion could roar like any true-blooded male lion. He was not one to be crossed. Though the lion was quite loyal to Gwydion and to Bran.
“So, you got back from seeing how Cerulean and Amelia were doing? How are they?” Arthur asked after the twin children of Merlin’s aunt.
Merlin’s twin cousins were non-identical twins, and in their twenties. Cerulean had brown hair and such captivating blue eyes that it was unsurprising why his mother named him after a shade of blue. Amelia had flaming red hair to match her passionate personality and green eyes. This worked out well as Cerulean had a calmer temperament to balance his sister’s more impulsive inclinations.
“I can’t help but feel envious of them sometimes. It almost makes me want to return to live in a human world. Getting to visit all those museums and solving mysteries. All the tales they have to tell! I think being heirs of guarding creative magic is exciting - the way they go on about all they do.” Pip told Arthur enthusiastically.
“Right now with how Merlin is, being far away from here is a wise choice,” Arthur said grimly.
Pip frowned and nodded. “I’m with you there.”
“I’ll go see how Bran is doing.” Arthur announced. “Thanks for your help.”
“Yeah, no problem. It’s what I’m here for,” Pip said smoothly, saluting him, as Arthur departed his room.
~ * ~
“Merlin…” Arthur said to him tentatively when he saw him in the hallway.
“Fuck off, Arthur,” Merlin told him dismissively and continued on his way, walking in the opposite direction of Arthur.
“Merlin, you hurt Bran. Even with your condition, you can’t go hurting people…there’s only so much others can excuse. If you can try controlling it somehow?” Arthur suggested, wanting desperately to help his friend. He couldn’t give up on Merlin, not completely. He wouldn’t turn his back on Merlin though him hurting Bran - who was as good as a brother to Arthur - bothered Arthur deeply. He couldn’t deny that.
Abruptly, Merlin turned around to face Arthur. “Why don’t you complain to my father about it? Since he claimed you and all. I’m sure he’ll listen to your stupid issues. Just leave me alone.” He told Arthur firmly.
He promptly disappeared magically, preventing Arthur the courtesy of a response.
What worried Arthur the most was that Merlin’s eyes were their normal blue. He wasn’t under the thrall of his troublesome condition, and yet clearly the knowledge of his condition was taking its toll on him. And Merlin was pushing him away as a result.
Then Mary, Merlin’s druid friend, approached him in the hall. She looked upset about something.
“Mary, are you all right?” Arthur asked her in concern.
She smiled weakly at him, waving her hand. “Oh yes, I’m perfectly fine.”
“Did Merlin have a fight with you?” Arthur ventured.
Mary shook her head. “No, oh no. I heard about his condition, but no. I haven’t talked privately with him yet. I’m okay, I promise, Arthur. But thank you for your concern.”
Arthur didn’t quite believe her on the okay bit because something or someone had clearly rattled her.
“Okay, if you say so. But you know you can talk to me if there’s anything worrying you…” Arthur offered.
“Yes, I know. Thank you, Arthur. I really should go…” Mary said with a nod to herself and she swept past him.
Arthur looked thoughtfully after her, perplexed by her odd behavior.
Great. Now it wasn’t just Merlin who was acting unusually.
~ * ~
The most familiar sound in Gwydion’s room was the song of the bluebirds. Merlin’s cousin took his creature symbol to heart, and had a sort of bluebird sanctuary in his chambers. Half of Gwydion’s room was full of trees with nesting cavities for the bluebirds.
Bran had told him that sometimes he’d wake up to find a bluebird perched beside him on the bed, staring intently at him as if the bird wanted to play a staring contest first thing in the morning.
The pale grey walls of Gwydion’s room had a mural of a flock of bluebirds. The wall birds were magically bespelled to fly like moving images on the wall. Bran’s room had wall ravens - both black and white - with the same magical treatment too.
Geraint was resting at the end of Bran’s bed when Arthur came into the room. The perceptive lion looked up as Arthur approached the bed. Arthur pet his thick mane, and Geraint gave a loud purr in response.
Sitting up in bed, Bran smiled at Arthur.
“Hey, how are you?” Arthur asked Bran. “Pip told me you had a bit of a fever.”
“Yeah, but I’m feeling better now.”
Arthur pressed his hand to Bran’s brow. His forehead felt normal, the fever had passed from what Arthur could discern. Pip’s treatment of Bran had worked.
“Where did Merlin get you?” Arthur asked.
“It doesn’t matter…it’s healed, so…”
“Bran, please,” Arthur pressed him. He didn’t miss Bran’s tone of voice like he was hiding something. “You may be able to convince Pip that everything’s all right, but I want to know the whole truth. We’re in this together and I don’t want you hiding any pain you feel. When Gwydion returns, and that’s the case…”
“Well I figure Gwydion already isn’t going to be happy with Merlin for hurting me without just provocation.”
“But it’s better not to have him angrier if he sees evidence of the injury. I just think if there’s any way to decrease the degree of anger, you should take it. I admit I’m concerned about Merlin, and the thought of him potentially fighting his own cousin is an event I’d like to avoid. Or at least avoid a physical fight between them.”
Bran sighed. “All right. Um…here…” He said tentatively.
He pulled up his shirt, and there was long red-purplish scar running across his abdomen. Arthur could just imagine how much that had to hurt upon Merlin’s attack.
“Merlin healed my internal organs, to stem the blood loss, but there’s still this scar. Looks bad, but it only feels itchy. More of an eyesore than painful, honestly.”
Arthur shook his head. “No, we have to fix this. You and I both know that proper magical healing means that you don’t have any scars. That you’re good as new.”
“I know…it’s just… the question will be asked about how I got injured, and I can’t just lie. But then Merlin will get lectured. And clearly Merlin isn’t having an easy time of it already. I do feel mad at him for hurting me, yes, but like you said he’s not himself. He should probably avoid contact with others.”
“Hmm…understatement,” Arthur noted lightly. “This isn’t something to debate about though. We’ll get Merlin and Gwydion’s grandfather to heal you completely. He does have the penchant to show up when he’s needed,” he mused.
And also since the former god of magic was now retired, he had more time on his hands and spent it looking after an interesting collection of animals. But if that failed, then Arthur was sure Merlin’s father Hephaestion would help, taking some time out of his busy schedule. Yet Arthur dreaded seeing Hephaestion’s reaction to learning who had hurt Bran.
There was Merlin and Gwydion’s Aunt Ceridwen too. She was like a mother to Arthur as she was to Merlin since she resided in the immortal world whereas Merlin’s birth mother lived far away. Yet Arthur wasn’t familiar with Ceridwen’s schedule so he wouldn’t know where to find her. In contrast, due to the claiming and Arthur working for Hephaestion as a result, he had to be aware of the current god of magic’s day-to-day schedule.
Upon Arthur’s urging, Bran climbed out of bed and Geraint followed after them as they sought out the retired god.
Fortunately Merlin and Gwydion’s grandfather did appear before them in the hallway.
He had an endearing-looking baby ring-tailed lemur attached on his arm. The lemur’s golden eyes stared at them with curiosity.
“And how are you, Arthur, Bran?” Merlin’s grandfather asked them. His wise blue eyes probably guessing what they wished of him. Arthur wouldn’t be surprised.
“Good day, My Lord. Bran needs some healing,” Arthur told him, cutting straight to the point.
Bran nodded. “Yes, I would appreciate it if you could help.”
“Of course. Arthur, if you could hold my lemur while I concentrate on the healing?” He asked. “Poor creature lost her mother. She’s quite content to get as much physical touch as she can get.”
“All right?”Arthur said uncertainly. He’d never carried such a creature, but it looked so small. It couldn’t be much trouble, right?
Arthur took the offered lemur into his arms and the baby lemur wrapped her hands around his neck, her long ringed tail coiling about his upper arm.
If Arthur had been a girl, he’d probably be tempted to coo at the furry monkey-like creature as she looked at him with rapt attention. But he wasn’t a girl, so of course he would do no such thing as ‘coo’. So he settled for clearing his throat.
“She certainly isn’t shy,” Arthur commented as Geraint looked rather interested in the lemur.
Arthur pet the lion on the head, hoping his interest didn’t translate into wanting to eat the lemur. But Geraint was well-trained - well, enough not to jump on Arthur and grab his lemur ‘meal’ impulsively.
“Does the lemur have a name?” Bran asked.
“Her name is Belle.” The retired god said. “Now, Bran, show me where you’re hurt.”
Bran pulled up his shirt to reveal the ugly scar Arthur had seen.
Arthur was relieved that the former god of magic didn’t inquire about the case of the scar before he set about healing it. A golden glow appeared within his palm and he swept it over the injured site.
A moment later and the scar was completely gone. No physical evidence remained of what had happened to Bran.
Yet as Bran worried, Merlin’s grandfather did ask about the story behind the scar after the healing.
Bran told him quietly.
Understandably, Merlin’s grandfather looked especially dismayed.
“It’s Merlin’s condition, My Lord. It’s making him do and say things that I’m sure he regrets very much once he’s his normal self,” Arthur defended Merlin quickly.
He wasn’t quite sure why he still felt the need to defend Merlin even though he had been a victim too of Merlin’s actions. Merlin had used magic against him, but compared to Merlin stabbing Bran, it didn’t seem as bad.
Then there was Merlin saying such terrible words to him, words that Arthur never imagined Merlin would say to him. To call him a whore of all things?
Yet Arthur didn’t feel right about turning his back on the years of close friendship he had with Merlin. Just because of one day of Merlin being a bit of a nightmare wouldn’t deter Arthur from defending a good friend of his.
“Yes. I’m aware of this unfortunate condition. But for my grandson to attack a human is upsetting. No matter his condition, this behavior cannot be tolerated. You did not provoke him, correct, Bran?”
Bran shook his head. “No, My Lord. I swear. He just came after me, and managed to stab me with a sharp dagger. Fortunately he returned back to normal before he could injure me further. And luckily Pip came by to help me.”
“Very well. Thank you, Bran, Arthur. I will speak to Merlin.”
With that, he took the affectionate lemur from Arthur and he left them with a nod.
Arthur exchanged concerned looks with Bran.
~ * ~
As they walked to the hall for dinner, Arthur broached the sore subject. He could see Merlin looked very unhappy, unsurprisingly, but he seemed to be his usual self. His eyes weren’t a blinding gold at least.
“Merlin, I heard you attacked Gwydion. I thought you talked with your grandfather? Did he not help you?”
Merlin shrugged. “Gwydion could defend himself,” he said. “He punched me in the face, saying that was for hurting Bran. I was annoyed Gwydion returned so soon with his father. I hate looking at his face and seeing him resembling me.”
Arthur raised his brow, staring at him oddly. Before, Merlin was never bothered by Gwydion’s clear physical similarities to him as if they could be twins born a few years apart. This condition brought out an unexpected side of Merlin, undoubtedly.
“Well you were going to have to confront your cousin sooner or later. You think an extra day would have helped you in calming down?” Arthur wondered, unable to help the disbelief in his voice.
“Maybe.”
“Merlin…how did things go with your grandfather?” Arthur asked him again.
“Don’t want to talk about it,” Merlin muttered.
“Well if you went after Gwydion after your talk, then I guess it didn’t go well at all?”
“Oh look! The dining hall. I’m starving. Come on, Arthur,” Merlin swiftly changed the subject and beckoned Arthur to come with him into the hall.
Fine, Arthur thought. If Merlin wanted to be stubborn like that, then all right. But if Merlin’s condition continued on for weeks, then Arthur’s optimism and patience would surely get worn down.
~ * ~
Arthur had an inkling that this dinner would be a disaster, or a near thing, but ultimately, Merlin wasn’t the cause of the evening going south.
Besides him and Merlin, Mary, Merlin’s father, Uncle James, and Aunt Ceridwen were at the table. Merlin’s grandfather rarely had dinner with them except on special occasions. Gwydion, Bran and Pip elected to eat dinner in Gwydion’s rooms. Arthur hadn’t been sure why Pip chose to be with Gwydion and Bran. Of course Gwydion was angry with Merlin over the assault on Bran. Hence the boycott of this dinner. And Bran usually stuck with Gwydion, preferring to be with his oldest friend over others.
With Pip, Arthur guessed that maybe he just wanted to have an informal dinner with a smaller group versus the stress of being on his best behavior in a dinner with older gods as well as his employer, Merlin’s Aunt Ceridwen. Or he could simply be making his opinion known about the Bran attack by going against Merlin. Either reason fit.
“I heard you and Bran had a small altercation,” Merlin’s father brought up, a clear note of disapproval in his voice.
Arthur looked sharply at Merlin, who was seated at his right, to see his clenched jaw and the clear amount of restraint Merlin was trying his best to exercise.
“That’s right, Father,” Merlin admitted like it was quite painful.
“I know it has only been a day, but I can’t allow you to continue to act like this. Your uncle’s mother was human - what do you think she would say about what you did? You must control your condition, son. I’m sure we can find a way to help you with a treatment, but the greatest show of strength is to defeat a difficult enemy,” said Hephaestion in an almost earnest voice, trying to get through to Merlin, Arthur imagined.
“We will help you as best as we can,” Ceridwen said.
“Though I fear it will take a while for Gwydion to forgive you. You know how important it is for you and my son to cooperate with each other in the future. For your sake, I hope Gwydion will come around.” James told him.
Merlin frowned, not looking too optimistic about Gwydion’s change of heart.
“I think we should discuss the fact that Mary is pregnant,” Merlin said swiftly and, rather viciously in Arthur’s opinion, changed the subject. “She’s my friend, Father. I know mother doesn’t live here, and she’s not much of a wife for you, but this is ridiculous. But I guess the problem is solved now! You’ll have another son to replace me because I’m defective! Congratulations!” Merlin said sarcastically.
Arthur wished he could spell Merlin to make him mute. Even if Mary could be pregnant, this was not the place to bring it up in front of others. And Mary looked horrified; implicating that Merlin’s words might just be true after all.
Was this what had upset Mary when Arthur had seen her earlier? Had she just learned she was unexpectedly pregnant?
“I’m sorry! I didn’t think it would happen… I - I’ll get rid of it… I never meant to hurt you, Merlin. I would never want a child of mine to replace you… I’m so sorry.” Mary said tearfully.
Merlin’s father Hephaestion put up his hand. “There will be no talk of getting rid of the child, Mary,” he told her. “I admit I didn’t act rightly but I cannot regret what I did if it will bring a child into the world. But you will be always my heir, Merlin, don’t doubt that. That fact will not change and despite your condition, I have the greatest faith in your ability to overcome it.”
“Why did you do it?” Merlin demanded. “What was the purpose of it? Why Mary my friend when you can have anyone else?”
Ceridwen intervened, “Really. It isn’t the time or place to discuss this.”
“It’s all right. I’ll answer,” Merlin’s father said. “I chose Mary because I could trust her not to use my time with her as an opportunity to get as many special favors as she can from me. I don’t know if you fully understand how most goddesses and nymphs can be - ambition can drive them to take advantage of my position and power. It took me quite a while to finally decide on your mother, Merlin, to bear you, my first child. I knew she was noble enough not to abuse the favor I bestowed upon her,” he explained. “If I were a stronger man maybe I could be okay without female companionship on a regular basis. I’m sorry to disappoint you, son. Yet this doesn’t excuse you harming Bran and Arthur too, though I know he won’t admit it. I can see it in your eyes, Arthur, that you haven’t been left untouched. I have no doubt it pains you to see Merlin like this. You are a good friend to stay by him,” Hephaestion praised him.
“Thank you,” Arthur said softly, feeling a bit embarrassed for the compliment even as he felt he wasn’t doing enough for Merlin.
“If you steal my friend for ‘female companionship’, I’d appreciate you telling me about it first, Father. Before she gets pregnant,” Merlin gritted out.
“I should go,” Mary said, looking quite embarrassed at this whole conversation centered around her. Arthur saw her face reddening. “I’m not feeling very hungry. I apologize, My Lord.” She spoke to Merlin’s father.
“It’s all right,” he assured her.
Merlin simply continued to look annoyed.
And with that, she swept out of the hall in a rush.
“Merlin, please, just let it go,” Arthur hissed at him. “Whatever your father or Mary has done - it wasn’t to intentionally spite you. You realize that deep down, I know you do. All of us just want to help you like your aunt said.” He spoke earnestly, determined to get Merlin to see reason and calm down.
“Why should I listen to you, Arthur?” Merlin said to him darkly. “My father’s claimed you! Anything you say or do, he’ll be behind it. You’re his puppet, damnit!” Merlin declared, his eyes glowing a harsh gold.
“That’s not true! You know that’s not true.” Arthur retorted, defending himself.
“Want to prove that to me?” Merlin challenged, looking like he was rumbling for a fight.
“Stop this at once!” Merlin’s father raised his voice, standing up. “Merlin, you will apologize to Arthur.”
“No, I won’t!” Merlin answered him defiantly.
Then before the argument could turn into a full-blown fight, something invisible yet strong forced Hephaestion back into his seat. He was knocked unconscious before he even realized what was happening, Arthur thought anxiously.
Then Ceridwen started coughing hard, covering her nose as if there was an odor that was irritating her nose.
His gold eyes returning to a downcast blue, Merlin stared in disbelief at his unconscious father. Now Arthur saw Hephaestion’s face turn an almost grey color, and blood trickled down his nose yet he hadn’t been punched. What was going on?
“Father?” Merlin asked, sounding at a loss at seeing his father in such an unresponsive, defenseless state.
Then to Arthur’s growing concern, Merlin started to cough like his aunt.
“What is it?” Arthur asked Merlin’s uncle who seemed to be as unaffected as Arthur himself by the mystery odor. An invisible toxic gas maybe?
But it was Ceridwen who spoke, struggling to between coughs, “Remember what he told you, James? The cost that Hephaestion…agreed…to… oh, Hephaestion…oh…James, it’s up to you…” she told him.
Arthur caught the confusion on Merlin’s face when his aunt discussed the cost his father had agreed to. So at least he wasn’t alone in not knowing about it. Though the not knowing made Arthur want to find out what this apparent secret entailed. Especially since it led to this very worrisome situation.
Merlin’s aunt fell unconscious, not able to overcome whatever invisible force or gas was plaguing her. Merlin followed after her, slumping in his seat as his eyes closed. Fortunately Merlin nor his aunt looked as bad as Merlin’s father who looked like all the vitality had been sucked out of him, lines of blood flowing down from his nose. In contrast, Merlin and his aunt simply looked like they were put into a deep slumber of which Arthur hoped they would both awaken. Hephaestion’s prognosis didn’t look as good, concerning Arthur.
“Arthur, we don’t have much time. I need you to do something for me. There’s this sword, made of gold, called the Sword of Avalon. You need to retrieve it and make it stop this…”
“Wait. A sword is doing this? But how? And why are you and I okay?”
“Because the sword is targeting full-blooded immortals, not humans like you. Though I do not have human blood in me most of the time, my human mother’s blood returns in moments of need to protect me. The sword is powerful, Arthur, so powerful that it doesn’t simply need to stab someone to cause pain and suffering. The sword can release toxic gases from a distance…it’s in the wrong hands now, and you must take it for your own. Otherwise I fear Hephaestion, Ceridwen and Merlin may die for good. The sword is one of the few weapons a human can use to kill a god or goddess…”
“Are you sure the sword is still here?”
Merlin’s Uncle James nodded. “Yes. The intruder who possesses the sword now is still within the palace. You must hurry, Arthur.”
Arthur nodded. “I’ll get the sword. I promise,” he said.
He ran out of the hall.
~ * ~
“Who are you?”
“My name is Mordred.”
“I will not let you have that sword.”
“Are you willing to pay the price for getting the sword?” The man calling himself Mordred said.
“You are hurting those I care for. I can’t allow you to get away with this!”
“Fine. Here.” Mordred said with a shrug.
Arthur stared at him when he dropped the sheathed sword to the ground. Warily, Arthur walked forward to pick it up.
Mordred smirked. “Good luck.” He wished him in a very insincere voice. He disappeared.
Arthur removed the sword from its sheath. The Sword of Avalon looked unreal as Arthur had never seen a sword made of such rich gold. He doubted slightly if it worked properly because gold wasn’t a common metal for swords. But Merlin’s uncle had said it could kill even the gods with its toxic gases…then maybe anything was possible with the sword. He told the sword to stop hurting others, unsure of how else to do it. The command appeared to work as he felt the static atmosphere surrounding the sword decline, the glow of the blade subsiding. The sword was quiet. Hopefully everyone who had been harmed by the sword would be okay now.
Unexpectedly, he felt the ground shift beneath him and a force pulling him somewhere. Mordred said…he’d pay a price for getting the sword. Of course this all seemed too easy…this Mordred had something up his sleeve. Arthur could sense that Mordred wasn’t a god, but just a human.
Why was Mordred doing this in the first place?
But he had little time to consider all this as the reality around him faded away.
~ * ~
Arthur woke up in a big field of grass. He distinctly felt like he had forgotten something, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Something horrible had happened…and oh fuck. The Sword of Avalon wasn’t in his grasp anymore. What was he forgetting? Someone had bloody messed with his memory. What if it was that Mordred? Damnit.
He felt a small wet lump at the back of his head. Bringing his hand back, Arthur was dismayed to see blood coating his fingers. He had suffered a concussion, he otherwise felt all right besides being very confused about where he was and what had happened. Losing this all-powerful sword just made everything so much worse. What if Mordred had it?
Arthur wondered if he was living his own twisted version of Arthurian legend what with him dealing with a Mordred. He really just wanted to go home now. And he could sense that he was in a human world. Even a human like him without born magical talents could sense the differences between the immortal world and a human world after living in the immortal world for years.
Now Arthur was a bit lost. He needed to figure out what to do because as far as he knew, he was on his own far from home in a different world completely. He bet Merlin and his family were occupied with recovering, and potentially Hephaestion could be stuck in a coma. Certainly they wouldn’t have the time now to worry about Arthur.
So he stood up, wavering on his feet a bit as his balance was shaky, and he began to walk across the seemingly endless meadow. He smelled the fresh breeze coming from the sea, and he was positive there was a castle-like structure off in the distance.
~ * ~
Merlin stared in disbelief as he saw his father disappear before his eyes.
He had been sitting there by his father’s bedside for at least an hour hoping that his father would wake up. That if he held his hand and apologized again and again…that his father would wake up and be better. That it would be as if nothing had ever happened. Yet that was a lie he couldn’t delude himself into thinking.
Merlin had learned that Mary had been adversely affected by the Sword of Avalon too like himself, his father and his aunt. And Merlin felt terrible for her. The child - what would have been his half-brother -- she carried had died, the power of the sword had been too strong for such a small soul not yet born. His grandfather was still in a coma.
Along with his Uncle James, Gwydion, Bran and Pip had fared well enough against the sword’s attack due to their human blood. The human blood of Gwydion’s paternal grandmother had protected him.
Unfortunately Arthur had gone missing, taking the Sword of Avalon with him as far as Merlin’s uncle was aware.
His attention was refocused on himself when he saw his hand growing transparent. He was beginning to fade away exactly like his father had.
What was going on?
“I can help you.” An unfamiliar male voice spoke from behind him.
Merlin turned around, his right and left forearms were now gone, vanished. He would not panic. He wouldn’t.
“Who are you?” Merlin asked.
The twenty-something man before him was a ghost but though he was transparent, he was not devoid of color. His hair was a shade of orange that matched the exact color of an orange fruit in Merlin’s opinion. His eyes were pale brown in color. His whole expression spoke of sadness and past regrets.
“My name is Riordan… I was your father’s friend. I’m not surprised he never mentioned me… considering what I…anyway, like I said, I can help you before you cease to exist.”
This peaked Merlin’s interest. While he hadn’t known his father’s friend was named Riordan, Merlin recalled a living relative of his going by the same name.
His uncle’s human mother had three human children - Kahlan, Caspian and Corin. Uncle James had been her youngest and the only child she conceived with Merlin’s grandfather. The current King of Avalon in one of the human worlds, Robin, was a direct descendant of Caspian. The Golden Age reign of the Isle of Avalon had begun with the mother of Merlin’s uncle, Queen Caillean, during Roman times. And even in the 22nd century, the people of Avalon revered the royal family of Avalon despite the change time brings. Avalon remained steady and true as a protected kingdom for magic wielders.
And Robin had a nephew named Riordan, interestingly enough. After Robin’s sister Alice died soon after childbirth, Robin adopted Riordan as his own. Now, ten years later, Riordan was accepted as Robin’s son. Most seemed to have forgotten that he was truly his nephew.
“Were you my father’s human companion? Is that who you are?”
Riordan nodded. “I owe it to him to help you since you’re his son.”
“What’s happened then? What has caused him to fade away? And me too very soon?”
His legs were beginning to disappear and Merlin wondered how he was still standing.
“Something awful has happened… and I’m sorry, Merlin, but I don’t think you’ll ever see your father again. Reality has been altered. Now, your father died when he was a ten-year old boy. You were never born…you are being removed from this new reality as a result.”
“What? But how?” Merlin paused. He didn’t have time now to learn the particulars of his father’s death. Riordan would surely tell him later, he hoped. “How can you help me?”
“I can give you a chance to still live with your memories intact. You will live in a human world, and I think you’ll have some magic, but you will lose your godly status. Your family will not remember you, but you will remember them… it’s that or ceasing to exist. I’ll be with you to help and guide you,” Riordan said. “Do you agree to do this?”
“I’ll take anything over ceasing to exist. Yes, I agree.” Merlin said. “How did you die? Why did my father never even give me your name?”
“It wasn’t his fault…I had this bleeding illness not even the magic of the gods could remove permanently. One day…I died.”
“Did you cut yourself on accident and it wouldn’t stop bleeding?”
“No. Please don’t,” Riordan stopped abruptly, looking anxious. “I killed myself…” he confessed quietly.
He showed Merlin the inside of his wrists, both of which bore deep scars of cuts into the skin. The scars hadn’t left him even after death, even as he lived as a ghost.
“It wasn’t your father’s fault,” he was quick to say. “When I died, I was a young man, twenty fours years of age, and I was stupid…and I’m trying to make up for it now. I will help you, I promise.”
“So my father didn’t talk about you because you had committed suicide?”
“Yes. That’s it,” Riordan agreed.
Merlin was suspicious that Riordan was too earnest in wanting Merlin to make that conclusion when the truth was something Merlin hadn’t even grazed the surface of. But everything was a mess now. His father was gone and he himself was continuing to disappear. There just wasn’t the time to delve into Riordan’s - and by extension his father’s - long ago past.
“I hope you’re okay working with me since I killed myself. I’ll be all you have though.” Riordan told him, giving him a half-smile.
Maybe he realized he wasn’t doing the best job at endearing himself. Merlin of course couldn’t help but give pause that he was dealing with a ghost who died by suicide and for reasons still unclear to him. Yet Riordan was his father’s old friend and companion. Merlin could see it in Riordan’s eyes. He wasn’t lying about his friendship with his father. So Merlin could only trust his instincts. And who knew, maybe his infuriating condition - that had caused him to say such terrible things to his father before disaster struck at dinner -- would go away if he went with Riordan, losing his godly status as he said. Maybe that would be the antidote Merlin needed. He really hoped so. He hated the thought that the last words his father heard from him were full of anger and frustration. The guilt and regret were a numbing mix of pain and grief he couldn’t shake.
Merlin sighed. “It’s fine. My friend, Arthur, he’s missing. Do you know where he is?”
Riordan shook his head a little too quickly. “No, I don’t. Are you ready to start your new life?” He asked.
Merlin wanted to say no, but he knew he had to just jump in. The alternative of not just dying but ceasing to exist entirely was too awful. He at least wanted to have the opportunity of living life even if his family would not remember him. A heavy price, but one he simply had to accept and cope with.
“I’m ready,” Merlin declared.
Before his world shifted, Merlin wished his father had forgiven him for what he had said at the dinner. And now, he may never see his father again. No one would.
If he could find Arthur…if Arthur would remember him, then maybe he could survive this change after all.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Arthur reached the gate to the castle where a tall broad man with short-cropped blond hair.
“Good evening. I am Sir Percival, Knight of the Kingdom of Avalon. Please state your name.”
“Hi,” said Arthur uncertainly, feeling intimidated by the tall strong-looking man. Even if this knight was only human, Arthur knew he’d have a time trying to defeat him in a fight. “My name is Arthur Pendragon.”
Sir Percival gave him a careful once-over, then he looked startled, which made Arthur nervous in turn.
The knight consulted the electronic tablet he had in his hands. After a few moments of perusing the device, a grim expression overtook his face.
He peered at Arthur again.
“Arthur Pendragon, you say?”
Arthur nodded. “Yes. I’m a little lost. I don’t live in this world…I er…I serve the god of magic’s family.”
“That’s a lie,” Percival cut in sharply.
“What?” Arthur asked, confused. “It’s the truth. I’ve lived in the immortal world for most of my life.”
“I don’t imagine His Lordship Cerulean would ever allow you to serve in his household. Considering what you did. And judging by your unchanged appearance, you have access to time travel technology. You don’t know how long we’ve been waiting for you.”
Arthur stared at him. What was going on? Why was he talking about Cerulean, Merlin’s cousin and the son of Merlin’s aunt, like he was the god of all magic?
“I don’t understand. What did I do?” Arthur wanted to know.
Two more knights - both brown of hair and with dark eyes that didn’t help to soothe Arthur’s growing fear - appeared beside Sir Percival.
Sir Percival declared, “Arthur Pendragon, you are under the arrest for the murder of King Robin’s ancestral relative and His Lordship Cerulean’s uncle, Hephaestion, who you killed in cold blood.”
“What? No! That’s not true!” Arthur cried out, horrified at the charge laid out against him.
Sir Percival handcuffed him regardless of his denial.
“Killing a ten-year old boy. What is wrong with you?” One of the brown-haired knights remarked in disapproval.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Arthur protested.
“Child-killer,” the other dark-haired knight muttered as he and his partner walked behind Sir Percival and Arthur. Arthur heard him, and wished he had awful hearing so he hadn’t.
Arthur wanted to wake up so badly. Because this had to be a nightmare.
And he would wake up.
He had to believe that.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~