#but still the point stands is that they were walking towards Arthur's death at Mordred's hand while the audience was walking towards

[kateis-cakeis]

"I never knew how there was a way out of this ending. Because I think if you you told a story of a happy ending, people would somehow feel cheated, having set up Mordred and all those things. I don't know how you do that. And this is a fairly straight version of the end with one twist in the last two minutes. But- 'Cause I read Malory again, and it's not miles away. I mean there's loads of Christain bits in Malory but, and obviously they take him to the Isle and there's the barge and all that, but this is sort of a simple version of that." - Julian Murphy (Series 5 Episode 13 Commentary 40:39)

I've got to say listening to the commentary and really catching this in full is like, mannnn they misplayed what people would feel cheated by, but I respect it

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Merlin Scar Reveal Part 2(final part)

Merlin tries to pretend nothing happened, Arthur says “that’s stupid.”

Part 1

Merlin’s nightmares last for the rest of the afternoon and extend well into the night. 

The heat certainly doesn’t help, and it takes all of Gaius’ effort to keep his temperature low enough to not boil him from the inside out, but he manages with help from the knights. Mordred and Lancelot refuse to leave the servant’s side of course, but the others loiter in the corridor the entire time, and take turns sprinting to the cold store and kitchens for ice water and cloths.

It was difficult to stand there waiting, being given scraps of information on Merlin’s condition, especially when most of the scraps consist of something along the lines of “Hopefully he’ll snap out of it by the morning.”, which was certainly not helped when the occasional whimper floated out to them from the young servant’s room.

After a few hours, Leon was the one to draw the short straw to go and talk to Arthur. Whilst all of them were mildly miffed that Arthur had pushed Merlin so far, they knew that ultimately, it was all of their faults. All of them had pushed him, and none of them had protected him from being injured in the first place. None of them knew how much he had suffered, was still suffering. Considering Arthur’s... extra feelings for his servant, it was no wonder he’d reacted even worse than the others.

The First Knight agrees to go, knowing he had the best chance of talking some sense into The King, though he refuses to leave until he sees each of the others settle in their beds; it had been a long day, and would likely be an even longer day tomorrow. They all need as much sleep as they can get.

Arthur doesn’t answer when Leon knocks on his door, but the knight lets himself in after a few moment regardless, doing so quietly so as not to startle the man if he was asleep or, more likely, deep in thought.

The King was sat at his desk, chin resting on his hands, and Leon has to stamp down the surge of protective adrenaline in his lungs when he sees the dry tear tracks on the younger man’s face. He doesn’t notice Leon’s presence, not even when he very deliberately clears his throat, so the knight walks over to him slowly, rapping his knuckles harshly on the desk. That finally catches Arthur’s attention, and he looks up with a start, hands reaching for the sword that Leon knows he has hidden under the desk.

The King lets out a deep breath and relaxes back in his seat when he sees that it’s just Leon, hastily wiping his eyes before clearing his throat and looking up with a fake confidence:

“Sir Leon, what can I do for you?”

Leon just raises an eyebrow, but when Arthur holds strong and doesn’t react he lets out a deep sigh and collapses into the seat on the other side of the desk:

“Come on, Arthur. We need to talk about this.”

Arthur gulps, trying to keep his unaffected façade up, but failing and dropping it after only a few moments; something about the soft, overly concerned look Leon was giving him made him want to wrap himself in blankets and sob himself to sleep. He frowns and just about manages to keep the tears in:

“Why wouldn’t he tell me? If not about the physical scars, then about all the times he’s been hurt. Does he not think I would’ve given him time to recover? Or, God forbid, helped him?”

Leon purses his lips slightly in thought, still having to make a concerted effort not to gather The King up in a tight hug as he considers his questions:

“I don’t think it’s about you, Arthur. Merlin is... a private person by nature, and he doesn’t like worrying people. You heard Mordred, he and Lance found out by accident, and even then Merlin tried to keep them away from it as long as possible.”

Arthur stands, the guilt and sadness in his gut now frothing with anger as well. He paces around to the centre of the room and Leon stands to watch him carefully:

“He can say it’s not about me as much as he wants, but I’m The King, Leon,-”

He whirls on the knight, and Leon clenches his jaw, resisting the urge to raise a mocking eyebrow. He knew to expect anger at some point, but that doesn’t mean Arthur was entitled to it:

“-I have a right to know what’s going on in my Kingdom. I should’ve been informed of Nimueh and Morgause’s deaths, I should’ve been informed that Cenred was torturing people for information. How many other countless adventures has Merlin had that have put himself, Me, the Kingdom in danger, simply because he didn’t want people to know much about him?? None of that was his call to make.”

Leon does raise an eyebrow at that, but Arthur was too busy furiously pacing to feel scolded quite yet. The older man crosses his arms and huffs slightly, waiting for The King to calm before responding:

“Be that as it may, that’s not why you’re angry. You can lie to yourself, Arthur, but you can’t lie to me, and you certainly shouldn’t lie to Merlin. If you go to him pretending that you’re angry because he put the Kingdom at risk, and not because you’re heartbroken at him having suffered so much, then he’ll never forgive you. And when you realise that, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

Arthur looks to Leon sharply, but the anger drains from his face within seconds and his whole body sags slightly, the exhaustion of the day having caught up to him. A glance to the now dark window tells him that it’s well into the evening, but he can’t find it in himself to be annoyed at the unfinished paperwork on his desk or the hunger in his stomach from not having eaten since before noon, not when he knows Merlin is being tortured by nightmares and injuries that have long since healed. Injuries that he should never have had in the first place. Leon waits patiently for Arthur to respond:

“I don’t want him to be in pain. I just want to help him.”

His cracking admission has Leon give up on holding himself back, and he strides towards The King to pull him into a tight embrace. Arthur tenses at first, but quickly falls into the older man’s affection, accepting a hug for the first time since he was a child. Leon responds softly, aware that he only had a short time before Arthur pulled away and put his walls back up:

“Merlin’s already in pain, Arthur, but that doesn’t mean we can’t now help him.-”

He feels Arthur nod into his shoulder and squeezes the man tighter for a moment before pulling back, keeping a tight grip on The King’s shoulders:

“Come on, you need to get some sleep.”

Arthur’s tired, longing gaze moves to the paperwork spread haphazardly over his desk, and Leon shakes his head, tugging Arthur’s shoulders so he looks back at him:

“No, work isn’t an option, your mind is not in any sort of state to be productive right now. You’re exhausted, Arthur, a few hours of sleep will do you some good; I hate to say it but The Kingdom won’t stop needing attention whilst we... sort through this, and you’ll need the energy tomorrow.”

Arthur shakes his head, stepping back and rubbing his eyes tiredly as he takes a deep breath and straightens his back. Leon steps back as well, re-introducing the respectful distance that should be between a King and his Knight, waiting for Arthur’s no doubt stoic response:

“The councilmen will survive without me for a day or two, if not then that really should be something I’m made aware of so I can get to replacing them. Merlin and I need to...-”

He cuts himself off and clears his throat:

“-has there been any news? Any change?”

Leon shakes his head, but catches Arthur’s wrist when he begins walking towards the door:

“Arthur. I just about managed to convince everyone else to get some sleep and you need it more than them.-”

Arthur looks back indignantly, failing to portray his Kingly Anger in his exhaustion and looking more like a scolded child:

“-You know I’m right. Get some sleep, Gaius will inform you if anything changes.”

For a moment, it looks like Arthur wants to argue, but he quickly lets out a deep, bone weary sigh, nodding before moving sluggishly towards his bed. Leon nods approvingly, muttering a soft “Goodnight, My Lord” and smiling slightly at Arthur’s hummed response before quietly exiting the chambers.

~

Arthur can convince himself, for a few blissful seconds, that it was all a bad dream when he wakes up the next morning.

His curtains are thrown wide open; the sunlight streams in and forces The young King to groan and roll over, attempting to shield his eyes from the brightness. Merlin’s cheery voice echoes throughout the various chambers:

“Come on, Sire, up and at ‘em!”

Arthur just grumbles a slurred “Fuck off.” before his brain wakes up and he throws himself from the bed, thankfully wearing sleep clothes but only just managing to catch himself on the bedside table before he falls over:

“Merlin!! What the hell are you- are you ok?! Did Gaius say you could get up?!”

Merlin looks back at him with the same disapproving, mocking glare he usually uses in the morning; Arthur is taken aback at the darkness in his eyes. He can’t quite decide if it made it’s first appearance this morning, or if it had always been there and he just hadn’t noticed. He doesn’t know which idea he hates more:

“I’m fine, Arthur, no need to worry about me. And for your information, I’m a fully trained physician, I don’t need Gaius telling me what I can and can’t do.-”

He rolls his eyes and turns to The King’s desk with a huff, gesturing at the mess:

“-It’s flattering that you rely on me so much Arthur, but really, this is ridiculous.”

Arthur is finally broken out of his shocked stupor, shaking his head disbelievingly and taking a few short steps towards his manservant. He goes to yell but quickly backtracks, snapping his mouth shut and taking a deep breath before trying again, softly this time:

“Merlin... we have to talk about yesterday.”

Merlin’s reaction is immediate and harsh. The quill that he had picked up from Arthur’s desk snaps in his sudden tight grip and the tension in his shoulders is painful looking. He freezes for just a moment before forcing himself to relax, casually throwing the broken quill into a waste basket before continuing to organise the desk, refusing to look up at The King:

“No, we really don’t. I’m fine, My Lord.”

The lack of sarcasm or sass in Arthur’s title worries The King greatly, but the way Merlin regains more and more of the tension in his shoulders the closer Arthur walks to him is even more worrying:

“Merlin... look at me.-”

The servant gulps, biting his lip at he stares at the desk for a few more moments before forcing himself to look up. He recoils slightly at the tears in Arthur’s eyes, but doesn’t allow himself to look away. Arthur opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted by the door to his chambers opening with a bang as Mordred and Lancelot rush in. They’re both red-faced and panting, speaking at the same time:

“I swear to the Gods if he snuck out of bed to work, I’ll-”

“I apologise My Lord, I don’t suppose you’ve seen-”

They both freeze as they see Merlin stood behind Arthur’s desk, paperwork crumpled in his tight grip and face fallen into a annoyed frown. Arthur throws his hands up, frustrated as he paces and mumbles:

"Just... come in why don’t you. No, don’t worry about knocking just run on in like you own the damn place.”

Lancelot spares him a quick glance but locks the door behind him and crosses his arms like an angry mother as he looks to the irate servant:

“Merlin, we’ve talked about this, you’re meant to take the morning off after a bad night, Gaius says-”

Merlin just rolls his eyes and turns away, interrupting Lancelot’s scolding as he continues to tidy around the room, his annoyance evident in his harsh tone and hurried movements:

“I’m a physician too, and I say I’m fine. I would like to just... get on with things, please.”

Arthur has to stop himself from recoiling at the way Lance and Mordred’s faces fall, the pain and grief sadder than anything he’s ever seen in their expressions before. He takes a moment to think before giving the two of them a pointed look and quietly asking:

“Can you give us a minute?”

Lancelot looks doubtful, but willing. Mordred plants his feet and crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow. He doesn’t say anything, but it’s obvious he has no intention of leaving Merlin’s side; as much as Arthur finds that admirable on a personal level, as King it’s unacceptable. He’s normally not a fan of pulling rank among friends, but maybe that’s because he normally doesn’t need to. Perhaps this whole mess was his fault, Mordred obviously felt so, but Arthur could hardly fix it with them glaring over his shoulder. He raises himself to his full height, a good few inches above Mordred, and uses the tone of voice he normally reserves for particularly difficult councilmen:

“You forget whose presence you are in, Sir Mordred, you’d do well to remember again. You are both dismissed.”

Mordred’s eyes go wide and he takes in a sharp breath, but after a quick glance to Merlin’s turned back he dutifully bows and walks from the room stiffly. Lancelot’s postures straightens as well, and he follows Mordred after a confident:

“We’ll be in Gaius’ chambers should you require anything, My Lord.”

Merlin was oblivious to the conversation, though Arthur reckons he was deliberately ignoring it as opposed to being actually unaware, especially with the way the servant’s shoulders relax when the door shuts behind the second knight.

Arthur sighs as Merlin continues to putter around the room, refusing to look him in the eye; he leans against the edge of the desk and crosses his arms:

“Merlin,-”

His voice is soft, but the servant still doesn’t look at him, giving a non-committal hum as he clears out the hearth with shaking hands:

“-come here, please.”

Merlin freezes for just a moment, and if the problem wasn’t so glaringly the context of the situation, Arthur may have been able to fool himself into believing that Merlin was just shocked he said please. The younger man stands slowly, turning to walk towards Arthur with his gaze stuck to the floor. He stops with about five feet of space between them and Arthur sighs again, closing the gap until only a few inches separates them. The King ignores the tears gathering in both of their eyes as he lifts a hesitating hand, dropping it softly on Merlin’s shoulder only when the servant doesn’t flinch away:

“Merlin, I... you mean a great deal to me, and I know I don’t say that often enough, or at all, really. You... look after me, keep me alive and unhurt, evidently more than I had originally thought. You make me a good King, and a better man.-”

Merlin looks up at him sharply and Arthur can tell that he’s about to argue, so he squeezes his shoulder and quickly hurries on:

“-You’ve been hurt, you’ve suffered in your service to me, and that’s unacceptable but it’s also my fault; I should’ve made it clear that I would protect you from anything. These scars prove your strength, but I understand not wanting to acknowledge them, so I promise I will never ask again. You tell me when you’re ready, and if that’s never, then that’s completely fine.-”

Merlin seems surprised by the promise, and the tears slowly dripping from his wide eyes just make Arthur regret yesterday even more. After a second or two of shock, Merlin visibly relaxes, relieved with the knowledge that he doesn’t have to expect the conversation that he really doesn’t want to have. Arthur gives him a weak smile before continuing:

“-I’m sorry, but I’m also grateful. Thank you, Merlin. But...-”

Merlin re-tenses at the “but” and Arthur squeezes his shoulder again, giving him what he hopes is a reassuring smile:

“-please don’t keep doing this alone. I... I don’t expect you to ask me for help, though I would drop anything in a heartbeat to keep you safe. Even... even if it’s Gwaine, just... I don’t want you disappearing off to save the Kingdom only to never come back again because no one knows where you are.”

Merlin smiles weakly at the disdain in Arthur’s voice when he mentions Gwaine, but quickly frowns again and looks at the floor. He gaze stays lowered when he asks his one word question, his voice quiet and ragged:

“Anything?”

Arthur frowns for a second, confused about what Merlin was asking, but quickly realises, lifting the other man’s chin with his hand, his voice a whisper:

“Merlin, I would give up the Kingdom to rid you of the burden you’ve place upon yourself. I just want you safe and happy and by my side.”

Merlin once again looks like he wants to argue, but a quiet sob falls from his mouth instead and Arthur, damning the consequences and his stupid reputation, pulls the younger man into a tight hug, cradling his head into his shoulder and running a soft hand up and down his back. A few tears of his own slip free but he finds he doesn’t care that much as Merlin shakes in his arms; he presses a barely-there kiss to Merlin’s temple and begins swaying slightly on the spot, wanting more than anything to take away his servant’s pain.

Merlin’s cries slow to a stop after what feels like hours, but Arthur doesn’t let go quite yet, eyeing the unmade bed over Merlin’s shoulder with eagerness, knowing that neither he nor Merlin had slept well last night. He feels Merlin stifle yawn against his shoulder and that just strengthens his resolve; he squeezes the younger man to get his attention and then speaks quietly:

“Reckon the council can survive without me later?”

Merlin clears his throat and responds, but still doesn’t let go:

“Doubtful, but Leon and Morgana could probably whip them into shape. Why?”

Arthur nods and pulls back, frowning at the slight panic in Merlin’s eyes when he steps away but doesn’t mention it, letting his hand slide down from the servant’s shoulder to grip his hand. Merlin visibly relaxes, but still looks confused as Arthur tugs him towards the bed gently; he allows himself to be pushed to sit on the edge and looks up at Arthur questioningly. The blond stops himself from grinning widely at the trust in his expression, instead turning away to shut the curtains and lock the door as he says:

“Shoes and belt off, I fancy a nap, how about you?”

He was expecting an argument, so he's surprised when he turns back to the bed to see Merlin softly smiling as he sets his shoes and belt on the bedside table neatly. They both climb under the covers wordlessly, and Merlin doesn’t hesitate to curl into Arthur’s side when he holds his arms out to him. 

The King holds his servant close, tucking his head against his chest and burying his chin in his soft hair, his arms wound around Merlin tightly. Merlin closes his eyes without issue, finding himself unafraid of the darkness or the nightmares or the firm touch against his back for the first time since his collection of scars began.

The warrior sleeps, plagued by nothing but pleasant dreams and the warmth of a protection he knows he can trust.

~

THE END!!

That took me FOREVER to write, writer’s block really does suck, but I’m glad I finally got it finished. I feel like it’s a little underwhelming, but I hope y‘all like it :)

@1stbonesfan asked to be tagged! <3

[megashadowdragon]

**1.**Punching Gilgamesh the moment you are summoned/enter a fight/enter a room is not reasonable and should not be done at any time -Gudao

1a. Not even when he barges into the Camelot Room and threatens to everyone, especially when he does it to make your female counterpart marry her -Gudao

1b. Apparently PTSD is not a viable excuse to punch someone when you see him harassing someone. Noted.

2. Just because I am a King, does not mean I can give people nicknames. Makes me wonder how Gareth felt about being called Best Boy by Merlin.

3. Eating contests are apparently not allowed, seems food shortages are common with my counterparts.

4. As it turns out, screaming "To Valhalla" is not the best idea when you step onto Iskandar's Chariot. Especially so when you are right in front of the enemy.

5. Frankenstein is not a doll, do not dress her up. No Arthur, not even if she tilts her head and makes cute growls -Gudao 5a. Okay! Only if its a sundress! -Gudao

6. Getting together four of my other counterparts and forming the Saber Rangers is not allowed, especially if we have Excalizords. Seems the other servants aren't fond of needlessly big robots that take too long to combine.

7. Motorbikes are not to be used at any point or time in Chaldea, no, not even when Iskandar decides to hold the "Chaldea Grand Prix" -Da Vinci

7a. THE SAME GOES FOR OTHER VEHICLES YOU MONGRELS, UNLIKE YOU FUCKS, SOME OF US NEED BEAUTY SLEEP AT 3 AM! -Gilgamesh

8. Just because I can use a sword, doesn't mean I am allowed to attack my Cu Chulainn with it. I swear, he walked into it.

9. Apparently I am not allowed to compliment people? Turns out after I left the beach where I hung out with a sweetie named Kiyohime, along with master, Kiyohime attempted to burn someone alive because I said that master looked like a dashing man. I highly doubt she did.

9a. The smell is still stuck to my trunks Arthur -Gudao

10. My liege... My OTHER liege, please don't ever get Red Saber to sing "Total Eclipse of the Heart" again when I am about to utilize Galatine -Gawain

11. We know you are fascinated in other cultures, but please. Stop talking to the Servants of France about Sasaki Kojirou, we don't know if you made up his nickname, but he is not the "Savior of France" - Jeanne D'Arc

12. I would suggest that you stop entering the Camelot Room by screaming "Where is my love! Guinevere!", while it as funny once or twice, I can't stand to see either Lancelots' become depressed anymore -Arturia Altria

13. No offense... But please stop patting my head so much, I know you are basically my Uncle, but people are getting the wrong idea -Mashu

14. While Proto League is an acceptable nickname for the servants of your war, please don't ever enter a fight and scream it out again. We know you enjoy it, but it can get obnoxious after a while - Random Mob 1

15. Proving that I am male by either fighting or pantsing myself is no longer allowed after Heracles decided to do the same thing when a recently summoned Shakespeare made him question his own gender -Da Vinci

15a. Having the entire male team to pants themselves in front of the enemy is not a viable tactic against Archers, no matter what you watched beforehand and despite how fun it is -Robinhood

16. Just because Merlin suggested it, I shouldn't instantly do it. Its odd, almost like no one trusts Merlin, he seems just like my one.

17. "I saw a pest" is not a viable reason to drop a Corrupted Grail into the Babylon Room, we understand your dislike towards the King of Heroes, but Ishtar and Ereshkigal were caught up in the rage.

17a. "I was bored" is not a viable excuse to kiss a female servant while under the effects of Merlin's illusionary spell, Gudao has yet to leave his... specially enduced Coma.

17b. "I saw this scene-" is not a viable reason to go to a prior singularity and ask Muramasa to create a specific weapon, it is time wasting, no matter how strong the weapon is.

18. Suggesting to Rayshift to the point before someone dies is not a good idea, no matter how much fun it is for you to watch the "Crazy Murder Loli" die.

18a. Getting Fou'd is not a good reason to Rayshift back to your fight against Beast VI just so you can "Finish the Fucker Off".

19. Using a voice manipulator made by Merlin is not a good way to get people to be afraid when you shout a noble phantasm.

19a. Shouting "Stella" is not allowed, Arash prematurely shot off his Noble Phantasm while training and now we have to resummon him.

20. Just because we have a Simulation Room, does not mean I can alter the device to allow me to see someone from the past.

20a. We know you miss her, we do too. If you want to speak, you can come talk to us -Proto League

21. Trying to host an "Engry MIYA" talk between Nameless and Alter is not a good idea, just... Don't.

22. While having a Picnic is fun, please don't host them in the middle of a fight.

23. Just because a rabbit killed Gawain in a movie, does not mean you can threaten to cook Fou alive.

24. We know you love kids but come on, you can't just take Nursery Rhyme and Jack out to "Play Fetch" with the Dragons in France every after-noon.

25. Blaming someone that isn't even a servant isn't a viable way to shift blame.

26. I've been banned from the Kitchen, apparently forcing my way in and cooking the meals before Nameless is not a good idea. He looked ready to cry.

26a. Turns out mentioning the fact that Muramasa was far more willing to let me into his kitchen when I visited him was not a good idea. I don't think Nameless likes me much.

26b. "Just because I have the alcohol" is not a good excuse to get a few of the servants including Mashu drunk at dinner.

27. Just because you technically existed before Back to the Future 1 and 2, does not mean you can threaten to sue the creator, even if you can go back in time freely.

28. NO, NEVER DO THAT AGAIN, NOT EVEN IF KIYOHIME ASKS NICELY, WE SHALL NEVER REPEAT THE EVENTS OF YESTERDAY AGAIN.

29. "Look what I found" is a sentence that I am never allowed to speak when I am holding something bigger than my head or smaller than my hands.

30. Turns out that breaking my own arm is not the best way to get Nightingale to calm down. Never thought Merlin would be wrong.

31. "Sure you can touch my Excalibur" is not the best way to differentiate between Arturia's Excalibur and my own when someone asks to hold it.

31a. "But mine is bigger" is not a good response when Arturia talks about how easy her seals are to remove from her Noble Phantasm, nor is it alright to use when talking about when how she made Mordred.

32. Stealing Gilgamesh's potion of youth and putting it in the Soup that EVERYONE ended up eating is the easiest way to have myself barred from missions for a week.

33. Just because people are afraid of it, doesn't mean you should hug it. Not even if Merlin says to.

34. Just because someone stole your food, does not mean you should "Call in a favor" and have Elizabeth sing until someone gives up who stole it

34a. Update: The above applies to Nero as well.

35. Just because I have an innate fear of the Lancer version of my female counterpart, does not mean I can steal her horse and run away because of that fear.

36. Making King Hassan say "Omae wa mou shindeiru" is not allowed, especially if you reply with "I'm already dead" just to mess with him.

37. You are fond of Mordred, we understand. But please stop teasing her. Calling her cute will be her death - KotR

38. We understand that being locked in a single room with Nobunaga can be hard, but saying it was like prison is not fair.

38a. Quoting an abridged anime is not allowed, especially if it has "Sluts" and "Prison" in the same sentence, we still don't know where you got that swim team outfit.

38b. Making a mini Excalibur and saying "Blade of Promised Prison Riots! SHANKCALIBUR" is not allowed at all, Edmond almost had a heart attack.

38c. It is noted that the Arthur and Nobunaga were almost forced to kiss, but utilizing time manipulation to see Romani's death and threaten him with "Spoilers" is not allowed.

39. Just because Merlin asked, does not mean you should dress up as a "Cutesy Idol" and perform a song with a voice changer on in front of a camera for his "Magi*Mari" stream, Romani has yet to heal from that wound.

40. Looking Mordred in the eye and saying "Mordred, I am your father" is not allowed, especially when you have her surrounded by all the versions of her "Father", even the ones that just look like "Him".

41. "I solomly swear I am up to no good" is not what you say while standing behind the Director in the Lost Room, she died once already, we don't need her worrying about what you will do.

41a. "Remember that time you became a Loli" is not to be said around Olga Marie after what happened after she was... Killed.

42. Quoting Kamina from Gurren Lagann is banned, especially after everyone believed you were actually erased from the throne. Only to find you a month later taking off an invisibilty cloak and sneaking into the mens bathrooms to shave.

43. Anime is fun to watch, but please. Stop trying to explain why a certain character would be within the Throne of Heroes.

43a. Stop. Asking. When. I. Will. Summon. ISSEI HYOUDOU! -Gudao

43b. BOOSTED GEAR SCALE MAIL! -Arthur

43c. BOOSTO? -Siegfried

44. Valentines is a wonderful thing, we get it. But making everyone in Chaldea chocolate by going around and hunting in various areas is not needed, we have too much already.

45. Stop Rickrolling, that was so early 2000s, get with the golden times old man -Kintoki

45a. EX-

46. Commenting on the impractical armors of the female knights that walk around is not needed, we have gotten complaints about how they feel harassed -Staff Member

46a. I just wanted to help out... -Arthur

47. I am not to sing anything ever again, the reason isn't because I am bad, no. Everyone agrees I am quite good. But its the genre I sing coupled with my Charisma rank. Seems love songs should not be sung. How sad.

48. Just because I have cat ears, does not mean you should give me Catnip - Atalanta

48a. The same was repeated for Alter.

48b. Along with Tamamo Berserker.

49. "Merlin told me to do it" is no longer an excuse that is accepted, even if he did make you do it.

50. LITERALLY ALL THE THINGS ON THIS LIST ARE BECAUSE OF MERLIN, STOP LISTENING TO HIM.

51. I'm only responsible for a quarter of these, stop blaming me for your troubles, Normies -Merlin

Kiyohime asks Arthur what to do to catch Gudao's attention. Arthur tells her to turn into his most cherished person. She turns into Gudako and tries to force Gudao into sex.

[lothson]

to note: irish and scots gaelic traditions were closely linked as the two cultures were not all that difference in the 6th century. most of ireland and the western coast of scotland spoke the same form of gaelic and worshipped the same gods and witnessed the same celebrations. welsh traditions weren’t the same, and although they often shared a link (gods that ruled the same things or celebrations that covered the same time periods) they were often observed differently or had different names with slight variations, and cannot be considered the same religion. it’s also important to note that some of the gods thought to be irish/scottish are in fact gaulish, the european celtic pantheon, closer to germanic. the picts also celebrated a tradition much like ulster & gaelic tradition, but barely any of this history was recorded and can only be assumed from what their neighbours worship--pictish tradition was all but wiped out by invasions from the vikings in the 8th and 9th century. these are just my notes on the traditions that mordred, the druids, and those within the surrounding areas (the gaels & ireland and northern most parts of hen ogledd) would have practised.

THE WHEEL OF THE YEAR (gaelic festivals and traditions)

IMBOLC,  or Là Fhèill Brìghde in Scot’s gaelic (the beginning of spring) is observed in gaelic tradition and is a festival thrown about halfway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. it was celebrated by the ancient irish & scots. it was christianized as a festival of saint brigid later. it would be celebrated by feasting and was associated with the spring sowing and the blooming of blackthorn. it also involved lighting heartfires, divination, and watching for omens. candles and bonfires would also be lit. fire and purification were an important part of the festival. one might also visit a holy well, where one would make offerings to the gods in the form of a coin or item of clothing, by throwing it into the well. offerings would be made to the earth or the sea.  ALBAN EILER, meaning rock and light as light of the earth, (the spring equinox ) is observed in scots tradition around march. it’s equivalent in christianization is easter. one would take the eggs of birds just laid, colour them, and then eat them in celebration of the emergence of the son from the womb and the goddess. the mother goddess boand and the father dagda would be celebrated here, or lugh--a warrior god and son of boand. gaelic gods now considered simply as “irish” gods. it was also considered a strong time for magic. BEALLTAINN, the festival of fire (the beginning of summer). it is the biggest and most important festival of the year as it was the start of the harvesting season and the end of the dark half of the year and the coming of the light. fires would be lit, especially by the druids as massive bonfires (which was later assumed by the romans to be some kind of ritual sacrifice.) once again this time of the year was thought to flow with magic and supernatural forces such as the fae could pass in and out of the mortal world. as was the case with most changes of the season. small amounts of animal blood would also be sacrifices to the gods and milk poured over thresholds to placate the fairies. hawthorn and rowan sprigs would be placed around structure and on horns of cows to ensure they kept producing milk and calves. the colour yellow was also important. it was also a time where one would avoid strangers and refuse requests or offers to share, the opposite being the norm in the society, to protect personal fortune and belongings. it is thought that the god belanos, the sun god, was worshipped at this time. the romans associated this god with apollo.  ALBAN HEFIN, the light of the shore, midsummer’s day (the summer solstice) here it was celebrated the longest day and the shortest night of the year and thus, another fire/light festival. bonfires were lit on the sides of the roads to provide light to revelers and to ward off evil. people would jump through the fires for good luck. streets were lined in lanterns. this night was second only to halloween for its importance to the fae and folk may risk attempting to see them. this was also the time of year where some would travel to the henges, stones placed by druids the attune with the sun upon its rise as it allowed them to connect with the movement of the sun across the sky. the standing stones were and still are important sacred ritual places for celebrating the sun.

LUGHNASADH, lúnastal in scot’s gaelic (the beginning of harvest) named after lugh as autumn was his month and this festival was hosted on the first of august. roughly the name translates into lugh’s assembly. lúnasa is the name for the month of august. the lughnasadh festival is begun by the god lugh as a funeral feast and athletic competition in commemoration of his foster-mother tailtiu. the games would incorporate such things as horse racing, music, story telling, trading, sporting contests, and ritual athletics. this is also to give lugh strength, as lugh must defeat the god crom dubh for his grain as treasure. ALBAN ELFED, the light of the water (the autumn equinox), this is a time of balance, where the day and the night are equal. the goddess is thanked for a bountiful harvest. this day was observed as the waning of the goddess, where she would rest before rising again in the spring. it was the beginning of the darkness. one would spend their day mourning the fallen goddess, placing dried plants upon her altar. one would thank the earth as mother and giver for the second harvest before autumn begins. 

SAMHAIN, the beginning of winter (the festival of the dead) around the 31st of october the gaels would honour their dead. it was a festival of remembrance and honouring of the departed. the veil that separates worlds is thinnest at this time of the year, so the world of mortals, the realm of the fae, and the realm of the dead, blend as one. it is at its purest a night of wonder and magic. the crone, the cailleach, the diving creator, and also known as the queen of winter, comes to strip the leaves from its trees and quicken the decay of flesh so that new life may come. it is also a time to ask the crone to take the unwanted away from our years.  time loses all meaning at samhain, the past and present and future are one. the dead walk amongst the living. winter is the season of ghosts. many would light bonfires to keep the evil at bay. a torch was often lit and carried around the boundaries of home to protect the property. the dead would be appeased with a supper, served in silence, with an empty place set at the ehad of the table for the ancestors. none would look directly at the seat for it would bring misfortune. the untouched plate and cup would be left in the woods later. 

ALBAN ARTHAN, the light of winter (the winter solstice) it is believed amongst some orders of druids that this time of year king arthur pendragon is symbolically reborn as the “sun child” but it is more realistically the light of the great bear (a constellation also known now as the plough) as art is gaelic for bear. at this time of year the bear shines the brightest as the sun is at its lowest point and the days are at its shortest. this is the time that the wheel of the year revolves beyond death and returns towards new light and new life. traditionally a log would be burnt in the central fireplace which must come from one’s own land or be a gift and cannot be purchased. it is lighted with the remaining piece of the log from the year before and thus light is passed from one year unto another. it should burn slowly in the fire place for 12 days before being extinguished and the ashes stowed. one would also take a live tree into the home so that the fae of the woods would have a place to keep warm during the winter. bells were hung upon the branches so one might know if the fae were present. food and treats would be left on the branches for the fae to eat. 

[mrschangrettawrites]

Feel Like This

Summary: You came to Stephen an eager student, and he would never be the same again.

Words: 3194

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female!Reader

Notes: Still haven’t seen Doctor Strange. I highly highly highly recommend installing the InteractiveFics extension from the Chrome store if you can. To add your name and last name simply install the extension, then click ‘Need to replace something other than Y/N?’ and in the value bar put Name and put your name in the Replace With bar, then click change! And be sure to tick Store this replacement so that you don’t have to do it every time.

Tagging: @gameofdooweeoo @doctor-strange-thirst-club @morningriseghost  @strange-asguardian @godohammers @queen-maximoff  @quicksilverslover if you want to be tagged in future chapters lmk!

One

Chapter Two

When you open your eyes, you are back on the battlefield.

You have been here so many times you would be able to recognize it from the smell of death and the cawing of the feasting crows alone. You trudge forward, bare feet sinking into mud and blood, easily and skillfully avoiding soldiers that have been dead for far longer than their corpses would have you believe.

In the center, amid the carnage, stands a figure clad in black armour, and it is he you are walking towards.

He is hunched over, looking weary and you can feel his bone deep ache just by looking at him, can taste his blood on your tongue.

When you stand beside him, the two of you gaze down at a man in armour the colour of the moon, and shining just as bright despite the muck everywhere else. His helmet has been cast aside, and a wide river of blood flows from his grey and time weathered temple to beneath his chest plate. Grey eyes stare upwards, and though you know him to be dead you feel as if he is staring at you, taking you in, and finding you wanting.

“It should have ended here.”

You turn to Mordred, and see his deep, dark eyes staring into his father’s. No matter how familiar you may become with this scene, you know that Mordred will always know it infinitely better than you.

The wind picks up, and you slide a hand in Mordred’s.

“Even in death, I am haunted by and lead to betrayal.”

Both of you close your eyes, holding back tears.

The second time you open your eyes, you are back on the plane.

All the other passengers seemed to be asleep, leaving you more alone with your thoughts than you would’ve liked. You looked out the window and gazed into the depths of the moonless sky. The stars twinkled, like Arthur’s eyes, and they had the same effect of making all of your hairs stand on end.

You turned to your left and saw Mordred, the thick black smoke of his form waving and curling, as his eyes stared ahead. “You know why it had to be done.” His voice was hoarse, weary from all the long years he had spent on this Earth. He closed his eyes, reclined back into the seat, but his brow remained furrowed and his lips thin. Silently, he raised a hand, ran a smoky finger along the underside of the overhead compartment, where his mother’s grimoire lurked. “But I am sorry all the same.”

And you knew that he was. Mordred had always been honest with you, a luxury the dead can afford, but it did little to ease your heart.

It had not been easy to find the New York Sanctum, and it had been harder still to gain the trust of everyone there. For a while, you had wondered if they had all seen through you, had seen why you were truly there. But with each conversation and shared joke, it grew easier, and your circle of friends grew as well, until you were able to confidently say that you were on good terms with everyone at the Sanctum. But it was leaving Stephen that had hurt you the most.

You had not expected to fall so madly in love with him, but fall you did. It had been easy, he was good and patient and brave. Perhaps, in one of the other dimensions he could see into, the two of you were happy. But it wasn’t going to be this one. This was the one where you put the world first, and broke your own heart in the process. And you would do it all again if you could. Better to live with a broken heart and see another day, than with a heart that was intact in a world that was not.

So you had to take the book. You had to, as you were the only one in the Sanctum, perhaps the only one in the whole of New York, who knew what it was and what it could lead to and that it needed to be destroyed. But you were not strong enough to do so. Even if you let Mordred possess you fully, the two of you in tandem would not be able to make so much as a scratch. There only two people capable of that; Mordred’s mother, and Merlin. And seeing as the former was more likely to use the book for her own nefarious ends, you had to seek out the latter.

You had wanted to tell Stephen about this, truly you had, but Mordred had warned you against it. He feared his mother would learn of her grimoire’s whereabouts, and no amount of masters of the mystic arts would be able to stop her if that happened. Getting her grimoire back would restore to her full power, and she would decimate everything and everyone in her path, and you couldn’t stand to have even the possibility of that on your conscience. Of course it had been an atrociously huge gamble, to hang around the Sanctum in the hopes of the grimoire either ending up there or learning of it’s whereabouts while there. For a while, you wondered if perhaps you had made a mistake, and debated between staying or leaving and search more actively. But in the end, you had stayed. Whether it was out of hope of the grimoire landing in your lap or because of Stephen, was a brand new debate.

The rest of your flight passed without dreams of battlefields and one sided conversations with long dead princes, and you awoke just before touching down in Paris.

As you cut through the crowd with your sports bag, the only one you had brought, the grimoire continued to hum, almost vibrating. You weren’t sure if that was the cause of your sudden nausea, and you didn’t really want to know.

“We can make it to the forest in good time if we leave now.” Mordred pointed out as you tried to find a cab.

‘I need a car first.’ You responded in your thoughts, unable to properly form words. ‘Once I get one we can go.’

You approached a cabbie who appeared to be unoccupied and asked her to take you to the nearest car rental place, in perfect French that seemed to surprise her. You kept the conversation polite but scarce, as you were still too focused on what you had to do

“I believe in you.” Mordred whispered, even though you were the only person who could hear him. “You can do this.”

And you believed him, but you still felt weary and like your body was made of lead.

‘Is this how you felt?’ You asked Mordred as you watched Paris go by you. ‘Before the battle.’

“Yes.” He was quiet, his voice barely having more force than a gentle breeze. “But it was a different heaviness from this. An angry one.”

It was odd, imagining Mordred angry. You had seen and felt him irritated and impatient and annoyed, but never angry. Least of all the kind of angry that had lead him into battle that day. Perhaps the centuries had mellowed him, or maybe he was simply too tired to muster that kind of anger now. Besides, what would he do with it now?

As promised the driver took you the rental lot, and you thanked her and paid her a tad more than you needed to, and pretended to not notice and hear her objections.

The process of renting a car for the day had been smooth, and you were on the road within the hour. You knew it would take four hours to get to Paimpont forest, if you drove non stop, which left you with more time to mull over the decisions you had made that had lead to this moment.

The thought that Merlin would not be in that forest terrified you, as you could not think of any other place he could be. You had spent years reading Arthurian legend, even before Mordred came into your life, and many sources named Paimpont as being Brocéliande, the forest where Merlin had been trapped in a hawthorn by Nimue (or Viviane, depending on the source). But if he was there, you and Mordred would free him and do what you could to get him to destroy the grimoire. If you had to beg on your knees you would do it, if it meant taking away the one thing that would restore Morgan to her full power.

“I doubt the old man will make you go that far.” Mordred interjected, staring ahead from the passenger seat, eyes flicking up to the rear view mirror to glance at the sports bag in the backseat. “He will want it done too.”

“I know.” You whispered. “I just hope we can find him.”

It was late afternoon by the time you got to the forest. What would’ve been a four hour journey had taken longer, due to having to take breaks. By the second hour mark you had begun to feel unclean and made a forty five minute long detour to a public bath house, and soaked for a good hour before going back onto the road.

You could not see a public entry into the forest, so you pulled over to the side of the road and walked right into the woods, sports bag slung over your shoulder.

“I can feel him. He’s here.” Mordred’s voice was low, and you saw him scanning the surroundings.

That was all you needed to hear.

You ventured deeper and deeper into the woods, trying to find the hawthorn that held the elderly wizard. While the forest itself had many hawthorns, none of them seemed to be the one you were looking for. The whole time Mordred was there, moving within the shadows of the trees to investigate all of them, but remained silent. This was fine with you, as you could think of nothing to say.

Although you had spent the day trying to ignore it, your heart still ached.

It had been purely out of impulse that you told Stephen you loved him. Mordred had been telling you to stop the whole time, even threatened to take control and walk away if you wouldn’t. But you had to do it. If you were never going to see Stephen again, you at least wanted him to know how you felt.

But then, considering what you’ve done, you probably needn’t had bothered.

When you were sure he was asleep, you slipped away back to your room to get your bag, and made your way to the library. You knew that Wong had been studying the grimoire since it’s arrival and he was keeping it in the library, had seen where he put it, and figured it would be easy enough to leave with it.

You hadn’t counted on running into Wong himself.

He had been startled by your sudden appearance, and raised his brows. “Name! What are you doing up?”

All at once the inside of your mouth went dry while your palms became clammy as you spied the grimoire in Wong’s hands. Your eyes slowly rose from it to Wong’s face, doing your best not to cry. You approached him slowly, feeling Mordred rest a comforting hand on your shoulder.

Once again, he offered to take control, to relieve you of having to do this. But you had refused.

“I’m so sorry.” The whisper left your lips just as you raised your hands to Wong’s temples. Black smoke flowed out of your palms and crawled into Wong’s head, rendering him unconscious within seconds.

Before his body had even hit the ground, you grabbed the grimoire and ran.

“You’re crying.”

You blinked and realized that Mordred was right, and you quickly wiped them away. “I’m fine.” You said quickly, going to look over a hawthorn to ignore your thoughts.

“No you’re not.” Mordred was at your side now, resting a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“I’m still sorry.” His hand squeezed your shoulder before he wrapped your arm around your shoulders. “I wish none of this had happened to you.”

And you couldn’t be angry with him. He had been wandering that battlefield ever since he died at his father’s hand, because he couldn’t leave the world knowing that his mother could rise up and create more chaos. He knew first hand what his mother was capable of, and in death he had grown afraid and soft, not even remotely resembling the sullen young man you had imagined him to be since you first read about him, far from it. You had known him to be nothing but kind and patient, and he had been your greatest friend ever since he (quite literally) wandered into your life. You could never be angry with him. But you hurt all the same.

Perhaps it was your own fault, entertaining the notion that you could’ve been with Stephen, even for a moment. Ever since Mordred became a part of you, serious romantic relationships were basically put on standby, until Mordred could finally rest and leave you at peace. And you had grown used to it, you had never really thought about relationships much anyway (although that could’ve been because the ones you had read about tended to end in tragedy). But it had been different with Stephen. Or at least, you let yourself believe it was.

By the time the sun was beginning to set, you still had not found Merlin’s hawthorn. Of course it was unrealistic to expect to find it in one day, after all this was a big forest, and you decided to make your way back to the car to sleep, and resume the search in the morning.

You were fairly confident that you were halfway back to the car when you felt goosebumps rise on your skin, and all the hairs standing up.

“We aren’t alone.” Mordred hissed, and you watched as he drew his sword. It was the first time he had done so since you met him, and it did nothing to ease your fears.

Black smoke began to form around your left arm as your shield began to take shape, and you held it up, quickly pressing your back against Mordred’s. He wasn’t corporeal, but he had assured you many times that his sword could cut just as well as any sharp blade, better even.

“I must ask you to stand down Miss Surname.”

The voice was unfamiliar to you and held a heavy French accent. Slowly, you lowered your shield despite Mordred’s protests, and found that two of you were surrounded by what appeared be sorcerers like Stephen.

There had to be at least a dozen of them, and they all had glyphs conjured and were ready to attack. Your heart began to race as your brain went into overdrive, trying to find a way to resolve this peacefully.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” You said with a shaky voice, and you got rid of the shield to prove your sincerity.

“You’ll forgive us if we don’t believe you.” The first speaker said. She appeared to be just older than Stephen, and judging by her demeanour you guessed she was the one in charge. “But you can prove it if you hand us the book and come with us quietly.”

Panic overcame you before you could think. “I can’t!” You said desperately, eyes darting around at all the other sorcerers, trying to find a way to escape. “It has to stay with me.”

The woman frowned. “We can’t do that.” She said firmly. “Just hand it over, and we can-”

“No!” You had spoken before you could stop yourself, overwhelmed with fear. “You don’t understand! I-”

A pair of whips found themselves wrapped around your wrists, pulling your arms behind your back, while two others ensnared your ankles and forced you onto your knees.

Mordred immediately brought down his sword and severed the whips holding your right arm and leg, making their conjurers stumble back as he did the same to the ones on your left.

During the brief window of confusion that followed, you ran.

Or at least, you tried to. You had barely gone a meter when you were stopped, once again brought to your knees.

“Do that again and we won’t be gentle.” The woman warned, her eyes far more fierce. “Now, will you come with us willingly?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Mordred raise his sword again. ‘Don’t.’ You whispered to him. ‘I’ll go.’ You hung your head and swallowed, as Mordred very reluctantly backed off, but kept his sword drawn. “I’ll go.”

“Good.”

The sorcerers that were holding your binds brought you back to your feet as the woman formed a portal and lead her team, yourself and, unbeknownst to her, Mordred, through it. The forest was quickly replaced with what appeared to be the inside of a Sanctum, but it was one that was unknown to you. You gazed around the room, in awe at the sight of so much wonder and knowledge, despite the current situation.

“We found her in Paimpont forest.” You heard the woman say.

“Thank you. Did you have any trouble?”

At the sound of a second, far more familiar voice, you tore your gaze away from a very impressive gilded shelf of books, and saw the absolute last man you wanted to see.

“Some.” The woman said, glancing back at you. “She managed to break through the bonds and run the first time.”

“I told you, she’s strong.” Stephen faced the woman, without even sparing a single glance in your general direction.

“Her hands were bound as you suggested.” The woman protested. “I was under the impression she could do nothing without them.”

One of Stephen’s brows raised, and a corner of his mouth twitched, and you could tell he was trying hard not to appear to be impressed. “It seems she was holding back while she was with us. Smart really. It would’ve been harder for us to beat her if she revealed all her secrets.”

You had to bite your tongue to stop a sob from escaping your throat.

“I would like to talk to her.”

“Of course.” The woman waved a hand, and the whips that kept you kneeling were gone.

Even though you had full control of your legs now, you remained kneeling, unable to bring yourself to move from the floor, or raise your gaze from it. Out of the corners of your eyes you could see the other sorcerers leave you with Stephen, but still you kept your head down, too ashamed to do anything else. It was only when you heard a heavy door close that you dared to lift your gaze.

Stephen still wasn’t looking at you. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the wall behind you, and you saw him swallow before he spoke. “You have a lot to answer for.”

[bestfriendforhire]

Entry 276

 “This is outrageous!” exclaimed Alma.

 I could feel her magic raging inside her.  The poor messenger was cowering from her, holding the glowing envelope to his chest.  I walked over to him, took the letter, and walked him to the door of Alma’s wing where Mila stood waiting.  Alma was still ranting when I returned.  We had only arrived home earlier this morning.

 Whirling toward me, Alma demanded “You know what this means, don’t you?”

 “I’m being challenged again?” I replied.

 She sighed, shook her head, and said, “James, he’s trying to make us miss the wedding!  When I find out who this upstart is…”  She clenched her fist, which became surrounded in fire, until she forced herself to relax some.

 The heat radiating from her was very noticeable.  I was beginning to think I should get her outside.

 “Wouldn’t Adelmar delay things if you asked?” I suggested.

 “Of course not!” she snapped.

 “I thought he was invited.” I replied.

 “Yes, but he was never actually going to attend.  Ai and Mai don’t warrant his attention.  He’s not likely to even attend Duncan’s wedding whenever that will happen.” she retorted.

 “Duncan’s getting married?” I asked.

 “He must eventually.  He wouldn’t be allowed to let his line end.” she muttered.

 “But Ai and Mai…” I started, glancing over at them.

 “They wouldn’t be allowed to inherit his position.  Izumi would see about having another child before she let that happen.” she insisted.

 I really didn’t understand her family.  Ai and Mai were very capable, and I was under the impression that Duncan would be hard pressed to defeat them on any level.  Their connection was extraordinary.

 “Time to go, boss-man, sir!” exclaimed Aaliyah.

 “Go!?  Where could you be taking him now?  You, of course, realize what he’s holding.” stated Alma.

 “A letter of challenge from one Hyun-woo Imugi.  The boss-man needs a weapon, so we’re going to go pick one up.” replied Aaliyah as she held up her arms as if she wanted carried.

 Alma looked speechless.

 “You didn’t work it out yet?” asked Aaliyah.  “Who else would have that kind of pull throughout Asia?”

 “But he’s never even shown interest of anything outside his country.  He’s practically retired.  I never thought… Well, his age…” muttered Alma before pursing her lips.  She looked to be considering the idea thoroughly.

 “Doesn’t look it, does he!?” exclaimed Aaliyah with a grin.  “He’s forty-six.” she whispered to me.

 I could see why Alma would be surprised.  The man was old enough to be her father.  Aaliyah took the letter from my hand and held it out to Alma.

 “You can hold onto this.  We’ll be back soon!” she exclaimed.

 Alma took the letter and nodded.  I glanced back to see her taking a seat and staring at the letter as I walked toward the door.  The twins looked concerned.

 “Mother, we’ll need to teach the master Korean.” suggested Mila as I stepped out.

 “Sure!  We’re also going to work on some old Welsh!” exclaimed Aaliyah.

 They did precisely that without even leaving the hall.  Time had obviously been frozen again.  The sun’s position didn’t change.  I could tell from the reflection visible across the floor at several points.

 “We’ll see you in a bit!” exclaimed Aaliyah.

 I didn’t move, but I wasn’t where I had been.  There were mutilated, armored bodies ahead in a large, devastated clearing and two men in armor at the center, frozen in the act of killing one another.  Trees were hewn or even uprooted.  The ground looked scorched in numerous areas.

 “This tale has been nearly stricken from record, but remnants became new tales of their own.” explained Aaliyah.

 Things sprang back into motion.

 “Father…” muttered the shorter man before stumbling back and falling to the ground.

 “You there.  Think not that you can hide from me.” called the other, still standing with a sword through his gut.  The crown on his armor gleamed brightly, untouched by the blood sprayed around it.

 As I stepped closer, the man pulled the sword out, tossing it at his fallen son.  Then he fell to one knee.  A spell was then cast creating the sound of a very loud horn.

 “What manner of dress do you wear?  You are no servant of my son, Amr?” he demanded.

 “No, I am not.” I told him.

 “Will you fetch my sword from my son’s chest?  No spell can touch that blade.” he claimed.

 I had never pulled a sword from anyone, nor had I ever held a desire to do so.

 The man lifted the visor of his helmet and said, “I see the hesitation within you, but know that my son wanted to usurp the throne for himself.  I couldn’t ask his elder brother to face him, not when his greed was my own folly.  Please, grant me this wish.”

 He spoke the truth, but I still hesitated a moment more.  Perhaps this was the weapon Aaliyah had spoken of retrieving, but what a gruesome way to acquire it.  When I pulled the sword from Amr, the blade illuminated in a bright, white light.  The two chimeras on the hilt breathed a white fire.  I nearly dropped the thing in surprise.

 “Who are you, stranger?” asked the man.

 “James.” I replied, carefully handing the sword to him.

 “Are you here to take the throne before my son?” he demanded.

 “No.  Definitely not.” I replied.

 He stared at me hard for a moment before nodding and saying, “But you are worthy, despite standing while a king kneels.”

 Not wanting to offend him, I knelt beside him.  “Sorry, your majesty.”

 “Perhaps a gift then, your majesty, to protect this traveler on the road.” suggested Aaliyah.

 I did a double take.  She had taken a form similar to what she used as Trix now, perhaps a bit older, but she was wearing a shimmering gown that shined more brightly than polished silver.

 “My lady… Have you come to reclaim Caledfwlch?” asked the man.

 “No, Arthur.  I merely want to see this young man protected, and know you to have weapons enough.” she told him.  Then she knelt beside him and whispered to the sword, too quiet for me to catch what she said.

 Only one king named Arthur came to mind, and he was pure myth.  Who was this man?

 “Here then, lad.  Carnwennan has served me well.  May it serve you now.” stated Arthur as he took the dagger from his waist and handed it to me.  “Leave me now.  I feel the change coming and know not how long I can suppress it.” he commanded, sounding strained.

 “Kyduan searches even now.  If you can last a minute more, you will see him again before you leave us.” stated Aaliyah.

 The man smiled and nodded.  Aaliyah took my hand and guided me away.

 We walked just out of sight, and I found us emerging from the forest in my yard.

 “Aaliyah, was that the King Arthur from myth?” I asked.

 “No, that was the King Arthur from history.” she told me with a wink, now looking like her normal self.

 “That sword…” I started.

 “Really seemed to like you, didn’t it!?” she exclaimed.  “Don’t forget Carnwennan when you go to meet the challenge.  Alpy is going to love seeing your new friend.”

 “Not coming along?” I asked.

 “I’m supposed to be helping daddy clean.” she sighed before disappearing.

 I shrugged and walked toward the house, thinking about what I had just seen.  Wasn’t Arthur killed by Mordred in the myths?  Could he have had two sons?  Wait.  Mordred was the son Arthur had with his half-sister, wasn’t he?  I might read some of those myths again.  Caledfwlch was something else.

 “So are you though, aren’t you.” I told Carnwennan.

 The dagger’s white grip shined and felt warm in my hand.  The metal gleamed brightly with no sign of use.  When pulled from its elaborately engraved sheath, the blade seemed to glow with a soft, white light.

 “Welcome home, master.  I missed you greatly.” stated Mila as she curtsied.

 I rolled my eyes and said, “I wasn’t even gone very long, was I?”

 “Oh, master, every moment without you is an eternity.” she teased, following me as I walked toward Alma’s wing.

 When I arrived, the door opened before I could knock.

 “You weren’t gone long.  Aaliyah give you something she had lying around the condo?” asked Alma.  “A dagger?  Knowing what you’re going up against, she merely gave you a dagger!?”

 She looked up from the letter, still unopened.  The twins watched me curiously from their seats.

 “James, where was that hidden?” she asked.

 “I can’t say where I got it.” I replied.

 “But… do you know what that is!?” she demanded.

 “Carnwennan, which once belonged to a man called Arthur.” I told her.

 “King Arthur.  The King Arthur.  That dagger has been lost since his death!” she insisted.  Well, I had a very good idea what happened to it, but I couldn’t tell her that Arthur handed me the dagger just a moment ago in the distant past.  I sighed, knowing I shouldn’t ask her of Caledfwlch either, since she might start making guesses at that point.  However, I was happy to hear that the dagger actually had a rich history of its own.  Alma had a great deal of stories to tell, and I was more than happy to listen.