#since it’s my birthday have a little grail knight

[corvidfeathers]

Mordred’s monologue - Grail Knight

This is from my thesis play, a grail quest story where Galahad is a trans girl and the world of Logres is slowly dying as a mirror of climate crisis. Me and a theater collective adapted into an immersive play in the summer of 2022, which is still one of the most amazing experiences I’ve ever had the privilege to have. This is one of my favorite pieces of the play, and one that I think can stand on its own.

Image transcript:

MORDRED

I travel three days with Sir Lancelot, which is time enough to remember why I seldom do that. Brave Sir Lancelot, honorable Sir Lancelot, obedient Sir Lancelot; the flower of chivalry, the king’s favorite knight. Arthur and Gwynefer may see no flaw in him, but I know otherwise. He keeps his mask of courtly courtesy, but I feel his eyes on me when he thinks I’m not looking. Waiting for me to show some sign of treachery. Maybe this is why he stayed at my side; every mile we go from Camelot is a mile between me and the king he so loves.

Or maybe he considers it some sort of kindness, to his former squire. Sir Lancelot thinks he will find the Grail with all haste, and return in all glory, and if I remain at his side, a little of it may be left for me.

Or maybe he was just trying to escape Sir Galahad.

On the fourth morning, I wake with a strange certainty ringing in my ears. It calls me to rise and dress as the mist creeps from up the grass and the night bleeds away; there’s something in the mist waiting for me. Lancelot tries to call me back, to warn me from leaving, but why should I pay him mind? We’re all equal on the quest, Sir Galahad said, and it’s not as if the flower of chivalry knows where he’s going. Let him chase after me for once.

Maybe this is the certainty Sir Galahad felt; maybe this is the Grail. The mist thickens as I go onward, until I reach a wide black river.

My mother always told me to mind my wits when I cross water; cross a river without heed, and you may find yourself farther than the other bank. Unlike some, she knew of what she spoke; she knew all the old magics of the land; she whispered of them to me every night, and when I left home she wove spells into my cloak, to keep her youngest son from harm. But that cloak is as tattered as my vows, so I don’t think of her advice when I am knee-deep in the black water, the rush of it all around me.

It sounds like a battle, like a cataclysm, like the crash of the sea against the isle of Orkney, it sounds like death and fate, a cold force that drives onward like the tide that sweeps a ship to the rocks, closer and closer and closer. The current pulls at my feet, at my chest, at my chin until I am like to drown.

Any death but this. Any death but this. A coward’s prayer.

I drag myself out onto the far bank, spitting water, and lie there and let my foolish certainty die. Let Sir Galahad have her quest. Let Sir Lancelot find the Grail- I’m fitted for one fate only, and it isn’t going to be found in this misty forest.

Cross a river without heed, my mother said, and you may find yourself in a kingdom of shadows and lies, a land of ghosts and fae. I don’t think of her advice when I lift my head, and for a moment I think I am back in Camelot; here is the round table, and here the king. A bone-white table, laid out beneath the mist-strung trees, and a king that is monstrous to look upon, a desiccated creature sitting alone at an empty table, with wounds that weep bubbling seafoam and eyes that burn like the bleeding sky, and a crown wrought of stone and oak.

His head hangs with the weight of it. I cannot tear my eyes away, and I know that it is this, this is the tide that pulled me here, not the grail, not the pull of glory or duty but the fate I cannot escape.

Cross a river without heed, my mother said, and you may find that you, yourself, are a shade. I don’t think of her advice when I draw my sword, and drive it into the creature’s chest.

[hasbedidoneanythingbad]

Dinadan | Ruler

Dinadan - Ruler Dinadan manifested in this class due to not having a wish for the grail. He is the only knight other than the king themself to manifest under the Ruler class. Even when alive, he had no wish, he was just content with what he had. He was even content in his dying moments when he was held so closely in Lancelot’s arms. 

Dinadan never cared for fighting or for courtly love. No one is sure why he became a knight, he’s not even sure why either.

Appearance:

Dinadan is a knight of shorter stature, about the height of Sir Mordred. He’s got brown hair that reaches his shoulders and he’s got blue eyes. He also has a little bit of stubble but it’s very faint.

In his first stage, he wears a gown befitting the queen of Camelot herself. He wears this gown due to the part of Arthurian where Lancelot beat him in combat in a dress and then forced him into one, and then paraded around Camelot together in said dresses. 

In his other stages, he switches out the gown for a proper suit of armor. He carries a lyre on his back in all of the stages, he doesnt use it during battle, he just prefers to keep it n him

Personality:

Dinadan is known as the ‘class clown’ out of the knights. He was constantly seen cracking jokes and making light of even the most darkest of situations. His relatively friendly nature and carefree nature was what got him killed, for merely being friends with another knight who was related to the man who killed Mordred and Agravain’s father(King Lot).

When it comes to his relationship with his master, he easily trusts them. This is evident in his bond lines where he openly talks about his life. He even tells them straight out that he’s not a very good knight in his later bonds

Voice lines:

Upon being summoned:

“Nice to meet you master! The name is Dinadan, ruler class. I hope I don’t disappoint!”

Bond Level 1:

“Hey master, I ought to tell you. I aint really good when it comes to fighting, not really my thing. But I’ll try my best!”

Bond Level 2: 

“Hey master, I should write you a song sometime! Oh yeah I’ve written a couple songs! Like once I wrote one about King Mark, Sir Tristan’s uncle. He didnt like it very much..”

Bond Level 3:

“I dont see how you can be so interested in me. I’m not very interesting or as special as your other servants. I’m just some measly little knight that clings to his lyre.”

Bond Level 4:

“You know you’d like Isolde...for some reason you remind me of her. I dunno why! Maybe it’s because you’re so nice to me. And you dont find me annoying like some of the other knights. So thank you for being nice to me!”

Bond Level 5:

“Hey master I wrote you that song! Here let me play it for you...hey no its not like the one I wrote for Mark. This is a ballad about your victories! Your heroic deeds!”

Dialogue about Tristan:

“Sir Tristan! It’s been such a long time since I saw you! You look handsome as ever..Hey dont look so sad my friend. It really is me..I won’t leave you this time.”

Dialogue about Mordred:

“Master please shield me from Mordred! Now isnt the time to ask questions! Please protect me!”

Dialogue about Lancelot(saber):

“Lance my friend! It’s good to see you! Thank you for being there for me in my last moments and for taking me to Camelot...Anyways! We should spar sometime! Maybe this time, I can put you in a dress and parade you around!”

Dialogue about Merlin:

“Up to no good I see. Hey I want in, I’m not a snitch. Oh we’re gonna mess with the doctor? Nice! Lets do it!”

After finishing the Camelot singularity:

“I wish I had lived long enough to stop the knights with Bedi..but alas, I did not… I dont regret many things but I regret that.”

Likes:

“Oh I like to play music and crack jokes! And to be honest, I really like wearing dresses. Lancelot made me realize that...I’ll tell you the tale some other time.”

Dislikes:

“Oh I dont really care for fighting. So I guess that?”

About the grail:

“I’d advise you not mess with that. I don’t think it’d be wise. No I don’t want it. I dont have any use for it.”

During an Event:

“Is that a party? Lets go master!”

Your Birthday:

“Oh it’s your birthday! Well happy birthday! Lets get some sweets and I’ll play you a song, whatever you want!”

[skeeter-110]

I Dreamt About You Every Night

Tony Stark has been dead for seventeen years due to a mission gone wrong. He’s survived getting blown up, palladium poisoning, terrorist attacks, and even Thanos himself, and he gets killed by - what was supposed to be - a simple day-to-day mission. Or, so everyone thought. 

|| Chapter One || || Chapter Two || || Chapter Three || || Chapter Four || || Chapter Five || || Chapter Six || 

Epilogue

“A story has no beginning or end: arbitrarily one chooses that moment of experience from which to look back or from which to look ahead.” ― Graham Greene, The End of the Affair 

A year later

Peter walked through the cemetery on autopilot, not really thinking about where he was going as he continued to walk towards the grave turned tribute. Although, it wasn't like he needed to think to get to where he was going; he's been there so many times before his body just automatically knew where to go.

It felt almost natural, even though Peter hadn't been to the grave/tribute in over a year. He didn't even know what compelled him to visit today of all days.

The old anniversary of Tony's disappearance came and passed and no longer really meant anything - there was a new anniversary now - so there really was no reason for Peter to be there.

And, yet, here he was, sitting down in front of the grave turned tribute.

"I don't know why I'm here if I'm being perfectly honest. At this point, after coming here for seventeen years straight, it's become a habit to come here when something big is happening; and something big has happened. It's my youngest son's first birthday. Even now I can't believe that he was born a year ago. I still wish you could have been there to see him be born." Peter tells the hunk of stone sitting in front of him.

"You're still not over that? Come on, it's been a year and I've apologized multiple times for it. I mean, how was I supposed to know that M.J was going to go into labor the same day the Avengers send me on a mission?" A voice interrupts Peter's soliloquy.

"Well, considering you're supposed to be retired from the Avengers." Peter teases, turning around to come face to face with Tony. "How did you know I was here?"

"Your scary wife told me it's a habit for you to come here when something's happening. You know, I really don't appreciate you leaving me to do all the party planning." tony ridicules, making Peter look away abashedly, seemingly embarrassed for getting caught talking to the grave.

"Yeah, we should start heading back to the house before M.J comes here and drags us there herself." Peter lightheartedly says as he gets up off of the ground and dusts off his pants. Before Peter could walk too far away though, he was stopped by Tony gently grabbing onto his shoulder.

"Hey, I know we didn't really talk about it, but last month kind of marked a year since everything happened and-" Tony began to ramble, still not the greatest at putting his emotions into words, even after all of these years.

"We don't need to talk about that, Tony." Peter brushes off, beginning to walk towards the car again.

"You thought I died again. You don't think there's something there that we should at least discuss?" Tony continues to pry.

"No, there's not. I only thought you were gone for a second because you got out on the other side of the building, but it was only for a second. Now, you're here and you're okay. We're all okay." Peter says, sounding sincere enough for Tony to believe it.

"If you say so, Kid." Tony sighs.

"Now, come on, Grandpa, wouldn't want to miss your grandson's first birthday also." Peter teases, laughing at the disgruntled look he earned in return.

"You know, I really don't appreciate all the mileage this 'Grandpa' joke is getting." Tony grumbles, only really pretended t be upset about it. Everyone and anyone who had eyes could see how tightly Tony was wrapped around all of the children's fingers; especially Annie-May, no matter how much he would deny it.

"Is it really a joke if you're actually a Grandpa, though?" Peter keeps ragging on him, Tony playfully lunging at Peter in revenge.

"Just because technically I'm in my seventies, I still have my forty-year-old body and I can and will kick your ass." Tony threatens. Peter just rolled his eyes and slung his arm around Tony's shoulders as they continued to walk.

"Whatever you say, old man."

*   *   *

Taking in the sight, Peter couldn't help but smile and sigh in satisfaction.

The party went off without a hitch, everyone just glad to be able to celebrate the little one's first birthday. All of the Avengers showed up, although they had to go before the cake was even cut because - of course - crime never sleeps and duty called.

Thankfully, they didn't even have to convince Tony to stay, the man was too wrapped up in practically smothering Richard in either presents or cuddles; never handing the baby off for too long before taking him back.

Now, cake and ice cream have already been passed out and eaten, the presents have all been opened, and all the kids were playing together while Richard slept in Tony's arms.  

Everything just felt so... complete, once again.

"I missed this look on you." M.J says as she sidles up to Peter, gently putting her hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

"What look?" Peter questions, pulling M.J onto his lap.

"The look of contentment." M.J answers, putting her hand up to stop the argument that was about to leave Peter's mouth.

"I know you loved us with your whole heart, and I know you were happy with how our family was, but there was always something missing." M.J explains, looking up at Tony, who was telling all of the kids some sort of story; no doubt about Iron Man. "I'm glad you got back your something missing."

"How did I ever get so lucky to ever have someone like you?" Peter marvels.

"Oh, this is pure selfishness. I never had a father-figure either, so I'm just stealing yours. Why do you think I work for Pepper? It's only to get closer to Tony." M.J teases, making Peter chuckle and squeeze her sides "Also I agree, you are lucky to have a catch like me." M.J adds, Peter playfully biting her shoulder in return.

"Still as cocky as ever." Peter says before pulling M.J down for a kiss. For a moment, it was just Peter and M.J; no one else in the world existed. But, alas, there's a bunch of children in their family.

"Eww." Annie whines, effectively pulling her parents out of their little moment.

"Oh, God, gross! What, is four kids not enough for you?" Morgan spits out, pretending to dramatically throw up on the floor.

"Hey, Tony, did you know there was one time where Morgan had to call me because she went to a Halloween party and-" Peter begins to tell Tony in retaliation, causing Morgan to practically sprint across the room and slam her hand over Peter's mouth.

"No, we are not telling that story!"

"Oh, do you mean the Halloween party she went to in high school dressed up as one of the knights as Monty Python and the Holy Grail, not realizing that high schoolers don't usually dress up?" M.J chimes in making Morgan throw her head back and groan.

"You guys are so embarrassing." Morgan whines while Tony tries to control his laughter.

"I remember that! I also remember specifically warning you that no one else was going to dress up." Pepper adds, giggling a bit at Morgan's beat red face.

"That's why she had to call me! She was too embarrassed to own up to Pepper and tell her she was right." Peter continues to tease. Morgan just huffed and pulled Richard out of Tony's arms.

"I will not take this slander no longer. At least Richard can't talk." Morgan mumbles, walking into the kitchen with the baby; no doubt to fill him up with more sweets.

They continued like that until it was dark and half of the kids were sleeping. Just sitting around, sharing stories, and laughing with each other. Just simply being a family.

And, for the first time in eighteen-years, Peter allowed himself to smile and relax, allowing the feeling of imperturbability to wash over him.

For the first time in eighteen-years Peter's family was finally complete.

And he was going to keep it that way.

Tag List: @lost-lunar-wolf​ @joyful-soul-collector​ @spideyspeaches​ @hatakehikari​ @thatcrackheadsadbitchtm​

[mandibierly]

'Knightfall' star Tom Cullen on chain mail, bloody hotel sheets, and battles that mean something

Jim Carter as Pope Boniface VIII of France and Tom Cullen as Templar Knight Landry in ‘Knightfall’ (Photo: Larry Horricks/HISTORY)

“That’d be boring. Everyone likes a bit of shagging,” Knightfall star Tom Cullen says, echoing our enthusiasm that his character, Landry, has trouble upholding the Templar Knights’ vow of celibacy in the drama’s Dec. 6 premiere. We won’t spoil the surprising love story that fuels the new History series, but we can tell you that the Welsh actor likes to think of the show as “House of Cards meets Vikings,” and rightfully so.

In 1306, Landry becomes the reluctant Master of the Templar Knights in Paris as they search for the lost Cup of Christ for their holy leader, Pope Boniface VIII (Downton Abbey‘s Jim Carter). Also on the hunt for the Holy Grail: William de Nogaret (Downton‘s Julian Ovenden) — the Machiavellian right-hand man to France’s King Philip IV (Ed Stoppard), who considers Landry a trusted friend.

The power struggle Landry finds himself in the middle of does, at times, turn bloody. “I have never worked with that amount of blood before. Seriously, the showers at the end of the day take hours, and sometimes you’re just so tired, you can’t be bothered,” Cullen says. “We were shooting on location, like an hour to an hour and a half outside of Prague, so they put us up in a hotel. And it was one of those days — I was just covered in mud and blood, and I was so tired. I was like, ‘I’m just going to lie down, just five minutes,’ and I didn’t wake up. I woke up in the morning and my face was stuck to the pillow. I pulled it off, and the sheets and the pillow were covered in blood. ‘Oh my god, what am I gonna do? Housekeeping is gonna think I’ve killed somebody.’ So I just left a little note saying, ‘Don’t worry, I’ve taken the body with me.‘”

It was important to Knightfall showrunner Dominic Minghella, who likens the Knights Templar to the Navy SEALS of their day, and to director Douglas Mackinnon, who ended up helming six of Season 1’s 10 episodes, that both the violence and its aftermath feel real. “Often in TV shows, you see your lead characters killing and it being no problem,” Cullen says. “But for the Templars, killing is a choice, and if you’re going to do it, it has to mean something and they bear a consequence. These are religious Christian men. So that was a really big conversation that we had — we made sure that every single fight had an emotional weight to it, and a story weight to it. It isn’t just me swinging a sword around. The fight in Episode 2, where Landry takes on about seven guys, he’s like a whirling dervish because he’s fighting for his surrogate father. Having a fight with that amount of anger and passion and emotion is so fun. As the actor, you absolutely love killing some of those guys. And on that fight, I get to chop a guy’s arm off and then stab him through the stomach — that was great.”

Training for the role was intense. Cullen, who’s “reticent, at best” to go the gym, had to spend three or four hours a day there for about two months to resemble someone who’d have been fighting six hours a day since the age of 12. Once he got to Prague, he juggled boxing, fight training, circuit training, and riding throughout the shoot. “It was the hardest job I’ve ever done, but the most fun I’ve ever had,” he says.

He can, now, respect the fact that Minghella insisted the actors wear 50 lbs. of chain mail in battle sequences as opposed to a lighter rubber imposter that didn’t look authentic on camera. “I didn’t respect it at the time, because I was so angry,” Cullen says with a laugh. “The first time we put it on, I just thought we were f**ked. It was a screen test and I had to walk from my dressing room to the studio — I could hardly get there.”

The Battle of Acre (Photo: Larry Horricks/HISTORY)

There were some “birthing problems” the first few days of shooting as they filmed the series’ big opening sequence in Dubrovnik, which doubles for Acre, in 104-degree heat. Landry and his mentor, Tancrede (Simon Merrells), are running and fighting their way to the dock, carrying the grail. “The chain mail was so heavy and we just weren’t used to it, and Simon slipped and fell into the sea, and sunk to the bottom of the ocean,” Cullen says. “All of these guys dived in and pulled him out, and I was like, ‘Bloody hell, Simon. You all right?’ He was like, ‘Yeah, it was quite beautiful, actually. I like to sink, then I can see the fish swimming past me.’ It was hilarious. But I remember the first time we tried to get on the horses, we couldn’t get on the horses because we didn’t have the power in our legs yet. But by the end of the six months, you can see in some of the shots I leap up. Doing like 16 hours a day in chain mail, my thighs and my butt are now enormous. I’m thinking of setting up this thing called the Chain Mail Diet, because it’s really in at the moment, isn’t it, big butts?”

Cullen considers it a miracle that the worst injury he suffered during the shoot was a twisted ankle. “The show is called Knightfall, so at its heart it’s about a character who gets put through it,” he says. “Every episode, you see Landry beaten around physically and emotionally and mentally, and he’s a warrior — he just dusts himself off, gets back up, and charges forward again like a bull. As he gets more and more beaten, he just becomes stronger and stronger.”

Episode six is a particularly brutal one for Landry, says Cullen, who’s also tortured in HBO’s upcoming miniseries Gunpowder. Premiering Dec. 18, that three-parter stars Game of Thrones‘ Kit Harington as his real-life ancestor Robert Catesby, and Cullen as Guy Fawkes, the most famous of Catesby’s cohorts who tried to blow up the House of Lords in 1605. “I would say what happens in Knightfall is much worse than being stretched, just from my experience,” Cullen says.

Cullen offered one more tease for Knightfall: Season 1 builds to an epic finale that’s the best bit of television or film he’s ever been involved in. “We watched it in the mixing studio, and I just couldn’t believe the scope and the scale of it,” he says. “I think the audience will be incredibly shocked, because some major stuff happens that you just don’t expect, and incredibly moved — I cried when I watched it. Some characters get their revenge, some people don’t. It’s an incredibly satisfying end. But don’t worry, there’s so much more to happen next season.”

Cullen and Zat, as Landry’s horse (Photo: Larry Horricks/HISTORY)

While they’re still awaiting official word on a renewal, the cast and crew are eager to continue the story. “I mean, Zat, my horse, wrote to me the other day. He’s like, ‘I miss your butt. Come sit on me, baby.’ And I’m like, ‘Sure. Coming,‘” Cullen says. But seriously, he did become good friends with the props guys, who gifted him one of his swords at the end of Season 1. They also gave him a birthday present: his own holy grail, placed in a beautiful, handmade wooden box lined with red silk. “They made this plaque on it, so sweet, that says, ‘The Holy Grail, Acre,’ and they put the date of when Acre fell. But because they’re Czech, they didn’t really know how to spell in English, so instead of ‘Holy Grail,’ it says ‘Holly Grail’ with a double L. For me, that makes it even better,” he says. “Like, ‘Guys, I’d like to introduce you to my friend, Holly.’ It’s like an urn: ‘This is my ex-wife.'”

Knightfall premieres Dec. 6 at 10 p.m. on History.

[aion-rsa]

Once & Future Sequel: Cover Reveal & Excerpt (Exclusive)

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Ari and Merlin are back in the follow-up and conclusion to King Arthur reimagining Once & Future: Sword in the Stars.

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Once & Future, a space-set reimagining of Arthurian legend, was one of the most fun reading experiences I've had this year. Cori McCarthy and Amy Rose Capetta's young adult novel casts Arthur as teen girl named Ari living in a future where humanity has populated the galaxy. The story is highly-inclusive, action-packed, and ended on a killer cliffhanger.

Thankfully, McCarthy and Capetta aren't going to leave us hanging for long. Once & Future is the first half of a duology and its sequel and conclusion, Sword in the Stars, is set to be released April 7th, 2020. Better than that, we have a sneak peek! Check out the exclusive cover reveal for the sequel, as well as an exclusive excerpt from the book itself.

Warning: Spoilers for the ending of Once & Future ahead...

Once & Future ended on a great cliffhanger: with Ari and Merlin traveling back in time to the Middle Ages with a seemingly impossible mission: to steal the Holy Grail. How are they faring in Sword in the Stars? Check out this exclusive excerpt...

Lost & Found

Merlin crash landed in the past with a great, undignified belly flop.

            The chaos of waves left him torn between gasps and muttered curses. He had rocketed through the time portal, an endless sky dive without parameters or parachutes, before it dumped him in this flooded, cramped, circle of stone.

            “Anyone else down here?” He bobbed. “No? Just me?” He splashed around, finding rough stone and high above, a hole punch of blue sky. This was no cavern. The walls had been hacked in a pattern that spoke of plans and intentions and humanity. He was in a well.

            “Nothing a little magic won’t fix.” But when Merlin went to dig some up, he was near empty. Trying to keep everyone together in a time portal with completely different laws of physics had drained him. And it hadn’t even worked. He would worry about that later; for now he had to get out and see if their great gamble had paid off.

            Merlin braced his arms and legs for a long climb. The well was narrow enough that he could jam himself between two opposing sides, scuttling upward and hurting his back and his neck and his dignity most of all. “Dignity is for knights,” he scoffed under his breath. Merlin was a mage. A bit of absurdity came with the territory.

            When he reached the top, he gripped the side, hoisted one leg, and rolled over. Merlin hit the flagstones of a central square with a resounding smack. He stood, shoved his glasses into place, and looked around.

            At Camelot.

            It wasn’t off in some hazy distance, surrounded by dragons and dreams. The city was here, the city was now. A normal day in Camelot should have been bustling with crowds, crying babies, forges clanging, and those incessant flutists, a shrill reminder that music wouldn’t improve for centuries. Yet all was silent, still. Layers of odor that Merlin hadn’t even known he’d missed stampeded his senses. Damp earth. Sprightly grass. Meat cooked in a godless amount of butter…

            And there was his castle rising above the whole scene, keeping watch over the city. It was Arthur’s too, yes, but Merlin had design it for the young king, giving it towers and secrets that regular castles could hardly dream about. It had been his highest achievement, next to Arthur’s reign. Only now the castle looked small—the starscrapers of the twenty-second century had broken Merlin’s sense of scale—and yet the way it stood against this perfect blue morning left a mark.

            On the sky. On his soul.

            He was home.

            Merlin’s memories should have risen up to meet him, rather like the flagstones had risen up to meet his face, but none were forthcoming. Perhaps he was too nervous. After all, he wasn’t supposed to be facing his past alone. The time portal had tried to burst his body into atomic confetti, but even worse, it had ripped his friends away from one another. Merlin looked around for Ari, Gwen, Jordan, Lam, and Val, wondering if they’d all landed safely in the square while he alone had had the misfortune of shooting straight down the barrel of a smelly well.

            All he found was one young person with a gaping mouth and fishy-wide eyes watching his every move. They had ruddy white skin and scruffy brown hair, and they said a word that sounded a fair bit like shit.

            It was hard to adjust now that Merlin had gotten used to the distinct Mercer accent of the future. Not Mercer; English, the language is English, Merlin corrected. Curse that consumer monster with its uncanny knack for swallowing culture and rebranding history! Actually, he’d gone back far enough that England didn’t exist quite yet. The island was known as Brittania during this time. He spent a moment mentally mapping it out: Camelot’s golden age had flowered just before the Norman invasion, and after the island’s run-in with the Roman Empire, which left nothing but divisions and bath houses in its wake.

            “Good day!” Merlin shouted heartily, causing the scruffy kid to drop their bucket.

            They eyed Merlin, then the well. “Did you spring from the roots of the stone?”

            “Stones don’t have roots,” Merlin quipped, though he enjoyed the way this language lent itself to metaphor. His future-y friends had been so amused by his allegorical loquaciousness, but it was a remnant of his origins, a rare one he actually treasured. Not that he knew his precise origins. The farthest back he could remember was waking up in the crystal cave, ancient and alone.

            “Then where did you come from?” the small stranger asked.

            Merlin suppressed the desire to say a galaxy far, far away. “I’m from Camelot.”

            He was only half a foot taller than this young person, which begged the question, how old was Merlin these days? Was it possible he’d gotten younger since they left the future? Perhaps the portal had shaved off more of his life. A penalty for time travel? Morgana had given up her existence to send them back, while Excalibur had broken to bits. Was this his price?

            Merlin loved magic, but sometimes it was unmistakably the worst.

            The kid grumbled as they sent the bucket down the well, while Merlin twisted water from the ruby robes Ari had gifted him on Ketch. He tried not to look suspicious, though that ship had probably sailed to distant seas by now. First things first, he needed to find the crowds. Ari was always at the center of the action, the others not far behind. They were her little ducklings. Thinking of Jordan and her knightly skills, he course-corrected: lethal ducklings. “What’s happening today? Where is everyone?”

            “All attend King Arthur’s wedding,” the kid said, sweating under the weight of the bucket as they brought it back up. “He takes his bride in the tournament ring.”

            Oh yes, the ever-delightful treatment of women as possessions. He was definitely back.

            Something clicked oddly. “Gweneviere? Arthur is already marrying Queen Gweneviere?” He didn’t know why he was surprised. He’d commanded the portal to take them back to Arthur’s eighteenth birthday season, which had been a particularly momentous time for the young king and a rather squishy blank period in Merlin’s memories. That’s when the enchanted chalice had appeared—and disappeared—and that’s what Arthur’s spirit had sent them back to retrieve.

            “The Lady Gweneviere comes from afar,” the kid said eagerly. “An exotic beauty. My friend says she’s a force for good in Camelot, but my mother believes she bewitched the king.”

            Ah, another piece of the past he hadn’t missed. The perfect storm of anti-political, cultural, and social correctness. His friends were in for a migraine of homophobic, racist, and gender-related fuckery. He had to find them. Fast.

            “Where is the wedding?” Merlin barked, making the kid jump.

            They pointed beyond the city walls, and Merlin left at a run. His path wound him around Camelot’s central castle, as glowering as it was grand, with eight-foot thick walls, stones capped with dark moss, and mere arrow slits for windows. He forced himself not to look up at the tallest tower. Another version of him might be up there, even now. Merlin had told his friends he didn’t want to expose them to the horrors of the middle ages, which was true, but some of those horrors weren’t just historical. They were deeply, deeply personal. He had to avoid a run-in with his old self at all costs.

            “Shouldn’t be hard,” he murmured. “As long as we stay out of the castle and don’t cause any scenes.” How likely was it that Ari had found trouble in the few minutes they’d been apart?

            Good heavens, Merlin needed to sprint.

            As his breath cut short and his feet rubbed against the inside of his wet boots, he soothed himself with one of his focused to-do lists. Merlin had to find his friends, steal the chalice, and make a new time portal to return them to the night they left.

            Oh, he thought, three steps. Always a good sign.

            In the back of his mind he added less immediate, but ever-important hopes: to protect Gwen’s baby, reverse his ridiculous backwards aging, and release Arthur’s spirit from Ari’s body, allowing the dead king to finally rest. To end this cursed cycle once and for all. But surely those things would happen if they made it back to the future and irreversibly stopped Mercer.

            “Piece of—” A scent wafted over Merlin. “Delicious roasted meat.”

            A cheer rifled the air, and the cacophony led him through the main gates and up a dirt road slick with mud. In the near distance, atop a perfectly green hill, a proud tournament ring held thousands of people and quite the celebration. The pennants were flying, bearing the red dragon and Excalibur. More promising smells hit. His stomach roared, and he told it to stop being so Kay-like.

            He pushed himself to remember the less than admirable qualities of this place. Even from a distance, the divisions of an unequal society stood out. Commoners huddled together on the edges of the ring, while the nobles kept comfy seats under the dyed red pavilions. If Merlin dared to ask anyone their pronouns, he might very well be treated as more dangerous than a rogue mage.

            Merlin elbowed through the commoners for a better look. He was a bit grimy from well climbing, which helped him fit in with this foul-smelling bunch. Musicians lit up horns, and everyone stilled with anticipation. Everything looked and sounded and felt like the start of a royal celebration.

            He really had come out of the time portal at the right moment. It was the first bit of good news since Ketch, when for a few glorious nights he’d believe the universe was free of the Mercer Company’s oily grasp and headed for the end of the Arthurian cycle. He had celebrated with Val and copious amounts of kissing.

            Val. They had all gotten separated in the time portal—Ari first, then Gwen, Lam, and Jordan—but Val and Merlin had been holding onto each other, Val’s brown eyes the only grounding force as every rule of physics was stripped away, and they plummeted toward a nightmare Merlin thought he’d escaped long ago.

            And then Merlin blinked, and Val was gone. Stolen right out of his arms.

            Drumbeats announced the procession as knight after knight on horseback rode into the ring. Merlin watched while they circled, noticing armor from all kinds of places. Most likely these knights had traveled for weeks to attend the event and seek favor from the king. Some of their suits were polished silver, some red, scratched, and dented, others blackened with coal. One knight stood out in blue armor, a circular dragon emblazoned on his breastplate.

            Merlin squinted, both recognizing the image and drawing a complete blank. “I should remember more,” he muttered, but then, he was seeing this wedding for the first time. His old self had boycotted Arthur’s wedding—that much he did remember.

            After the knights, women with flowers in their hair and woven around their ankles stepped forward, faces calm but unsmiling. As they formed a circle and started a complex pattern of steps, Merlin noted that it wasn’t a homogenous medieval dance crew. For some reason, he had expected everyone to be whiter than the puffy clouds above the tournament ring. A single look proved that wasn’t true. While some girls were white and wildly freckled, others had smooth bronze complexions. There were pale blondes and paler redheads, as well as maidens with warm brown skin and tight black curls tumbling out of their braided crowns. One girl had a Middle Eastern set to her features and jewel-bright eyes much like Ari. And one looked so much like Jordan with her thick blonde braid that Merlin did a double take. But no. Jordan would put her neck on the block before she’d throw herself into such festivities.

            Merlin went back to scanning the—also surprisingly diverse—crowd for his friends, when the star of the show appeared.

            “King Arthur!” the people cried as one. “All hail King Arthur!”

            Merlin’s heart skidded to a stop. It had been so long since he’d seen Arthur. His first family, his only real family until Ari and the others swept him into their lives. At a distance, Arthur looked small, his straw hair unkempt beneath a golden circlet crown and his moves jerky with nerves. There was no command in his presence, no steel in his gaze. He wasn’t yet the king of legend, but he wasn’t the curious, half-wild boy Merlin visited so often in memories. He was caught between the two.

            Merlin wanted nothing more than to shout Arthur’s name, break through the crowds, and reunite himself with his former ward and first magical pupil, but such a meeting wasn’t in the books. Interacting with the story in the past was strictly off-limits. They were here to steal from Camelot, not make fools of themselves by bum-rushing the king.

            Arthur walked slightly sideways, pulling a woman in a cream-white dress in his wake. She wore greenery in her dark curled hair, blossoms around her neck, and a decorative knot of cords on her wrist that bound her to Arthur’s arm.

            “Gweneviere!” several people shouted, almost reverently. Many more stayed silent. While no one would openly jeer the king’s choice, dislike crusted over plenty of features. Merlin huffed and looked back to the bride. And blinked. And then blinked harder.

            Gwen?

            The girl he’d known as the queen of her own Renaissance Faire Planet was standing at the dead center of Camelot, her gaze defiant until she turned to Arthur and gave him an encouraging nod. Gwen looked like she fit right in, perhaps because her life had been a unique form of training for this moment. Though her mix of European and East Asian heritage set her apart enough that the youth at the well had given her the micro aggressive title of “exotic.”

            The truth was that Gwen had come from much farther than China or Japan. Far enough to be measured in galaxies and centuries. That’s the sort of distance it took to be safe from Mercer, and they were meant to be hiding out, yet it looked like Gwen had done more than storm the castle—she’d broken down the doors of the king’s heart.

            In a single day? How?

Sword in the Stars is now available to pre-order via Amazon. Once and Future is now available to buy at local independent bookstore—such as the authors' local independent bookstore, Bear Ponds Books. 

You can check out our podcast interview with McCarthy and Capetta below....

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Kayti Burt is a staff editor covering books, TV, movies, and fan culture at Den of Geek. Read more of her work here or follow her on Twitter @kaytiburt.

Read and download the Den of Geek SDCC 2019 Special Edition Magazine right here!

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Feature Kayti Burt

Aug 12, 2019

Young Adult Fiction

from Books https://ift.tt/302z5Yo