A Measure Too Late
The clang of metal against metal sounded in the air. She traded a smirk for his surprised expression, before moving her arm in a semi-circle to direct his sword away from her.
It had been a joke. A simple playful challenge.
And now they were seriously sparring with sword skills she hadn’t known she had. She was delighted to see he wasn’t going to back down from some notion of chivalry, and that he was taking her seriously and treating her as an equal. More so that he wasn’t throwing some tantrum or becoming upset that she was choosing to fight or that she could fight with a sword, like some other pigheaded men she knew would act like. In fact, he looked curious and interested in this new development.
He even looked every bit as delighted as her.
He took it up a notch, but didn’t go full out on her. There was a distinction in their skills that they both acknowledged, that he took note of and adjusted for. It wouldn’t be a fair or fun fight otherwise, and they were enjoying a leveled fight better than they would have a one-sided one.
All of a sudden she made a sharp jab at his jugular that he hadn’t expected, and he’d focused all his attention on it that he didn’t account for it being a misdirection and for her to instead drop to her hands and do a leg sweep that had him tumbling backwards to the ground. She immediately capitalized on it, by lunging forward and straddling him, holding her sword up and putting the tip to his throat.
“Well, that was unexpected,” Tristan grinned, chuckling.
“But fun,” she purred, smirking at him.
“So the stray cat I picked up has claws, does she?” Tristan murmured, and then he slapped the sword out of her hand and then reversed their positions, taking enjoyment in her surprise.
“Hm. I’m certainly in a predicament,” she said nonchalantly, the barest hint of her smirk still there.
“Yes. You are,” and then he leaned over her and kissed her lips.
She was feisty, but she could also be elegant. She was witty and yet well-spoken as well. She was polite, but could bite back and be passionate about certain things. She was so full of life and so vibrant.
She was absolutely perfect to him.
A drop of rain hit his head and then more drops fell from the sky. They blinked and flinched, glancing up at the sky.
“It’s raining!” she laughed.
“It is,” and then he got up and startled her as he picked her up and carried her bridal style as he ran back to his castle, both of them laughing freely.
They’d just settled in when they heard the heavy doors of the entrance hall being pounded against. Glancing at each other in bemusement, Tristan went to answer it. A second later he returned with another, more older, man in tow. The man smiled pleasantly at her.
“Merlin, this is John Bishop. He’s a traveling priest,” Tristan informed her.
Merlin smiled uneasily and stood up to curtsey. In turn, the priest bowed as well.
“Thank you for your hospitality. Your kindness is most appreciated,” he addressed them both. “I hope the Lady will not mind my presence here?” John questioned, glancing at Merlin with a small smile.
“Ah, I’m not the Lady of the castle,” Merlin hurriedly explained. “The same as you, I suppose. I sought shelter here, as you have. Though I’m…not sure how or why. I’m not really sure of much, though my memory hasn’t hurt my health at least.”
John’s eyebrows raised. “Memory loss, I am gathering? How unfortunate. I hope the Good Lord will return it to you, or that at least a good reason has been done for such a thing, milady.”
“Thank you for your words, good sir,” Merlin slanted her head forward.
“How about a hot meal?” Tristan interrupted. “It is dark and wet out, and I believe it is near dinnertime.”
“That would be lovely,” John smiled faintly.
Dinner that night was strange but not uncomfortable, and the two of them actually found John’s presence rather soothing. He was a kind and rather gentle man, and also rather intelligent. After dinner, the three spent the rest of the night speaking and debating various topics before splitting ways before bed.
When it came time for Merlin and Tristan to head to bed, instead of going to his room as usual, she stood on her tip toes and kissed his cheek, bidding him goodnight.
“You are going to your room?” he asked hesitantly.
She gave him a fond look. “As much as I am used to and love sharing your bed, I believe it is rather inappropriate, in hindsight. And especially with a priest around. I’ll see you tomorrow, Tristan.”
Merlin gave him one last sweet kiss and then started walking in the direction of her own room, long since abandoned in favor of laying with Tristan.
“But we are just sleeping together,” he muttered, not willing to admit the pout in his voice.
He sighed and turned, nearly shocked out of his wits to see John standing behind him, looking embarrassed.
“I’m sorry for intruding. Er, for both right now and for the peaceful solitude you’ve had in this castle with her all this while. I did not mean to be a bother,” the priest apologized.
Tristan waved him off, offering a resigned but sincere smile. “It’s alright. Neither of us would hear of sending you away. Anyways, was there something you needed?”
“Ah, I was on my way to the room you’d lent me, when I remembered to ask you when would fast in the morning be broken? I didn’t wish to be late and be a trouble to you and Lady Merlin.”
“Well, we’re usually early risers. We have breakfast three hours after dawn.”
John nodded. “I see…” he hesitated. “I wonder if I may ask of Lady Merlin? Of how she was brought here, in particular. It is such a shame for her to have such misfortune befall her, though it is luck that she managed to happen upon you.”
Tristan furrowed his eyebrows. “Truthfully, it is very odd how she came about here. I found her unconscious and with fever on my training field. When awoken, we both discovered she had no recollection of anything of her life or who she was, only her first name. Aside from that, she was a blank slate with her past.”
“I understand. Then it is truly good that it was you she came to be with, and not someone else that would be more likely to take advantage of her in her state,” John spoke with a heartfelt tone.
“I find myself the lucky one,” Tristan confessed. “It was like a gift from God, her sudden presence to me. I truly thought her an angel, and even now I wonder. I have never been happier in my life. She is…she is one of a kind. Merlin is already dearly beloved to me. Though I know I should wish her memory back, the truth is I would much rather it never did and I would be able to keep her by my side.”
“What a romantic story, it is,” John smiled gently. “A lost but beautiful woman and a lonely lord, suddenly brought together. I’ve always been a bit of a romantic, you know. I’ve been told that I have an unconventional and non-traditional leaning in the teachings of the Lord.”
He clapped a comforting hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “Perhaps that is the reason why the Lord took her memory. Perhaps her past was meant to be forgotten, and was horrible to begin with and He wished her a more better future. Perhaps then He willed her your way.”
“I hope so,” Tristan murmured. “It’s already been nine months. It just feels right with her here.” But a smile slowly crossed his lips as a thought crossed his mind. “Actually, I may have to ask a favor of you, Priest.”
John continued to smile, willing to help and his services offered freely.
And as it was nine months there, only nine days had passed with the others. And it wasn’t a happy nine days either. It was absolutely miserable.
Morgana was finally back with the others and contributing with the research, though a scowl seemed permanently etched onto her face. Arthur was also in a dismal state, face pale and drawn. Gaius could note that it was obvious the prince was lacking sleep and probably hadn’t been feeding himself properly.
He would’ve commiserated and be suffering his depression with the King, had the man not been in his own state of withdrawal and misery. And in an odd balance with his melancholy, Uther was also simultaneously single-mindedly reading and focusing on Merlin’s magic book with a one-track determination usually reserved for the times he’d used to concentrate on persecuting magic.
“Is Merlin a woman?”
Gaius blinked and had to rethink what he’d just heard. He lifted his head up slowly to look up and see Morgana staring intensely at him and Arthur, and Gaius’ breath caught in his throat. He didn’t think he was getting enough air, much less enough for him to speak an answer.
“Of course she is, you twit,” Arthur snapped. “Finally figured it out? About time.”
“You two are lying!” Morgana stood up abruptly, her chair screeching behind her as it was scooted back. “Uther’s got the two of you in on it, doesn’t he? He told you to keep up this sick lie!”
Well, Gaius hadn’t even said anything, but he supposed he would have told the truth and be put with Arthur anyways.
“Oh, get over yourself,” Arthur was already at his breaking point. “You’re so thickheaded, you can’t even see beyond your powdered nose! And now that you know the truth, bugger off of her! She’s my fiancée!”
Morgana threw a book at Arthur, face completely furious.
“Quit all your lies! That’s probably why Uther said it in the first place –to soothe his precious prince and son with his unrequited love!” She started gathering the books near into a pile in her arms. “I’m leaving! I’ll read these in my room and I’ll save Merlin myself! And unlike you, I’ve got an edge!” she ended cryptically, sneering at him.
She angrily tore out of the room and a candle nearby flared up menacingly, startling the two males. Gaius felt like he was close to having a heart attack.
“Stupid drafts!” Arthur growled, excusing the odd flare.
Gaius inwardly sighed in relief before wincing. He could quite understand Merlin’s frequent claims about the Pendragon family going to be the death of her one of these days. He felt it quite true and thought he might probably suffer from the same fate.
Meanwhile, the patriarch of such a troublesome family had just finished the last page of the magic book in front of him, jotting down the last of his notes. He had painstakingly read through each page with a careful eye, sometimes going back and rereading to make sure he didn’t miss anything and also for points that he didn’t understand and had to go back and read it over again until he understood it. He’d also written careful notes, marking pages that he thought might help, and writing pros and cons about each spell.
But not everything seemed a complete fit to a solution that would help.
He gritted his teeth and knew that there was no other choice but to confront that confounded dragon and ask for help. Setting the book aside and, after a moment’s hesitation, placed the page of his notes of the spell he felt was the absolute best chance they had on top, he strode out of his room to find the damn lizard.
When he traveled all the way down to the dungeons and had made it to the entrance of the cavern deep down under the castle, he took a deep breath and began his descent into the dark depths. Just before he would turn the corner that would open up to the dragon’s lair, he stopped and turned before leaning casually against the rock wall just as a burst of fire rammed into the area of the entrance, which would have incinerated him had he continued his way into the cavern.
“King of Nothing, you dare come here yet again,” the beast growled angrily.
At least it wasn’t a roar. He might have some hope then.
“I need your help,” Uther stated stoically, revealing nothing in his words or voice.
“Help! As if I would help the likes of you, Fool of Fortunes!”
Uther gritted his teeth, but reminded himself Merlin was at stake here and that he would have to tolerate this…thing, as he had tolerated reading a magic book for the past nine days.
“You helped me before.”
“Through no wish of mine! It is only on behalf of my kin, though she refuses to acknowledge our relation, that I did so begrudgingly help an errant fool of a man as yourself,” the blasted dragon persisted in insulting.
“So you will not help me, even if it means forsaking Merlin?” Uther calculatingly called out, rousing the beast’s interest at the same time as using its words against it.
“What trouble has the sorceress gotten herself into this time?” the dragon’s voice rumbled reluctantly.
“Another sorceress trespassed into the castle nine days ago and somehow managed to send Merlin back in time. There is a spell that will enable someone to go to her and bring her back, however the spell specifically addresses the fact that she must be willing to come back. Through personal letters, I know where and when she is, but also that it is likely she has had her memory removed and is happy with the person she is staying with and with her situation. If that is true, she will not be willing to come back…at least not without proper persuasion,” Uther ended with a heavy hint.
“You intend to find a way to reach out to her and try to change her mind, even with the handicap of her memory loss,” the dragon breathed fire through its nose. “You know it is very likely that she may have been doused by water from the River of Lethe to incur such memory loss, and depending on the amount the permanency or intensity of the loss is judged by?”
Uther stayed quiet, but the Great Dragon deduced it was from confusion and not by the impact of such severity of the problem.
“You know some magic, but not enough.”
“I know not of what you speak,” Uther spat out angrily, “but I understand the rest of your words at least. The important part of what you’re saying. And I have faith that Merlin will be able to overcome such power of this…Lethe thing, no matter how much of it she was forced to intake or be showered with.”
“Very well. Do you remember the Isle of the Blessed?”
“Yes,” the King answered shortly.
“You have gone there, yes? And you remember the way?”
“Yes,” Uther confirmed impatiently.
“Do you remember the Fountain?”
Here, Uther hesitated a bit in reluctance, but confirmed that also.
“Find it again. It is your only hope to reach out to her.”
Uther frowned. “What if I go to the future again instead? She is in the past. The last time I came into contact with this fountain, I had reached her in the future.”
“It is the intent. You must keep your intent in mind as you use the Fountain, and keep a clear and focused image of Merlin as you jump into the waters.”
Well, at least someone knew something about that fountain. Gaius and Nimueh before had seemed certain that it was a doomed sentence to jump into its waters for some reason. Perhaps he and Merlin, after he’d helped retrieved her with Arthur, will look into it together, as a side project and as bonding time…
“Then I will be back with her,” he said tonelessly, swiftly vacating his spot.
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More fire came his way, despite not even aimed correctly or (though it might be his imagination) that it didn’t seem nearly as hot as before.
Without further ado, he began his journey to the Isle of the Blessed. It took him the better part of two days, considering he was traveling alone and he was trying to keep a low profile, as well as the treacherous roads he had to go through (and the fact that it took him a bit to remember the exact directions he needed to get there) and avoidance of interacting with people. When he got there, he uneasily used the wooden boat to get across before making it onto the mainland. Still uneasy, he tried to remember the way to the heart of the isle, finding the fountain that should so find him in need of its power.
“Who walks these dangerous paths?”
Uther tensed, but replied back warily. “It’s no business of yours. I thought that these parts were home only to Nimueh…”
A plain man dressed in brown robes walked into the area, glancing at the Fountain and then at him.
“Home to her until her death. She’d kept others off of the Isle of the Blessed until her timely demise, and I mean timely. Once she was gone, many of the old have since freely trekked to and fro the isle. I was, am a High Priest of the Old Religion, as Nimueh had been Priestess. Priest, whichever the changeling chose at the time. Now that she is not here to hoard this sacred place to herself, I and some others have trailed back to claim homes. Now whose presence has come and wishes to brave the Fountain?”
“So there is a capital in that ‘F’,” Uther muttered to himself. He coughed and then looked defiant as he said his name. “Uther Pendragon.”
The man’s eyes flashed and he stepped forward threateningly, raising the staff he carried ominously. Uther put on a brave front, thinking that in hindsight that it was probably a bad idea to have announced himself as such, but as Merlin was fond of reminding him –either his arrogance or his blinding devotion to his family (in this instance Merlin) was going to get him killed faster than he could blinked. He just couldn’t help himself. That some idiot was standing in his way of being part of Merlin’s rescue had him shoot his mouth off.
“Back off, I won’t have you jeopardize my mission to rescue Merlin,” Uther barked out, remaining steadfast. “I won’t let Emrys be rid of me just yet, because of you!”
The man paused. “Emrys, you say?”
Uther frowned, though made a mental note to speak of Merlin’s alternate name to any future magic-users he came across just in the case that it might save him like it had now. The name seemed to mean a great deal, he noticed…
“Yes, Emrys is my friend and stuck in the past. I was…advised that this Fountain would help me to retrieve her.”
The man seemed to suddenly wilt and become less aggressive, watching him in scrutiny instead.
“I am Alator,” the High Priest murmured. “The Fountain is dangerous. No one goes in there.”
“So I’ve been told,” Uther said sarcastically. “I’ve already been. Right before Nimueh’s demise. As far as I –or Emrys –are certain, it transports one through time.”
Alator furrowed his eyebrows and Uther had the thought that maybe he and Merlin –and somehow that dragon –were the only ones to have any such knowledge of any workings of the Fountain.
“I see…I also see she’s also your soul mate.”
Uther choked on his breath and turned wide, disbelieving eyes on the man, who chuckled and shook his head.
“No, I mean it differently. I meant familial. Soul mates are not restricted to lovers, but also to those souls who will be family through lifetimes, friends, etc. The bond you are thinking of are what is called ‘true flames’ or ‘twin souls’. True soul mates like that is a dangerous thought. Sometimes in life, the extreme cases have true flames descending into madness without the other, especially if they’ve already met the other half and either death or some sort of separation is the cause. Even together, they have a tendency to obsessively focus on their other half, and damn the rest around them. True twin souls, if both or even just one of them is important enough to the world, can cause great destruction if not careful.”
Uther had a feeling, one both worried and yet also sickeningly pleased, that Arthur and Merlin were probably twin souls. And there was no doubt in his mind Ingraine was his, no matter what anyone would tell him. He would believe that to his death, especially since the only thing to bring him from the brink of madness after her death had been Merlin –which makes sense, if she was a ‘familial soul mate’. He wanted to ask more questions, but he knew that he had no time.
“I can see the lines between people,” Alator’s eyes watched him sharply. “I can see their bonds. Alive, she is the strongest bond you have, even beyond your son. I have no doubt that you will be able to reach her, should you jump into the Fountain.”
And Uther did, without further prompting from himself or the High Priest.
“How interesting,” Alator hmmed. “Time and Fate. What are you doing? And Uther Pendragon, of all people…what an intriguing twist. A magic-hater’s most potent and strongest bond is to a magic-user. The most powerful magic-user of all time…
“Oh Goddesses, Gaia, what are the steps of Destiny?”
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Uther blinked, feeling disconcerted as he landed on his feet roughly. He saw the familiar castle of Tristan’s, and ran towards it hurriedly, having a gut feeling that he needed to hurry. However, he was going too fast and was about to crash into the doors, when he actually went through it. Gasping in surprise, he suspiciously stuck his hand through the doors, after landing inside, and gaped when his arm went through.
“What the hell? Am I a ghost or something?” he twitched.
It was much more disconcerting than occupying his alternate’s body.
He shook his head and remembered his purpose, hurrying again. He had just flown through the doors of Tristan’s grand hall, only to see three people standing close together. Someone unfamiliar stood a step up on the dais, and Tristan and Merlin stood a step lower and facing each other.
“I marry you,” Merlin murmured.
And Tristan’s wide smile halted Uther and he stood in shock and absolutely frozen.
“Then it is done. I announce you Lord and Lady de Bois,” the unknown man’s voice echoed through the hall and reverberated down to Uther’s core.
“I pronounce you man and wife.”
Uther, it seemed, had been too late.