Chapter 2:

With his memories now returned, Arthur is beginning to see his world in a different light. But he may be biting off more than he can chew...

Merlin finds out more about the Dark and the Old Ones of the Light, and Bran reveals who he really is. It leaves Merlin unsurprised at Bran's involvement in the current apocalypse.

"Merlin," was the first word Arthur uttered when he woke up that day.

He remembered now. He had been reborn. His former life at Camelot: growing up there, his time with Merlin when he was prince, and later, Merlin advising him during his days as king all came back to him like a blank book suddenly filled with his autobiography.

Despite being understandably overwhelmed as the rush of memories caused him to almost forget where and when he was, Arthur felt more complete than he ever had been before.

Unfortunately, he still wasn't sure who had possessed him that day at work a week ago now. Though he had confided in Lancelot that he'd believed that he had been possessed by himself, Arthur wasn't confident himself about that conclusion. What did that even mean anyway? He thought that maybe it had been a past life of his, but now remembering his former life, Arthur shot down that idea. It couldn't have been his past self.

Whoever had been inside him felt familiar, but not that familiar. Not to mention Arthur had never encountered warestones back in Camelot or in his current life prior to that day at work. Or he never particularly had a penchant for premonitions like the one about believing the apocalypse was coming.

Of course now, well, Arthur would have to concede that his foresight may be very possibly true. He could feel even now that something was just not right. He was positive he wasn't under possession at the moment either. So apparently he had developed an extra awareness of the situation around him. Maybe it was a side effect of remembering his former life?

He went to take a shower. As the cold spray hit him, Arthur wondered why he heard a sound like a door closing and then a lock clicking, shutting the door in what felt like a very permanent way.

The sound of it was so loud, that Arthur wasn't sure where it could be coming from. It certainly hadn't been the bathroom door. And he was the only one in the house. He also felt that something was not right. That this door closing shouldn't be allowed to happen under any circumstances. An inexplicable realization hit him that he may never see Merlin again… that Merlin was far away from him, and with the locked door blocking the path, he would never get to meet his closest confidante's current incarnation.

Arthur dearly wished that he had met that Merlin who was Lancelot's friend. He knew without a doubt that the man had to be Merlin's incarnation. It wasn't just because of his name, okay well, yes a little bit, but Arthur had sensed an affinity with the man when Lancelot had shown him a picture of Merlin. Anyway, a Merlin who was friends with a Lancelot and Gwen? Clearly, that all didn't amount to a coincidence. Why Arthur hadn't remembered sooner considering he was best mates with a Lancelot, he didn't know.

It was all rather ridiculous when all these coincidences were right in front of you, and you just don't pay too much attention to them.

He hated this feeling of separation. He could barely get any relief from his cold shower as his mind started to worry about being alone for the rest of his life. That he'd never be able to spend the rest of his life with Merlin as they were meant to.

Arthur mused that Merlin most likely hadn't remembered his past life if he hadn't made contact with Arthur already. Surely if Merlin had properly remembered Camelot and Arthur, he would have made the extra effort to meet Arthur?

Arthur thought Merlin would be the one to remember first because of his magic, but apparently magic wasn't a factor in this case.

But then, what did he know? He wasn't knowledgeable of how things worked with reincarnation anyway. It was all just assumptions for now. Arthur absentmindedly got dressed as he continued to consider and reflect on the memories he had just regained.

As he descended the stairs, Arthur looked up. He groaned.

There were flyers for the blasted organ donations taped all over his walls, even some were on the ceilingof all places. He just knew something was not right about them. Maybe, at another time, he would have taken part in the programme. But now, Arthur couldn't shake the feeling that something devious was at play with the current organ donation business.

Glaring at the offending pieces of paper, he removed every one of them from the walls and even from the ceiling as well.

Grimly, Arthur tossed all the papers into the fireplace, the fire burning each paper, the paper crinkling as each sheet caught a flame and the white darkened into black. All the flyers disintegrated into ash under Arthur's frustrated gaze.

In the kitchen, he made himself some breakfast with a strong cup of tea. He decided that it'd be a good idea to call Morgana. She was his adopted sister in this life; no blood relation like it had been back in Camelot where she had been his half-sister. What if she had remembered her past life at Camelot?

Then Arthur unpleasantly recalled that Morgana had been into dark magic, and they had a big falling out back in the days of Camelot. So maybe it would be better if she hadn't remembered her days as a dark sorceress, longtime adversary to him and Merlin…

With a sigh, he called her on his mobile.

"Morgana? It's me, Arthur," he started.

"What is it?"

"Are you all right?"

"Of course I am. I'm feeling lovely actually. I'm going to take part in the programme."

"Wait, you mean the organ donations? Morgana, I think there's-"

But Morgana cut him off. She said breezily, "I talked to this Mr. Mitothin. He explained it all to me. It's a verygood cause, Arthur."

Arthur hummed non-committally at her, focused on writing down, 'Mr. Mitothin – needs to be checked out' on the half sheet he had in front of him.

"Listen, Morgana… I don't think you should go through with it. I have this bad feeling. Something's not right about the programme."

"Oh, Arthur. You're just worrying too much about nothing. Donating organs reminds me of those boarding schools. Remember them? Hailsham, Whitechapel and Haven Cove? For sick children who needed to get well? And they had the best teachers. One couldn't want for a better education."

Arthur had heard of those three schools. He always thought they were schools for poor children because they were the ones more likely to get sick. Everything about the three schools was very secretive except for the exemplary health record, impressive education standards and the odd penchant for most of the students to be organ donors.

Sometimes, Arthur had wondered what secret the schools were hiding because it all seemed too good to be true. But he had grown up as all children do. His focus shifted to excelling in his studies and extracurricular activities that he hadn't had time to spare to think about those boarding schools anymore.

"What's your point, Morgana?" Arthur asked her, his tone impatient.

"Gwen told me that Merlin told her that he might have gone to one of those schools. But somehow he got out of it. They were really gunning for him."

"But Merlin wasn't a sick child, was he?"

"No, I don't think so, at least going by what Gwen told me. He and his mum weren't exactly well off, Arthur. Merlin's mother was almost convinced that this was the right thing for him. To get that education that might give him the extra advantage later on when going for university… but well, neither Gwen or Merlin know what convinced his mother in the end to not go through with it. I personally think it's that elusive uncle of his, Stephen, who dissuaded her. Do you know where he is, Arthur?"

"Of course not."

"Because it's important that you tell me if you do. He's the enemy."

"Morgana…what are you on about?" Something inside him told him that it wasn't the best idea to tell Morgana about Gwen, Lancelot and Merlin having gone missing. He didn't feel like he could fully trust her now.

"Arthur, I don't want you to lie to me. Merlin's uncle will kill you. He is dangerous."

Merlin's words from long ago echoed in Arthur's head: "You have to accept that Morgana is not the sister you once knew, Arthur. I am sorry to tell you that, but it's true. I'm sorry."

"I have to go, Morgana," Arthur said quickly.

"Arthur-"

He ended the call.

He was unnerved at seeing one of his friends, Gwaine, at the hospital especially now when Arthur's 'something's terribly wrong' sense was in overdrive.

Elena, Gwaine's girlfriend, had called Arthur and started talking about the organ donation programme. How Gwaine was taking part in it, his surgery had been the day before. She herself had been selected into the 'Carer programme', which relieved Arthur. Being a Carer meant that Elena wouldn't have to undergo any of the organ removal surgeries for some years. Instead, Elena would help to look after those who were donating their organs.

When Arthur had asked, she had told him that she wasn't too sure why she had been chosen as a Carer. She was more than fine with donating her organs, but if Mr. Mitothin insisted that she should be a Carer, then she would do it. Any argument Arthur made to her against the organ donations, that something was troubling about them, fell on deaf ears.

And there was that name again: Mr. Mitothin…

So of course, Arthur had to visit his friends at the hospital. Hopefully he could find Mr. Mitothin there as well.

He counted on it.

Merlin sighed. "Okay then. Will he be coming here soon?"

"Hopefully yes. Arthur's the last one who needs to be here," Bran informed him. "But first, I need to explain some things to you."

Bran sat down in the chair by the bed, setting the clipboard on the small table nearby.

Merlin couldn't help asking, "What exactly is the Dark? Is it like the devil then? And by elimination, you're or all of us here are on the side of the Light?"

"Yes, that's a good way to put it," Bran agreed. "Will explained it to me that all those who serve the Dark were once men who sought power. They favor corruption and manipulation to get that power. They all choseto become what they are. The Lords of the Dark came to be in their position by choosing to become something far greater than others of the Dark. Those like Will, well…Will is not properly human. He was always meant to have his gift. It wasn't a choice with him, but just something he is.

"He's an Old One of the Light. The Old Ones are immortals tasked with keeping the world safe from the Dark, to safeguard human choice while the forces of the Dark seek to manipulate and dominate humankind. Will can not "turn" to the Dark side, like some humans may be swayed because of normal human weakness. It is not in the nature of an Old One to go against the Light. Along that vein, they can't control the minds of humans and they can't directly harm a human being. The Old Ones prize human choice that much," Bran finished with a small smile.

"So they're like angels? Guardian angels?" Merlin deduced.

"I suppose so, but don't tell Will that," Bran advised him. "I think he'll be a bit embarrassed by it. He's not always in Old One mode, as it's called I guess, he can still act human. So much so that you can't tell that he's much more than just a boy."

"I saw how scared he looked when that man had a knife on him. He seemed like a normal 13-year old who needed help," Merlin mused.

Bran's expression darkened, clearly the subject matter of the attack on Will didn't sit well with him. Merlin understood that feeling. He'd feel the same if Lancelot, Gwen or Freya had been in trouble and he hadn't been there to help.

"Yes, that's what I mean," Bran acknowledged. "You'll recognize a difference when Will is acting as an Old One compared to just his human self. You can see it in his face and he may say things that sound far wiser than should be coming from a 13-year old."

"The 'Most Wanted' posters…" Merlin recalled the odd solemn expression on the picture of Will in those posters. "Now that all makes sense."

"So you know what I'm talking about. I really do think Will would be better at explaining himself, but-" Bran remarked, looking uncertain.

"You're doing fine," Merlin was quick to reassure the younger boy.

"All right," Bran said, appearing grateful for the assurance. He continued on, "A year ago, Will and I together with others banished the Dark from our reality. After that victory for the Light and humanity too, Will was charged with being the Watchman of the Light while the other Old Ones retired outside Time.

"Will is the youngest and the last of the Old Ones, though he was the first to be born in 500 years. The number of Old Ones had been growing for centuries before that time. He came into his powers, into his awareness and knowledge as an Old One when he was eleven, two years ago now.

"Will told me that someone of the Light needs to stay behind," Bran confided in him. "That it's the only way to insure that the Dark doesn't try their hand at domination again. No matter how lonely the task may be, to remain on Earth while the rest of your kind has left. And now, as you know, the Dark is hoping to gain a victory in your reality. That's why Will and I are here."

"If they win, then the Dark might decide to return to your reality?" Merlin figured out.

Bran shrugged, looking rather confident. "It would be difficult as they were very properly banished from Will and mine's reality," he said proudly, with a hint of arrogance in his voice. "-but yes…they may think they'll have another opportunity if they manage to win your reality," he conceded. "But we won't allow that to happen."

"No, we won't," Merlin agreed. "What do you need from me?"

Bran gave him a look. "What do you think?"

"Oh right. Yeah, that makes sense."

"For now, I can tell you that we need your magic at full strength. Only some of it has returned to you, right?"

Merlin nodded.

"Give it some time; it will all come back to you. Will and I have a plan worked out, and if all goes well, then the Dark will surely lose."

"I admit it's strange…since the two of you are so-" Merlin paused, unsure how to say this without offending Bran.

Bran's striking golden eyes pierced Merlin's blue ones, leaving Merlin feeling terribly awkward all of a sudden. "We're so what?" Bran cut in, sounding like he was ready to defend himself.

Merlin was uncertain. He felt like he was treading where he shouldn't tread, but it was natural, right? To question how two children could be trying to stop the apocalypse?

"You and – even with Will being who he is, it's just odd. You still both look like children, and this is the apocalypse. But you two are leading this whole thing."

Bran relented, shaking his head as if realizing this was an argument not worth having. "It's not just us," he reassured Merlin, "and anyway, like I told you, we have had experience fighting this threat. But to make you feel better, Will is in contact with the other Old Ones, particularly with the first Old One, who is, of course, the oldest, strongest and wisest of them all. He's helping out in an advisory capacity as this situation is ultimately Will's primary responsibility. And I'm Will's right hand man, so to speak," Bran said, smiling.

"How can he be in contact with them? If they're all outside Time?"

"The Sanctuary – where we are now – is outside Time," Bran clarified. "All of Will's fellow Old Ones reside here. Don't ask me to explain what being outside Time means. The Old Ones come here to retire, as they are immortal, and therefore they can't die…so this place outside Time is a peaceful place for them to rest. Basically, you're a veryfar away from home."

"Can't take a bus home then?" Merlin asked cheekily.

"No," Bran said, grinning at him.

"How old is this first Old One?" He wondered, feeling curious.

"Over 4,000 years old. He's also a Lord of the Light as the Light has Lords just as the Dark does. Does that help?" Bran asked him, looking expectantly at him like he knew how Merlin would react to this news.

Merlin just stopped himself from gasping out loud. "That's a longtime to live."

Bran nodded in assent. "I agree. I've met him a few times. I always get this sense of great wisdom when I'm near him. Like he gives you strength to accomplish a task just by his very presence. You may meet him most likely. Your friends, Gwen and Lancelot, already have."

"I feel behind," Merlin remarked. He sat up better on his bed, peering closer at Bran.

"What about you? You're not just a boy from Wales, are you?"

Bran smiled, looking rather excited about the chance to talk about himself. Who wouldn't, Merlin mused.

"Well, that painting over there that you mentioned," Bran began, pointing to the painting of Cader Idris. "Painted by Will's older brother, Max, who's a bit of a self-possessed artist, but anyway… that is the Seat-"

"—of Arthur in English, yes."

Bran smiled, pleased. "That's right. That's where I came from, you see, out of that mountain, from the past. My mother, with the aid of that first Old One – as all Old Ones can easily travel in Time - left me in the future while she returned to her time after a three day stay. I was only a few months old, still a baby, and she left me in the care of a farmer in rural Wales, who she deemed of good character. His name is Owen Davies.

"It was on a terrible winter night thirteen years ago. My mother had been half-frozen and worn out from carrying me, and she knocked on Owen Davies' door, seeking shelter and help. For three days, he helped her get better and looked after me as well. When she had gone, he was left with me and a note saying, 'His name is Bran. Thank you, Owen Davies.' He has raised me as if I was his own son. Two years ago, I discovered the identity of my birth father," he said, pausing, and giving Merlin a careful look.

"The Seat of Arthur…you came from the past. Are you trying to tell me you were born at Camelot?" Merlin made a wild guess.

"I was born 1,500 years ago; during the time of Camelot while my father reigned. In my and Will's reality, we have our Arthur too. And he is my birth father," Bran finished with unmistaken pride in his voice.

Merlin thought he would've felt more surprised, but he wasn't, oddly enough. It seemed to fit. Bran certainly did have an arrogance about him, a sense of pride to him that spoke of great heritage. Of course he'd be the son of a king, the greatest king Britain has ever known…

"I can see it," Merlin remarked. "I'm assuming you were legitimate?"

Bran made a face. "Of course. I've read some of the Arthurian legends… and no, my mother was not the dark witch, Morgan. My mother was Guinevere. She looked different compared to your Gwen. You do know that Lancelot and Gwen are incarnations of the ones in Camelot?"

Merlin shrugged. "Yes, well…we might as well be starting an Arthurian legend fan club here. I feel kind of sad that my denial that I wasn't that sorcerer is all for naught now. So much for my mum naming me after a bird. She should have bought me a wand or something," he sighed, waving his hand.

Bran laughed. Merlin flashed him a grin.

"So I'm guessing there was a good reason why your mother wanted to bring you forward in time? Did your father know of your existence? Because if you were legitimate, then what would the trouble…oh…was there that love triangle?" Merlin guessed shrewdly.

Bran nodded, looking unhappy. "Political pressure, you know. She wanted to take me away from those troubles, so that I would grow up free of them. My father didn't know of my existence during his lifetime. I believe my mother feared that due to her infidelity…" he stopped, as if the last thing he'd want to do is to talk about his mother so negatively.

"That your father would be pressured to deny you were his son? Since everyone would be questioning your legitimacy?" Bran nodded grimly at that. "I suppose that fits with Arthurian legend…" Merlin recalled from the texts he'd read (he had to admit he was a bit curious in the past about the legends considering his name). "Camelot did fall eventually. I haven't regained my memories of my reality's Camelot yet, but I'm sure trouble came too… and that the golden age of King Arthur unraveled in an unpleasant way. Did you never see him? Your birth father?"

Bran smiled, his demeanor more at ease now for the slight change in subject. "Actually, I have met him. Surprising I know, because he was just a mortal man after all. He had a proper ship burial when he died. But now, he's almost immortal in a way…not like the Old Ones, no. But he has a higher calling now. He's alive in a sense in his afterlife, outside Time. He's a Lord of the High Magic. The High Magic is what those of both the Light and the Dark must adhere to. The Law of the High Magic.

"My birth father is not a dewin, a wizard, but he still has power in his own right. While the Dark was rising in my and Will's reality, I encountered my father a few times. In his role as a Lord of the High Magic, he finally got to see me for the first time as I him. It was only in his afterlife that he was able to acknowledge me as his true son. During the first rising of the Dark back in my father's time, my father succeeded in holding back the Dark for a dozen years. I wanted to prove myself worthy of that heritage."

"He sounds like a good man. I'm glad that you got to see him," Merlin said.

"So you see, Merlin," Bran spoke solemnly, his tone self-assured as he continued, "-that I am not quite a child either. I am more than capable in helping you and your friends save your reality."

"No," Merlin said wisely. "You're not. You're the Pendragon," he said, not quite sure what made him say that last bit.

A lot of strange things were happening around him and inside him, so Merlin resigned himself to saying things that might feel unbidden to him.

Still, it was true. Bran was the Pendragon, the son of Arthur, brought forward in time to help defeat the Dark one final time…

It made so much sense that he would be here now to defeat the Dark in Merlin's reality. And also, Merlin wondered if his Arthur had, in fact, been somehow possessed by Bran's father. It would make sense – Lancelot had relayed to Merlin that Arthur had felt like he had been 'possessed by himself.' The only logical conclusion would be an Arthur from another reality, who appeared to be especially knowledgeable judging by his 'Lord of the High Magic' status.

He decided to ask Lancelot about it. Lancelot had to have asked about that – Arthur was his best mate after all. And Merlin felt odd inquiring about it from Bran. Merlin had gleaned enough information from the boy.

That whole possession thing was just far too strange anyway.

"Lancelot and Gwen are anxious to see you, I'm sure," Bran remarked then.

Merlin nodded. "I'd love to see them."

"I'm glad you're here. You're funny," Bran complimented him, giving him a half-smile.

"Thanks. I try," Merlin replied, smiling back at him.

He stood up and let Bran lead the way.

"Oh Arthur. It's so good to see you," Elena said to him cheerfully.

"Hi, Elena," Arthur said to her, embracing her. Once he pulled away, he asked her, "Is Gwaine still here?"

"Yes he is. In recovery," Elena informed him.

Then Arthur saw a man with longish red-brown hair and bright blue eyes walk past him in the ward.

When Arthur looked at him, the man gave him a smug smile. Arthur had a feeling that this man was evil.

"That's Mr. Mitothin," Elena told him when she noticed Arthur's attention focused on the other man.

"Right. Er…I need to talk to him. I have to ask him something," Arthur said.

"Oh, are you going to participate in the programme?" Elena assumed.

Arthur shrugged. "Maybe. We'll see. Tell Gwaine I hope he has a fast recovery," he told her.

Elena nodded. "Of course."

Arthur went inside Mr. Mitothin's office. He shut the door behind him.

Facing him, he said without preamble, "Who are you?" He demanded to know.

Mr. Mitothin smiled pleasantly at him. "Ah, Arthur Pendragon. A thorn in my side, perhaps. But do not think you are above everything simply because you recall some castle that's in ruins now. You have no idea what you're up against."

"You didn't answer my question," Arthur said firmly, undeterred.

The other man looked amused. "I am known as the Black Rider, a Lord of the Dark. I am conducting a human experiment of sorts. But that's all rather dull. This reality is terribly open to corruption. Your world has never had to deal with the likes of the Dark. It has certainly been interesting so far."

Arthur just stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Yes, if the man being 'a Lord of the Dark' wasn't indicator enough of his ill intentions, he didn't know what was. So he could only assume the opposing side would be the Light, the less annoying side. The makings of a fantasy film, clearly.

"Usually organ donation occurs after the person dies…" Arthur remarked. "What you are doing here… you have Morgana too. You know what she was."

"Yes, I do. But now in this incarnation, she is a shadow of her former self. I do plan to have her undergo the programme. She doesn't remember her former life, she has no magic. It seems your little pet sorcerer, Merlin, is the only one who will get his magic back. But I do have to say that manipulating Morgana, to have her work for me, is too easy to resist. Once she has outgrown her…usefulness, she will be discarded," The Black Rider noted.

"Fuck you," Arthur retorted defiantly. He glared at him. "So that's what you do, manipulate people… and people who are a part of the programme, you're planning to have them donate their organs until they have no more left to give, aren't you?"

"Like I said, it's all quite dull. And I'm certainly not explaining my plans to you," the Black Rider declared coldly.

"Morgana mentioned Stephen, Merlin's uncle? What was that about?" Arthur wanted to know.

The Black Rider smiled slyly. "He is a mentally afflicted man. That is all. It's best to avoid him. He will cause you trouble."

"I highly doubt anyone related to Merlin will want to kill me," Arthur said, so sure of his belief.

"There is always a first for things," The Black Rider said to him reasonably. "All those associated with the Light, particularly those meddlesome Old Ones, have some humans so convinced the Light is on the side of humanity. But the Light is just as vindictive, just as cold as the Dark. An innocent human life lost is nothing to them if it means the Light is victorious in the end. They may look human, but we of the Dark were truly human once while those high and mighty Old Ones just carry human faces," He said fiercely trying to make his point clear. His blue eyes lit up like cold blue flames. "They are only pretending, slipping into society, blending in, being so painfully normal, that the false sense of security they give you is nothing but that: false. Since they only pretend to comprehend humanity intimately, those of the Light lack human compassion."

"You have no compassion either if you're organizing these organ donations," Arthur pointed out to him. "Each side is imperfect in their own way. I get that. But I can't support a side that has my sister playing puppet for them. And who has my friends involved in that bloody programme."

"I wasn't trying to persuade you of anything. I was simply talking… you may be lucky that you have friends in high places, but you are still stuck here. And I can make your life very unpleasant," The Black Rider said smoothly.

"You can try," Arthur baited him. "You know where they are, don't you?"

The Rider smiled. He had a look in his blue eyes that told Arthur that, yes; the man knew exactly where they – Lancelot, Gwen and Merlin - were.

"They are being brainwashed by the Light. Which is something you may look forward to, or not. The tide ebbs and flows after all," the Lord of the Dark said thoughtfully.

"Well, this has been…informative, but I think I'll be leaving now," Arthur decided.

He turned to leave.

"No, you should stay," The Rider insisted.

Something about the tone of his voice made Arthur reconsider his decision to exit the office.

Arthur stayed.