Chapter Twenty-One
Henry stared at the illustration, his eyes falling deeper into the ink until Vivien was sure he could see the same face that had haunted her thoughts these many years. She'd told him the story as simply as possible, choosing to leave out any references to Merlin's more adult predilections. Best if he figured those truths out for himself at some later date. Post-puberty.
"But, I don't understand." Henry finally spoke when she'd been silent for a while, "Your name is Vivien. And it's Vivien in the stories. Everyone else got a different name here – you should've too!"
"A curse can't preempt a contract. Vivien is my mortal name and so long as I'm human I'm Vivien." She'd puzzled over that question herself in the days after the curse first broke. How was it that no one knew her by any other name? Understanding the answer taught her that not even Regina's curse would change her ultimate fate.
"Then what is your other name? What are you when you aren't Vivien?" Henry had completely forgotten about the book now. Even the horrors of Merlin's fate were sliding to the back of his brain. He was a child that believed in focusing on the present apparently. In so far as it might involve eldritch and supernatural forces and keep him from having to do homework.
"It's been a very long time since I've been anything else," she smiled wistfully, "But once, long ago, I lived with my three sisters in the waters of the lake."
Henry stared at her for a while, waiting for the punch line. When none came his expression suggested he was going to call BS on everything she'd told him. Just like his mom. Both moms.
"Lake. Like the lake where Arthur got Excalibur? That lake?"
Quick learner, even if he is overly sarcastic.
"Yes, Henry. That lake. I'll show you." She had spotted the open bottle of water on Emma's desk earlier and with a gentle move of her fingers pulled the liquid towards herself in a spiraling fountain. She painted the water onto the wall of her cell to create a blank, rippling canvas. From there manipulating color and depth was child's play. Each droplet and molecule obeyed every twitch of her fingers and breath until a wavering painting hung in the moisture – an idyllic scene of lake sunrise, glistening in dew. A view she herself hadn't seen in many years but was etched into her mind like stone.
Henry watched the demonstration without a word or sound. The skepticism had completely vanished from his eyes.
"There's more than one Lady of the Lake?" he barely tore his gaze away long enough to stare at Vivien with an entirely new set of emotions.
You spend your whole life thinking you know someone. . . .
"Of course. Did you really think it could all be one woman? Helping Arthur, marrying Sir Pelleas, adopting King Bors' and Ban's sons yet STILL having enough free time to learn all of Merlin's magic and trap him in an enchantment? Surely she'd faint from exhaustion. Not to mention she'd have to be suffering from a severe collection of multiple personalities."
"Ok," Henry digested the information with as much aplomb as possible, "So who gave Arthur the sword?"
"Ah, that would've been my eldest sister. Ninniane." Vivien sighed and with a lingering sweep of her hand changed the water on the wall to a portrait. Ninniane had hair so blonde it was white in certain lights, lending her an even greater aura of dignity as firstborn. The pride and responsibility of her position had etched itself into her very being – the grandeur evident in her bearing, poise and expressions but more than anything in the resolve of her eyes and mouth.
Odd that even in a picture on the wall Vivien could see the glitter of disapproval in her ultramarine gaze. Disappointed and sad, that had always been Ninniane. She'd wanted so much to end the bloodshed in human affairs but every champion was - at the end of the day - still merely mortal and failure was inevitable.
"So who got married?" Henry was bouncing again. He'd stumbled onto the ultimate jackpot: previously unknown revelations of the fairytale world AND a magical slideshow.
"Elaine. She was very soft hearted." Vivien kept to herself the opinion that her second sister was equally soft in the head. The water shimmered, this time before she'd even bothered to move her hands. Elaine was the quintessential romantic heroine. The long, flowing golden hair, wistful eyes, soppy sentiments – she was the whole package and it was small wonder writers and artists alike had been consumed with even the idea of her. They'd be shocked to know that the girl had never had an original idea in her life. Even marrying Sir Pelleas had been Ninniane's idea to reward his virtue. Elaine was eternally melancholy except when she was in love. The other sisters had been only too happy to oblige.
"Who was the next? The one that raised Lancelot?" Henry intruded on her thoughts, egging her to continue before she could get lost in memory. Vivien was momentarily surprised that Henry knew her nephew's name. She shouldn't have been, since he knew so many fairy tales and legends. Yet there was something strangely nervous about his tone when he mentioned Lancelot's name.
As Vivien replied the water shimmered and changed colors with her every word.
"Evienne. I remember when she brought Lancelot home as a foundling. His cousins came shortly after. Bors was always my favorite. He was . . .well, he knew how to think through a situation clearly. Neither of the other boys could ever really get past their emotions." She smiled as she saw her sister and the boys appear on the wall.
Evienne had been unique with her wild mane of red hair and stubbornly juvenile expression. It was small wonder she loved children and always had them at her side. She couldn't care less about the affairs of kingdoms that so plagued Ninniane but she would fight like a hell cat to protect any of her young charges. She raised them to be mighty men with childlike innocence. Ninniane tried to teach them virtue and honor. Elaine helped them understand romance and chivalry. No wonder they had all grown up so horribly conflicted.
"Then that just leaves," Henry hesitated, waiting to see if Vivien would fill the silence (she didn't), "You."
Lake still didn't speak. But the water had a mind of its own now and a cascading ripple brought new revelations to light. Yes, there she was. The only one dark haired of the four. The only one who spent more of her time outside the lake then in it. The youngest left on the sidelines of every major argument or decision yet ordered into obedience for petty and extraneous tasks. Staring at the image was like looking in a mirror but not knowing it was yourself. That woman wasn't the one sitting on the cell bunk. Was it only her imagination that saw anger burning in that face? Or had it really been obvious for the whole world to see?
"Me." Vivien finally nodded assent, seeing in the static portrait the life she'd once been desperate to escape but now couldn't hope to recover. So where was she now? Closer or further away?
The water picture moved – more than simply the cascade of the flowing drops. Vivien stared as the image of herself began to walk, moving further away from the lake. Probably off to have a good stomp in the forest and scream. She'd often needed to blow off the steam of her frustrations. How could a picture made of water still show that she was crying?
The flickering image of a bejeweled hand offering comfort made Vivien leap off the bunk. She waved both her hands, trying to dispel the magic pictures but the water stubbornly staid in place, unrolling the memory from the very tombs of her mind.
"What's going on? Who is that?" Henry had a six sense for magic gone wrong and his voice held panic.
Lake couldn't answer, couldn't tear her eyes away from the unfolding horror. She saw herself reaching out to take the hand, shaking, striking a bargain. A deal that would've made Rumplestiltskin himself weep in wonder at its evil trickery.
Delicate fingers wiped away the tear tracks without ever releasing hold of her. The contract was sealed. The focus shifted, looking through Vivien's own eyes as she found herself now trapped in a flesh and blood body. In human form the first thing she saw were the eyes that smiled down at her. How had she ever thought they were friendly? Just the sight brought back a swell of anger that made her vision blur. Your fault. All your fault. Blood raged into her fists and she swung at the face she hadn't seen in 28 years but had never left her alone. She punched through the picture, making it shatter in a maelstrom of droplets and finally ending the memory. The water running down the wall slithered and made a noise like whispers.
"An oath struck in flesh. Sealed in blood. Forever. You are mine."
The words laced through the air in the silent cell at the same time as they echoed in her head. She stood frozen, breathing heavily.
"What was that?" Henry tentatively spoke, eyes searching Vivien's face for any sign that was still even present in this time and place.
"That was," Vivien hesitated; there were so many ways to say this. It was the day everything went wrong. It was where everything began. It was the worst decision of her life. She tried again, "That was Morgana. My Mistress from that day on."
"But the magic, you couldn't stop it. It acted like it had its own mind." He was looking at the puddle of water around her feet. It was the sort of look you give a bear trap.
"In many ways it does. That's part of what makes it magic. Once it's cast it sort of takes on a life of its own. The complicated stuff anyway." she shook the water from her hands, wringing them a little just to be sure what she felt was real.
"And a water show is complicated?"One young eyebrow arched up in an almost terrifyingly accurate imitation of Regina.
Wow. This kid really knows how to go for the throat.
"No. Memory is. Magic and emotion go hand in hand and nothing conjures emotion like memories." Vivien swallowed, still feeling the knot of anger in her throat. In many ways memory was an even worse form of emotion because the mind had ways of distorting things from the past, magnifying the parts that fed feeling.
"But the words, I heard them! Who was talking? Was it her? Is she here?!" He seemed to instinctively sense that Morgana would make the Soul Eater look like a playful kitten in comparison.
"No," Vivien shook her head, But yes, "She just sort of has a presence."
There went that eyebrow again. Seriously, had he been practicing it? Vivien went back to the bench and sat down in a tired slump of surrender.
"Henry, your mom used a curse to carry everyone to a different life and take their memories. This curse is in my head, I carry it everywhere with me and nothing will let me forget."
"All curses can be broken." It was stated with the conviction of absolute belief. There could be no argument. Listening to a voice like that, Vivien could almost believe it too.
"Like I told Merlin – it'll take someone stronger than me." She smiled a little. Knowing everything he did, Henry was still talking to her and trying to be helpful. He looked at her the same as when she was just Vivien the PT. Maybe that was Henry's particular magic? Emma saw lies but Henry could see the truth in people.
"I'm not sure that such a person exists." He nodded to the far wall. Vivien followed his gaze. Where she'd punched through the water there was a large fist shaped hole in the brick.
"Aw crap. Please don't tell your mom." She groaned, wondering how long it would take for anyone to notice. She was sure to get in trouble for that kind of thing. It wasn't really the strength that would bother people, it was the temper. Power only upset people when it wasn't controlled.
"Don't worry, Viv. Your secret's safe with me." He gave her a final smile and wink then left.