Chapter Nineteen: In Another Life
Lancelot stood atop one of the high walkways that circled the castle, keeping watch as the sun slowly sank towards the horizon.
The world seemed to be gilded, touched by the sun's dying rays, with sweeping strokes of blue that grew continuously darker as the light slowly faded.
In the distance, the tree's shadows grew longer as the leaves glittered like silver coins. If he listened hard enough, he could hear the birds call and even the howl of a lone wolf that lingered deep in the heart of the forest.
"A wondrous sight, is it not?"
Turning, he smiled. "It never ceases to amaze me, my Queen."
Gwen returned his smile with a soft one of her own.
Seeing her here, framed in gold and dressed in Camelot colors, made something inside his chest twist. Sometimes, he wondered if perhaps in another life, it would have been his ring she wore…
Pushing those thoughts aside, Lancelot asked, "Is there something I can help you with, your Majesty?"
"Please, Lancelot, we are alone. Call me Gwen, like you did before," she insisted, moving to stand next to him. Then she laughed, shaking her head. "Although, that does seem like a very long time ago…"
"A lot has changed these past few years," he agreed.
"Sometimes I wonder if this is all a dream, and I will wake up back in my old home," she confessed. Her eyes were luminous, dark brown shot through with gold. "And I will be a servant again."
"But this is not a dream," Lancelot reminded her. "You are the Queen now."
"Yes…" Gwen twisted the gold and ruby ring she wore absently. "I'm sorry, you must think I'm being foolish."
"Not at all," he said. "I think you are happy, and even happiness can come with its doubts."
Looking at him, Gwen smiled again. "You have always been very wise, Lancelot."
Lancelot was about to retort, when something moved out of the corner of his eye. Glancing down, his brows lifted at the sight of Gwaine and Morgana, walking through the nearby village square together.
When he glanced at Gwen, she was staring too. When their gazes met, Gwen placed a hand over her mouth, smothering the laugh that tickled her throat. Lancelot, on the other hand, chuckled, shaking his head.
"Don't suppose Iris knows about this?" he asked, eyes dancing with mirth.
Gwen studied the couple, how they walked closely together, and how when Gwaine looked at Morgana, it was always when she was looking away.
"I don't suppose so," Gwen said. "And it isn't nice to spy on our friends."
"Who's spying? I'm on duty. If anything, it is you who is spying."
Narrowing her eyes, Gwen tilted her chin up slightly. "I am the Queen, as you just said. Is it not a Queen's prerogative to oversee her castle, her kingdom?"
Lancelot bowed his head in acquiescence. "Then, for Camelot, my lady."
Struggling not to laugh still, Gwen nodded once. "For Camelot."
Ooo0ooO
He dreamed of being in the meadow outside Camelot's walls.
The grass was swaying softly in the breeze and the flowers were blooming in every color. The sky was an everlasting blue, stamped with puffy white clouds that slid on by.
Then he heard someone laugh, a laugh that was familiar to him, bright and silvery.
Turning, he saw her approaching. The wind was tossing her curls about, where they caught the sunlight so they resembled dancing flames. Her eyes, a deep verdigris, were already on his.
As he watched, she lifted her hands, summoning a storm like she had before, many months ago. The earth was soon soaked with rain.
When she got close, he saw how her golden lashes were stuck together, and how her freckles stood out on her pale skin- like cinnamon on cream. Her dress, the favored blue one, clung to her curves.
"Do you remember the first time?" she asked him. "It was you and me, the earth and the sky, the rain and the flowers."
"Yes," he said, oddly breathless. "I'll always remember that day."
"Even when we are old and gray?" she asked, tilting her head as her eyes danced.
"After that," he promised, lifting a hand to stroke her wet cheek. "I will remember you even if I am reborn."
"Won't you find me?" Her voice changed, became layered, more musical. "Won't you find me, love me, in this life and the next, and the ones to follow?"
"Always," he told her.
"I found you before Emrys, in another life," she told him. Now her eyes didn't look quite so green, but were more hazel. Her curls loosened into deep reddish brown waves.
"And the one before that." Black eyes, black hair.
"As it always has been." Blue eyes, pale as ice, and blonde hair.
"Souls that are destined to meet shall do so over the course of many lifetimes," a new voice said. Kilgharrah's. "Their destinies will always be intertwined, like threads that weave together a tapestry.
"Even if you don't remember, Dragon Lord, these lifes leave an impression, a mark on the soul. When you meet again, you may not know it, but your soul will. A small part of your soul will know, will remember, and will seek them out - for they are yours, as you are theirs."
He looked at his hands, which were now holding a mirror fragment. His features were changing, shifting like hers had, a reflection of his past lives…
Merlin jolted awake, his mind swimming with images of Iris, her eyes changing colors as they stared back at him.
When he looked at her, sleeping soundly by his side, he found himself unsteady. His hand shook slightly as he reached out, brushing the red curls from her bare shoulder.
Her eyes opened, a familiar shade of blue-green, and part of him relaxed.
Ooo0ooO
Before everyone knew it, summer had returned it all its glory- painting the kingdom in rich, bold colors. The days grew long with the lingering presence of the sun, and the nights were warm and were filled with the scents of blooming flowers, pine, and woodsmoke.
It had been a few weeks since the Druid boy had found a strange home within Camelot. Although Merlin and Iris did not hear the call of the nearby Druids, they felt their presence whenever they journeyed into the forests hugging the boundaries of the castle.
They speculated as to why the Druids did not actively seek them out, why they did not ask for the boy to be returned. Mordred did not ask either, but Merlin noticed that there were moments where he swore he saw the boy staring into the trees, as if he could sense them too. He imagined that he did.
In that time, Morgana found herself drawn time and again to Gwaine, whether it was for a stroll around the castles or square, or to practice within the training ring. The knight was privy to her secret, as he was with Iris and Merlin's, and he had pulled her aside one afternoon to swear to her that he would not tell another soul, on his life.
She found herself trusting him as she did his sister, although as the days progressed she saw the clear differences between the two siblings. Iris seemed to have inherited all the temper, but hers was a quick flash, whereas Gwaine's, in the few times Morgana witnessed it, was a slow flame. Gwaine was a more easygoing spirit, more quick to trust, and was still very much, despite being a knight, a troublemaker.
His temperament, Morgana discovered, seemed to balance out her own- as she had learned etiquette and the ways of the court from a very young age, it had not allowed for much… fun. Any sense of adventure had once been from going for a ride on horseback with Uther, then later Arthur. Of course, Morgana's own spirit had been restless at times, which is why she insisted on training alongside the knights.
But now, it seemed that Gwaine was more than happy to accommodate those restless days, his own sense of adventure sparking something deep inside her.
So when summer came again, it seemed only fitting to plan another adventure to celebrate the Summer Solstice, which was also Iris and Gwaine's birthdays.
Gwaine had admitted a long time ago that he did not clearly remember what time of year he was born, a possible effect from his old head injury. With their mother and father being gone, Iris had insisted on sharing hers with her brother, saying it only made sense that they had both been born on the longest day of the year.
"Because of our sunny dispositions?" Gwaine had asked, laughing, which had made Iris roll her eyes.
"Because there is a certain magic on this day," Iris said. "For us, it runs through our veins, and therefore it is our day."
It was then that Morgana was reminded that although Gwaine did not have the gift of magic, it was still a part of him, inherited from his mother.
And she remembered how Gwaine and Iris had looked at each other, as if they were remembering that as well, before Gwaine had smiled and pulled Iris's hair, breaking the somber mood.
"Lost in thought?"
Morgana blinked. In front of her, Merlin was smiling, his dark blue eyes crinkled at the edges. She noted his cheeks and ears were red, probably from the exposure to the hot afternoon sun.
"Yes," she admitted, laughing softly. "I was thinking of Iris and…"
"Gwaine?" Merlin finished.
Morgana's eyes narrowed at the way his eyes all but twinkled, in a mischievous manner that did, in fact, remind her of a certain knight…
"Yes," she repeated, more slowly. "And stop that. You look… gleeful."
"Me? Oh no, you're mistaken. I would never laugh at you, Morgana, surely not after all the years you spent teasing Gwen and Arthur, then myself and Iris."
Morgana wondered, just for a moment, what it would be like to throw a boot at him, like Arthur did. If she had one handy.
Reading her expression, Merlin shot her a quick grin before ducking off, heading back into the castle with his satchel draped over his shoulder.
Ooo0ooO
"Rise… turn… rise…"
A pair of pale eyes marked the movements of a floating plate, which rose and turned in the air at the insistence of one's magic.
"Your turn," Iris said, lowering the plate back down to the table. Her and Mordred were sitting in the physician's quarters alone, and Iris had instructed him on practicing his basics.
"I can make a plate move," Mordred said. "I can make a tea kettle move. I want to try something new."
Iris lifted a red brow. Although she was pleased that the Druid boy was more comfortable with speaking to her, she recognized that his untapped magic was making him restless, bored even. The more basic spells had already been mastered, then mastered again.
Part of her, which she buried deep, screamed at her for teaching him any kind of magic. Remember your vision, it told her. Remember he is the one the prophecy spoke of…
She struggled not to shudder at the vivid image of Mordred, crowned in iron, striking her down, before laying waste to any hope of the creation of Albion.
Taking a deep breath, Iris placed the basic book of spells down. "All right. What do you want to do?"
I will not let that come to pass, she told the voice. I will befriend him, teach him. He will be no threat to Arthur or Merlin, or to Albion. That part of the prophecy is vague… It might not be Mordred. It said it was a Druid, only a Druid who is a threat, that's all…
And perhaps, that was also why she, like Merlin, ignored the constant presence of the Druids in the woods.
Ooo0ooO
The wind was hot, kicking up the dust along the road as a marching line of horses approached Camelot. The knights were all sweating under layers of armor, each of them wanting nothing more than something cool to drink.
Leon, Percival, and Elyan dismounted once they reached the castle walls. Leon waved once to Lancelot, who was patrolling the walls, who signalled back.
"Gods, I could use a cold ale," Elyan muttered as they led their horses to the stables. He nodded at the stableboys, who collected the horses and took them away to be sponged down and cooled.
"Did someone say ale?"
Gwaine approached the trio, grinning widely. "How was patrol then?"
"No news," Leon said, running the back of his hand across his brow.
"Some of us want to make sure our borders are secure," Percival said. "Not all of us can sit back on our a-,"
"Ah-ah," Gwaine said, waggling his finger at his fellow knight. "I know you jest, but there are ladies present."
Percival glanced over Gwaine's shoulder and flushed. Iris, on the other hand, merely rolled her eyes.
"I have heard all of you say much worse in the ring," she reminded them, winking at Percival. "Do not stop on my account, I am not Lady Morgana nor our Queen, after all."
"That is not an excuse, Miss Iris," Percival began to say, stopping when he was interrupted again by Iris's silvery laugh.
"In all the time you've known me, Sir Percival, you have called me Iris. Just Iris. For me, for my birthday, please never call me Miss Iris again."
"All right, Just Iris," Elyan said, grinning.
"Enjoying the day, Just Iris?" Leon asked.
"Perhaps being around my brother had done all of you no good," Iris tutted, forcing a frown when her lips twitched. "Jesting knights, what will King Arthur think?"
Then she yelped when Gwaine reached out to yank her hair.
With a glare, Iris turned, pausing to say over her shoulder, "We are all to gather in the main hall in an hour. Please do clean up, you ruffians." Then, with an imperious air, she marched off.
"Ruffians?" Gwaine repeated, eyes wide. "Do you hear that, gents? Such crass lies."
"Speak for yourself," Elyan muttered, ignoring Gwaine's protests, before they all went to do as they were told.
Ooo0ooO
It was a rare event for any of them to have a day to themselves, so when the opportunity of all of them spending a day together presented itself, Morgana was the first to seize it up. With the castle and lands being guarded by the other knights, Arthur and his most inner circle - so to speak - were able to join them in celebrating one of their own, as well as an honorary member.
"She could be a knight," Gwaine told Leon as they rode side by side. "If such things were allowed."
"Perhaps she would prove herself a fairer knight than you," Elyan commented, earning a glare from Gwaine.
The group was riding all together towards the open meadows and deep lakes within the foothills of the White Mountains. Arthur and Gwen lead the band, both mounted on white steeds, talking softly to each other.
The knights followed - Lancelot, Leon, Percivial, Elyan and Gwaine, each talking and laughing at each other, dressed in more casual garb than they had been earlier. They still carried their swords, simply as a precaution.
Bringing up the rear was Morgana, Merlin, and Iris, who were content to enjoy themselves and exchange glances and smiles at the knight's antics. Mordred, they knew, was safe in the castle with Gaius, who promised to look after the boy.
Kilgharrah knows we are coming, Merlin told Morgana and Iris silently.
We aren't going to be close to his cave, are we? Morgana asked, sounding worried.
No, Merlin assured her. He would not do that to the last dragon, not after what Arthur's father had done. Although Kilgharrah knew what role Arthur was to play in the future, that did not mean he would tolerate being near the son of the man who slaughtered vast numbers of dragons.
We are going to a place further west, Iris told Morgana. Closer to the older forests. I studied the map that Arthur had out. We will be a short ride away from the Isle of the Blessed.
The Isle of the Blessed?
Iris nodded. The land further west is old, very old, that which borders the great sea. There is an isle in the middle of a lake near there, said to be the center of the older religions, like the ones that are practiced by the Druids.
I've read about it too, Merlin continued, with an unfocused look in his eyes, as if he was picturing the words from a text. The isle is ancient, said to be guarded by sorceresses that call themselves High Priestesses. But any other mention of them ceases after…
After Uther, Morgana thought, if not bitterly.
They were not practitioners of the magic you or I know, Iris said, her turquoise eyes darkening. They believe in dark magicks - ones of great power and terrible evil, ones that corrupt the soul…
Then why are we going near there?
Iris and Merlin exchanged a glance.
Morgana blinked. You want to see if they still exist.
Kilgharrah said that Agravaine might have gotten a hold of tomes of black magic. Iris and I could not find any texts like that, even in the deepest parts of the castle, Merlin admitted. And if the High Priestesses were as the stories say…
We need to know if they are still alive, and if they gave Agravaine the texts, Iris finished.
Speechless, Morgana stared at her friends. A chill crept down her spine as her gaze turned towards the distant horizon.
Before she could say anything else, Gwaine was pulling his horse up alongside hers, and Iris and Merlin took their leave, allowing themselves to catch up with the others.
Ooo0ooO
The group ended up setting up a large picnic on the shores of a large, crystalline lake that was surrounded by a field of purple and white wildflowers. Ash and willow trees swayed nearby.
The horses were left untacked nearby to graze, with Iris claiming that Nimbus would watch over the lot of them, which earned her some curious stares even as she winked at Merlin.
There was plenty of laughter and smiles to go around, with Gwen nestled in Arthur's embrace, and Iris kissing Merlin heartily enough to make him blush and the others cheer. Even Morgana sat next to Gwaine, and blushed prettily when he kissed her cheek.
"To Gwaine and Iris," Arthur said, lifting a wineskin in toast. "To many more happy birthdays."
Iris leaned over Merlin, grabbing her brother to give him a noisy kiss.
"No more wine for Iris, lest she kiss us all," Leon declared, reaching for the redhead's wineskin.
Iris leaned away from him, batting his hands away, her cheeks flushed from drink and from happiness. "You wish, sir knight," she said, wrinkling her nose teasingly.
"All right, enough," Arthur said easily, rolling his eyes at the lot of them.
Gwen sat up, eyes lighting up. "It's time for gifts!"
"Oh no," Iris said immediately. "I have no need for any more gifts, what you gave me last year was more than enough…" She thought of her beloved satchel, dagger, and ring.
"Nonsense," Gwen said pleasantly, waving away Iris's protests. "We all got you each one gift, if that eases your discomfort."
Iris pouted, then scowled when Merlin tugged a curl, telling her it wasn't the worst thing in the world, to receive gifts on one's birthday.
Gwen stood and walked over to their belongings, rummaging through the saddlebag that she had brought with her, which Iris had assumed was holding more food or wine.
On that, she pulled deeply from her skin, savoring the crisp taste of the wine, which tasted of apples and honey.
"Here you are," Gwen said, handing Gwaine a parcel, then Iris.
Iris eyed them, noting they were similar in size and weight. When her brother glanced her way, she sighed and nodded, and opened her gift as he did.
For a long moment, all Iris could do was stare and blink.
"They were recovered from a trader some time ago," Gwen explained in a gentle tone, reading the shock in her friend's eyes. "He came into town to trade some portraits he said were saved in a raid. I paid for them instead, when I saw..."
In Iris's hands was a small portrait, no larger than a book, of a family. A man and his wife and their two small children - the youngest no more than a mere babe. The man had dark brown eyes, and the woman had brown hair that curled in a familiar way. The boy, who stood next to his mother, had a smile on his face that was pure mischief. And the baby…
Iris was hardly aware that she was breathing, much less crying. When she managed to tear her gaze away, to look at the other portrait that Gwaine cradled reverently in his hands, she finally found her voice again.
"But that's not possible."
Gwaine's portrait was slightly larger than Iris's, and the painting it boasted was not as formal. The same family as seen in hers was standing outside of their house, amidst the iris and the lily flowers, which were in full bloom.
The boy, nearly old enough to be a squire, was pointing at something, and the mother was laughing, her blue-green eyes bright as she held his other hand. The man held the little girl, who was now sporting some curls herself, in his arms as he offered her an iris flower.
"I… I remember this," Gwaine said slowly, as if waking up from a dream.
"But it burned," Iris said, dashing the tears from her cheeks. "The whole village was nothing but ash and ruin…"
Then she cradled the painting to her chest, as a mother might with her child. Her blue-green eyes were still bright with tears as they met Gwen's.
"Thank you," Iris whispered. "For giving a piece of them back to us."
Barely hearing Gwen's murmured response, Iris looked at the paintings again, thinking of how they seemed to depict another life, one that was full of happiness and sunshine and laughter, one that was untouched by the harshness of life, untouched by death.
In another life, they would have lived, and they would have been happy. Their father would have passed on the duties as village leader to Gwaine, and perhaps Iris would have found her trade in weaving or painting.
And, perhaps, in another life, they would have grown up together, and Gwaine would have still watched his sister fall in love with another from an outlying village, a boy with dark hair and blue eyes, as it always was meant to be...
Ooo0ooO
Author's Note: I hope all of you are doing well, with everything going on around the world. I hope you are safe and happy and healthy, and you can find your escape through the stories you read.