Hi all! Welcome back to Mendeia continues to add to the Mighty Max fandom, round twenty. Twenty-one if we count "The Dawning." Anyway, this is the next installment in the Fate Is A Gift series, and there are 2 more to follow it. If you're reading this here, let me encourage you to hop to AO3 to see the amazing fanart cover.
All chapter titles come from the song "O Children" by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds.
Here we go! Enjoy!
Chapter 2: A Bit of Fun
Max knew his reaction to the name Morgan le Fay should probably have involved more fear, or at least caution. Any time mythical people showed up, it always, always meant trouble. And usually running.
But this time, instead, he felt mainly curious.
And, yes, he was aware that he could be getting that feeling from outside himself — and when he had a minute he'd probably freak out about that because yay more complicated stuff in his head! — but he couldn't help it if that was happening, and it was easier to think when he was curious than when he was scared anyway.
"Morgan le Fay," he repeated. "Like...Sword in the Stone stuff? Something-something about King Arthur?"
Her face, which had been still as a marble statue, bent into the tiniest of smiles.
"I find it strangely reassuring that you know so little. Though I find it worrying by the same turn. Are you so uneducated as to other great powers, other conflicts which shaped the very world?"
"Uh, pretty much." He shrugged. "Virgil teaches me stuff, and I've read a lot, but when there's a bad guy waiting inside every single myth and fairy tale and urban legend, and then even more that made themselves up on the spot, it's really hard to get around to memorizing them all."
"Well. I assure you that whatever legends you have heard of me, they are inaccurate. Thus, I will thank you not to judge me based on them."
"Nope, I'm all for judging you by the fact that you're apparently in my head." And there should have been more concern, and there wasn't, and Max knew he should have been worried about that, too. "You said Skullmaster was a jerk for doing exactly what you're doing now — messing with my thoughts and feelings."
"Forgive me." Morgan closed her eyes for an instant, and Max felt a blast of fear run up his spine like a cold wind. She opened her eyes again. "That should set your mind at ease, while also increasing your unease, I believe."
"Uh. Thanks." He ran his hands over his forearms to get the hair to stop standing up, and forced himself to take a breath. "I guess that means you can control whether you're projecting or sharing or whatever you want to call this?"
"Yes. But I have forgotten much in the time that has passed since last I could touch the mind of another. Your experience alone assures me that you know all too well that even immortals are far from perfect."
Max considered. "So...you used to be all up in people's heads, but then you weren't for a while." When she nodded, he asked, "Then why are you in my head now?"
"I am not. You are in mine."
Max blinked. Blinked again. "Are you...sure?"
"Quite. For some time, your thoughts have been seeking my own. At last both our powers have aligned and I may meet you in this joined space. But the initial intrusion was not my doing."
"Wanna run that by me again?" he asked. "Since that's not something I'm supposed to be able to do. I mean, I'm mostly a universal translator and some kinda cosmic battery with a hat."
Her smile was wider this time.
"You are certainly unique, Chosen One. No, your gifts are numerous and far beyond what you currently perceive. However, I believe I comprehend your confusion. If you will permit me, this would be more easily explained if I opened your mind to my own again."
"No, I think I'd rather go with the long version," Max said, and he didn't step backwards as he said it, but he was tense regardless.
Morgan inclined her head. "As you wish. Then perhaps a different sort of demonstration."
She turned to the side and swept her arms through the inky blackness that surrounded them.
"Once, long ago, I, too, battled the powers of evil on behalf of Destiny's might. But I was cast out and banished by one I had trusted."
Max couldn't quite make out any specifics about the shadowy figures that advanced on a grey shape in the hazy scene that unfolded at Morgan's will. But there was no denying the powerful fury and betrayal that ran through her words.
"Because I could not die at that time, I was encased in what you might call a pocket dimension. A fold of energy, like a portal which has been ruptured, connected to this reality but apart from it still. It preserved my life and has since held me utterly helpless and utterly alone."
Max swallowed and glanced around. "You've been here, or something like it, for a thousand years."
"Your mind tells me that it is closer to fifteen hundred, but yes."
In all seriousness, he asked, "How are you not totally off your rocker?"
Morgan made a bitter sound that could never be a laugh. "There are those who would say I began with madness and so perhaps in the solitude I should find sanity. But, in truth, I did go mad. Any being faced with such hardship would be similarly doomed."
This time Max did take a few steps back. "Uh…"
"Then, into the darkness came a light. It blinded me for a time, but it brought order to my chaotic soul. As I returned from my insanity, I perceived that the very fabric of the cosmos was changing, bending to a new will. And I knew you must have been born at last, Mighty One. For you and you alone possess the ability to transcend the energies which confine me."
"Yeah, okay, but are we really sure you're not still crazy? Because, I mean, 'I got better' only works in movies."
"I am sure of nothing of myself." And she looked away as she said it. "But you are clear enough to me, and for that, I will be eternally in your debt."
Max decided that he couldn't ask for much more. How would you know if you were crazy when you were already crazy? It was a Lemurian-fowl-and-egg thing. He resolved to be on his guard, because being surprised by sudden insanity was never a good idea, and changed the subject.
"So, how long have you been in my head? I think I should start charging rent." Max scowled. "First Skullmaster, then Bran, now you. What, am I running a hotel?"
"You mistake all of us, though to you perhaps the experience is the same." Morgan moved her arms again and the scene changed.
Max found himself staring, somewhat grossly fascinated, at the image of himself suspended in the armor of Talpa, bloodied and broken.
"When the evil which held you invaded you, it stole into your spirit. That gave it your mind, but you well know that you held thoughts apart from that which Skullmaster saw. It poisoned your heart, weakened your very soul. But your mind was not entirely swayed."
Max could only nod — he knew that; it was how he had survived. Though, going by how awful he looked, he was newly surprised that he did survive at all. He didn't have time to deal with anything else, though, because Morgan continued to speak.
"The one called Bran," the image changed again, revealing Bran bound by bloody chains just as Max had seen in a dream once, "does not invade you at all. He feels the echoes of your body, like ripples in a pond. This relationship is false, forged by another great evil, and draws from your very blood like a leech. But, though you may sense the connection through your own powers, your mind and your spirit are largely untouched."
"Okay…"
"Our connection is different. And while I cannot and must not reveal all to you now, know that my place in your mind is no accident nor act of evil. It was always to be, for what other end is possible but I, bound by cosmic energy, to be able to touch the one being whose soul is built by my very prison?"
"So, you're saying that you're in my head because I'm connected to the portal energies or whatever we're calling them, and you're stuck in the middle of them?"
"Yes."
"And if we got you out of your one-way portal, we wouldn't be connected anymore?"
"It would certainly be less acute," she said. "However, once two souls are changed by the interference of one another, they can never truly be separated. Once entangled, entangled ever after."
Max sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Translation: yes, it would be better, but you'd still be in my head a little sometimes. Great."
To his surprise, Morgan moved away. "I apologize for the discomfort of my presence, Mighty One."
And Max felt a wash of regret that he knew wasn't his, and shame, and loneliness.
"Hang on." He held out a hand. "Don't do that." He closed his eyes and made himself focus. "You've been alone in the dark for fifteen hundred years. I'm the first person you've talked to since before...I dunno, most of recorded history. And you're not a total monster. So...just gimme a minute. Let me...figure this out."
In the silence of his mind, Max bent all his strength on calming himself down completely, ignoring any feelings that tried to swamp him regardless of their source.
Assuming everything she says is true, she's gotta be desperate for company. I mean, hundreds of years in the dark alone, and then suddenly a TV window into my head? I can't blame her for jumping at it. She hasn't actually hurt me.
But that's assuming she's telling the truth. Skullmaster lies all the time, but he's kind of bad at it. For all I know, Morgan le Fay could be a really good liar.
On the other hand, the fact that I can think about this at all should be proof that she's not influencing me. Unless she's trying to confuse me by letting me have doubts. And letting me think about her letting me have doubts.
Okay, how about not going down that endless spiral?
There's more going on here than I know for sure. That's obvious. She even said she couldn't tell me everything, but she said that we were meant to find each other or something.
Whatever it is, though, it doesn't feel gross, the way Bran does. That connection is there, but it always feels like the floor of a slaughterhouse somehow. This doesn't. And, yeah, with her in my head I can't necessarily trust my perceptions, but I don't have anything else to really trust, do I?
I could kick her out. I mean, it seems like she'd let me do that.
But if she is telling the truth, then that would be the worst thing I could possibly do to her.
Even if it's not the smart choice, I think I can only make the right one.
Virgil's going to lecture me for a month.
He opened his eyes.
"I don't know anything about you," he said, "but I don't want to dump you back in the dark again. I hope I'm not wrong about you. And you can't blame me for not being sure. But I'm not much of a hero if I lock you up all over again, either."
He expected surprise, maybe even gratitude. Instead, he felt her calm acceptance.
"I will accept your decision," she said, and she drew nearer again to stand across from him.
"So, now what?" he asked.
Morgan gave a slight shake to her head. "I know not. This is your mind, Mighty One. I am merely a trespasser."
"Yeah, and being all internal reality TV wasn't really in my game plan, either." He sighed. "I thought that rewinding time meant that things would be easier this time around. I'd know what was coming."
The look she gave him was reproachful. "You know fully well that you are significantly beyond the events you contrived to repeat. Time moves forward again, Chosen One. And you have moved as well, even if your physical form is not yet in line with your mind."
"Tell me about it." Max couldn't help but huff. "I'm two years older than my body. I should be starting to drive, but on the outside I'm still just fourteen!"
"But it seems to me that this last year of your life has been far more eventful than the previous two that you lived twice."
"Well, you know. Nearly died a couple of times — that's not new, but it was different somehow — got tortured, went to therapy, found out I have a second Guardian in a pact with Locknarr…" He shrugged and tried to play it off casually. "The first run wasn't so easy, so I guess this is just the price for getting a couple of years off."
"All things exist in balance, but that balance is rarely perceivable to those with a mortal span of time," Morgan said. "And yet, we cannot stand back and allow evil to rise simply because it seems to be 'balanced.' If we have any power at all, we must use it for good."
"That sounds like something Virgil would say."
To Max's surprise, Morgan flinched. "Perhaps," was all she said.
"You don't like Virg?"
"Your affection for and loyalty to your teacher are admirable," Morgan answered, "but if you must know, your Lemurian is not one I would readily trust."
Max was winding up to argue, but she interrupted. "I understand that he has changed even in these last years. And you can only perceive him through your own eyes. But I ask you not to request that I see him as you do. Our experience with wise teachers is very different, Mighty One."
Max felt his tension drain away, mollified. "Fair enough. You did say it was somebody you trusted who locked you in here, so I guess you've got a right to be ticked off at somebody. I'd be ticked off, too."
Then he stopped as a thought crossed his mind.
"Hang on. You've been floating around in my head for a while, haven't you? I mean, that's why I was drawing your eyes and dreaming about weird stuff and sleepwalking this summer. Right?"
"Yes."
"Does that mean you can, like, get inside my head?"
"As I already said, I am already in your head."
"Yeah, but." Max waved an arm. "I'm asleep and I'm here, so it's kinda boring. I mean, if I were awake, could you see what I see? Or, you know, feel stuff?"
"Such an intrusion would be a violation of your trust," she said.
"But what if I let you in? Like, I don't want to sign up to be your meatsuit or something, but it's been a long time since you got to feel anything normal like sunshine or wind, right? You're getting everything you know out of my head, but you're still in my head. Maybe...maybe if you're going to be stuck here a while, we could make it a little less...boring?"
Max watched Morgan's face carefully. For a moment, her expression trembled, like water in a pond. Then it cleared and she gave a true smile. It made her look younger, less ageless and inhuman.
"My gratitude for such a chance cannot be expressed, Mighty One."
"Okay." Max found himself grinning. "Well, let's see about having some fun, then."
And, he thought privately, maybe living some good experiences will help her forget the bad ones a little. It's the least I can do, since she's stuck here until...I don't even know. But if I can get her to hate on Virgil a little less, maybe with all of us working together we can get her out.
But first, immortal sorceress or not, I bet even yon olde fair maiden will like ice cream!
-==OOO==-
Max sat up in bed, blinking. He glanced at the clock, then at the window to be sure; it was only a few minutes after dawn.
"Mighty One?" Norman was leaning on his closet door.
"Oh. Hey." Max produced an appropriate yawn, though he was too jittery with excitement — only some of it his own — to feel tired. "Morning."
"Dream?" Norman asked.
"Nope. Just...woke up." Max shrugged. Then, inspired, he leaned forward. "So, you know I've got that nasty math test this morning, right?"
Norman nodded.
"And Virgil's still asleep?" Max gave Norman a conspiratorial smile.
"What are you thinking, Mighty One?"
"I'm thinking that some peanut-butter chocolate swirl ice cream would be the perfect way to get this day started right — just so I have the best possible chance on the test. Right? I mean, I gotta prepare for a math battle, and if it's a fighting thing that makes it your call, so..." And he waggled his eyebrows at his Guardian.
Norman returned the expression with a grin of his own. "I could eat ice cream for breakfast."
"Yes!"
Norman moved to leave. "Meet you down there, Mighty One. Don't wake up Virgil, or we'll both be stuck with granola."
Max gave him a thumbs-up and waited for him to shut the door behind him. Then he closed his eyes.
Morgan? Are you there?
I am, Mighty One.
Okay. I'll get dressed and then you can start experiencing the world again, okay? Just don't, you know. Look. When I'm changing. He tried to ignore the burning of blood in his ears.
I will respect your privacy. Have no fear.
Cool. Thanks. Max climbed out of bed and dressed quickly, adding the Cap as the first step without even thinking about it. Then he moved to his window and pushed it up, letting the sunlight pour across his skin while the morning breeze soared into his room. What do you think?
A moment later, Max felt tears on his face.
It is miraculous. To feel the sun…
Max realized Morgan was completely lost, overwhelmed, utterly undone by something so simple that he took for granted.
Actually, Skullmaster kinda did the same thing when I let him out of the center of the Earth, he realized.
To be bereft of that which is alive is the greatest torment possible, Chosen One. I hope you never comprehend this suffering I share with your enemy.
Me, too. Now, come on. Max wiped away the tears. If morning made you happy, ice cream is gonna blow your mind.
I look forward to it.
-==OOO==-
Virgil's scolding was totally worth the rapturous joy and delight that thrummed through Morgan to Max. The experience of eating was novel to her as well, but the fact that her first food after fifteen hundred years without was Max's favorite ice cream — and the best in the whole world, he would fight anybody who dared argue — was just about perfect.
Morgan repaid him by helping him ace the first math test of the year.
-==OOO==-
"Hey, Virg?"
Virgil looked up from his scrolls to see the Mighty One skid to a halt in the study. "Yes?"
"I know we were gonna go to the museum on Saturday and stuff, but is it okay if we do it another day? The weather looks perfect and it's been a while since I've gotten to hang out at the beach, so I was hoping we could reschedule."
Virgil frowned. "I thought we had dispensed with your childish attempts to avoid your duty through such frivolous pursuits."
Max rocked back, visibly stung.
Virgil drew in a quick breath. "I'm sorry, Mighty One." He gentled his expression. "I didn't mean to snap at you. My own research is proving highly frustrating, and it is trying my patience badly."
"Oh." The boy regained his footing and flashed a smile that was only slightly uncertain. "Sure. I get it. Maybe you should take a break, too."
"I cannot." Virgil shook his head. "All the signs suggest something dire is approaching, but I cannot quite fathom it."
"I'm sure you'll figure it out when we need it," the Mighty One said. The smile was more genuine.
"I appreciate your faith in me," Virgil said, and meant it. "However, I cannot take my focus from my task at this time. But if you wish to postpone our museum trip, I can allow it. Just this once." And he made an arch look designed to be understood in jest.
The Mighty One smirked. "Gotcha. Thanks, Virg!"
And he raced off again.
Virgil sighed and looked back at his scrolls.
I dearly hope the boy never loses that energy and innocence, he thought. Such darkness waits ahead of him and he has faced far too much already. But this summer treated him kindly, and he seems to be doing well in school. Perhaps he is settling into his Destiny.
I cannot let him down. I must interpret these warnings before I am too late.
And pray that I am wrong about what they seem to portend.
Even if the Mighty One is ready as a hero to face this pain, I am not.
-==OOO==-
Max spent that entire day Saturday with his bare feet on warm sand, walking in the seafoam and wading into the ocean while Morgan wept and giggled in turns inside his skin. The one attempt he made at bodyboarding ended with him wiping out completely while Morgan shrieked with delight.
-==OOO==-
How come you hate my French class? It's not because you're from England, is it?
Where do you get such strange ideas, Chosen One?
Uh, because you're in my head, Morg. And every time I sit down in class, you get all hissy like a cat in a bathtub.
I assure you, I bear no such resemblance.
And I assure you, you do so.
If you must know, it has nothing to do with the French language. I rather enjoy that part — it is interesting to see how a tongue I once spoke has changed with time. And it is doubly interesting to interpret it through your gifts. The powers that make it possible for you to comprehend language are truly unique.
Yeah, great. So if it isn't the French part, what is it? It's not that jerk Cameron who sits behind me, because, yeah, he's a pain, but he's just a bully and I could take him if I had to.
The boy is an annoyance, but he is nothing to either of us. No, it is that representation of an ancient text upon the wall that ignites my ire.
That old poster? How come?
You have read it, have you not?
Sure.
It tells a piece of the story of Merlin, and tells it so inaccurately, so horrendously incorrectly, that it galls me even to see it.
Someday you're going to have to tell me about Merlin, you know. And Arthur and all that stuff. But not until you're ready. I can tell it upsets you.
I thank you for your understanding, Mighty One. But I beg you allow me to wait. The information is of little use to you now, but pains me greatly.
I get that. Well, if it's the poster that's the problem, I bet we can do something about it.
What do you have in mind?
-==OOO==-
Max was pretty sure the teacher suspected him, but there was no proof that he deliberately upset her coffee so specifically that it flew across her desk and only ruined one thing hanging on the wall.
Morgan didn't repay him directly this time, but when he got called on in history class and wasn't paying attention, she gave the answer herself such that he didn't even have to think about it.
-==OOO==-
It was a Friday and the Mighty One would be home from his gymnastics instruction shortly. Virgil was pacing in the front hallway, hands folded behind his back.
"Are you okay?" Norman asked, emerging from the kitchen with approximately a third of the contents of the refrigerator stacked together in an impossible sandwich.
"No. I am not." He spun in place and began marching the other direction. "The signs are quite clear."
"What signs?" Norman managed to make himself understood around a mouthful, but only barely.
"I told you before that I believed the prophecies foretold a resurgence of Lemuria."
"Uh huh."
"What I did not tell you was that...this prophecy is one which should have been averted millennia ago."
Norman gulped another bite, then frowned. "Averted how? Fate is fate, right?"
"You know as well as I that Destiny is comprised of three parts — fate, free will, and chance." Virgil stopped a clawed foot as he paced. "Chance and free will played their parts thousands of years ago. I was there to witness it. There is no reason for this to rise again. There is no reason…"
"Virgil?"
Virgil sighed and met Norman's eyes. "No reason for it to involve the Mighty One any longer."
Norman considered that, but ultimately shook his head. "I don't get it."
"And, for all our sakes, I hope you continue to be in ignorance."
Norman gulped about half the sandwich in one rushed bite. "Is the Mighty One in danger?" He was ready to drop the food that instant and run to his boy if needed.
But Virgil shook his head and looked away. "No. At least, I hope not."
"Then what's the problem?" Norman was confused; he didn't like it when Virgil tried to talk circles around him. It always led to an argument. "Either something will happen, or it won't. If it happens, it's fate and the Mighty One will deal with it. If it doesn't, there's nothing to worry about."
To Norman's surprise, Virgil barked a laugh.
"You would see things so simply." He resumed his pacing. "Norman I...there is something…"
And Norman, who knew Virgil better than anyone, who had known him for thousands of years himself, understood. He went cold inside.
"You have been lying to the Mighty One again."
"No!" Virgil squawked. Then he slumped. "I have...simply opted not to tell him everything."
"Virgil, the last time you did that, we had to deal with Bran." Norman didn't bother to hide the rush of his anger, sandwich forgotten.
"I know. I know." He flapped his arms a bit, then spun and paced in the other direction. "But I thought we had more time. I thought that I would be able to slowly bring this to the Mighty One a piece at a time — to lessen the impact."
"To him, or to you?" Norman asked.
Virgil flinched.
"Right." Norman set his sandwich aside and crossed his arms. "So, basically, your scrolls tell you that something is coming, and you're upset because it's going to force you to admit that you kept secrets from the Mighty One again, even after promising not to do so."
"You are partially correct." Virgil stopped moving and stared not at the Guardian, but towards the front door and out into the darkening sky beyond the windows. "For good or ill, I made the choice to keep some information from the Mighty One. And now I must face that. But I do not believe...I truly don't...that it will harm him in any way."
"Other than the fact that you kept it a secret in the first place."
"Other than that, yes."
Norman let out a breath. "So what part did I get wrong?"
Virgil swallowed. "I have come to believe that the scrolls are not warning of some impending venture or danger. There is simply no other way to interpret them anymore. Whatever is going to happen, whatever this resurgence of Lemuria is, it has already begun."