-Seven-

History Buff

Merlin sighed, trying to hide his boredom as he followed the tour group around the Camelot Museum. The tour guide was boring to put it lightly and half the stuff he said wasn't accurate. Merlin itched to correct him, but contented himself with only doing so in his head. Nothing really pertained to Ealdor until they came to the last exhibit.

"Ealdor was founded in 1890," the tour guide said to the group. "It started out as a fishing village, but soon more settlers began to arrive believing the town to be located near the ruins of Camelot. White Castle was built in the 1930s and so everything there is relatively new although much of the original architecture still stands. Ealdor continued to grow until it became the thriving city it is today. In fact, it is the fastest growing tourist town in England with a population of 11,220."

"Who founded the city?" one of the tourists asked.

"Well, the city's founder was one William Monmouth. He came to the city after the original settlers had arrived. He was the one who named the city and turned it into a community. William Monmouth supposedly came to this place because of its proximity to the ruins of Camelot. He told everyone that he was waiting for the second coming of King Arthur. He believed that this was where he was going to rise again."

Merlin looked up at this, his interest piqued. Finally, something useful.

"His memorial can be seen at the center of Ealdor Cemetery. It faces the sea so that he may continue watching even in death."

"Did he say anything more about Arthur's second coming?" Merlin asked.

"Yes. There is a journal that gives his full accounts," he motioned to a weathered journal in a glass case, "but you can also look them up in our online archives. He was heard to say that King Arthur would rise when Pegasus's eye fell on a Midsummer's Eve."

Merlin's heart skipped a beat. "Any relation to Geoffrey of Monmouth?" he asked.

"Why, yes. He was the great, great, great, great – well, you get the picture – grandnephew of Geoffrey of Monmouth, who, if you don't know, was the official genealogist of the Pendragon family. He wrote many accounts of Camelot which can now be found in the British Museum."

Merlin contemplated what he had learned. He wasn't the only one who had been waiting for Arthur. "Do the legends say anything about Merlin?" he asked.

"Yes. Merlin was supposedly immortal and was destined to help Arthur gain his kingdom. After the tragedy that befell the kingdom – I speak of course about the great affair between Sir Lancelot du Lac and Queen Guinevere and the subsequent deaths – Merlin was said to have disappeared. He was said to be waiting for King Arthur to return again."

Well, good to know he had that part right. The rest was, of course, bogus. Gwen had been enchanted to fall for the wraith Lancelot and that had all been sorted out. Merlin kept this to himself.

"Was there ever any mention of how Arthur was going to come back besides the constellation bit?" he asked.

"Well, there are many different versions, but the most popular one states that Arthur will only return once his sword is returned to him – the legendary Excalibur which he pulled from the stone. Once his sword is returned to him, he will awaken and defeat whatever evil plagues the lands."

"So he needs his sword to awaken?"

"Correct. There are, again, many different legends about what happened to the sword after Arthur died. Some say it was put back into the stone, other say it was with him when he died, and still more say that the sword was thrown into the legendary Lake Avalon."

Merlin had no idea where the sword was now. Arthur had been laid to rest with it, his body sent off into the mists of Lake Avalon. Merlin wouldn't know if it was there until he crossed Avalon, and he needed Ryll for that. If only there was a way to make her remember. Magic? No, something told him that it couldn't be forced. He sighed as the tour guide finished up his speech. He had been waiting 900 years for this. Now, after all that, it seemed as if he was going to have to wait a little longer.

The pale morning light washed over the island, caressing the broken stones of the tower and sliding across a figure that lay deathly still on a stone platform. His blonde hair was lit up by the sunlight, the color of sun-kissed wheat. His face was pale, eyes shut. His hands were laid across his chest, over his gleaming silver mail and armor. The only thing that was missing was his sword. He lay perfectly still and as a sparrow alighted on his shoulder, pecking at his armor to see if any food was to be found, it noticed the slight breathing of the creature. It was alive, but it didn't move. The sparrow hopped across the man's chest, warily watching his face. Nothing happened. Deciding that there was no food to be had, the little sparrow took off, leaving the breathing, sleeping man be. Little did it know just how important this man was. To him it was just another odd creature to avoid.

"All right, if we're going to talk ridiculous names, let's go with Amaryllis," Liz said as she and Morgan sat in her living room, chatting away. They'd been sharing childhood stories, and Morgan had told her about the nanny she'd had named Gertrude. Ever since they'd realized that they'd dreamt of the same castle, they'd been trying to seek some connection, but so far they'd drawn a blank.

"That's pretty though. Isn't that a flower?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah, well, I don't like flower names," Liz said. "Though it's funny, I've had two people asking for someone named Ryll. That's an odd name, or nickname. Merlin was one and the other was some tall, dark stranger."

"Aren't those the best kind?"

Liz laughed. "They both thought I was her though. Merlin said her full name was Amaryllis too. Isn't that just odd that two people would be looking for a Ryll and think I was her?"

"That is odd." Morgan frowned. "And you have no idea who the tall, dark stranger was?"

"No. He looked vaguely familiar, but I don't know him."

"And Merlin? By the way, wasn't he the wizard who supposedly lived in King Arthur's time? Is he one of these Camelot fanatics?"

Liz smiled at that. "Well, he does know a lot about Camelot. He's not from here though. He came here looking for Ryll who was supposedly his girlfriend. She died though, so I have no idea why he thought she was here. Nothing he said made any sense and yet…" She paused as if trying to figure out how to phrase her thoughts.

"And yet everything still seemed like it fit into some sort of puzzle that you can't quite piece together?"

"Yeah, exactly like that," Liz said, looking at Morgan in surprise. "You feel the same way too?"

"It's strange. I feel as if I should remember something, something important, but I can't." She frowned, glancing back at the picture behind her.

"You keep looking at that one. Do you know where it is?"

Morgan shook her head. "I keep getting the feeling that I've been there though. Perhaps only in a dream." Truth be told, Morgan had been dreaming of places like this all her life, ever since she was a little child. At first she'd assumed she'd gotten them from storybooks, but she could never find the pictures. Then as she'd grown older, her dreams had gotten more vivid. Sometimes they even came true. She'd never told anyone this before. She was afraid that they'd mark her as insane and throw her in an asylum. She wasn't quite ready to tell Liz. It was funny how they'd just met that day and yet they were chatting like old friends. It seemed so natural and not at all awkward like a conversation with a stranger might be. There were a lot of strange things going on lately, and Liz seemed to be going through a similar experience. There was strength in numbers, as the saying went. Morgan was just glad to have someone to talk to.

"Speaking of names, I heard you say your full name over the phone. Morgan le Fay? Isn't she from the Arthurian legends too?"

"My real last name is Faye. F-A-Y-E, but I changed it when I went into modeling. I wanted something that stood out, and that was the first thing that came to mind. I think the real Morgan le Fay was pure evil, but it stuck."

"She wasn't always evil," Liz said. Her eyes had that far away look to them again – Morgan had seen it a few times already like when Liz had been looking at Merlin earlier in the rain. Then she shook her head. "I mean, she might not have been. I have no idea."

"I think that all good villains have to start somewhere. If there's something about them that people can find compassion about, then it makes them a much more believable villain. No one is pure evil," Morgan said.

"You're right. It's the decisions we make that define good and evil, not who we are."

"Is that a quote from something?" Those words sounded so familiar and yet Morgan couldn't place them.

"Probably." Liz blinked. "That just kind of came out of nowhere." They laughed. "Maybe we've been talking too much history. What about your mysterious vanishing driver? That sounds like a Sherlock Holmes mystery or something."

"I swear the car wouldn't start. I tried it myself. He said the battery was dead." Morgan frowned. The battery wouldn't have just started working again if it was dead.

"Could the driver have unplugged something? While you were in the pub?" Liz asked.

"I suppose, but why would he do that?"

"I'm not sure but cars and drivers don't just vanish. Maybe…." She looked thoughtful. "Maybe you were meant to come here."

"Like destiny?" Morgan laughed. She'd given up believing in such a thing.

Liz laughed a little at herself. "You're right, that sounds silly," she said. "Destinies are a thing of fairy tales, not reality."

Morgan was standing over the body of a man whose eyes were wide open in death, reflecting the trees above. There was distaste in her mouth, and she looked up at the men standing around her. "That is what happens to those who give false evidence," she spat. "Find me Emrys!"

The men nodded, and she noted with some satisfaction the fear in their eyes. "Yes, my Lady Morgana," one of them said with a bow. They moved off, and Morgan – Morgana – walked away from the body. She was wearing a black dress and her hair hung in tangled waves. Morgan wanted to be horrified at her appearance, but the emptiness inside of her negated any complaints she had. She was alone, and her life's mission had failed time and time again. Though she was no closer to finding Emrys, her life's fate seemed to be looming ever closer. The words of the Cailleach echoed in her head: he is your destiny and your doom. Morgana had worked too hard to be thwarted by some new magician who played at having powers like her. Morgana would find him and make sure she was his doom.

The scene shifted and now Morgana was standing in a dim hovel, dressed much the same but thinner and more desperate. A boy with green eyes stood beside her looking down at a prone figure. The figure lay on a small, rickety cot. Morgana moved forward to look at her more closely. She had long, honey colored hair and perfectly pale skin. The girl opened her bright blue eyes and looked straight at Morgana.

"Morgana," she said softly, and Morgana could see the regret and sorrow in her eyes.

"Ryll." She quenched all emotion in her voice as she spoke though her heart leapt at the sight of her old friend.

"Why have you brought me here?" the girl named Ryll asked.

"To ask you something important," Morgana said, her eyes glinting. "To ask you who Emrys is."

Morgan woke up with a start, breathing hard. This was a new dream. It must have been all that talk about Morgan le Fay. And that girl… The details were starting to fade, and she grasped at it, trying to keep everything in her mind. She had been standing over a body, speaking of someone named Emrys. She'd wanted him dead… And then she'd been asking a girl about Emrys – Ryll who looked exactly like Liz. They'd been friends before…whatever had gotten in the way.

Morgan shook her head. It was just a dream. She shouldn't think anything of it. She lay back down but sleep eluded her. Instead she sat up again, turning on the lamp next to her. Liz had offered her the bed, but Morgan had protested. The couch was fine, and she wouldn't deprive Liz of her own room. Her suitcase sat next to her and she unzipped the outer pocket and pulled out a tattered book. Famous Women of History the cover read. It had been her mother's, and Morgan had rifled through the pages more times than she could count, wishing she could be among them. She flipped it open to the page on medieval times and saw Guinevere's name. She read: Guinevere was married to King Arthur and was queen of Camelot. She was a benevolent queen and treated her people fairly. She was also in love with King Arthur's most trusted knight, Sir Lancelot du Lac. When her affair with Sir Lancelot was discovered, King Arthur suffered a mental collapse and Camelot soon fell into ruin after a procession of deaths.

Okay, that was depressing. On the next page, Morgan saw her own name listed. Morgan le Fay: A dark sorceress who lived during King Arthur's time and was, in fact, his half-sister. Morgan le Fay aspired to become queen of Camelot, believing it to be her blood right. She was aligned with Sir Mordred who eventually killed Arthur on the battlefield. Morgan le Fay was killed by the sorcerer Merlin who wielded Excalibur against her.

Another depressing end. Morgan flipped the page. And gasped.

Amaryllis d' Andreli, the page read. It depicted a girl with long, golden tresses and bright blue eyes. She was dressed like a knight of Camelot with silver armor and a red cloak and held a bow in one hand and a glowing rock in the other. She read the description. Amaryllis d' Andreli was the daughter of Sir Thomas d' Andreli, knight of Camelot. She was orphaned at a young age and fended for herself for much of her life. Not much is known about her past or how she came to Camelot, however, it is known that she became the first female knight of Camelot. She was highly skilled with both the sword and the bow and was an excellent horsewoman. She was rumored to have been in love with the sorcerer Merlin, but few records show this connection. It was a known fact that she was good friends with Morgan le Fay and quite possibly possessed a magic of her own. Some legends tell of her sacrificing her life to save Arthur's while others do not mention her at all. It is possible that she was created by women during the oppressive ages as an uplifting story of feminine empowerment.

Morgan stared down at the page. This was too much of a coincidence. She organized the facts in her mind. Liz had come to Ealdor because she had received a flyer advertising the town and according to her, Merlin had received the same flyer. Morgan had been stranded here by a mysterious vanishing driver. They'd all ended up here in Ealdor. That had to mean something.

Merlin and the dark stranger had both called Liz Ryll, which, now that Morgan looked at the full name Amaryllis, she could see where the nickname had come from. Merlin, firstly was named Merlin, which was odd enough, and knew everything about Camelot. Liz had told her about the pub trivia night and how Merlin had known all the answers about Camelot including information about Amaryllis d' Andreli. He'd tried to tell Liz that she was this same girl, but when Liz had been disbelieving, he'd backed off. Clearly he didn't want to scare her away.

And now Morgan was dreaming about these characters like she was Morgana. That was insane. How could she be one person, die, and come back again? It didn't make sense. But then there were the pictures. Her eyes flitted to the picture of the castled leaned up against the wall. Camelot. It had to be. She remembered it, had dreamt of it…

"Couldn't sleep?"

Morgan jumped as she heard Ryll's – Liz's – voice. "Oh, no. I had a nightmare. And then I was looking at my book of famous historical women and I saw this." She held the book up and Liz came forward to look at it. As soon as she read the name, her eyes widened.

"That's me," she said softly. "I mean…it can't be."

"Do you remember anything of your past?" Morgan asked. "I mean, you know you have parents and a hometown, but do you really remember being there?"

Liz sat down in the chair next to Morgan. She was quiet for a long moment. "You know, I have all these memories of family outings and growing up in Wales, but then there's this empty feeling like I never really lived them. The only thing that feels real is the last three years and living in Ealdor."

"Me too. Three years. I remember taking modeling classes and growing up in Ireland but I can't actually remember being there. It's like there are all these memories that were put in my head, but they're not really mine. Like I just woke up three years ago."

Liz stared at her. "This sounds insane."

"I know it does."

"What do we do?"

Morgan thought for a minute. "You know who's at the start of all this?"

"Who?"

"Merlin. He's in the legends and he's in this town right now. He's the one with the answers. We just need to be willing to hear them."