Chapter Summary: No good decision comes in the middle of the night. Yet Merlin is tempted to make a possibly life-changing decision, nonetheless.
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Chapter XXIV: Your Nose Will Grow and Grow
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When deep night falls, Sir Lancelot marches into the chambers with a usual scowl between his brows. The knight, a book in hand, seats himself in the chair beside Merlin's bed without a word or a glance to the other occupant of the room.
Merlin watches as Sir Lancelot cracks open his book and begins reading. The knight doesn't look pleased at all to be guarding Merlin.
No matter. Merlin knows that, deep deep inside, Sir Lancelot finds him completely endearing.
Sir Lancelot shoots the warlock a narrow-eyed glare when the latter inexplicably directs a grin at him. The knight, however, chooses not to instigate an interaction and returns his eyes to his tome.
Merlin decides to rile Sir Lancelot on another day. He leans fully into the pillow propped on his back and merely enjoys the knight's quiet company.
For the next hour, Merlin's mind wanders.
It's been quite a day.
A nerve-wracking confrontation with Prince Arthur in the morning, followed by an interesting but still weary mage lesson. Then, the talk with the queen, the unfolding of a fake relationship, and the possibility of this Balinor not siring any children.
Merlin is glad things winded down in the late afternoon and evening, and the only exciting event had been the apprentice lesson.
He should really consider sleeping and letting the day end, refresh and ready himself for a new set of problems of the morrow. But although Merlin's body desires rest, his mind is active and whirling.
No good decision comes in the middle of the night.
Yet Merlin is tempted to make a possibly life-changing decision, nonetheless.
It is by no means a hasty choice; he has ruminated on it for hours in the day alone.
He's afraid that, should he put it off in the morning, he'll lose the courage to push through.
Besides, doing it now means he won't be stressing over it for the rest of the night.
So, he takes a deep breath and breaks the companionable silence. "Sir Lancelot, would you mind calling Prince Arthur here?"
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The door creaks open, and Prince Arthur's lean form pops in.
Garbed in royal sleepwear — a light-colored tunic, loose pants, and soft-skinned shoes —and blonde hair disarmingly rumpled, Prince Arthur casually strides in Merlin's chambers as if he owns it. His eyes still hold a half-lidded sleepy quality to it.
Caught off-guard by the uncharacteristic vulnerability of the prince's appearance, Merlin can only stare with wide perturbed eyes. He watches as the prince claims the cushioned armchair a few feet away from Merlin's bed. Prince Arthur lifts a hand over his mouth to stifle a yawn.
The warlock blinks at him for a few moments more. Then, Merlin opens his mouth to apologize for clearly waking the prince.
"Asking to meet in the middle of the night?" An almost invisible smirk curls Prince Arthur's lips. "How very forward of you, Merlin."
All notions of apology dissipate from the warlock's mind. "I might actually kill you one of these days."
Prince Arthur doesn't appear the least bit alarmed at the threat, relaxing fully into his seat. "Come now then. What could be so urgent that could not wait in the morn?"
Merlin glances at the door, one he's certain Sir Lancelot and other guards are on the other side of. With a quick wave of his hand, a bubble of an anti-eavesdropping enchantment expands across the chamber.
Morgana has guided him on how to hone the enchantment just a few hours ago. Thankfully, she didn't pry regarding why exactly Merlin wants to learn it.
Prince Arthur's gaze swivels to the corners of the room, even though there's no visible sign that the anti-eavesdropping spell has been cast. "Impressive that you were able to learn it perfectly in a few scant hours."
"I want to fulfill my promise to you," Merlin declares, getting straight to it. "Before I lose the courage to do so."
Prince Arthur doesn't seem surprised at the remark, perhaps already suspecting it. He leans back, expression smoothing out in a blank mask and all traces of sleepiness disappearing like a mirage.
Even wearing simple sleepwear, he looks every bit a formidable royal facing off the council.
Merlin's back straightens in response. His heart beats a quick staccato, palms sweating.
He has been preparing himself for this practically the whole day. Yet, he doesn't feel prepared at all.
Prince Arthur remains silent, his stare piercing and expectant on the warlock.
Prince Arthur Pendragon is known to reciprocate the trust you give him in equal measure. You give him none and he will give you none.
Wracu is right. Merlin may have saved Prince Arthur's life but the prince trusts him not one whit.
So, for the first time in a long time, Merlin has to take the first step.
Because, if he cannot get his mentor's help, he shall attempt to get the prince's.
"I need you not to speak or interrupt in any way," Merlin prefaces solemnly. "I'll answer your questions after I — after." He swallows around the lump in his throat.
Prince Arthur gives a nod, an agreement and an encouragement.
Merlin nods too, although he's not sure why. He rubs the back of his neck before taking a deep well-earned breath.
"Twenty-eight years ago, King Uther Pendragon asked Priestess Nimueh to help him produce an heir with magic."
Immediately, Prince Arthur's expression shutters. Every instinct of Merlin is screaming at him to clamp his mouth shut. He determinedly shoves the warnings away.
"The king and his queen had been trying for a child but their attempts bore no fruit. So King Uther turned to magic without his wife's knowledge. Priestess Nimueh performed the desired spell but warned the king that to create life, another life must be taken. And so, when the child took his first breath —" Merlin steadily meets Prince Arthur's cool gaze. "Queen Ygraine's life was taken in exchange."
Bemusement lances across the prince's features.
No, this is not the story you know, Merlin thinks.
"King Uther was enraged with grief. He blamed magic for his wife's death, even though Nimueh had already warned him of the price for his wish." Merlin can't quite keep the bitterness out of his voice. "He started a purge — The Great Purge. Magic-users were put on the execution block, burned at the pyre, hanged by the noose. Men, women, children, babes — there were no exceptions. As long as someone showed the least bit of magic, King Uther had decreed that they be put to death."
Merlin feels that lump again in his throat, choking him a bit. Oh, how he loathes the former king. Even now, in another realm and with the man himself long dead, the warlock still feels a sting of fear across his spine. The warlock shakes it away, irritated with himself.
There's a full frown across Prince Arthur face, his lips pressed together in confusion. True to his promise, however, he does not speak.
Merlin continues on to the next part after taking another sorely needed deep breath. "There was a dragonlord, the last dragonlord for the others had been slain by King Uther himself — Balinor. Gaius smuggled him out of the kingdom and asked the help of a woman in Ealdor to give him refuge. Balinor and the village woman, Hunith, fell in love and—and had relations." Merlin valiantly pushes through the awkwardness of talking about his parents in such a manner. "But King Uther's men drew near, and Balinor left to protect the village and the woman he loved. Unbeknownst to him, he also left a son behind."
Merlin gestures to himself, making the implication clearer. But he doesn't let the both of them dwell on that for long. He briefly describes the years of suppressing his innate magic, of the whispers of sorcerer executions, of the fear spreading through the villages at the mere mention of magic. He tells the prince of how he fell a tree with his magic, and his mother, fearful of the loss of control, sent him to Gaius to learn how to properly harness his gift.
"On the streets of the citadel, I saw this nobleman — a prat using his servant for dagger practice." A wistful note seeps into Merlin's voice. "I challenged him right there, angry that he was treating someone like that. Unfortunately, this prat was apparently a royal one. He told me he was King Uther's son, Arthur Pendragon. Then, he proceeded to have me thrown in a cell. To get out, I had to spend an afternoon in the stocks being pelted by rotten vegetables."
Ah, simpler times. Nowadays, Arthur actually threatens him with banishment instead of the stocks. His best friend has become so uptight since becoming king.
Merlin goes on to describe the banquet with Mary Collins disguised as Lady Helen, of a flying dagger, of saving the ungrateful arse of a prattish prince. King Uther rewarded Merlin by giving him the displeasure of being said prince's personal manservant.
Years of adventures, meeting magical creatures, passing trials, travelling to distant lands — Merlin describes it all with as fewest words as possible. At times, his voice grows cheerful with nostalgia. At others, his tone tightens with discomfort and guilt.
For a brief moment, cowardice grips him to breathlessness and speechlessness. He is tempted to skim over the details of his foolish and treasonous actions — of releasing a dragon and causing the death of many, of poisoning a friend to save another, of trying to kill a druid child, of unintentionally murdering his best friend's father.
He compromises and narrates such events curtly, implicating himself but not going into much details. For this, he's unable to maintain his gaze on Prince Arthur, afraid to see condemnation on the face that mirrors his best friend's.
If the prince agrees to help him, Merlin would rather the prince have full knowledge of exactly what kind of person he's helping. If the prince chooses to lock him in the dungeons for it, then at least Merlin can now fully depend on a certain enemy of Camelot without being caught in between.
Not that he'll help that böggel-mann harm anyone in any way.
See, Merlin has thought this through so thoroughly. Any sort of response from the prince is advantageous, even though one type of it will break Merlin's heart beyond belief. This Arthur may not be his best friend but Merlin can't help but think that the prince's reaction will be a mirror to Arthur's when the warlock finally admits to everything.
Merlin takes care to avoid mentioning Morgana's name or the fact that Arthur himself has a hidden half-sister; Merlin has no right to reveal these secrets and upend Morgana Le Fay's life in this realm. He merely mentions that a witch desires the throne for herself and schemes for it.
When Merlin risks a glance up, he witnesses no condemnation in the prince's mien as he spills all his mistakes. There's only increasing bewilderment evident in the blues of the prince's eyes and moue of his lips. Prince Arthur probably thinks that Merlin is spinning an incredulous fictional tale worthy of being made into a famous play.
Merlin staunchly ignores his questioning gaze and continues spilling everything out. The warlock needs to get through this without pausing or he won't start again.
"Then, one day, a villager came petitioning in court."
Merlin breathes out, heartbeat speeding up once more as he nears the crux of the matter. Up until this point, he can pass it off as a dream he had, another story he's inventing, a brief delusion brought on by his wounds.
It takes all of Merlin's will not to pick any of those choices.
He swallows before continuing. "She told us of a creature called Djinn. It can grant any wish and it was a boon for the villagers. But people started disappearing with the Djinn being the last to talk to them. The village sought the king's help and Arthur personally took up the task." Merlin lets out a sigh. "We encountered the Djinn on the way and I discovered where the missing villagers had gone."
He lifts his head and forces himself to meet Prince Arthur's gaze. "Apparently, if the wish wasn't possible in that realm, the Djinn chose to transport them into another where they can get what they desire."
Epiphany hits Prince Arthur's features. The prince startles, sitting up from his relaxed position with wide eyes.
"You're a transdimensional traveller," Prince Arthur breathes out, breaking his silence.
"Wha —" Merlin finds himself off-kiltered by the prince's quick and accurate assumption. He hasn't even finished telling his story. "How the hell — I didn't even know other worlds existed before all this happened." Even Kilgharrah and Wracu seem to know little about it, and they certainly didn't come to the right conclusion until Merlin spelled it out for them. "How on earth did you manage to conclude that so fast!?"
Prince Arthur, however, isn't paying attention to Merlin's questions. "How? Otherworldly teleportation is a myth, an impossibility." Incredulity paints his whole demeanor.
"Yet here I am." Merlin says blithely, trying to hurry the prince into getting over his shock. The warlock has some questions of his own that need answers.
"And Djinns truly exist?" Prince Arthur looks like he's evaluating everything he has ever known, eyes glazing over.
Djinns have that effect, Merlin has found out.
"If a Djinn can truly break the barrier between worlds, then it's more powerful than all magic-users combined," Prince Arthur murmurs.
"Or they work on a different set of rules," Merlin cannot help but interject.
Prince Arthur's head snaps to him, his gaze refocusing and asking for elaboration.
Merlin scratches the back of his head, ruminating. "Just as the powers of a dragonlord differ from the powers gained from the Old Religion, I figured the Djinn's abilities follow rules different from both. I don't think the Djinn is a creature of the Old Religion."
For the first time, Merlin takes the time to look back on the words the Djinn used to describe its powers and on the little he has read about it in the library. The compulsion to answer any question asked of it, the obligation to grant any wish uttered.
There is no balance required, no price extracted, no matter how powerful or drastic the wish may be — vastly unlike the magic and rules of the Old Religion.
Prince Arthur drums his fingers on the armrest of his chair. "A good assumption." He leans back in his chair. "It all makes sense now. Your unbelievable ignorance, your lack of reputation before the Apprentice Exam, the way you act around me and Balinor. You aren't from this world. How could I have not seen it? You couldn't have made it more obvious."
Merlin knows that the remarks are a slight against his secret-keeping skills and feels properly offended.
The shock ebbs from the prince's form, respite at a solved puzzle replacing it. His eyes return to Merlin, still that note of pondering in them. "You wished yourself here using a Djinn?"
"What? No!" Although there's no accusation in the prince's tone, Merlin does not like the implications the inquiry suggests. He did not and will not willingly abandon his own realm. "I don't know who wished me here. The Djinn transported me without telling me why."
At that, a frown mars the prince's visage.
"I'm telling you this, not only because I promised to do so, but also because I want your help." Merlin sighs. "I wanted to get Lord Balinor's help but now I can't tell him anything."
Prince Arthur arches a brow. "I'm glad I'm your second choice," he quips. Then, he cocks his head to the side. "Help with what? Settling in?"
Merlin's brows rise because he thinks that should've been obvious. "No. With getting back home, of course."
Prince Arthur stills. "You wish to return?" Confusion and disbelief hints at the prince's voice. "To the realm that had a Great Purge of magic-users?"
Merlin rolls his eyes. "I wish to return to the world that has my friends and my mum. And I have a duty there that I cannot abandon."
". . . As the manservant of my prattish counterpart?"
"As the secret protector of Camelot. Were you not listening at all to my tale?" Annoyance drips in his voice. "You're no less of a prat, by the way." Merlin feels the need to defend his best friend.
Prince Arthur hums, frown deepening further. The fact that he doesn't protest the insult speaks volumes of the depth of his contemplation.
Silence reigns between them. Merlin lets the prince process for a few more moments more before impatience overwhelms him.
"You know about transdimensional travel," the warlock prods, leaning forward. Hope flickers in his chest like a bird flapping its wings. "You guessed my origins almost immediately."
Had Merlin known the prince would easily believe him about all this, he would have done all of this earlier.
"I don't know much," Prince Arthur replies before Merlin's hopes can soar higher. "I have read everything about the subject the Great Library has to offer but it doesn't offer much. It's a forbidden art, after all, and there are very few studies involving it."
Merlin deflates, despair clawing back into his chest. Wracu has said the exact same thing.
"Who else knows of this?" Prince Arthur steeples his fingers, expression smoothing out in a blank mask. "Who else have you asked for help?"
Merlin visibly hesitates.
"Merlin, you kept this a secret because you know that, should the wrong people become aware of where you're from, they will not hesitate to use you for their own ends," Prince Arthur says, lips in a grim line. "Tell me who else knows, and we can mitigate any damage."
Oh, one of those who knows is definitely using him for their own ends. It just so happens that Merlin and the böggel-mann have the same goal. (Or Merlin tentatively hopes so anyway.)
"A dragon called Kilgharrah and —" an enemy of Camelot. The warlock clears his throat. "There's a young woman from the same realm as me who also got stuck here."
Merlin may have been willing to spill everything regarding his actions in his own realm but his wrongdoings in this realm isn't as easy to admit. Prince Arthur will, no doubt, have him thrown in the dungeons — or worse — should he find out about Merlin's almost-friendly-but-not-really interactions with Wracu.
The warlock can still recall the pure hatred filling the prince's countenance when the latter faced the böggel-mann.
"I suppose it was wise to consult a long-lived dragon," Prince Arthur says, snapping Merlin out of his guilty musings. "How do you know for sure this woman is from the same realm as you?"
"She knows things only those from my realm can know."
"And she also wishes to go back?"
Merlin blinks rapidly. "Well — yes." Merida definitely did, right? "Her mother misses her so. We've been looking for ways to return."
Wisely, Merlin makes no mention of the possible miniscule portal they've found. Wracu may be lurking around the area, and Prince Arthur may get it into his mind to visit it without preamble.
A stretch of silence falls upon them, this one longer and heavier than the last. Merlin does nothing to break it this time, fiddling with the blankets on his lap.
Finally, after several minutes, Prince Arthur leans back on his seat and declares, "I'm not unwilling to help you look for a way to return."
The tension between Merlin's shoulders releases.
"Although, I must confess that I'm not going to be able to keep this from Balinor," Prince Arthur admits casually as if commenting on the weather.
The tension returns tenfold.
"What?" Merlin hisses, fury leaking into one word. "I told you all this on the condition that Lord Balinor will know none of it!"
In the face of the warlock's wrath, the prince remains unperturbed. "I can't keep a secret from him, especially something this big."
"You? Unable to keep a secret?" Merlin's hands clench the sheets.
"From him," Prince Arthur reiterates. "The man watched me grow up. He knows each and every one of my tics and tricks, even taught me some of them. Eventually, he'll know you've told me something he needed to know."
For a moment, an image of a blank-faced blonde child with puffy cheeks imitating Balinor's solemn expressions pops unbidden in Merlin's head. He waves it away and focuses. "Lord Balinor doesn't need to know any of this."
"He doesn't need to know that you're his son?" Prince Arthur showcases his doubt with an arched brow.
"I'm not his son. Lily —" An indecipherable emotion flash by Prince Arthur's eyes at the name. "— may or may not be his daughter. Do you really wish for him to —"
"And we have the right to keep this information from him?" Prince Arthur sharply cuts off. "Information about his own child?"
"If I didn't get transported here, would anyone even find out?" Merlin shoots back. "I don't —" Merlin swallows. "I don't want him to grieve again."
At that, Prince Arthur is silent for a beat. Then, "I'm not jesting. I won't be able to keep this from him for long."
Merlin runs through the spells he knows and wonders if there's any way to erase Prince Arthur's memories of the past few hours.
"So here are our next steps," Prince Arthur continues before Merlin can get far into his treasonous planning. "First, we'll need to tell Lancelot about all of it."
Merlin startles, not expecting that at all. "Why?"
"We're both of high status. People often watch our every move so we can't act as freely. Lancelot will act in the shadows for us if need be. He's loyal to me so we can trust him." Prince Arthur taps the arm of his chair, gaze steadily on Merlin's face and gauges his response.
Merlin considers that. "All right. That sounds reasonable."
Prince Arthur's tapping stills, a glint of offense twisting his mouth. "I've put so much effort into getting you to tell me the truth. Yet, with Lancelot, I've only had to present one reason?"
Merlin snorts. "Well, I like him more than you." Plus, Merlin reckons telling Sir Lancelot will be a lot easier than telling Prince Arthur.
Based on the tiny frown pinching his brows, Prince Arthur doesn't seem to know how to address. So he doesn't. "Second, we'll need to confirm whether Lily is truly Balinor's daughter. We can't depend on speculations."
The warlock recalls Queen Ygraine's words on Balinor's preference. Merlin's interest is piqued. "How do we do that?"
"I'll take care of it," Prince Arthur says flippantly, leaving the warlock unsatisfied with the lack of elaboration.
"And if it turns out that Lily is indeed Lord Balinor's child?" Merlin asks with narrow eyes.
"We'll decide then," Prince Arthur replies firmly. "No need to argue about something we have no proof of." Before Merlin can protest that, Prince Arthur moves on. "Next, we'll need to visit the place where you first woke up in this realm."
Merlin's heartbeat stutters. "O-Oh?"
"There must be a reason as to why you appeared in that exact area in this world." Prince Arthur's words almost mirror Wracu's. "That woman from the same realm as you — could she have possibly appeared in the same spot?"
"Maybe," Merlin says slowly, trying to hide the fact that he did know the answer for certain. "I'll take you there once I'm allowed out of this confinement." And after I sneak out to meet with Wracu and tell him to stop loitering near the portal.
Prince Arthur nods, accepting it. "I'll ask around regarding transdimensional arts. Someone surely must have studied it, regardless of prohibitions."
Merlin nods rapidly. Surely someone must have. After all, in Merlin's world, outlawing magic did not completely eliminate magic-users.
Prince Arthur rises to his feet. "I suppose I should be grateful for your honesty this time, Merlin," he remarks pointedly, and Merlin sends him a half-hearted glare. "We'll discuss this again once I have some form of results."
When Prince Arthur begins heading out of the chambers, Merlin blinks rapidly. "Wait, you're — you don't have more questions for me?"
The prince pauses his treads and turns slightly to face him. He arches a brow. "Regarding how you killed King Uther in your realm, for example?"
Merlin doesn't stifle his flinch in time.
"My father has been dead for almost twenty-seven years," Prince Arthur says. "Your realm is not mine. I am not the king who gave you the sigil." Something unidentifiable flash by the prince's eyes, too quick to analyze.
Merlin has made no mention of the giver of his sigil in his narration but, for Prince Arthur, it isn't a difficult conclusion to leap to.
"And you did not kill the King Uther of your realm, no matter what your guilt tells you."
Before Merlin can process that statement, the prince leaves with nary another word.
For several long moments, the warlock merely sits there, going through the events of the past few hours.
Only time will tell whether he has made the right choice in telling Prince Arthur (almost) everything.
Dread and uncertainty coil at the base of his stomach.
He cannot, however, deny the certain lightness he feels in his chest and the thrum of anticipation running along his veins.
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Arthur closes the door behind him, his mind working through thousands of ideas.
This meeting has proven how utterly wrong his and Balinor's theories regarding the Court Sorcerer's peculiar apprentice.
Contrary to what he has implied earlier, Arthur has an endless amount of questions in mind — primarily about how on earth a kingdom that fully outlaws magic can function properly. Arthur cannot even begin to imagine it.
After hearing incredulous tales in the past hour, Arthur's thoughts are scattered and he is in no state to articulate his inquiries. He needs time to process what he has learned and find out what more he needs to know.
Transdimensional travel.
A twinge of nostalgia rises up in him, accompanied by an ache he has long learned to suppress.
Several years ago, when the scinncræfte crystal remained obsidian in his hands and the mages, with pity in their eyes, informed him of no remedy to change the results, Arthur stubbornly marched on to The Great Library. There must be a way, a cure, an artifact, he thought.
He skimmed through piles of tomes and documents, nearly ruining his eyes as he read night after night under the meager light of a flickering candle.
In a thin book browned with age, Arthur found a most interesting tale.
In merely three pages, the book depicts the story of a woman who claimed to be from another world, who fell into a hole in the ground and found herself in this one. The villagers would have believed her mad had her counterpart in this world not been alive at that time. The woman grimly informed them of her whole family being killed by bandits, of being sold into slavery, and of being forced to work in a brothel — none of which happened in this world. The still living family adopted the girl, and the counterpart happily welcomed the woman into the home as a sister.
The prince, then a mere tween, has speculated whether a world out there exists where the Goddess has blessed him with Her gifts. If so, he ponders on where to find a hole that could lead to it.
Apparently, there exists a world where an Arthur Pendragon loathes magic enough to not even desire its wonders.
And also . . .
The King Arthur Pendragon of Merlin's world has journeyed to distant lands, trained with knights, and battled monsters with a sword.
Arthur does not need to ask Merlin to know that his counterpart encounters no difficulties regarding his left leg.
"Sire?" Lancelot prods when Arthur has not moved a muscle for several silent moments. The two guards by the door shift on their feet, indicating their trepidation.
"Have someone else guard Merlin for a while. Come with me." Arthur beckons to Lancelot as he begins treading towards his rooms.
After signalling one of the guards and watching the said guard enter Merlin's chambers, Lancelot obediently follows the prince.
Arthur's thoughts don't cease even as he walks.
The mystery Merlin presents may have been solved.
Yet, true to the affairs of the atypical apprentice, the complications involving him have not decreased at all.
Out of the threads of thoughts tangling in his head, Arthur decides to follow and untangle one.
Merlin wishes to return to his own realm — a wish Arthur does not understand in the slightest given what he has heard of that realm from Merlin's own lips.
Arthur will try to help the apprentice, as he vowed. As payment for a life saved, for an agony suffered in his stead.
But he cannot quite trample down a scheme beginning to form in his thoughts.
Arthur is a crowned prince, someday to be king of Camelot. From early childhood, he has been trained to consider the betterment of the kingdom in every decision he makes.
A powerful magic-user with no connections or allies to any other kingdom. Whose loyalty to a Camelot has been tried and proven. Who has a father he already cares for working in Camelot's court.
Merlin wishes to return to his own realm — but does he need to?
Arthur disperses the line of thought.
For now.
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A/N:
"Do not tell lies, or your nose will grow and grow up to here!" – Geppetto, Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio (2022)
Thank you, Stephanie, for the kofi! And thank you for everyone who keeps sending encouraging comments and those who still tuning in!
Whew, what another holiday miracle. To be honest, I wrote this chapter months ago but I was never satisfied and yet I was too lazy to rewrite and now, I just decided what the heck.
Sorry for those who messaged me on Tumblr. I promise I'll get around answering them all, although it may be too late T^T. I forgot my tumblr password again but I've recovered it now!
Next up: Unexpected news from Tir Mor, a talk with Sir Lancelot, and another informative chess game.
Happy holidays and may the incoming new year bring many more blessings!
~ Vividpast