O-Side

"I'd be embarrassed to show it to anyone else, but you've been a good friend, and honestly, I just wanted to showcase my genius a little bit." Murian's voice was as composed and elegant as ever, albeit tinged with the slightest hint of her arrogance. The tiny faerie beamed as she flitted in a swift circle behind him, gesturing with her fingertips along the miniature display.

"'Genius' is right. You've woven your magical energy into every single fragment of wood and stone. This has the makings of a powerful domain." Oberon nodded. The framework of a miniature building was erected onto the pedestal beside her desk. At the moment it was just a few support columns threaded together by beams, surrounded by the few standing trees of a future forest, and something that might either be a lake one day, or some kind of pit. "Such elegant design, too. Some kind of ballroom?"

"You've got sharp eyes, Oberon!" The Wing Clan Faerie giggled, pride in her work radiating in her expression. "I've been working on it for years, and it'll take still more to finish… but this little ballroom is my pride and joy. One day, it'll make my fondest wish come true."

"Oho~! Dreaming of a dance in the moonlight with a handsome prince, perhaps?" Oberon winked back at her, conveying a mirth he didn't feel. Every solitary centimeter of the miniature world she created was radiating with righteous indignation and murderous intent. Even in its nascent form, this instrument she was creating made his skin crawl… and he had a hunch he could guess what her ultimate intention for it was.

"Ever the romantic, aren't you, Oberon? How perfectly adorable." Murian hefted the curtain she'd used to cover her masterpiece and returned it to its rightful place. It was clear to Oberon how emotional even looking at it made her. For all her the wisdom and guile that came from her status as one of the most ancient living fae, her mask of happiness betrayed a hint of sorrow behind her eyes as the curtain fell into place.

Something tightened in Oberon's chest; something dark and heavy. Regret, perhaps? It wasn't impossible, but how strange, if it were. He had no love in his heart for the fae of Britain, and their complete destruction was an inevitable part of his purpose. Perhaps it would be more correct to say that some human part of him wished Murian could have perished alongside her fellows in the Wing Clan that day, and not been forced to suffer the centuries of isolation and hatred since.

That crafty mutt, Wryneck…

The Pretender stifled the grimace threatening to curl his lips as he thought back to the events of a thousand years ago. He'd begun his approach of Camelot as the King of the Mors, and everything was going according to plan. The Fang Clan posed the greatest threat to him, but he'd managed to get the upper hand on their leader. The hard part was supposed to be over when he gouged out the mongrel's heart and crushed it!

…but Woodwose incarnated immediately and sank his fangs into Oberon's throat before he could process what was happening.

Wryneck… in a world full of Fae who cared about nothing but their own pleasure, the former leader of the Fang Clan was so completely devoted to Queen Morgan that he didn't hesitate to sacrifice his life to protect her from her greatest enemy. The thought of being undone by loyalty and compassion was so trite and corny that it made Oberon want to puke.

What followed may well have aided his plans in the long run… but he'd be lying to claim it was premeditated. In that moment he was so annoyed by his defeat, by Woodwose's valor and Wryneck's heroic nobility, that his hatred of the Fang Clan grew insufferable… and it was from that dark, disgusting spite that his curse on Barghest was born.

The Wing Clan, on the other hand, simply had the misfortune of being the in the wrong place at the wrong time. He set the Fang Clan to a frenzy upon them to satisfy his own indignation at having been brought low by the faeries.

"Are you listening? Repeat your instructions back to me." Murian furrowed her brow.

Oberon blinked in response, not realizing he'd gotten so lost in thought. His eyes refocused to one of Murian's impatient frowns, the tiny fae's hand resting judgmentally against her hip. Oberon raised his palms to the tiny woman, chuckling nervously.

"I apologize, Lady Murian. Guess your talent for architecture got me feeling all emotional. What did you say?"

"Hmph. Perhaps you're a little too carefree for your own good, Oberon." Murian's intent was to chastise him, but the faerie couldn't resist lighting her expression up in the face of his indirect praise. "However, since you asked so nicely, I'll forgive you. I have a message I need delivered to Camelot, and on the same day, I receive a visit from my favorite errand-boy. What can that be, if not divine providence?"

She buzzed back to her desk, pawing through her documents until she eventually produced an envelope, pushing it toward Oberon. As befit the unofficial queen of Britain's most extravagant city, the edges of the envelope were trimmed in gold, with red satin ribbons running from underneath the Wing Clan seal.

"You know I could never say 'no' to such a beautiful faerie as you, though… Camelot, eh?" Oberon sighed.

"Is that a problem? Surely you know the whole of Britain like the back of your hand!"

"Oh, getting there and finding the recipient will be no trouble at all! I'm just… not a big fan of being quite so close to the queen." Oberon gripped his shoulders, shuddering dramatically. "You know how they tell nervous stage performers to just imagine the audience in their underwear? The queen and I have the opposite sort of thing going on. Can't help but feel mostly naked when she glares at me like that."

He'd given the palace as wide a berth as possible since his reincarnation. No sense in risking being seen by the one person in the realm who might realize the King of the Mors wasn't as dead as everyone thought. Still, given his lifestyle, it wasn't as though he could avoid Camelot entirely.

"Sounds like there's a juicy story there. I'll have to needle you for details the next time I catch you at the opera," Murian tittered, "but come now! It's not as though I'm sending you to the palace anyway, and besides, wouldn't it be a shame if the lord of Oxford saw fit to call in the debt of 30 million morpounds a certain unreliable king had managed to accrue this year?"

"N-no need to bring up past indiscretions, Lady Murian! Naturally I had no intention of refusing the request of the most beautiful and forgiving faerie in the nation. Camelot is on my way home, anyway!"

Oberon extended his hand, allowing the triumphant Wing faerie to press the envelope into his palm, then he slipped it into his coat pocket with a defeated sigh.

"Thank you, Oberon. It's always a delight when you come to visit~!" Murian zipped in a slow circle, beaming happily. "You simply must make a more regular habit of it."

"Well, you know me. The glitzy nightlife fits me like a glove, so they can't keep me away from Oxford for long. Besides, I know you get lonely without someone checking in on you every now and again." Oberon winked, jerking his head toward the covered project she'd shown him. "And hey, when the day comes that this mysterious dream of yours comes true, I'll have to swing by again to give you a nice pat on the back."

There was a muted, magical 'poof' as Oberon assumed his flight form… the chibified Pretender whistling for Blanca as he pulled his hood over his head. His ever-present companion fluttered in, angling her body to assist him as he pulled himself up onto her back.

"Oh! We got so caught up in your art project that I nearly forgot why I came to visit today." Oberon was a moment away from spurring Blanca into flight when he paused, casting an eye over his shoulder. "You're a learned and accomplished mage, Lady Murian… would you mind if I asked you a question?"

"How unusually reserved of you, but I applaud your manners in asking for permission first." Murian gave the tiny king a playful smile. "What troubles you?"

Oberon shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"So, let's say you wanted to use projection magic to craft an item—er, a farming tool, for the sake of argument- but you were so devoid of talent that you couldn't Fae Magic your way out of a wet paper bag. How would you go about doing it? Would you mind showing me the process?"

"Eh!?" Murian's brow arched, and she tilted her head. Whatever she'd expected Oberon to ask her, that clearly wasn't it. "Your hobbies are as eclectic as ever, I see, Oberon."

The last of the Wing Clan faeries pondered his riddle for a moment, before explaining what to do.

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A-Side

"I'm happy to do whatever you think will help you, Altria, but…" Merlin hesitated a moment, concern tinging his voice. "Well, uh, you do realize that 'walking' is one of the few things I can't do in this form, right?"

The pair of them were taking a stroll through the woodlands around the village of Tintagel. So deep in the woods, in fact, they were following animal trails, and most of the sunlight overhead was blocked by the canopy of branches above. Altria was weaving her way between the trees with practiced precision, smiling softly as she walked and punctuating each step by letting the end of her staff kiss the ground with an audible 'tap'.

She knew these forests like the back of her hand, after all. Any place she could go where she wouldn't find other faeries was a refuge for her.

"It's the principle! All that matters is that you're here. Er, well, mostly here." Altria nodded, as if in agreement with herself. "Seeing groups of friends walking around together always made me feel kind of jealous, you know? Going on a stroll together has been at the top of my 'to do if I ever have a friend' list since I was a little girl."

Her companion's silence in response was almost deafening, and her ears burned as she realized how pathetic that must have sounded.

"Stop thinking about how sad my life has been! It hasn't been that bad, honest!" She protested the unspoken sentiment, her free arm flailing as she scowled.

"N-no, I wasn't thinking exactly that. Of course not. Hahaha." Merlin's laugh was about as far from convincing as any she'd ever heard, and he seemed to realize she wasn't buying it after a moment, as he cleared his throat. "Well, anyway, it's a fine dream, Altria. Hiking is as good a way to build friendship as any."

"I mean, I'd rather go for a walk about town like a normal person! Not that there's anything to see in Tintagel." Altria scratched her cheek with a rueful smile. "Sadly, there's no way that would work out. If the villagers ever caught me being happy about something, they wouldn't rest until they ruined it."

For all her griping, the Fae of Avalon was bounding with energy, practically hopping from foot to foot, and ever since Merlin's return earlier that day, her expression had been a constant smile. Not only had the lesson gone well, but it just felt good to finally get to say all the terrible things she usually had to settle for thinking as hard as she could.

It was hard to tell whether she was still riding the high of having her first-ever friend, or if she was just resting better now that every night wasn't a struggle against freezing to death, but either way, she almost felt like she could run off and get her entire pilgrimage done right now!

"Such a shame! I'm sure I'd love to sample the Tintagel experience. All pumpkins and bumpkins, as far as the eye can see." Her staff flickered with the tones of Merlin's voice, the puckish rogue speaking as playfully as ever. "I'll put it on the bucket list, I suppose. Really, a walk in the woods is fine, if that's all you've got."

Altria giggled at the sentiment… though honestly, she could only 'wish' Tintagel had pumpkins. All she'd ever seen was wheat and trees.

"There's plenty to see out here, anyway! Deeper that way is a little lake, and if you go north, you'll reach the path to a house by the cape. An old blacksmith lives there. The villagers are scared of him, but he seems alright to me, and his forge is AMAZING! Have you ever seen a forge? I feel like I could spend all day in one."

"I have, as fate would have it. A bit hot for my tastes, but I can see the appeal. It does makes sense for the Child of Prophecy to have a blacksmith's heart." Merlin chuckled. Altria felt like she was rambling a bit, but Merlin was a good sport about it, at least. She couldn't help it! She took a few deep breaths, trying to bring down her tempo a little bit as she leaned against a tree to rest for a moment.

"Come to think of it, it does make sense, huh?" She'd been born with an instinctive understanding of her purpose, but because it came so naturally, she'd never had much reason to stop and think about it. When the day came, her pilgrimage would begin. She would walk the paths of Britain, visit her cities, ring the bells of the Fairy clans, and when the day came that her travels had concluded… "Well, if I've gotta give up my life to forge a sword, you'd best believe it's going to be the most beautiful sword you ever saw!"

As ever, the thought of her purpose brought a mix of conflicting emotions into her chest. The Fae didn't fear death in the same way humans did, especially not when it came as a function of their purpose: the reason a faerie was born in the first place. If her destiny was to march toward her own death for the sake of a single miracle, she would march toward that destiny with her head held high… but she couldn't say she would do it without regrets. More frustratingly, she couldn't even tell you what those regrets were! Only that they lingered when she pondered her future. Encircling her gut like chains made of ice.

"Clumsy and talentless as you may be, I don't doubt that for a second. An 'Excalibur' you poured your entire life into would doubtless be a blade so beautiful, even I may shed a tear at the sight of it."

Merlin's sardonic tone was devoid of its bite, and he fell silent for a moment as the pair of them at last crested the hill in the center of the woodland, coming to a stop as Altria worked the base of her staff into the soil, and then sat cross-legged in the grass beside it. A thoughtful frown had spread across her face as she gazed out at the small lake beneath them, the reflection of the sun's light casting everything around them in a vanilla glow.

"Hey, Merlin?" She began, taking a deep breath.

"Oh my… you've never said 'Hey, Merlin?' like that without following it up with something heavy. Is everything okay?"

"Oh shush." She closed her eyes, and her frown reversed course into a small smile, if only for a moment. He wasn't exactly wrong. "I was just wondering what you'd say if I told you I didn't want to go on this pilgrimage. That I was going to call it quits and do something else with my time."

Merlin chuckled in response, responding more quickly than Altria had expected.

"That's two hypothetical questions you just posed, with two different answers! If you told me you didn't want to go on your journey, I guess my response would just be 'we both knew that already, you clumsy, hopeless Fae! Why get tangled up in the weeds of feelings you already knew you had?'" The mage of flowers hummed, the gem of her staff glowing warmly. "Whereas, if you told me you were quitting, my first response would be, 'why are you lying to me right now?' Just like how we both know you hate this land and don't want to give up everything to save it, we both know that- no matter what- you'll see your destiny through to the end."

"Do I seem so resolute to you? I must be quite an actress." The Fae girl's hands had come to rest on her knees, her fingers squeezing her kneecaps as she cut her gaze up toward the head of her staff.

"Don't sell yourself short! Determination is the one positive trait you've got. Even when you're overmatched and under-talented, you never lose that spark of yours."

"You sure are good at making compliments sound like insults, you know that?" Altria sighed, earning an apologetic chuckle from her mentor.

"I shouldn't tease you when you're being vulnerable like this, I'll grant, but old habits die hard. Tell you what I'll do, by way of apology. I'll charge up my Merlin-brand precognition powers and give you some good news about your journey."

"Wait, did you have precognition?" Altria asked. She felt like she remembered something like that in the legend of Merlin, but she couldn't quite be sure.

"Of course I did! Have a little faith in your old pal Merlin. Now then." She could hear rustling on the other end of his connection, as if he had thrown back a cape dramatically. "Altria Caster. The journey that lies ahead of you will be one of unspeakable pain; both physical and mental. Across your path to ring the bells, you will experience sorrow, rage, and betrayal in ways that even your dear hometown never inflicted them on you."

"Was this, uh, supposed to cheer me up, Merlin?" Altria shifted in the grass, laughing awkwardly.

"The 'but' is coming, Altria! That's the most important conjunction for a reason." She could almost hear Merlin bristling with indignation as he corrected her, and he cleared his throat with a theatrical 'ahem', "BUT, should you endure all that pain, you'll be rewarded with what you desire most in the world. A kindred soul to share your heavy destiny. A true friend. You know how it goes, right? The sort of person who brings so much light to your life that you feel like blessing them just for being born?"

"A light to my life…" Altria parroted the words in a dreamy tone. Her exhale became a long sigh as she closed her eyes and fell onto her back. She still wasn't confident she properly understood what a friendship was like, but perhaps she'd know it when she saw it? "Does that mean you don't count?"

"I wonder…" Mused the mage. "Well, this would be the sort of friend you could take on a walk without carrying them about, which sounds like an upgrade, to me!

It was Altria's turn to lead a prolonged silence; a thoughtful smile tugging at her lips as she felt the evening breeze drift over her. Her life experience was too sheltered and cruel for her to properly visualize this 'prophecy' of his, but when she tried to picture a friend, the form it took was a beam of light that pierced howling winds.

"Do you know why I'm still alive, Merlin?" she finally asked, grunting with exertion as she forced herself back into a seating position so she could look up at her staff. "Why I keep getting up every time I get knocked down, and never give up on my goals?"

"You mean it's not the whole 'too stubborn for her own good' farmgirl thing?"

She shook her head.

"I've never told anyone this before, since, I mean, who would care anyway, right?" Despite the depressing sentiment, her tone was as carefree as ever. "But I have this recurring dream where all the faeries of Britain, their words, their actions, my destiny… all of it manifests as a blinding storm of howling, painful wind. I'm trapped in the middle of it, buried and alone in a dark, cold world."

"Sounds like you're just seeing this disgusting place for what it really is…" Merlin's grumbling was barely audible, before he realized what he'd done and coughed awkwardly. "I mean, it feels like an apt metaphor for the childhood you got to have!"

"Maybe so, but y'know what? No matter how loud the wind gets in my dream, and no matter how dark the void I'm trapped in, there's always this glowing star shining through the storm. It never changes or dims or flickers… it just sits there in the background, giving me a tiny hint of light."

"A light in the darkness, huh? If the storm represents the faeries you're supposed to be saving, I can't imagine what the star is all about."

"That's what I'm saying! The mystery drives me crazy." Altria huffed and nodded. "It would be so easy to just give up and fade away… but how am I supposed to rest in peace when there's a little star that's been cheering me on my entire life? If I knew what it was, I could at least thank it for always supporting me—or cuss at it for not letting me quit."

The Faerie of Avalon felt strangely light. Maybe this was that 'confiding in a friend' thing she'd often imagined.

"I wouldn't know, sadly. There is no star lighting up my storm. Just chilling winds." Merlin sounded wistful, and his words hit her ear in such a way that she was instantly pulled from her thoughts.

"Merlin…?"

"O-oh! Did I say that out loud? Well, that's embarrassing." He recovered as always, laughing warmly. "Point is, I think I understand you a little better now! At the end of the day, it doesn't really matter if the source of our strength is silly, or dreamy, or something that no one else can see. There's no bad way to find the strength to live another day."

"Hmm…" One corner of Altria's mouth drooped into a frown as she got the distinct impression Merlin was trying to cover something up. While he was the closest thing she'd ever had to a friend, he was also the first person she'd ever interacted with on whom she couldn't use her Fae eyes. "Well, your theory wasn't entirely wrong either. At the end of the day, I guess I kinda AM too dumb and stubborn to know when to give up."

Another day was finally beginning to end, and as the bulk of the sun vanished beneath the horizon, Altria realized she needed to start heading back if she wanted to make it to her stable before nightfall. She was starting to get a bit too reckless with the time she spent training with Merlin… pushing her luck wasn't wise when she lived with people as spiteful as the villagers of Tintagel.

As she returned to her feet and began to free the end of her staff from the mud, Merlin shared his final pearl of wisdom with her. Words that would stick with her for the rest of her life, although she didn't realize it at the time.

"Whether it's to solve a mystery or because you're dumb and stubborn, it doesn't matter much, does it? At the end of the day, the pilgrimage is 'your' journey, Altria. Only you get to decide its purpose, or when it ends."