Your Future Hasn't Been Written Yet
by K. Stonham
released 3rd March, 2023

Douxie woke with a gasp.

It took a moment for him to get his racing heart under control. Sitting up, he saw that he was in Charlemagne's den, warm before the fireplace. Excepting the stacks of books, and cooling gargantuan cups of tea, he was alone.

"Mordrax's Miracles," he breathed, relaxing.

He raised his hand, still holding the time map. From within the map, stashed under the lenses, an opal, held on a fine Fae-iron chain, slipped free.

Douxie caught it.

"So it was real," he whispered. Not that he'd doubted, per se. He'd seen too many unexplainable things in his career as a wizard to ever do something so gauche as doubt.

But having the tangible evidence of Taliesin's pendant made it all feel more true.

His thumb stroked across the warm surface of the smooth stone. "Thank you, Taliesin," Douxie murmured. He tucked the time map into his hoodie pocket, and pulled the necklace over his head. The opal settled beside the two other pendants: his crudely made quartz panic button, and the carved bone skull that he'd carried with him for more than nine centuries.

Bowing his head over his knees, Douxie closed his eyes and tried to think.

"What if Merlin was more like Charlie?" he'd asked Archie once upon a time, in a time that had now never happened, in this very room. "Would I be a completely different wizard?"

The lack of Archie felt like an icy knife in his lungs right now. It was hard to think, to breathe, without that constant companionship.

But he needed to work his way through things.

"First point," he whispered to his knees, "I'm going to have to ask Krel and Aja how to murder Gaylen." And he was sure that conversation would go over so well. Because while he was absolutely sure neither of them wanted to risk Morando getting his hands on Gaylen's core again... allowing Douxie, a human, an alien from their point of view, to destroy their people's god?

The idea might well break his friendship with Krel. And Aja, Queen Aja, wouldn't even have that moment of shocked betrayal that Krel would. She'd just denounce Douxie outright. He'd be lucky if she didn't go straight for her serrator and kill him on spec.

He needed Archie to tell him he was borrowing trouble, to bounce ideas off, to form a better plan.

Archie wasn't here.

"Second point," Douxie whispered. "I need to tell Jim." About the goal shift. About what Douxie was going to need to do to get it accomplished. About what he'd been doing all along, depending on Jim to be a savior of wizard-kind.

Little brother or not, divine king or not, Douxie doubted Jim was going to take the revelation of that kind of manipulation easily. I'm Merlin's son, even when I'm trying not to be.

"Third." Douxie hesitated. He swallowed. "Third point. I need to not take this personal." He needed to be able to think about this rationally. Plan logically. He needed to somehow divorce himself from the aftereffects of Gaylen's actions. Effects which had as much as ruined Douxie's entire life, making him an outcast since childhood. Alienating him from his own magic, since it had been rendered a thing of myth. Taking every bit of the support that Gaylen had enjoyed, and ripping it away-

Pain crested, and broke.

Hot tears wet the knees of Douxie's jeans even as he struggled to keep his sobs silent, so Jim and Charlemagne, wherever they were, didn't come running.

"You stole- you bastard-"

Every murdered wizard. Every innocent killed in witch hunts. They were all crimes to be laid at Gaylen's feet. Even Herne's slaughter. It was all too easy to understand, now, that the thief Herne had railed against was Gaylen. Which didn't make Herne innocent, but did at least make his motivation somewhat more understandable.

If I'd seen magic stolen from the world by one wizard? I'd hate too.

It went on and on, nine hundred plus years' of pain. Every stone thrown at Douxie, every blade leveled at him, every person he'd lost, whether to hatred or to mortality. And that was only what Douxie had experienced personally. If he let the wizards of Earth know about this, assuming they believed him, they'd be howling en masse for every last drop of Akiridion blood to be shed in penance. Restitution.

Imagining the wizards of Arcadia turning against Krel and Aja, though, brought a sharp stop to Douxie's weeping. Because he couldn't let that happen, the Tarrons were as innocent of Gaylen's crimes as he himself was-

He swallowed, and breathed, and slowly, painstakingly, shut everything away in a little mental box until he could deal with it.

Hopefully, centuries from now.

Douxie clenched his fists and rose. Went to cup his hands in one of Charlemagne's frankly ridiculously huge teacups and drink, because his throat hurt. And then, after that pain eased, to wash his face in the tea, scrubbing away signs of his tears. Because he needed to not have Jim and Charlie see him like this.

Eventually, he made his way out the door, looking for them.

And wishing he had Archie here, to help him deal with being the fulcrum of the past and the future.


"Preposterous!" Blinky scoffed. "I assure you, sir, I am fully versed in the construction and operation of human vehicles. I have no need of your driving instruction."

The man pointed his clipboard at Blinky. "I will be the judge of that, buttercup."

"Buttercup...?" Why was he being compared to a flower?

"You want to drive our vehicles, on our roads, then you've got to follow our rules." There was a glint in this "Coach"'s eye that Blinkous did not care for. "And that means passing your driving exam. I am here to see if you're ready for that."

There was an exam? Blinky turned to look at Claire and Toby, who both nodded solemnly. Toby even fished his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out a rectangle, emblazoned with an image of his beaming face, wearing braces. "I had to pass the exam too."

"You can do this, Blinky," Claire encouraged.

"Very well." Blinky turned back to Coach Lawrence. "Let us begin this examination of my skill." He was confident he would pass it, with flying colors. After all, he was an excellent driver!

"All right. In the car!" Lawrence himself walked around to its far side, settling himself in the front passenger seat.

Blinky got in, closed the door, and turned the key in the ignition.

The clipboard smacked his hand. "What are you forgetting?" Lawrence demanded.

Blinky blinked all six eyes, then reached up and adjusted the rear view mirror.

"Not that! Your seat belt." Lawrence snapped his own.

"I assure you, I have no need of such device."

"Oh yeah?" Lawrence glared. "What if you get into a wreck?"

"I am more than durable enough to walk away from such an occurrence uninjured," Blinky was proud to inform him.

"Mm-hmm." Lawrence looked him up and down. "How much do you weigh?"

Blinky gasped, scandalized at this display of rudeness. "I had always heard that in human society, it was simply impolite to inquire after someone's specific mass!"

"You're, what, three, four hundred pounds?"

Four-fifty, actually, not that it was any of the man's business.

"What's going to happen when you get into a wreck, and that four hundred pounds is ejected through the front window and impacts a bystander at sixty miles an hour?" Lawrence demanded. "You tell me that, huh?"

Blinky envisioned the scenario. He then reached over and wordlessly buckled himself in.

"Very good. Now, first." Lawrence glanced at his clipboard. "Are all your mirrors adjusted?"

Blinky checked them and nodded.

"Parking brake on? Gearbox placed in park?"

Blinky double checked those as well, nodded again.

"Good. Now you can turn the car on."

Blinky did so, the engine roaring pleasingly to life. Coach narrowed his eyes. "All right," he said in a warning tone. "Put her into first."

Blinky shoved the car into gear and took off, wheels spinning, cackling.


"Yeah," said Toby to Claire, watching as Blinky peeled out. "This is going to go so well."

Wincing, she nodded.


Douxie came into the kitchen just as Charlie was finishing crimping the edges of the pie crust. He stopped short in the doorway, staring from Jim's making a more modest pie to Charlie and his ginormous one. "Oh gods, there's two of them now," he murmured.

"Douxie!" Jim abandoned his pie and beelined for his idiot wizard brother who kept getting into magical scrapes. "Are you okay?" he demanded, hands on Douxie's shoulders, checking him over.

"Yeah, fine," Douxie assured him tiredly. Jim narrowed his eyes; he wasn't convinced.

Charlie loomed up behind Jim. "Good chat with Taliesin, then?" he inquired.

"Yeah," Douxie repeated. But his gaze slid to the side. "There's... some things I should talk over with the both of you, though." His hand closed around a new necklace, one Jim was 100% sure Douxie hadn't had before.

"Well, let's just get these pies baking, and then we'll have our chat." Charlie glanced over his finished pie, comparing the crust to Jim's, then breathed fire into a masonry oven until the walls glowed red hot. "Here we go," he said cheerfully, and slid his enormous pie in. Jim lifted his own and, glad he was wearing his armor because he could feel the heat radiating off the oven from halfway across the room, followed suit. Charlie hefted a thick wood door into the aperture, closing the oven off, letting their pies bake through radiant heat. "Now," said the dragon, "shall we go back to my den and chat there? It's much more comfortable."

Douxie gave a half laugh. "Sure," he agreed, and turned to lead the way.


Waltolomew templed his fingers before his face. "An interesting proposal," he said, thinking over the implications.

NotEnrique, however, misinterpreted his tone and bristled. Literally; the scruff at the whelp's nape rose up. It was not unlike seeing a cat, confronted with a dog many times its size, attempting to make itself look bigger.

Councilwoman Nuñez scowled. "Are you not interested in rescuing others of your kind?" she inquired acidly.

"To the contrary," Waltolomew replied mildly. "I find the proposed endeavor to be both worthwhile, and in line with my own goals. How many do you think are left behind in the Darklands?" he asked NotEnrique.

The brat settled down and shrugged, trying to look more nonchalant than he was, if this expedition had been his own idea. (Waltolomew had no doubt it was.) "A couple dozen, when I left. Maybe three."

"Let us plan for thirty-six refugees, then." He opened a drawer and pulled out a legal notepad and pen. The computer was sat there on his desk, but he was old enough that, despite the current convenience of modern technology, Walt found the scratch of pen on paper to be soothing. It helped him order his thoughts better, despite the fact that he was an accomplished typist. "They'll need foster homes."

Claire's mother settled into a seat next to her foster son. "There aren't many homes in Arcadia Oaks licensed to deal with older, traumatized foster children."

He raised an eyebrow. "You've inquired with CPS, then?"

She nodded. "Discreetly."

"Ordinarily, I'd say ta chuck 'em all inta Trollmarket," NotEnrique said. "After all, we look like trolls, even if just little ones. But."

Waltolomew nodded. "With the active presence of Lady Morgana in the crystal, we cannot guarantee unbonded changelings would be safe from her manipulations."

NotEnrique nodded. "Yeah, that."

His pen tapped against the paper as he thought. "I will endeavor to see how many changelings would be willing to foster younglings and acclimate them to the surfaceside world. I would obviously prefer they remained within the vicinity of Arcadia Oaks, for now." There were changelings of good nature and repute farther out into the world, but there were also those who had taken news of Gunmar's demise... poorly. Two bases had gone utterly dark. Waltolomew himself was wearing a shield ring these days, one he hadn't needed since the last time he'd been in a war. (Vietnam. It had solidified his distaste of the battlefield.)

"I figure, as far as goin' in an' out, Nomura's got the Fetch. I can wear a watch. We set a time each day for her to reopen the portal." NotEnrique's fingers drummed on his thigh.

"You'll need a backpack, supplies." Waltolomew noted that down. "Potentially some bribes?"

NotEnrique nodded. "I was thinking, tuppers of good troll food. I mean, that Jim kid ain't here, and no one beats his cooking, but."

"I will inquire with my connections." Which meant talking with Blinkous, and asking who the best cook in Trollmarket was. And arranging to deal with them at a remove, as Waltolomew himself was no more able to go into Trollmarket than any other changeling. He made another note, then quirked a smile. "It does seem that Jim's... culinary diplomacy... is an effective method."

"Yeah, well." NotEnrique rubbed his belly. "You remember what the food's like in the Darklands."

Waltolomew repressed a shudder. "To my lasting regret."

"I want someone to go in with you," Councilwoman Nuñez spoke up suddenly.

NotEnrique scowled. "I don't need someone watching my back! I'm not a-" He spat a Trollish word meaning, essentially, weakling.

"And I am your mother," she retorted. "What if something happened to you?"

That obviously caught the little changeling by surprise; he stared up at her, eyes wide.

She looked discomfited; looked away.

Well, well. Who knew, there might be hope for mixed species families yet. "The Fetch is rather small," Waltolomew explained to her. "No one much larger than NotEnrique can fit through."

"Then find someone small!" she snapped. "I will not have him risking himself, alone!"

His pen twirled as Waltolomew thought. Who was small enough to go through with NotEnrique? A goblin, obviously, but they were flighty. Or, more accurate to say, they had their own priorities and could not be depended upon to stick with someone else's.

After a moment, he thought of a possible solution. Or, he should say, companion. "I will have to check if he is amenable," he said, looking at NotEnrique, "but how would you feel about a gnome accompanying you?"


Back in the den, Jim followed Douxie's example and took a seat on a stack of books. He was kind of sure he could hear Blinky yelling at him across time about it, but it wasn't like Charlie really had any furniture, was it?

Douxie opened his mouth, hesitated. "I'm... not really sure where to begin," he said as Charlie settled down on his haunches.

"Um." Jim exchanged a look with Charlie. "Begin at the beginning, and when you come to the end, stop?" Jim suggested.

Douxie looked skeptically at him. "Alice in Wonderland, Jim? Seriously?"

"I loved the mad tea party scene when I was little!" Jim defended his tastes.

"You're little now," Douxie muttered, but sighed. "All right. So. Taliesin showed me Atlantis," he started.

Jim sat up straight, blinking. Because. Wow. Camelot was one thing, but Atlantis?!

"And, um." Douxie looked at his hands. "This is where it gets weird."

Jim sat, and Jim listened, and Jim's eyes got wider and wider because what the fuck? By the end of Douxie's recounting, Jim's mind was blown. He'd thought learning about trolls and Trollmarket for the first time had been mind blowing, but he was pretty sure this was even worse than that.

Well, maybe not.

"So." Charlie sounded sad. "Taliesin is dead, then."

"Yeah." Douxie nodded. "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news."

Charlie shook his head. "It's truly not a surprise. He was so old, and tired, and sad, at the end. And to give himself up, in the hopes that others might survive... that seems very like him."

Jim stumbled across a thought. "So if Aja and Krel are Atlanteans, does that mean Krel's a wizard?"

Douxie raised fingers into the air, then paused. His eyes widened. "I was going to say no," he said slowly, "but then I remembered how Krel is about music." He blinked. "He was going to give ADP a serious run for our money at Battle of the Bands, after, what, only a couple months of DJ'ing?"

"And he works best with music playing," Jim pointed out.

"Bran's Tongue," Douxie swore. "I think you're right. I think Krel is whatever the modern Akiridion equivalent of a bardic wizard is."

This was clearly some kind of game changing idea for Douxie, but all Jim could think to add was, "Krel is going to hate that."

He and Douxie stared at each other for a minute, each of them clearly turning the idea over in their minds, until they each broke down laughing as one. "You get to tell him," Douxie said between giggles. "Your epiphany, and you're the king."

"No!" Jim protested, grinning so broad he thought his face might crack. "You're the wizard! The bardic wizard," he added, because somehow that was no surprise. "You get to tell him."

Charlie looked back and forth between them, clearly amused by their amusement. "Well," he said, "regardless of your friend's identifiers, the question would seem to be, what do you intend to do with this new information going forth?"

Douxie sobered up. "I think," he said, "what I need to do is study up on, first, gemology, and second, those Atlantean texts I have access to." His hand curled again around the opal. "I don't suppose Taliesin happened to leave a cache of them with you?"

"Sorry, no." Charlie shook his head. "I will, however, keep my eye out over the next, fifteen hundred years, you said it was?" Douxie and Jim both nodded. "So come ask me again once you get back to your own time."

"Why gemology?" asked Jim.

Douxie sighed. "Morgana was able to use the power of the heartstone, right?" Jim nodded, unsure where Douxie was going with this. "I don't know how she did that, but if I could replicate it... I could take all the stolen energy in Gaylen's core and return it to humanity. Maybe." His face showed sudden doubt.

Jim scowled. "Douxie, she killed the heartstone!"

"And I'd be killing Gaylen." Douxie's expression suddenly made him look old, and tired. "Won't be the first time I've killed someone. I could hope it would be the last, but luck rarely stays by my side." He gave a wan, stretched smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Not looking forward to proposing this to Krel and Aja. If I can even figure out how Morgana did what she did."

Jim swallowed. "You don't think-"

"I don't know what they'll think, Jim." Douxie ran a hand down his face and looked away, at the fire burning cheerfully in the hearth. "Let alone what they'll do."

"Doux, they're our friends!"

"They're also a prince and princess - make that queen, actually - of another world. We're late-come into their lives, Jim." Douxie's eyes met his. "As you have a duty to your people, so do Aja and Krel have a duty to theirs. How that intersects with Gaylen's remains... I do not yet know." And did not look forward to learning, his expression betrayed.

Part of Jim warred; these were his friends they were talking about, his people... and if Aja and Krel couldn't see that giving back what Gaylen had stolen would give them all a shot at staving off the Arcane Order...

But Douxie wasn't wrong, either. The Tarrons had duties to a whole other planet that Jim had never set foot on. They were part of a wider intergalactic society that he had never had to deal with.

Earth was his to protect and defend.

But maybe Aja and Krel had to think about the whole cosmos ahead of one measly backwater planet.

"I might be borrowing trouble," Douxie admitted, reading his expression.

Jim breathed out. "Let's hope you are."

"The real question is," Charlie butted in, "what will you need to enact your plan?"

"Dunno." Douxie looked at his interlaced hands as though they might give him some answer. "More research material, I guess."

Jim laughed. "More volumes of Gems and Geodes." He made an expression of distaste. "Better you than me."

But Douxie just nodded. "And whatever else Blinky thinks might be of use."

"Well, at least you have a magic translator necklace now." Jim touched his amulet. Actually, he didn't know if it would also work to translate Trollish the way the original amulet had. Not that it mattered, since he could now read Trollish just fine. A thought occurred to him. "Wait, you can speak Atlantean?"

Douxie gave him a puzzled look.

"Well, I mean, you said Taliesin's long dead, so he wouldn't have been speaking the same language as us, right?"

"Jim..." Douxie looked perplexed. "Do you... do you think we're speaking modern English right now?"

"Um, yeah?" The only other language Jim spoke was Trollish, and he had to shift brain gears for that.

"We're... not. We're really, really not."

"What?" Jim blinked. "Yes we are."

Douxie gave a soft laugh, looked at his clasped hands, then back up at Jim. A small, wicked smile was on his face. "Jim. We are in sixth century England, talking with a dragon. Do you really think Charlie, at this point in time, speaks twenty-first century English?"

Jim drew a blank.

"Time travel includes a mental component." Douxie knocked on the side of his own head. "When we went back to Camelot, none of you noticed it, but you were speaking twelfth century Welsh. Currently, we're probably speaking Old English. I can just barely hear the difference in the phonemes, when I concentrate. And if I'm having a hard time noticing it, I'm not surprised you haven't at all."

Jim stared. "What." He felt like his mind was being blown for the second time inside ten minutes.

Douxie shrugged. "Does no good to travel in time and be completely unintelligible to the locals, does it?"

"How do you know all this stuff?" Jim as much as whined.

Douxie grinned. "I had an eclectic, highly targeted education, and one of my main teachers was a wizard who specialized in pushing aside the veil of linear time. You guess why I know about time travel magic."


The two orange cones were lined up twenty-five feet apart, five feet from the edge of the canal bed. It should have been an easy final test of Blinky's driving skills. Toby could have done it... well, not blindfolded, he wasn't that good. But easily!

As the sedan zoomed back down the canal, however, he knew it wasn't going to be that simple.

Blinky drew to a screeching halt parallel with the front cone. Upper arm on the back of his seat as he looked out the rear window, he banged the car into reverse and hit the gas.

The back cone went flying.

A yank of the wheel to the right and Blinky gunned it forward.

The front cone went flying.

"Perfectly parallel!" Blinky crowed as he triumphantly exited the vehicle.

Coach Lawrence, storming out of the passenger side, apparently held a different view. "That was the WORST beginner's lesson I've ever taught!" He threw his clipboard onto the ground, then pointed at Blinky. "You! Are not allowed to think of touching a vehicle until you've had more lessons!"

Aaarrrgghh, who had caught the first of the flying cones, chewed experimentally at the pointy end as Blinky stared at Coach, flabbergasted.

"I assure you-"

"Not another word!" Coach told Blinky. "Be here Thursday, at six sharp." He scooped up his clipboard, then one of the cones. Storming over Aaarrrgghh, he held his hand out expectantly for the other. Aaarrrgghh pulled it out of his mouth and shamefacedly handed it to him.

"Domzalski!"

Toby snapped to attention. "Yes, Coach!"

"You are in charge of making sure he does not drive, got it?"

Toby saluted. "Got it, Coach, sir!"

Coach stashed the cones in the trunk of the car, slammed the lid. He got in the front seat of the car, buckled himself, checked the mirrors, and drove off, grumbling all the way.

Blinky stared after the vehicle, still speechless. Looking a little crushed.

"It's okay, Blinky." Claire patted his arm. "I haven't passed my driving test either. We can study together, okay?"


Douxie sat before the fire, his back against their bed, completely failing to parse the page he was reading for, oh, the fifth time or so. Behind him, sitting on the other side of the hoodie-mattress, Jim was cleaning his teeth with the handkerchief Douxie had long-term loaned him. The Trollhunter had tried the other alternative, which involved using a chewed-up twig as a toothbrush, and hastily retreated back to the proffered cloth square.

Lucky for both of them, Douxie thought, that he'd remained enough of a gentleman that even in the twenty-first century he preferred pocket squares to tissue paper, so he always had a couple clean ones tucked away in his pockets.

Of course, that brought up the image of Zoe, laughing her ass off the first time they'd bumped into one another early in Victoria's reign, when Douxie had actually been flush enough to dress a bit natty.

Fortune came, and fortune went, and as long as he'd had enough to keep himself and Archie fed, Douxie had long since ceased to mind.

But Zoe's laughter had still stung.

None of which helped him now. With a huff, he shut the book and set it back atop the stack he'd taken it from. He turned to face Jim, who had finished cleaning his teeth and was down to his undershirt and boxers, legs half covered by the blue blanket. "Jim," Douxie began.

Jim turned to look at him. "Yeah?"

He didn't know how to start.

With an apology, I guess.

"I'm sorry."

Jim's face wrinkled in confusion. "What for?"

"For... being like Merlin. Manipulating you to do what I need, without telling you." Shame made it hard for Douxie to keep eye contact with Jim, but he forced himself.

"What do you mean?"

Douxie breathed, trying to sort his thoughts into some sort of order. "Even when the plan was just to show the world magic... I was still depending on you to handle the aftermath. And I never told you that."

Jim looked confused. "The aftermath...?"

"Mass panic," Douxie told him bluntly. "Giving the entire planet a paradigm shift was never going to go across well, Jim."

"Okay." Jim sighed. "I'm just going to take this opportunity to point out that you're being way too hard on yourself here. That really doesn't compare to anything Merlin's done, to either of us."

Douxie ignored him. "If I can restore the magic... probably, all of a sudden, people will stop dying. Or really slow down, at least. And babies will become a lot harder to come by." Because he'd figured out, courtesy of Taliesin's little chat and the stroll through Atlantis, that the two things were related. Wizards didn't tend to have fewer children than mortals... they just had them over a lot longer scale. Eight thousand years, instead of eighty. "Not to mention loads of new wizards cropping up, with no training? There's going to be wars, Jim. And religions going crazy, sure that it's the end of days or something." Most religions were older than him; that didn't mean Douxie understood their motives or priorities.

"So...?"

Douxie sighed. "I'm counting on you to handle the world. I'm sorry."

"Me?" Jim pointed at himself. "Douxie, I'm a kid from Arcadia. I haven't even graduated from high school. Who's going to listen to me?"

"You are a divine king," Douxie reminded him. "That will carry a lot more weight than you think, even from people who don't know what it means. People, even if they're not your people, will listen to you, Jim." Which was not the same thing as following Jim, but it was at least a step in the right direction. "If I tried to persuade people?" Douxie gestured down the length of himself. "I'm a punk rocker, and I look it. No one would take me seriously." His skills were in showmanship, not sincerity; he captivated, rather than compelled. Douxie's voice would just be one more lost in the morass.

"We take you seriously," Jim pointed out.

Douxie allowed himself a small smile. "That makes Team Trollhunters something of an anomaly." Even the other wizards in Arcadia didn't think Douxie worth much. Well, bar the handful who were either (a) his students, or (b) anomalies themselves.

Jim was silent for a minute, perhaps processing. Then he groaned, his forehead dropping onto Douxie's shoulder. "I'm going to have to become a politician like Claire's mom, aren't I?"

"Well, maybe not exactly like Claire's mom," Douxie temporized, patting the back of that dark head. "But, yeah. Afraid that's one of the prices of kingship, my liege."

Jim whimpered. Then he sighed. "Fine," he said, straightening. "Giving magic back to the world will get the Arcane Order off our backs. So. You save the world," he bargained, "and I'll find a way to calm it down afterward. Somehow."

"Deal," said Douxie.

Now I just have to figure out how to hold up my end of that.


Author's Note: BluHeaven-ADW drew, and HoneyxMonkey colored, some awesome art of Jim with Nimue's crown, at tumblr dot com /honeyxmonkey/703488332218466304/bluheaven-adw-let-me-color-some-of-her-amazing