Your Future Hasn't Been Written Yet
by K. Stonham
released 16th February, 2024
Douxie slept deeply and dreamlessly. It could have lasted forever and he would not have minded.
But sometime far too early, given when he'd finally passed out for good, a knock came on the door of the storage room, waking him. The door opened a crack, letting the light from the hallway torches spill in, a golden slant across the floor.
He winced, gritting his teeth against the sudden light.
It was his younger self who stood there, barely poking his head in, not far enough into the room to awaken the torches. Archie sat at his feet. They both looked apologetic. "Sorry," Hisirdoux whispered, "but it's time to fetch Master Merlin's breakfast, and I thought you..." He trailed off. His eyes were owlish as he glanced back and forth between Douxie and Jim and Claire.
Claire, who had rolled over in the night and now had her head resting on Douxie's shoulder, drooling slightly on his jerkin. And Jim, who had rolled as well, spooning behind her.
Douxie would have loved nothing more than to go back to sleep for another twelve or so hours, but his younger self was right. They needed to be going down to the kitchens to fetch food, before it all disappeared into the ravenous gullets of the knights and their squires.
Hefting a sigh, he held up a finger, signaling wait, and squirmed his way out from under Claire. Who rolled forward onto the warm space he'd left. Jim moved with her, snuggling closer.
Keeping the room's lights suppressed with a twist of power, Douxie wiped ineffectually at the drool stain on his clothes, then magicked it away in a wisp of blue light as he walked toward the door. He closed the door quietly behind himself and his younger doppelganger and their mutual familiar. Let Jim and Claire get a bit more sleep. He had the feeling it would be a precious commodity in the days to come.
Hisirdoux was quiet for a moment as they started down the tower's stairs, until he clearly couldn't contain his thoughts anymore, and asked "Are you- are we-?"
Douxie blinked at him, trying to figure out what he was asking.
Hisirdoux looked around, like there might be anyone other than the three of them in the stairwell, then dropped his voice to whisper furtively, "Are they our lovers?"
Douxie stared at him for a moment, then realized how him and Jim and Claire sharing a mattress must have looked to this naive waif.
He burst out laughing.
"No," he assured his younger self. "Most decidedly not. Jim's... like a brother to me, and Claire's a student. I promise you, there is absolutely nothing going on there."
"Oh. Oh good." Hisirdoux's eyes were still owlish, but his expression was relieved. "I mean, not that you couldn't be, if you wanted to! But I don't want to," he whispered.
"We still don't want to," Douxie assured him.
"Are the two of them lovers?" asked Archie, keeping pace with two pairs of feet.
"Oh, definitely," said Douxie. "I'm almost certain they'll get married in a few years, when they're old enough."
When things settle down, he thought privately, but did not say. "So. What spells has Master Merlin had you studying?" he asked, to fill the time.
His moppet self lit up and started babbling about refining his levitation skills as well as the myriad applications of heat he was working on finessing. It was frankly amusing to listen to his nineteen-year-old self prattle on about turning water into steam, and into ice. The science was there, and was solid, but the terminology...
Ah, nostalgia, Douxie thought as they entered the great kitchen of Camelot.
Each of them took a tray and began heavily filling it with bread and cheese, summer ripe fruits, a pot of jam each, slices of cooked meat, bowls of porridge.
Wizards ate as much as jocks or athletes, or, in this time and place, knights and their squires. Lady Morgana ate no less hearty a meal than her brother the king.
Douxie was well aware that the pair of them were drawing stares. Finally Magda, the head cook, pushed through the crowd. Her dark eyes darted from one Douxie to the other and back again. She crossed her arms. "Well?" she demanded.
Douxie grimaced. "Duplication spell," he said at the same time as Hisirdoux, voice cracking, said "Magical accident!"
Douxie sighed, casting a sideways glance at himself. "It should wear off in a few days," he assured Magda. "Meantime, Master Merlin has asked me to assist Princess Aja's people," he said, thinking on his feet. "Thus." He hefted the tray illustratively.
"Hmpf." But the line of Magda's shoulders eased a touch. "No mischief," she demanded of the two of them. "The king has demanded a welcome feast today for his visitors."
Douxie blinked. A welcome feast? Oh fuzzbuckets.
"And I have no time for the likes of you to be mucking it up," Magda concluded, turning back to her work.
"Yes, ma'am!" the two Douxies chorused, nearly in time with one another..
Jim woke with a snort when the door to the room opened and all the torches flared bright.
"Sorry," Douxie said, heeling the door shut. "The torches haven't exactly got a dimmer option. It's either on or off."
"Yeah, I remember." Jim winced and blinked several times, trying to get used to the light.
"Mrm. Wha time izzit?" Claire muttered, mostly into the mattress.
"Far too early," Douxie reported, setting down a heavily laden tray and lowering himself into a cross-legged seat. "But I'm afraid that's how things start around here."
"Ugh." Claire faceplanted into the mattress from the whole inch her head had risen.
"Ugh," Jim agreed, letting his head flop back down as well, covering his eyes with his arm. "Douxie, why?" he whined.
"You want the historically correct answer, or the snarky modern-informed one?" his brother asked.
"I am sure," said Jim, the voice of too much experience, "that you can manage both."
Douxie was silent for a minute. "Let's take a rain check on that, shall we?"
Jim raised his arm to see Douxie rubbing at his forehead. "Doux...?"
His brother took a breath and met his eyes. "I was going to suggest that if Claire can portal us over to Krel and Aja's rooms, we can meet up with all the others and trade notes before the day really gets going and before you need to head back to the woods to keep an eye on Callista."
Jim sat up, the thought of seeing Toby like a lure, reeling him upright. "Let's go," he said, suddenly completely awake.
Claire moaned into the mattress and freed a hand to make a rude gesture.
Toby was woken by a loud clatter and shouting from the main room of the suite their team had been given. He was on his feet and out the door in a second. Behind him, Steve yelped and Eli apologized, the pair of them having chosen to share the tiny bed in the room while Toby had taken the floor, sleeping well in his improbably comfortable armor.
He gaped as he saw Jim facing off with Zadra. "Jimbo?"
His best friend lit up on seeing him. "Tobes!"
"I thought... I thought he was an intruder," Zadra said weakly, lowering her scary lightscythe. Behind Jim, Douxie had just finished stepping through a portal, followed by Claire.
"We are all somewhat on edge, Lieutenant," Varvatos said, emerging from Krel's room. Each of the Akiridion royals had doubled up with their bodyguard, once they'd all settled in for the night. Which had taken some time, given how long and loudly Aja had groused about Arthur trying to marry her. She had been very indignant about the whole thing. It had taken Varvatos none too gently suggesting sleep to get her to break off and shut up.
"Why are we up so early?" Krel asked, following Varvatos and looking cranky with bedhead.
"Yeah, what he said," Eli agreed, Steve trailing behind. "It's not even light out yet!"
"Because we have a lot to talk about, and Jim needs to head back to the woods sooner rather than later," Douxie said, setting down a tray of food on the table in the center of the room.
Aja perked up as she heard that. "Ooh, strategy session!" she said happily.
Darci, behind her, yawned into her fist. "Way too early for this," she grumbled. "Also, what about Mary?"
"I'll fill her in," promised Claire.
"Some herbal tisane for all, to start," said Douxie, pulling a pot off the tray and holding his hand, glowing blue, against it until steam rose from the spout. He laid out a row of cups neatly, showing off mad sleight of hand skills, and poured into each. "Now. Let's get to business."
"Jim, shift human," Douxie said.
"What? Why?" asked his brother.
Douxie rolled his eyes. "Because I have a limited supply of cutlery on me, and I'm not having you eat it all."
Then he froze.
"Oh, fuzzbuckets," he swore, even as Jim obliged and obeyed.
Toby narrowed his eyes over his steaming cup of tea. "Fuzzbuckets what?" he asked suspiciously.
Douxie facepalmed. "Mistress Magda, in the kitchens," he said, "said that there's to be a feast today. In honor of the visitng Princess Aja and Prince Krel." He nodded at the Akiridion royals.
"Probably mostly Princess Aja," Krel muttered. He sounded only a little sour.
"So why's that a problem?" asked Darci.
Douxie took a deep breath. In, and out. Trying for calm. "Don't suppose any of you remember Merlin's table manners?" he asked, as lightly as he could.
It took a second, but then he saw expressions of enlightenment cross several faces.
"Wait," said Jim, "are you saying...?"
"Reverse the problem," Douxie said. "I've got to teach you all medieval table manners." He glanced around his collection of time-displaced friends, and winced. "And provide you all with cutlery. I can duplicate mine, let's hope no one looks too closely-"
"Whoa, whoa, wait." Steve held up a hand. "Why do you gotta give us forks and stuff? Don't they set the tables in this century?"
Douxie slumped. "No they don't. And we will be separated at this feast. Krel and Aja will be at the head table, with Arthur and Morgana and Merlin. The rest of us, those who even rate to be served at the feast, will be below the salt."
Steve had a look on his face that spoke of a dozen more questions, but Toby beat him to it. "Uh, I told them I'm a duke," he said, raising his hand. "Where do I go?"
"Above the salt," Douxie told him. "Probably quite close to the head table."
"What happened to the round table?" asked Darci.
Douxie gave her a level look. "You mean the war planning table. The dining hall is... much more conscious of rank." As even the Round Table had been, in truth. "Before you," he continued, "will be placed a trencher. Which is a bit of unleavened bread. It is essentially your plate. Do not eat it." He pulled his utensils out of his pouch and splayed them between his fingers. "Personal eating utensils. Knife, spoon, fork." The latter two-pronged and much more like a meat fork than a twenty-first century dining fork. "I'll also provide you each with your own goblet or tankard. Now pay attention; this is how you use them..."
Jim's head felt like it was overstuffed with information by the time Douxie finished his ten minute crash course in medieval manners. And he wasn't even going to be at the feast!
"Kleb." Krel was holding his head. "Getting used to one set of rules for ingesting your planet's comestibles was difficult enough. Now I have to memorize another? You people are so contradictory, about things that don't even matter!"
"Welcome to being human," said Darci dryly.
Eli, though, was nodding at Douxie's explanation and demonstration. "It seems pretty basic to me."
"Are you nuts, Pepperjack?" demanded Steve.
Eli shrugged. "I had to memorize full formal settings years ago. If you think this is hard, try figuring out which are the shrimp fork, the salad fork, and the dinner fork!"
"You just start at the outside and work your way in," Jim said, confused. Formal place settings had never seemed that difficult to him.
"Uh, Jimbo?" asked Toby. "Your chef side is showing."
Douxie, meantime, was casting spell after spell on his set of cutlery, making duplicates for all of them to practice with. He side-eyed Jim, then handed over a set. "Do not eat these, except under direst necessity."
"Thanks," Jim said dryly, then made them disappear into his own magic subspace pocket. Since, unlike Douxie, he didn't have a belt pouch or three to store them in.
"Okay," Jim said a moment later as they all shared out the food and set to. "I think if we can get the gravesanded trolls to Camelot's heartstone, like in direct contact with it, we can break them free of the gravesand."
"Why is that?" asked Krel, brow furrowed.
"You need good strong feelings to break someone out of gravesand's influence," Claire explained.
"And to a troll, a huge heartstone is the biggest happy vibes object out there," Jim agreed. "So I'm going to need Claire's help with this, and..." He looked at Douxie. "Direct access to the Heart of Avalon."
Douxie's lips formed a soundless whistle. "Tall order," he said, buttering his bread. "I'll ask Merlin about it, see what I can do."
"You can't just, like, unlock a door magically?" Toby wiggled his fingers.
Douxie gave him a flat look. "Do you really think any access to the Heart of Avalon would be so easy to come by? Under Merlin's watch?"
"Varvatos," said that individual, "would be most happy to break down any doors needed."
Douxie's expression betrayed that he thought even Varvatos' strength would be insufficient against magical locks, but he was polite enough not to say it. "Let's hold that option in reserve."
"After that," Jim concluded, "Claire and I need to get Callista to the ruins of her village at some point, to get her name back."
"And then there's getting Aaarrrgghh to Dwoza," Claire put in.
"Let's see how Bular arranges things," Jim said. "One circus ring at a time."
By the time their party broke up and went their separate ways for the day, the sun was peeking over the horizon. Unseen, Claire deposited Jim safely in the shade of the Gumm-Gumm encampment, then went straight to Morgana's chambers. She stepped out of the shadows to find Mary, looking more than a bit frazzled, combing Morgana's hair.
"Ah, handmaiden." Morgana's eyes coolly met Claire's. "I had begun to wonder where you were."
Claire suddenly felt like she was about to be caught on her back foot, chided for some kind of infraction she hadn't even known she'd made.
Why is Morgana feeling like my mom?
"I was with the others," she said carefully, tiptoeing her way through the conversation.
"All night?" Morgana inquired.
Claire nodded slowly.
"And where did you sleep, handmaiden?"
"In Merlin's storage room with Jim and Douxie."
Mary stopped brushing and stared at her, wide-eyed.
"Nothing happened!" Claire clarified.
Morgana was staring at her too. "You..."
"Nothing!" Claire swore. "Jim wore his armor all night and I never took off anything, and Douxie is so not into that anyway."
Oops, she guiltily realized a second later. Maybe she doesn't know that about Douxie.
Morgana stood, her hair pulling out of Mary's grasp. "It does not matter what happened or did not happen," she said. "The mere fact that something might have happened is quite enough to taint your reputation, handmaiden!"
"Uh," said Claire intelligently.
"It does not matter that your paramour is a gentleman," Morgana continued, though her tone gentled. "Nor that young Hisirdoux... desires no lover," she said as though the very idea was odd to her. "All that people will see is that you allowed yourself to be alone, all night, with two men to whom you are not related. You must think of these things, or I will not be able to protect you!"
"Hey!" snapped Mary. "She didn't do anything wrong."
Morgana looked upset. And frustrated. Like they were talking two different languages. She shuddered out a sigh, her shoulders drooping. "It is about image, and propriety," she explained. "I do not know what it is like in your time, but here, and now, a lady must be above reproach. My handmaidens must never be tainted with even the appearance of base desires, or that will be reflected upon my own image." She sank back down onto her seat, suddenly seeming weary. And a little bit broken. "I only have what political power I am granted as the king's sister. In order for me to protect the members of my household, I must not be tarnished. My ladies must not be tarnished." She looked back up at Claire. At Mary. Her eyes pleading for them to understand.
"So it's not just... don't get caught," Mary said thoughtfully. "It's more like, make sure no one even thinks you might?"
"Yes," said Morgana quietly.
"No making out under the bleachers," Claire murmured.
Mary shot her a look. "No making out at all."
Claire's nose wrinkled.
"Look," said Mary, "you and Jimmy-Jam will get all the makeout time you want once we get home. But I guess for the here and now, Douxie isn't a good enough chaperone."
Morgana gave a soft laugh. "Merlin's apprentice is still a foolish child," she said. "He is no sort of chaperone at all. Indeed, any man of a less sterling reputation than Sir Lancelot is to be mistrusted as such."
Claire hesitated, then asked a question that had been bugging her since the day before. "When you said your mother was tricked by a concealment spell... what did you mean by that?"
Morgana as much as froze for a moment. Then she drooped, looking at the ground. Claire made a gesture at Mary; Mary obediently picked up the comb and continued working on Morgana's hair. "This is... not a state secret," Morgana said lowly. "But it is not much spoken of, either."
"I won't gossip," Claire promised her. She met Mary's eyes. "Neither of us will."
Mary nodded, though Claire knew it was going to practically kill her to keep something juicy to herself.
Morgana drew a deep breath, then began to speak. "Arthur is my brother," she said. "My younger half-brother. Our mother Ygraine was lawfully wedded to my father, Duke Gorlois. She was very comely; I am nothing to her. But perhaps that is just as well, for she had the misfortune to catch the eye of Uther Pendragon, who was then king."
"Arthur's father," Claire supplied, not sure if Mary knew that.
Morgana nodded. "He would not take no for an answer. So my parents withdrew from court, as refusing the king was... unwise." She had the expression of a woman choosing her words carefully. "They thought the matter was ended. So, some time later, when the kingdom went to war, my father did not hesitate to join in with his men, that he might prove his loyalty to the king, for all that he had refused Uther access to his wife."
"What happened?" asked Mary softly.
Morgana's hands knotted in on one another. "I was but a small child then, so I did not see this for myself, but... I was told that my father came back to the castle with some of his men, victorious. He and my mother had their reunion. They loved one another dearly; it was passionate. In the morning, he left again, to return to battle."
"But?" asked Claire.
Morgana's mouth twisted. "We received word later that my father had died that night. Uther renewed his pursuit of my mother. With no one to defend her from the king, finally she was forced to accept his offer and became his queen. And the babe she bore nine months later looked very like unto the king."
Mary gaped. "No way."
Morgana nodded. "It was quite the scandal. Arthur was sent away into fosterage as soon as he was weaned. Uther wanted another heir, one whose legitimacy would not be in question." Now her expression was vengeful; triumphant. "That, at least, he did not get. My mother died some years later, never having seen her son again, only having received reports of him from Sir Ector. After that..." She sighed. "After that, Arthur was brought back to court, where he and I grew up together for many years. And where he met Guinevere, who was being fostered here."
Claire had a question on the tip of her tongue. She wasn't sure asking it would be wise. Nonetheless, she had to. "So Uther was disguised."
Morgana nodded.
"Who disguised him?"
Morgana's lips drew a line. "I do not know for certain," she said. "I have never asked, for reasons of my own. But... the only sorcerer I know of with the power to disguise a man such that even his own wife was fooled..." Her voice trailed off.
But her eyes looked out the window.
At Merlin's tower.
"Absolutely not!" Merlin snapped.
"But Master," Douxie pleaded, following Merlin as the man stalked down the steps of his workroom, seeking the ingots laid on the round table on the lower level.
"Don't 'but Master' me!" Merlin said, picking up a cube of mithrilium. It was clear he wanted his attention on the amulet he was trying to build, not on Douxie's request. "You are asking for access the the Heart of Avalon, Hisirdoux! And not just for some idle whim, oh no, that would be bad enough. You are proposing to give Gumm-Gumms access to the most powerful heartstone yet discovered! I knew you were foolish, but this is beyond the pale."
"Gravesanded trolls," Douxie snapped back, irritated. "If this works, it will snap them out of the gravesand fugue and winnow down Gunmar's forces. How is that not a win for Camelot?"
"And I have only your word that they've been dosed with gravesand," Merlin countered. "The only source of it is kept under lock and key, as you well know."
"Yes, under lock and key," Douxie agreed. "And who has the other keys?"
Merlin glared. "Do not accuse-"
"I accuse no one!" Douxie snapped. "Go to your precious magical armory and check it for yourself! Or better yet." He drew the Time Map out of his pocket. "Shall I show you, Master? Or will you refuse to believe any ill of your precious king?"
Merlin drew himself up. "Do not speak of your betters in such a manner, Hisirdoux." His tone was dire. Ominous. Warning.
Douxie bit back his temper. Or tried to. "So. Your Arthur is more precious to you than the truth, then, Master?" He wasn't trying to taunt, but he couldn't help it. One of the first things that Merlin had drilled into his head was that a wizard was to be committed to the truth always. Not to telling it, oh no, but to seeing it.
How could you remake things, after all, if you didn't know that which you were remaking?
Merlin glowered, then stalked forward to snatch the device from Douxie's hand. It opened to a red globe and timeline. "What a stellar job you've done of not mucking things up," the master wizard bit out. He scrolled backward. "I see no evidence of your accusation."
Douxie glowered back, then pulled the device out of Merlin's hand. "You just have to know how to use the thing," he said, and tightened the focus of the search device, narrowing in on the previous day.
On Sir Gawain giving the trolls the dosed food, and their reactions.
Merlin's eyes widened.
"Shall I scroll further back?" Douxie asked softly. He could. He could show Merlin the moment Arthur had entered the armory, taken the gravesand, and given it to Gawain.
He could heap the pile of evidence so high Merlin would not be able to see over it.
But it wouldn't matter if Merlin refused to look.
I love Jim so well, Douxie thought. As Merlin loves Arthur so well. The difference-
The difference...
His lips compressed to a line. He couldn't let himself think of the difference, because in the end there was none.
Merlin had chosen one king, and Douxie had chosen another.
And they would both follow them off cliffs, trying to repair the world.
The question was, what would Merlin let Arthur get away with? Because Douxie would not countenance this in Jim.
Merlin said nothing for a long moment, only watched Gawain's actions and their result.
"A mistake," he said finally.
"A mistake which has broken the timeline," said Douxie softly. "One which I am trying to repair, Master."
Finally, Merlin moved.
He produced a small golden key out of nowhere. "I will show you the door," he said. "This is the only key that will open it. You will take these trolls to the Heart of Avalon this afternoon, during Arthur's feast, and send them back out of Camelot immediately after. Then you will return the key to me."
"Thank you, Master," Douxie said softly, accepting the key.
Merlin's eyes were a strange mixture of hard anger and soft regret as he met Douxie's. "Do not disappoint me, Hisirdoux."
Author's Note: In chat on Honey's Discord server, we ended up briefly discussing My Immortal, and I couldn't resist, so I present to you:
Hi my name is Hisirdoux Casperan and I have short ebony black hair with blue streaks and tips and green and gold heterochromatic eyes and a lot of people tell me I look like Colin O'Donoghue (AN: If u don't know who he is get da hell out of here!). I'm not related to Prince Caspian but I wish I was because he's a major fucking hottie. My teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I'm also a wizard and I go to a high school called Arcadia Oaks Academy where I'm in the senior year (I'm nineteen). (I'm actually nine hundred years old.) I'm a goth (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly black.