Your Future Hasn't Been Written Yet
by K. Stonham
released 14th March, 2025
The spell sputtered and failed, its material components used up. Apparently not even whatever Jim was doing with the Time Stone could exceed the physical limitations that constrained certain types of magic. Claire could go back to the castle, get more salt; there was still plenty of the rosemary bush left...
But.
Peeking further at the past would get no more answers than they'd already achieved.
Douxie swallowed. His throat hurt and he wasn't sure he could, or should, speak.
He knew his mother's voice now. Her appearance and her smile. And his father...
...if Casper was his father.
"Hey." Jim's hand landed on his shoulder. "You okay?"
Douxie blinked back the tears that were threatening to escape. His younger self wasn't doing as much, was crying into Archie's fur. But Douxie was older, was a master wizard now. Needed to be the master of his own self. He nodded (a lie), and managed to swallow down the blockage in his throat. "Still no answers," he managed.
Jim nodded solemnly, accepting what he was given. Whether or not he believed Douxie was probably another matter. His blue eyes glanced to where Douxie's parents had been, then back to Douxie. "Even if King Arthur is your... biological," he said, "he's not your dad. That's your dad." He nodded toward the vanished memories.
The words shouldn't hurt as much as they did. And it wasn't Jim hurting him, but the whole stupid, messed-up situation. But right now Douxie felt like a raw nerve. "I know." His Da was in his name, after all. Casperan, for Casper's son.
Much as he counted Merlin as another father, Merlin had never given him a name, unless it was Mordred. Which might not even be his name. Though, Douxie considered, there was "ignoramus" and the like - Merlin had called him those lots of times.
"Question!" Krel butted in. "What did your father mean about 'your gods and mine'?"
Douxie shook his head. He had no idea which gods his parents had followed.
(Douxie didn't follow any gods. He'd met enough of them to know that while they held power beyond his ken or reach, they were not ineffable and always had their own plans and designs. Even Nari, one of the few he trusted.)
Archie snorted. "Douxie's father was not from around here. Couldn't you hear his accent? He was probably a soldier or traveler of some sort, who settled down with a local girl and brought his own beliefs with him. It's not an uncommon story."
"Short of a DNA test," Douxie managed, "I don't think I can know the truth." Whether he was Arthur's son, or Casper's. Whether he was Mordred, or Mordred's heir.
"What's... what's a DNA test?" his younger self asked.
Claire's lips pursed. "Modern magic," she said. "Something that, nine hundred years from now, can tell you who your blood relatives are."
Douxie's younger self had an expression of wonder.
Claire turned to Douxie. "I mean, we could always ask Morgana-"
He shook his head. "And have to tell her why? No."
Claire nodded, accepting his reasoning. She, better than anyone, understood Morgana's volatility and rage. "What about Nimue? She called you the heir to Camelot's magic."
"Which could mean any number of things," argued Krel. He ticked possibilities off on his fingers. "Heir to Merlin, heir to Arthur, heir to this Mordred..."
"Either way, she was right that this was not a favor, nor a kindness," said Douxie. He felt like he was starting to recover from the blow. Time putting distance between himself and the shock of things that were, or might be. The ground was steadier under his feet, anyway. Like with Jim. We won't let him fall. And my friends won't let me fall.
If he was a king killer, better it be Arthur, regardless of their possible relationship, than Jim.
Douxie never, ever wanted to revisit the moment that the creature in the Deep had set before him.
But then, he'd never wanted to come back to his home village either, and yet here he was.
If Jim needs to be stopped, I will stop him, Douxie knew in his bones. And if Arthur needs to buffed up just to die, in order to finally keep his promises to magical creatures, then I'll do that too. After all, wasn't that what Douxie was? A liar, a conman, and a thief, all feeding into a master wizard. Though it abraded his soul and the ethics he'd learned and tried to abide by, a master wizard was in the end someone who did what must be done.
I don't have to like it. But I do have to do it.
He swallowed that down and let it settle with all the other stones that weighted his soul.
No one man was so important that all else must be sacrificed to keep him whole. Merlin had lost sight of that in Arthur, his surrogate son who replaced the one he'd lost centuries ago. Jim, for all that he was a shining light and Douxie's little brother and best hope, wasn't the center of the universe either.
And neither was Douxie. Mordred or not.
He sighed and forced his shoulders to lower. Breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, he pictured all his troubles as dandelion seeds floating off in the wind. It didn't work as well as he would have liked; it never did. But it worked well enough for him to take the next step. Which was...
"We're due at Killahead," he murmured.
Jim's brow furrowed. "Are you sure you're up to it?"
He wasn't, but it was good of Jim to ask. "Have to be, don't I?" asked Douxie with a shrug. "Merlin's not getting through his part of things without help, no matter what he wants anyone to think."
"Douxie..." his brother said with a sigh.
"I'll be fine, Jim."
"Trust him." Krel added his weight to Douxie's side. "Because if the two of you start arguing about whether or not he is ready, we will all be stuck here until the battle is over."
Jim looked betrayed.
Claire laughed and linked her arm through her boyfriend's. "Krel's got a point. And if Douxie says he's up to this, you should trust him."
Jim huffed. "Fine," he said. "But if you start spiraling," he added, pointing at Douxie, "I'm taking you out of there. No questions."
"I'd like to see you try," Douxie jibed with no heat behind it.
"So... we're going to Killahead Bridge, then?" asked Douxie's younger self, Archie still held in his arms. "To join Master Merlin, and the king, and all the knights?" He looked like he had mixed feelings about it: partly thrilled to be allowed to fight by Merlin's side, but also partly terrified of the battle. And of the knights, if Jim remembered right what Douxie had told him about his treatment at their hands.
(Jim didn't think he'd ever forget that. Camelot's knights were a lot worse than Steve ever had been.)
"Ahh... no," said Douxie. Archie's ears perked up and he looked at his older familiar. "Not you."
Younger Douxie wilted, while also looking a tiny bit relieved. "But I-"
"Believe me," said Douxie, stepping forward and laying a gentle hand on his younger self's shoulder, "no one understands how you feel more than I do. But I made a promise." His smile was soft, charming. It won a shaky returned smile from his younger self even as Douxie quietly said "Interminus Nocti Sluumberso."
Archie leapt out from between them as the younger Douxie crumpled into the older's arms. "Douxie, what on Earth-" his familiar demanded.
"I promised Merlin," Douxie said, hoisting his younger self up into a princess carry. He nodded at the sleeping form. "And I'm not ready for that battle yet."
"Repeated sleep spells-" Archie began.
"Can cause memory loss permanently, yeah, I know." Douxie nodded. "I don't remember any of this, Arch. I especially don't remember that I might or might not be Mordred. That was news," he muttered.
Archie was silent for a moment. "You are asking me to keep a secret from you. From my own familiar. For nine centuries!"
Douxie was similarly silent for a moment. "I am," he said, and even Jim could hear the unspoken I'm sorry in his tone. "But I know you can do it, Arch."
Archie visibly fumed, then slumped in acquiescence. "Fine," he said. "But when you get back to your own time, you owe me an entire roasted salmon."
Douxie smiled. "I'll see what I can do."
"Entire," Archie emphasized, still looking put out.
"Yes, yes," Douxie dismissed. "I heard you the first time. Claire," he said, turning to her. "Can I trouble you for a quick portal back to the tower? Someone," he said, with a nod at his sleeping burden, "needs to get tucked up into his own bed before we head off toward Killahead."
"And I'm coming with you," said Archie. "I don't trust you not to get yourself killed in battle. Right now, you need me more than he does."
"Of course you're coming," Douxie said, even as Claire opened the portal and he walked into it, familiar at his side. "I wouldn't dare go into battle without my dragon protector-"
"You know," said Krel as the two of them vanished on the far side of the portal, "I think Douxie would be a lot worse off if he did not have Archie to banter with."
"I think you're right," said Jim. "I also think he's choosing to ignore whether or not he's Mordred."
Krel nodded, as did Claire. "If it keeps him going until we're home and safe, I'll take it," she said.
Krel snorted. "Home will not be safe either," he pointed out.
Jim sighed, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulder. Atlas, and his brother's keeper, apparently. "You're right. And Doux knows that. So he'll just keep himself moving until we've dealt with the Order and Morando, and then he'll fall apart."
"Like you don't do the exact same thing," Claire said, a smile on her face.
Caught out, Jim had to give a guilty chuckle.
Krel nodded in sage agreement. "The two of you are brothers in more than blood."
His younger self was safely in bed, dreaming, with the wool blanket pulled over him and a safety spell set on the door, barring entrance save to a very limited set of individuals. Douxie flexed his hands once, twice, trying to think of anything he'd forgotten. Anything he might need from Camelot for this battle.
Himself. His familiar. His staff.
Everything else was down to his family and friends.
"You're stalling," said Archie.
"I'm assessing," Douxie sniped back. He ran fingers over his bracer, sighed, and stepped forward. "And I'm stalling," he admitted, walking with Archie back through the portal Claire had left open.
"Why?" asked Archie as they emerged into the ruins of Douxie's origin.
"Because battle is messy and people die who don't need to," Douxie said. It was a fundamental truth of war. It never changed, no matter the century or the weaponry. Dead eyes from every battle he'd ever been in accused him. Why did you survive, and not us? they always asked. How did you cheat Death?
Magic, Douxie wanted to answer. Magic and... maybe destiny, now.
Because regardless of what Merlin had forseen, he was fairly sure his master hadn't considered an interim of nine hundred years before Mordred's destiny was fulfilled.
If I'd died... died permanently, Douxie amended to himself, any time in those nine hundred years, would Mordred's destiny have been averted after all?
A pox on the Pendragons and their cursed bloodline!
Arthur's revenant was still alive in the modern time, tool of the Arcane Order. Would killing him again end the curse on that house? Because even if I am of that blood, I certainly am not going to reproduce. And Morgana never was a Pendragon. So that will be the end of Uther's lot.
"Ready?" asked Jim.
Douxie nodded. "As I'll ever be." A wave of his hand righted the airship. He was able to swing up into it easily, as were Jim and Claire. Archie cheated by flying up to the deck. And Krel dropped his transduction and clambered up the vessel's side like a spider minus a couple legs. In a puff of blue light, Douxie's staff appeared in his hands. He hooked it into the ship's controls, drawing it smoothly back until the airship rose above the trees and into the sunlight. "Off to Killahead, then, my liege?"
Jim nodded, and Douxie set course.
The little valley where Killahead Bridge sat was unremarkable, and the bridge itself seemingly superfluous. "Why do they even have a bridge?" Krel muttered, peering over the prow of Douxie's (stolen) airship as their destination came in sight.
Archie hopped up next to him. "Spring floods, I believe," he said, adjusting his glasses as he looked down. "It's dry now because it's late summer."
"Ahh." Krel knew just enough about Earth's seasons to extrapolate.
As the vessel glided down, the sides of this conflict, literally, came into view. The shadowed cliffs on one side of the vale were lined with Gumm-Gumms. On the other side, on a rise in the sunlight, stood King Arthur. Ranged behind the king were the knights of Camelot, with Toby, Steve and Eli stood between Varvatos and Sir Lancelot. Near them, Krel spotted his sister. Zadra, noting their ship's approach, nudged Aja out of her conversation with Mary and Darci. Aja grinned broadly and waved to Krel. He waved back, still surveying the situation for any tactical advantage he could pick out.
Where are the trolls? Krel wondered. Then he had to roll his eyes at his own stupidity. Of course there were no trolls on their side. The sunlight would kill them. They were doubtless hanging back, out of sight, for the very same reason Gunmar and his troops were confined to the dark.
But the sun was going down.
Aja waved to Krel, watching as the airship circled once above the valley then came down to a smooth landing to the rear of Camelot's arrayed forces.
Then she let the smile drop from her face and turned back to Mary. "Go talk to him," Aja hissed.
"No!" Mary hissed back. "I can't!"
"You will regret it if you do not," shot back Aja. "Do you want the Lancelot to die without even saying goodbye?"
Mary looked pained. "I don't want him to die at all. But that's not up to me."
"Mare-" Darci tried to break in, but she was ignored as the Social Media Queen and the Queen-in-Waiting glared at one another.
"If my Palchuk," Aja said precisely, thinking of how things might have gone, "had died at the end of the world, and I had never told him my feelings, or even said goodbye, I would regret it all the rest of my days."
Mary squirmed. "It's not the end of the world, Aj'."
Aja nodded toward Sir Lancelot. "It is the end of his."
"If I may." Lieutenant Zadra's hand descended onto Mary's shoulder. Mary looked up at her. "I have lost many comrades in battles," she said. "The things you regret most, the rest of your life, will not be the things you did. They will be the things you did not do." Her expression was taut but her eyes held unexpected sorrow. "Leave nothing unsaid," she advised.
"I..." Mary looked around, then down at the ground. Her shoulders moved up and down as she took a few breaths. When she looked up again, her expression was resolute. "Excuse me," she said, and grabbed Zadra's hand. "You too," she told Zadra, and pulled the surprised Lieutenant along behind her.
Aja was so proud of her friend she thought she might glow with it.
"Well, there's something," mused Darci. "First she stops waffling on Tight Jeans Hank, now she's actually going to talk seriously to a guy she likes."
"Mary is growing up," Aja agreed.
"One king cannot stand against an army, Arthur!" Gunmar bellowed as knights and squires moved aside and Douxie set the airship down at the back of Camelot's lines.
"Two kings now," Krel commented to no one in particular. "And a queen, and some princes," he added.
Douxie glared at him.
Krel grinned, unrepentant, as the wizard leapt down from the vessel.
"Took your time getting here, didn't you?" asked Merlin, walking up to his former apprentice. "You almost missed the battle."
The older wizard must have been expecting a smart remark, because he looked taken aback when he didn't get one. "We had some things to take care of," Douxie quietly replied.
"Heeey, Jimbo!" The one Trollhunter ran to the other, Toby wrapping enthusiastic armored arms around Jim. "Glad you're here."
"Me too, Tobes." Jim smiled at his best friend. "Deya...?" he asked, surveying the area.
"She'll be here," Toby promised with a nod.
"Good." Jim turned to look at Arthur on his promontory, where Camelot's king was resisting rising to Gunmar's bait. Suddenly Jim's eyes widened. "Sh- shoot," he said.
"What's wrong?" asked Claire.
"I can't use my sword," Jim replied.
Several sets of eyes widened, including Krel's, as they worked out the math of why. "Kleb," said Krel.
"You could use Eclipse?" Toby offered.
Jim shook his head. "You need a weapon. I guess I could use my glaives?"
"That won't give you nearly enough reach against the Gumm-Gumms," Douxie said.
"I know." Jim's eyes suddenly narrowed. "Armor," he said pointedly to the wizard.
Douxie sighed and rolled his eyes but obligingly tapped at his vambrace. A wash of blue magic later, his clothing had turned black.
"Wait," said Toby. "I thought your armor looked like your hoodie and jeans...?"
"It's magical," Douxie said impatiently. "It looks like whatever I'm wearing."
"Why," broke Merlin into the conversation, "can you not use your own sword?"
"Uhh..." Various members of their group looked around at one another, trying to find a way to explain.
Jim stood tall, blue eyes meeting blue eyes as his fingers tapped beneath his amulet.
Merlin leaned forward to read the inscription.
The wizard's eyes flew wide. "You...?!" he demanded, looking at Jim's face in shock.
"Nine hundred years," Jim said pointedly. "Someone has to."
Merlin's expression went through a complicated dance as he straightened. Then, "Galahad!" he called.
"Yes, old friend." The knight nudged his steed closer.
"I need to borrow your sword."
Sir Galahad surveyed the enemies on the other side of the vale through bushy eyebrows. "All right," he said, drawing his sword and handing it over. "But make it quick."
Merlin sniffed, but ran his hand over the blade, his magic glowing green. The weapon wavered - and then doubled. "Your sword," he said, handing one back to the knight.
Galahad nodded and somehow managed to make his horse walk in reverse, returning to his place in the knights' lines. Krel, who had never had much expertise with animals, did not understand how he managed that.
"A sword," Merlin said, offering it to Jim, the blade spread across both his palms. To Krel's surprise, and apparently to the others' too, the ancient wizard gave a slight bow as he gave the weapon away.
"Thank you," said Jim gravely, accepting the blade.
"Um. Sir Lancelot?"
The knight turned from where he was conversing with his fellows. A perfect smile graced his face. "Lady Mary! Lady Zadra! What may I do for you?"
Mary tried to ignore the thought that his tone had been just a shade deeper on Zadra's name.
"I, um." She floundered. "I wanted you to have this!" she said in a rush, pulling out something and handing it to him with both hands.
He took her phone. "What manner of token is this?" he asked, examining it.
Mary flushed deep. "Sorry!" she squeaked. "Not that." She patted at the various pouches hanging from her dress's belt until she found the one she'd meant to open. She pulled out a white handkerchief, embroidered around the edges with what looked like silver circuitry. She didn't know where it had come from. Probably Douxie had made it when he'd made her outfit. "I've heard- I mean, knights sometimes wear a lady's token, right?"
"Ah." His expression deepened into one of grave sadness. "We do indeed, my lady," Lancelot said gently, handing her phone back to her. "Mine is kept here." He touched his breastplate, over his heart. "The token of her majesty, Queen Guinevere."
"Oh." Crestfallen was the word for how Mary felt to be so thoroughly rejected, even obliquely.
"Does the token of one lady prevent you from taking that of another?" asked Zadra.
"A true knight must be loyal unto death," replied Lancelot.
Zadra's eyes were keen, piercing. "Yet your queen is already dead, and you still will not take a token from another. Not even one who offers it in all innocence."
Mary flushed again. Zadra was arguing /for/ her! She hadn't thought the Akiridion woman even liked her.
Lancelot, for once, seemed caught on the back foot. "Guinevere is... was my queen," he said, looking away. "I cannot betray her, even in death."
Mary bit her lip. "She gave it to you because she loved you?"
Lancelot's head whipped back. His gaze pierced her. "Never once did my unworthy hand raise to her presence."
Mary rolled her eyes. "Obviously. She was married. But what I'm saying is, can you only be loved by one person?" Her eyes narrowed. "Because it sure seems like she was loved by more than one." She gestured at where King Arthur stood on a knoll, facing the Gumm-Gumm army. "I may only be sixteen," Mary argued, "but I know there's never enough love to go around, and that you should take it when it's given to you."
"Especially," said Zadra quietly, "when it may be your last chance."
Realization spread slow as dawn across Lancelot's face. He half-turned to where Douxie and Merlin stood. "Have the wizards forseen this?" His voice almost didn't shake.
"They have," Zadra said, which seemed like a lie until Mary thought about it. Douxie and Claire were wizards, after all, and they knew what was going to happen, even if Merlin did not.
There was something like relief mixed with fear and sorrow on Lancelot's face. "And the king?" he asked softly.
Arthur would fall here, Mary knew, but she also knew he was going to be resurrected and they were going to have to face him after they returned to the twenty-first century. "Arthur endures," she said, which was also not a lie, but not the whole truth either.
Lancelot swallowed. His eyes had a sheen of unshed tears. "Then let me go bravely to my fate, and my queen's side," he said, "where I shall wait with her for our king." He summoned a shaky smile and held out his hand. "And let me do it wearing the favors of two brave, kind ladies."
Mary placed her handkerchief in his hand and nudged Zadra. The Akiridion rummaged in her pouches as well and turned up one of her own. Mary caught a glimpse of double-bladed scythes embroidered in Akiridion blue.
Lancelot tied one to each arm and bowed to them. "My ladies," he said. "I must prepare for the battle." And he turned away from them.
Mary watched him go, her heart in her throat. "Sir Lancelot!"
He turned back to her.
Quick as a hummingbird, she darted in and up, using a fallen tree to get the height to press a fast kiss to his cheek. His facial hair buzzed under her lips.
"Thank you," Mary told him, not knowing what else to say, and darted away, going back to her friends. Her team.
Behind her, Lancelot said gently, "God keep you, my ladies."
And that was how she said goodbye.