Your Future Hasn't Been Written Yet
by K. Stonham
released 11th April, 2025
"All right, you lot," Deya growled, trying to impress the trolls who wouldn't give a slorr's knuckle if she bit it in front of them. They still didn't think she was worth following. But Vendel, apparently, had made some deal with the wizards, and he, at least, was backing her. "This won't be easy. But when has anything worth doing ever been easy?"
That got her cross chat as the trolls talked to one another. She heard some agreement, but more spite and apathy.
Her gaze caught on one of the gnomes skittering about, and an idea sparked. They were tiny but fierce, like humans. They fought. All the time.
"Wow," she drawled, "didn't know you lot were less brave than a bunch of gnomes."
That caught attention, and earned her a wave of incensed ire, that the assembled trolls should be compared to vermin and found lesser.
She hid a smile. Use whatever works, she told herself. It doesn't matter why they fight, just that they do. Because from what she understood, this was it. The big moment in history, the big push. It would either end up with trolls free to go about their lives... or they'd all be dead or fodder in Gunmar's army.
She'd been in Gunmar's army, and she didn't want to go back. That kind of low-boiling hatred was just exhausting to be around, let alone maintain.
Plus, there was Jim and his whole band of time travelers to consider. Deya liked them, and as she understood it, if this battle didn't go right, they'd all be erased from existence.
So she had to convince the trolls.
"Little troll speak good," a voice she'd hoped to never hear again said from behind her.
Deya whirled, kicking instinctively.
General Aaarrrgghh of the Gumm-Gumm army fell where he stood, curled around his gronk-nuts.
Deya unsheathed Daylight.
"Wait wait wait wait!" A blue figure waving all four arms rushed in front of the fallen Gumm-Gumm. "I believe there has been a mistake!"
Deya could not believe her ears. "A mistake?" she demanded.
"Yes!" The blue troll drew himself up, imposing himself between her and the Gumm-Gumm. "It is my belief that the time spent in our prison has shown him the error of his ways."
Aaarrrgghh nodded weakly.
Vendel, off to the side, sighed deeply, his hand wiping down his face. "Really, Blinkous?" he asked. "Are you willing to risk the lives of all our brethren on this... wild speculation of yours?"
The blue troll glanced at the fallen one, hesitated, then turned back to Dwoza's leader. "I am?" he asked, sounding unsure. Then, "I am," he stated much more confidently.
"And your own life?" asked Deya.
He met her gaze resolutely, with all six eyes. "I must believe," said Blinkous, "that even the darkest and cruelest of souls may be civilized, given the opportunity. And what better chance than this to demonstrate that this is the truth?"
"Brother..." objected another troll, the green one who looked like Blinkous.
Blinkous held up a hand. "I have made my choice, Dictatious. Let my fate be twined to the brute's."
For his part, the brute in question was still on the ground, staring up at Blinkous as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
Vendel sighed noisily again. "So be it, Blinkous. His fate is henceforth tied to yours. Keep him under control, or you will both face the consequences."
Deya nodded, backing up the Elder's decision. "Got my eyes on you," she said, flicking two fingers between her eyes and the pair of them.
Turning back to Dwoza's trolls, she found them whispering among themselves, staring at her.
"She... felled a Gumm-Gumm," the shrill one, Bagdwella, said incredulously. "In one move." Others shifted, murmuring in agreement.
After that, getting the trolls to follow Deya to the bridge was a lot easier.
"Perfect! More meat for my troops," Gunmar snarled. "Berserkers, tenderize them!"
Eli couldn't believe his eyes as Gumm-Gumms rolled up into balls and hurled themselves across the narrow band of sunlight that separated the two armies. He yelped, jumping out of the way of the one hurtling closest to him - though it missed him by at least six feet. Most of the knights dodged out of the way - though a few weren't so lucky, and were crushed by the armor that surrounded them.
"WHAT," said Toby, incensed. Then, "The Spheroid Brotherhood will hear of this!" he bellowed, which made absolutely no sense to Eli, who was staring wide-eyed at one of the Camelot knights kneeling by one of the crushed ones, holding his hand until it fell.
Because he was dead, Eli realized. Dead like the Gumm-Gumms were dead, because they'd hurled themselves into the sunlight without even questioning Gunmar's command.
This was battle, and it was real, and it wasn't like on TV or the last time, when he'd been high and secure and acting as a sniper-
Eli felt cold.
He was weak, he wasn't strong enough, he wasn't trained enough.
He was going to die here.
"What's up, Pepperjack?" asked Steve.
Eli looked up at his... maybe-friend? through watering eyes.
Steve actually looked concerned.
"They're going to kill us," said Eli because he couldn't think of any other words to say. And he'd been scared before, but Steve had only ever shoved him in a locker or messed with his stuff. Never anything dangerous. Never anything that could kill either of them. "We're gonna die here, Steve."
Steve blinked, looking surprised. "We're the good guys, Pepperjack."
"We're cannon fodder," Eli said bluntly, pissed off for maybe the first time ever. Steve's brain had to be ninety percent hair. Couldn't he see how badly they were outclassed? Okay, maybe they'd gotten a little bit of training, but neither of them was Jim. Or Toby. Or even Douxie.
Elijah Leslie Pepperjack had no magic armor, no magic weapon, no weight of destiny commanding that he live.
This was a real battle, and he was going to die here today, nine hundred years and who knew how many miles from home.
Steve looked taken aback for a moment. Then he rallied himself. "Pepperjack," he said, one hand on Eli's shoulder, "we're knights. And the first job of a knight is to defend the people. So, yeah," he said with a nod. "Maybe we die here. Maybe this is how our story ends. But it's our job to make that fight worthwhile. And to take out as many of those buttsnacks," indicating the Gumm-Gumm army with a jerk of his head, "as possible."
The last light of the dying sun caught in Steve's golden hair, turning it into a halo.
For a minute, Steve looked cool.
Eli felt his heart beat fast, because it was his destiny to be surrounded by incredible, beautiful people who were utterly out of his league and not interested in him anyway.
But Steve didn't seem to notice Eli's rising blush as he held out his hand. "Creep?" he offered.
"Slayerz," Eli breathlessly finished, interlocking his fingers with Steve's.
"All right," Steve said, turning back to face the Gumm-Gumms, the daylight dividing the armies down to a mere sliver. "Here's the plan: you watch my back and I watch yours. Got it, Pepperjack?"
"Got it," said Eli, unsheathing his sword a heartbeat behind Steve doing the same.
He was going to survive this, Eli vowed to himself. He was going to survive this and earn some coolness points himself and eventually figure out how to stop getting crushes on everyone around him!
The shouts and insults of the Gumm-Gumms piled on top of one another and largely drowned out those few ripostes yelled back by the knights of Camelot. Part of Camelot's training, Douxie remembered, was to save your breath for battle. For himself, he'd seldom found that effective. Smart-assing his way through any situation helped him keep a lid on his nerves.
"Each one a similar face," he murmured to himself now, scanning the ranks of the Gumm-Gumms. Except for Bular and Gunmar, they were mostly indistinguishable from one another. He wondered how many of them were homunculi. And how many of them were under the Decimaar Blade's thrall. "Or faceless, depending on which side of the line of demarcation you stand."
Merlin gave him an odd look. Douxie ignored it, feeling for the magic that welled in his bones. They'd fight the Gumm-Gumms, the pair of them, then Morgana would show up, making herself their primary target, luring them away from the battle.
He had faith in his friends, in Jim's small but growing kingdom. They'd protect each other and hopefully no one would die-
...no one but Arthur, who was maybe his...
Douxie shook the intrusive thought away. It didn't matter! What he needed to do was find a way to trap and bind Morgana, and, hopefully with Claire's help, stick her in the Trollmarket heartstone for the next millennium.
Morgana knew they were from the future. Would she remember that, in the heat of battle? Would she overestimate him? Because Douxie had been spending too much magic recently. Stupid, stupid- He wasn't scraped desperately thin, but neither was he flush with power. Even finally having his staff back could only ameliorate that so much, especially when Morgana had her own staff and was presumably tumefied with the magic of gods.
Rather like a bloated tick. He would make that joke to Archie, who would appreciate it, but this Archie hadn't been through this battle before, didn't know what was about to happen.
Arthur, on his promontory in the sun, started making a speech to his followers. Douxie only half listened to it; he'd heard it before, and nothing had changed. Though, he did note with a glimmer of amusement, Arthur was significantly better at making speeches than Jim was.
Well, Arthur had had longer to practice the art. And modern American schools didn't exactly prioritize rhetoric. Which was a pity.
But also, interestingly, Douxie could feel the threads of Arthur's divine kingship trying to pull on him, to align all of Camelot's forces in this direction, pitting them against the Gumm-Gumms, with the king as their head and lead. And those threads... slipped aside, unable to grasp Douxie.
Well, I'm not Arthur's anymore. If I ever was.
Looking at his fellow time travelers, he noticed that they too all seemed less impressed by Arthur's words than his rapt subjects. Douxie hid a smile, turning back to look at the king rallying his forces.
We're not yours; we're Jim's. And for now we fight by your side, but you're not our king, Arthur.
He wondered if already belonging to another king was why Arthur's call of loyalty felt weaker than Jim's powers of calling forth loyalty. But it clearly worked on Camelot's knights well enough; they gave a rousing cheer, joined by the Arcadia crew. The mutual roar echoed off the rocks, momentarily drowning out even the Gumm-Gumms.
And then sun slipped away into twilight, and the two armies met with a crash.
"You know," Claire grunted, knocking one Gumm-Gumm after another to the ground, "Douxie still owes us brunch- from last time!"
"Look out!" Jim took out a Gumm-Gumm right behind her. He flipped his sword in his hand. "I miss Daylight," he said wistfully. "Or Exc-" He bit off the word. "What's that about brunch?"
Claire grinned up at her boyfriend. "He skipped town with Nari before we could do brunch," she reminded him.
"Oh yeah."
A yell not far away attracted their attention. "Well," said Jim as they both stared, "at least Varvatos is having the time of his life."
"Yeah." Claire absently summoned a shadow portal, swallowing up a Gumm-Gumm and depositing him a hundred feel into the sky. He turned to stone as he hit the ground.
Then...
Hot-cold prickles raced up Claire's spine. The hairs at the back of her neck raised.
Turning, she saw gold spreading across the sky.
Not dawn. Not sunrise.
"Morgana," she growled.
"Oh my god," Mary said, not too far away. "That much gold is tacky."
"Mary!" Darci snapped. "Focus! Battle?"
"Ugh, fine," said Mary, accompanied by a flash of light that made a Gumm-Gumm screech. "I mean, it's not like it's easy, working with electricity and this many people in armor around."
"Claire," said Jim lowly as Morgana streaked across the sky and Merlin and Douxie started running, following her.
She hesitated, torn. On one hand, she should follow Douxie and Merlin. On the other hand, she wanted to keep Morgana's attention off her until the moment she was needed.
A great roar like thunder or a jet taking off filled the vale. Even Arthur and Gunmar paused, looking up for the source.
From behind Camelot's lines, an army of trolls poured into the valley, wielding clubs and hammers and, it was clear, whatever weapons they could scrounge or improvise. Deya, clad in silvery Daylight armor, led the charge.
"I think we're good here," Jim said, turning to Claire. "Go."
She grinned at him, a brief bright thing, and opened a shadow portal. "Stay safe," Claire instructed, and was gone.
Morgana led them, of course, to the old battleground, strewn with remnants of a destroyed building, weapons, skeletons. Douxie swallowed and tried not to think of the village he'd just left, equally devastated. "I feel dark magic," he murmured, waiting.
"It means she's close," said Merlin.
Had she chosen to lead them to this spot because it was unnerving? Or- No, Douxie thought, remembering the first time. There's blood and curses soaked into this ground. They resonated with Morgana's dark magic, or perhaps with the fact that she had been brought back to life by Nari and even now the shadows of death clung to her. He eyed the skeletons, remembering reanimated revenants reaching for him; cold, damp roots twisted into fingers grabbing his shoulder and wrists-
-stabbing Merlin. And it was that injury which had ultimately led to Merlin's nine hundred year nap.
I can't interfere, Douxie thought wildly. I can't, I have to let history take its course-
Morgana's ghostly taunts and laughter did not help with his nerves or his spiraling panic.
"Douxie," said Archie, bumping against his chest. "Douxie, focus."
His arms curled instinctively around his familiar even as cold, damp roots seized him. Douxie's breath came fast. Light tunneled to a pinpoint, and suddenly nothing mattered more than getting free-
"Get your hands off me!" he screeched, his eyes glowing blue. A percussive blast of magic shredded the grasping roots even as Douxie panted for breath.
Merlin stared, which kept the elder wizard frozen long enough for a root to shiv him from behind, piercing all the way through his chest and out through the armor at the front.
Merlin made a sound that was halfway between a grunt and a grasp, and stumbled, falling free of the roots as Morgana's mocking laughter soared high and she vanished.
"Master!" gasped Douxie, rushing to Merlin, who had a hand pressed against the injury. Black smoke poured out of the wound, as it had the first time.
"This is bad," Douxie reported, looking up at his teacher.
Merlin gave a small nod.
I couldn't even try to change this, Douxie realized, because I panicked.
As if Archie could read his thoughts, the dragon said softly, "Douxie..."
Douxie swallowed down hysteria and self-blame, helping support Merlin as the injured mage leaned on his staff. "Hisirdoux," he said, "if I should fall this day..." In his hand was a very familiar scroll of parchment.
Douxie took it and unrolled it, knowing already what he would see.
"'Heart of Avalon'?" Archie asked, reading over his shoulder.
"And building a tomb," Douxie murmured. There were sections of the scroll where there should be additional notes, plans for the next nine centuries. As before, they were blank. He'd have to fill them himself, give his younger self the instructions that would guide him for nearly a millennium. He lowered the scroll. "You knew this might happen."
"Foreseeing the future," said Merlin, "means preparing for the worst of it."
Douxie swallowed and nodded, feeling for perhaps the first time a small speck of gratitude that he didn't have that particular gift. I froze and I panicked, knowing what was coming. What would I do if my entire life was like that?
...Probably be more of a disaster than I already am. If that's possible.
He didn't know why he'd panicked, except that he did. In a long life full of bad days, today was right up there at the top.
Well, maybe next to the top.
Douxie swallowed down the taste of bile and all the other things that wanted to well up in him. He could have another breakdown after the battle was over, after Morgana was sealed away, after they'd all gotten back to the future...
...After we defeat the Order, after we kick Morando's butt...
The list seemed endless. Douxie wanted to cry.
He took a deep breath and instead offered Merlin his arm. But the wizard refused to take it, limping on with the aid of his staff, tracking the sorceress.
Claire slipped between places, in and out of the shadows so fast that she was sure she wouldn't have noticed herself, so hopefully Morgana wouldn't have noticed her either.
...Hopefully.
She found Douxie following Merlin, looking concerned. Which, she couldn't blame him. Merlin was far and away not her favorite person, but he looked like he'd been hurt bad, clutching at his chest and breathing heavily as he labored on, too stubborn to quit.
Maybe that was a master wizard trait, Claire mused, because Douxie was just like that, and so was Morgana.
Or maybe...
Her lips thinned as she thought about Jim, and how he never gave up either.
"Douxie!"
Douxie blinked and looked surprised, before glancing around, hastily putting his finger to his lips and making "hide" motions at her.
Claire's words died on her lips.
Merlin stopped, turning to see what had caught his former apprentice's attention. When he saw her, Claire could swear she saw something like the stages of grief flash across his face: shock, anger, pleading with gods, sorrow, and resignation. "Stay hidden," the elder wizard instructed finally, "lest Morgana destroy you."
Claire fumed. She wasn't helpless! She was here to help them.
Douxie grimaced at Merlin's words as the older wizard turned back to his course and stumped on. But he clearly read her intent on her face, because he nodded. He, at least, didn't think she was a victim in the making. "Wait for the opportune moment," he advised.
Claire nodded too, then, thinking about it, flashed Douxie a grin and a double thumbs up, like the one he'd given her so long ago at the Battle of the Bands.
Douxie blinked, then a corresponding grin lit up his own face, some amount of tension melting off his shoulders as he gave a silent laugh. Giving her the double thumbs up back, he jogged off to follow Merlin.
Claire, meanwhile, looked around and found a crevice to hide in between two boulders. Her armor was dark enough that it blended with the shadows, and she had a decent view of the open area where Morgana would attack. Glancing up at the huge illuminated skull wedged overhead between the rocks of the ravine, Claire shivered. Was that real, or just someone's idea of weird interior decorating? Had there been monsters that big?
...Gatto was that big, she realized. Though she wasn't sure trolls had skulls per se. Maybe it was from a titan or something. The mythological ones, not the ones that the Order had used to almost end the planet.
Something else to research when I get home.
"This is not going to go well," Archie murmured even as Merlin demanded that Morgana reveal herself.
"Indeed, it's not," Douxie murmured in response. "Even more than you know." He resisted the urge to look back, to make sure Claire was well concealed. Doing so would only give her away, and while she was good, beyond good even, Morgana was swollen to bursting with the power the Arcane Order had granted her.
Douxie was not going to lose his friend, his student, to Morgana's madness.
Morgana and Merlin sparred verbally like two dying stars circling one another, tearing each other apart. Douxie was put in mind of the yin-yang taijitu.
He swallowed, wishing it had not come to this. If only Arthur hadn't murdered his sister (...murdered his son...). If only Guinevere hadn't died. If only Uther hadn't ordered Arthur be sent away, unacknowledged, unloved. If only Uther had kept his cock in his pants in the first place and never swived another man's wife. If only the Pendragon line wasn't cursed, everything could have been all right.
A curse...
Ice water suddenly ran down Douxie's spine. His eyes opened wide, breath coming short.
Merlin, he suddenly remembered, when he'd been Myrrdin Wylt, had wished a pox on his and Jim's houses.
No, Douxie thought desperately. He wasn't using magic then. I'd have heard it, I'd have felt it, if that had been a true curse. Douxie knew curses. They were part of his line of work; he'd even laid them on the rare occasion when they were truly warranted. Merlin hadn't cursed him or Jim then.
...But there was nothing saying Myrrdin hadn't cursed him again, later. Like when he'd drunk himself insensible...
Oh.
Douxie didn't know for sure. But this? The entire Pendragon dynasty? Felt like a curse.
Oh no.
This is all my fault, Douxie suddenly realized. Misery felt like a punch to the gut. He swallowed. If Merlin cursed me, and in doing so cursed the whole world...
Morgana laughed, and made her shadow-self, before departing to go kill her brother.
Kill Arthur.
Kill Douxie's...
"Douxie, look out!" Archie shoved him out of the way of golden vengeance. Douxie hit the ground hard, the shock of stone jolting him out of his circling thoughts.
It took a moment, but in that moment his thoughts cleared.
Whether or not Arthur was his blood father didn't matter. Whether Douxie had inherited Mordred's destiny genetically or by magical overflow from a murdered infant, the result was the same.
This isn't my fault. Douxie pushed himself up. I didn't do this.
Arms trembling, Douxie stood, eyes instinctively tracking that poisonous golden light as it darted around the darkness, Merlin taking potshots that missed.
Even if a drunkard with magic cursed me, and through me the Pendragon line, that's not my fault.
It's not my fault, he realized, but it's my responsibility.
I'm the one who has to fix this.
His mouth narrowed into a line.
Merlin said that the burden of a wizard is to make the hard choices that mortals cannot.
Douxie's staff appeared in his hand.
Taliesin said that I am a miracle. That I am a bardic mage, and my power is to share my soul through my art.
He drew on its power, sighting Morgana's shadow.
I say, I am Hisirdoux Casperan, and whether or not I am Mordred, I am going to use his power-my power-to fix this.
Eyes narrowed, Douxie fired.
Author's Note: My apologies for missing a few weeks of posting. Watching my country waltz its way downward into a fascist dictatorship is not really great for my mental health or creativity. A few elements in this chapter are due to varve! Most notably, Deya Rule 3'ing Aaarrrgghh, and Myrrdin's inadvertent cursing of "Taliesin" coming home to roost in the whole Pendragon lineage. Douxie's line about "Each one a similar face, or faceless, depending on which side of the line of demarcation you stand" is from Sound and Fury's Renfaire performance of Testaclese and ye Sack of Rome. And his advice to Claire about waiting for the opportune moment is from the first Pirates of the Caribbean film.