For Those Worthy

by Barita (Rita_of_Roses)

Summary:

The sword was meant for those worthy.

Chapter 1

For a kingdom on the brink of quite possibly the most important battle in human history, the day was unnervingly cheerful. Colorful banners flew in the light breeze, vendors called out to the crowds offering food, drink, and trinkets. Minstrels played music and children laughed. And it all had Claire Nuñez about to lose her god damn mind.

How could these people just … just party while an evil sorceress was on the loose? Then again, none of them knew that. None of them would believe it.

She shoved her helmet down over her head and grabbed the ordinary spear she had snagged from the armory. Not quite the shadow staff, but it would have to do. She took one last look out the window at the swarming masses, a look of grim determination settling on her face. Well, it was a good thing there were people like her watching out for the oblivious.

Claire conjured a shadow portal and jumped through, landing in a quiet alley. She popped out onto the main avenue and hurried down the steps to the arena. As she approached the entrance to the arena, the knights dutifully stepped aside. She rolled her eyes as, clad in her armor, they let her pass without question.

Sir Galahad stepped forward to announce the next battle. “Now, the formidable Knight of Skulls and his challenger, Sir Clarie of the House of Nuñs!”

Claire squared off against the menacing, black-armored knight, Morgana's avatar. His squire hefted an enormous axe beside him, straining under the weight of the weapon. Claire twirled the spear over her head like a band leader’s baton and rushed forward. The knight seized his axe and sprinted at her. Relieved of his burden, the frightened squire booked it out of the danger zone.

The two warriors met in the center of the field. Claire ducked under his arm as he swung the axe down. She tumbled and popped up behind him, but he was ready, pivoting and swinging the axe back around. She blocked with her spear, but the force knocked her into the air. She managed to land neatly and parry another chop. As he prepared to strike again, she jabbed the pommel of the spear into his painted helmet, sending him reeling for just a moment.

He quickly regained his senses, and, seeming to realize his opponent would not be felled with brawn alone, he switched his strategy, going for a low sweep with his blade. Claire was ready and jumped over the swing. She tried to use her momentary advantage to stab up with her spear, but the knight brought the shaft of the axe down to parry, halting her upward momentum. She pushed his axe to the side, forcing them to separate. With the newly regained distance, she leapt high past him, catching him with the flat of her spear as she flew by.

She spun into a crouched landing, sliding back until the dirt beneath her swallowed her momentum, her spear held behind her, ready to strike. The enraged knight rushed her again. As he approached, she spun the spear around and thrust the pommel forward with all her might, catching him square in the chest, and, consequently, throwing off his center of gravity. He stumbled back until he hit the wall of the arena, right in front of Steve, who was presently drowning his sorrows. The knight snatched his mug and threw the vile liquid in her face. Claire grunted and stumbled back. He whacked her in the head with the mug, then kicked her to the ground.

The black-clad knight loomed over her and raised his axe for the killing blow. She gritted her teeth, rage boiling inside her. No, she thought. She had never lost to Morgana before, and she was not going to start now. For a moment, she saw past the knight into the stands, where Douxie stood frozen in horror. Her teacher’s voice echoed in her head. Magic is emotion. Use it! She focused, drawing all her anger, determination, and fear together into a tight ball. Then, as the knight above her let out a wild battle cry, she released it. It flew forth from her hand as a blast of purple light, which slammed into her opponent and threw him back with crushing force. He collided with the wall right in front of Arthur and dropped to the ground.

The king’s face quickly morphed from shock to rage. “Sorcery? That is forbidden!”

Claire jumped up, heedless of the king’s anger, and sprinted to the figure lying on the ground. She placed the tip of the spear at his throat.

“Where is Morgana?” She demanded. She flicked the tip of the spear, knocking his helmet off. Beneath the helmet was … well, not what she expected. The gaunt face and red hair of her opponent didn’t exactly scream ‘evil sorceress’, especially when he immediately began cowering. In fact, without his gimmicky helmet, the man before her looked quite pitiful. But Claire knew that didn’t mean he wasn’t Morgana’s minion, and it definitely didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.

In a shaky voice, he responded, “Vhat is a – Mohr-gah-nah?”

“Your queen!” Claire yelled.

“Queen Sophia of the Dhar’k Isles? Ooohoho, don’t hurt me!” he pleaded. Claire stared at him in shock.

“But – Agh!” she screamed as hands roughly grabbed her arms. She struggled against her captors to no avails. One of them grabbed her helmet and ripped it from her head. The crowd gasped. Claire looked between her captors, Sir Lancelot and an unknown knight of Camelot, with a defiant frown and a glare that could kill.

“The witch is disqualified!” Galahad announced.

All eyes were focused on the scene on the battlefield. No one noticed the shadowy figure creeping up behind Arthur, nor did they notice the wicked knife he weilded.

“You both fight with no honor! Begone!” Arthur shouted.

“Hail Morgana!” Claire’s ears pricked up at the name, her head swinging around to locate the source of the blasphemous declaration. It wasn’t hard. The small, unassuming man, squire to the very knight she had been sure was Morgana’s champion, brandishing a curved knife with wicked glee.

“No!” Even being dragged away, her hands were free to conjure shadows at will. For knights to a king at war with magic, these guys really didn’t know how to handle a wizard. She opened a portal directly in front of the would-be assassin, without even being able to see her target, a feat which a small part of her took great pride in, even in the heat of battle. The man fell through the floor and Claire deposited him a short distance away on the battlefield, right in front of a precariously balanced rack of spare swords, and, for some reason, an unconscionable number of horseshoes. She smiled as the rack teetered and fell forward. A single horseshoe knocked him on the head before the entire affair crushed him.

---

Douxie stared at the pile of wood and steel where the assassin had been. Was it over? No, this was Morgana. It couldn’t possibly be over. 

Golden light erupted from under the board, and a moment later, a twisted green hand effortlessly pushed it to the side, revealing a gleefully grim troll. He used his two additional hands to pull three more knives from somewhere . Douxie wasn’t focused on where the villain was keeping his excessive weaponry. “A changeling? Protect the king!” he shouted.

The changeling immediately threw two of his knives. They whistled past Claire and Lancelot and hit two unfortunate knights behind them. Rather than be rebuffed by their shields, the knives dug in as if the steel was soft clay. From the point of impact, blue light spread across their bodies, leaving cold, gray stone in its wake. The infection spread, and in a matter of seconds, both knights fell to the ground as lifeless stone statues.

Arthur jumped down into the fray and Douxie cursed Camelot’s toxic masculinity to the high heavens. Fine. If His Majesty insisted on being a royal pain, he would adapt.

Bular’s roar caught the changeling’s attention. “Run free, Gumm-Gumm prince,” he said as he chucked his remaining two knives at the cuffs binding Bular’s hands to the humiliating trolley. The poisonous blades each hit their mark, and in an instant, the iron turned to stone. Very breakable stone. Bular proceeded to do just that, reducing the cuffs to rubble with a flex of his fingers. He stood, reveling for a moment in his freedom.

“At last!” he growled before unleashing a fearsome battle cry and charging directly at the king. Douxie dove in front of Arthur and released the spell he had been preparing. He threw his hands out in front of him, each projecting a blue disk of protection runes, surrounding them both in a large, translucent blue sphere. Douxie braced himself as Bular’s vicious fist descended on them, sliding over the shield but pulverizing the ground in front of them, launching them back through the gate and down the stairs.

The bubble burst against the dry fountain in the middle of the town square. They didn’t get even a moment of respite as the monster charged after them like a dog chasing a ball. Douxie threw up the spell again, but he only managed to surround himself before the beast was upon them. He batted Douxie away with all the respect given to a particularly annoying mosquito.

Despite the bubble’s protection, Douxie hit the wall with enough force to knock the air from his lungs. He hit the ground, the impact rattling him further, and for a moment, all he could do was lay there. When he lifted his head again, he bore witness to an epic battle between equals, two brutes fueled by rage and hatred. At that moment, Bular had Excalibur pinned to the ground with one massive fist. The screams of fleeing peasants pierced the air. Arthur swiped the sword back in a wide arc, freeing it from Bular’s control. He brought Excalibur up in front of him, and as he swung the sword down against Bular’s horns, time seemed to still. Douxie saw a tiny spark leap from the green gem in the crossguard. It connected with the metal and detonated, sending lightning crackling up and down Excalibur’s blade.

A wave of force blasted both fighters back, throwing them into the surrounding houses. Douxie ducked his head and threw up a quick shield. It shattered on contact with the wave, but kept him from being thrown. Instead, what felt like a gale-force wind whipped at his hair and clothes for just a moment before it passed. Douxie looked up and stared, awestruck. Excalibur floated in the middle of the square, a bright halo of light surrounding it.

And then, it spoke. Nimue’s voice boomed through the streets of Camelot. “The sword was meant for those WORTHY .”

With that, the sword flew up into the sky, as if shot from a cannon, and disappeared. Douxie stared after it, icy dread gripping his heart, but that feeling was quickly pushed aside by Bular’s earth-shattering roar. The fight wasn’t over. Bular leapt at Arthur where the king had landed against a wall. Douxie acted on instinct, his fingers flying over the runes on his bracelet as he punched in a familiar sequence. He flicked his spectral whip forward, lashing it around Bular’s ankle. The cord went taut, and Douxie clung desperately to a nearby post as he was yanked forward. He was nowhere near strong enough to stop a rampaging bull. He was, however, strong enough to trip said bull, causing Bular to fall flat on his face. It wouldn’t hold him for long, but it would delay him long enough for Arthur to get away. Douxie smirked. The scene would’ve been comical had it not involved a hulking menace who could gut him in half a second.

Douxie braced himself, prepared to hold this beast back as long as he possibly could. To his horror, he felt the line go slack. He blinked and recoiled in terror as he saw the homicidal troll charging at him, blade drawn.

No, no no no no, it was the umber imp all over again.

Shadow mephit, Archie’s voice corrected in his head. Douxie watched in horror, paralyzed by fear as the enormous creature jumped at him. He futilely raised his arms in front of him–

And landed in a nearby pile of hay. It was disorienting, suddenly switching perspectives, but he knew as he watched Bular swing his blade into the space he had just vacated that it would’ve been a direct hit. He looked around and saw Claire nearby, her hands held out in either direction, smiling at him, and relief flooded his chest. He extracted himself from the hay as Steve and Lancelot ran up behind their king, weapons drawn.

“You’ll die in Camelot, Butcher,” Arthur shouted. For a moment, there was stillness. Then a series of cacophonous blasts shattered the early evening air. Explosions, one after another, shook the ground beneath their feet. When the world finally stilled, Arthur looked around in horror. Smoke and flames choked the sky, erupting from the mangled walls. The iron portcullis was twisted and crushed under a mountain of stone. Bular leapt forward onto the rubble. He turned to roar at Arthur one last time in defiance before he dove through the flames. Arthur stared after him, paralyzed by shock. The opportunity was not lost on the changeling. He emerged from behind a nearby bell tower, jumped to a rooftop at the edge of the square, and dove towards the king, all four knives poised to strike.

Just before reaching Arthur, the changeling slammed into a large blue disk behind the king. He flipped back onto the top of the empty fountain. Claire and Douxie ran to join the knights guarding Arthur, all of whom had turned to face the new threat.

“Stay back!” Douxie shouted.

The changeling grinned and spoke in a twisted, strangled voice. “Fools. I’ve already won,” he said, holding up a jagged black stone. It glowed green, and a moment later, great blue bubbles filled with green smoke bloomed around the keep.

“Merlin’s tower!” Douxie cried triumphantly, but his happiness was short-lived as he observed the speed at which the wards were expanding.

“Good call with those defenses, Doux!” Claire crowed, oblivious to the wizard’s dawning horror.

“Yeah, but they won’t last long!”

“Oh no!” Archie said, swooping down between them. “Douxie!”

“What?”

“The other Douxie. With the man bun. In the tower.” The dragon gestured wildly, clearly frustrated with his one familiar’s forgetting of the other.

“Oh, fuzz buckets!”

---

Claire immediately conjured a shadow portal, but when they jumped through, they weren’t in Merlin’s study. Instead, they found themselves on the ground floor of the keep. Nobles were running and screaming around them, and the blue-green spheres were ever-expanding. Claire looked around in shock.

“What? I was taking us to the study. What happened?”

Douxie grabbed her by the wrist and ran up the stairs. “Magical interference, most likely. Come on!”

They sprinted up the stairs to the top of the tower. For the first time since arriving in Camelot, Douxie wondered what would happen to him if his younger self were to … well, explode. The wards kept expanding, and with every moment his dread deepened. Finally, they reached the top of the tower. They burst through the door, scaring the living daylights out of a certain young wizard, who clutched his lute in terror. 

“We have to go!” Douxie yelled.

Merlin, pretentious, overconfident, infuriating Merlin, didn’t even look up from his workbench at his apprentice’s panicked instructions. “But I’m in the middle of creating–" His protests were cut short by the stained glass windows behind him exploding into the study. Well, that was one way to get the old man’s attention.

Merlin backed away from the encroaching blast, grabbing his staff. His young apprentice scooped up several rolls of parchment, still holding tight to his lute. The group ran for the door, only to find it blocked by another rapidly expanding smoke bubble. The sealed-explosions-in-a-can closed in on them, pushing the group closer and closer together.

“We need a way out,” Merlin stated. That much was obvious, Douxie thought, but it was somehow reassuring to hear him present the solution in such a calm, measured tone.

“Way ahead of you,” Claire said as she conjured shadows in her hands. She threw a shadow portal onto the floor, and one by one, they leapt through, Douxie clearing the room just before the explosions met.

They emerged back in the town square, everyone dropping neatly to the ground ready for battle, save for young Hisirdoux, who somehow ended up head-first in a nearby barrel. Archie leapt in front of him, ears pinned back, growling at whatever threat might come for his boy.

Claire hurled a purple bolt of rage into the changeling’s face, halting his advance. “Camelot is closed, Morgana!” She shouted.

Douxie summoned a ball of magic in his hands and threw his arms out to the sides. Spectral chains burst from him and wrapped around the changeling, which Steve took as a gilded invitation to grand-slam whack the creature in the head with enough force to send him flying back.

The changeling slid across several satisfying feet of the square before righting himself, slicing the magic chains, which evaporated into faint blue wisps. Claire yelled as she threw a shadow portal under him. He scrambled for a handhold, desperately clinging to the bricks before inevitably falling through. She deposited him none too gently back on the ground no more than a few feet away from where he had been. The act seemed to accomplish nothing more than knocking his head against the hard bricks, a condition which he quickly recovered from.

Then, runes illuminated the bricks underneath his prone body. The ward activated, ensnaring the creature in a cramped blue orb, which proceeded to float several feet off the ground. Douxie’s bracelet spun and clicked as he performed a set of complicated hand movements. He threw his magic at the ward, producing what could only be described a magic laser. He pushed as much of his energy as he could into the beam, but it wasn’t enough. The sphere wavered but held firm. His mentor stepped up beside him, adding his own green energy to the efforts. The two wizards held their positions as the sphere began to spark and warp, before an honest to god fire tornado erupted from the ground, swallowing the changeling whole. They raised their arms to shield themselves from the heat of the flames, which spun faster and faster until the orb, no longer visible through the inferno, exploded, throwing out waves of magic and fire in a spectacular display.

As quickly as the cyclone had appeared, it vanished. The errant magic in the air, however, did not. The energy collapsed in on itself to a tight ball before exploding in a tiny supernova of light. When the spots faded from his vision, Douxie saw his master looking at him with an unfamiliar expression. He placed a hand on Douxie’s shoulder and gave him a distinctly respectful nod. Douxie smiled as his teacher stepped away to survey the aftermath. 

Merlin took in the rampant destruction, the multitude of dead knights littering the streets, and the handful of still-living individuals staggering to their feet. It was at that point that he noticed the absence of a particular sword. “Where is Excalibur?”

The fading sun glinted off something high in the sky. A comet rushed down from the heavens and impacted the crumbling wall. When the dust cleared, the hallowed sword stood embedded in a large chunk of stone atop the pile.

Arthur trudged up the hill of broken stone to where Excalibur stood. At the top, he paused to look out, first over the forest and lands beyond, where the monster had escaped to, then back at his kingdom, smoking and devastated. He heaved a great sigh before reaching for Excalibur’s hilt. He pulled. The sword stayed stuck fast in the stone. He frowned and pulled again. The sword didn’t budge. He growled and clasped both hands on the hilt, pulling as hard as he could, but it was as if the blade were tethered to the center of the earth. Citizens wandered out of their homes and alleys to survey the wreckage and gasped at the sight of their king struggling to retrieve his sacred weapon. Arthur stared out over the growing crowd in horror, a horror that was mirrored on the great wizard’s face. Merlin recovered first, approaching his king.

“I suggest we all head inside to deal with this problem.” Arthur nodded numbly, stepping back from the sword. Green light surrounded the stone, lifting the entire affair into the air.

“Claire, if you would be so kind. I do not wish to parade this situation through the entire city.” Claire nodded and summoned a shadow portal. The entire assemblage of knights, kings, wizards, and dragons passed through the swirling darkness and, as near as the crowd could tell, vanished.

Chapter 2

Notes:

Spells listed in end notes. Thank you to https://archibalds-den.tumblr.com/ for betaing!

 Lancelot swung his sword down at the rock. A pale green sphere flashed around Excalibur as his blade neared the stone, the force knocking him back. He waved his hand through where the barrier had been, then ran his hand over the captive sword, the stone, the hilt, meeting no resistance. “There’s nothing there, unless you try to use force.”

Arthur sneered. “Witchery. This is Morgana’s doing.” 

A small congregation stood around the stone in the center of the throne room. Arthur was flanked by Lancelot and Galahad, with several other knights scattered around. Select advisors hovered on the outskirts of the room. The three time travelers stood huddled together, along with Archie.

And then, of course, there was Merlin. The master wizard stood staring at the sword, expression unreadable as ever. “Not Morgana,” he said. “This is Nimue’s magic.”

“That cannot be! She gave me the sword, why would she now curse it?” The question hung in the room, unanswered.

Douxie spun the runes on his bracelet, summoning a ball of energy into his hands.

“Tenebris Exilium!” The energy sharpened into a glowing blue lance that jumped from his hands. Just before it reached the stone, the bolt ricocheted off a transparent shield, sending it flying back to its source. It hit Douxie square in the chest, knocking him back into the wall.

“Douxie!” Claire shouted, rushing to his side.

Archie leapt to his familiar’s side, inspecting him for any injuries. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Douxie groaned. He sat up, rubbing his head, and looked up to see Merlin glaring at him. Douxie gave a sheepish smile. “Right, we know that doesn’t work.”

Merlin shook his head and turned back to the problem at hand.

“What it needs is a good arm!” Galahad climbed up on the stone and flashed a cheeky smile as he pulled on the sword. His smile faded as he kept pulling, then straining against the stone’s hold, leaning back with all his weight to give him more leverage. His hands slipped and he pitched backwards. Lancelot caught his friend before he could crash to the floor. “By the Grail, what is this?”

“Douxie?” Claire asked. “Could it be …”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Douxie stood and walked to Merlin’s side.

“Master,” he whispered. “In the future, there are two legends of Arthur obtaining Excalibur. One is the Lady of the Lake, but the other one is that Excalibur was stuck in a stone and none could pull it but the rightful king.”

Merlin grabbed Douxie roughly by the shoulders and hurried him out of the room, Claire, Steve, and Archie right behind them. A green glow snapped the doors shut.

“Hold your tongue!” Merlin whispered. “What you are suggesting is treason!”

“Shouldn’t Arthur want what’s best for Camelot? Even if that means someone else wields Excalibur?”

Merlin clamped his hand over his apprentice’s mouth. “Listen well, boy. You will not repeat this to a single soul!”

Douxie narrowed his eyes and removed his master’s hand. “What are you so afraid of?”

Merlin recoiled. “I am not afraid!”

“Yes, you are!” Douxie shot back, pointing an accusatory finger at his mentor.

Merlin glared at him. “If Arthur is not king and he does not wield Excalibur, we lose the battle of Killahead! Is that not enough to be fearful of?”

“You don’t know that! You said yourself that the future isn’t set in stone.”

“We know how to win this war. You are suggesting throwing that guarantee to the wind, and gambling with the fate of the world.”

“I’m not suggesting it, it already happened.”

“Enough!” Merlin’s voice echoed through the tower. “If you insist on spouting such ridiculous theories, do so away from prying ears. Go!” He stomped back into the room, slamming the door behind him.

---

Douxie, Archie, Claire, and Steve stood on the high stone bridge connecting Merlin’s tower to the greater keep. The last of the sun’s light had almost faded, painting the sky a dark blue, shot through with wisps of purple. The stars shone down in full force, more stars than the Arcadians could ever conceive of existing, much less in one small corner of the sky. Despite the beautiful tapestry above them, their attention was entirely focused on the scene below.

Arthur was making a speech from a grand balcony just off the throne room. He reassured the people that, though they had endured much this day, they would prevail. He told them that Camelot was stronger than ever, and would never bow to terror and monsters.

He made no mention of the events in the main square, which had been witnessed by several peasants. He did not acknowledge the absence of Excalibur.

“Listen to this. All bluster and fanfare. He’s not really saying anything.” Douxie complained.

The speech ended. The king retreated from the balcony and the crowd dispersed. Douxie sighed and led his friends back into Merlin’s study.

He sat heavily on the steps to the workshop alcove and sighed. “This is a disaster. We just fixed Excalibur and now this happens.” He dropped his head into his hands. Archie rubbed up against his wizard’s legs.

Claire sat next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, don’t say that. We’ll figure it out. You’re brilliant and clever. I know you’re gonna get us through this.”

Douxie chuckled, the laugh distinctly lacking any joy.

Merlin entered with the stone floating behind him. He narrowed his eyes at the group. “What are you all doing here?”

Douxie jumped up and approached his master. “We want to help.”

“You want to help, do you? You can help by staying out of my way and not mucking anything else up in the process."

“But master-”

“Don’t ‘But master’ me.”

“Surely there’s something we can do.”

“You’ve done quite enough, thank you very much.” Merlin set the stone down and began rummaging through papers on the desk.

“So, what, we’re supposed to just sit here?” Douxie demanded.

Merlin turned back to his apprentice. “I don’t care what you do, so long as it is away from me!”

Douxie’s face fell. Merlin sighed and turned back to his search. “I have things to discuss with Arthur. Don’t make any more trouble in my absence.” He turned and walked out of the study, closing the door behind him.

Douxie watched him go, his shoulders slumped.

“So?” Claire asked.

“So, what?” Douxie snapped, still staring at the place where his master had been.

“What do we do? Are we really just going to stand back?”

He sighed, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath and turned to his friends with renewed determination. “No, we’re not. There’s got to be a way to fix this. We just need to find it.”

Douxie stepped up to the stone, the runes glowing as his hand hovered over his bracelet. He thought for a moment, then selected the runes he needed. They clicked into place and he conjured a faint blue mist in his hands. 

“Separatio.” The wisps of magic coalesced into a great cloud, which moved to envelop the sword and the stone. It swirled around Excalibur, probing and searching for something. Finally, the cloud returned to his hands and dissipated, leaving the sword untouched. Douxie frowned. He clicked in another series of runes and held his hand out towards the sword. 

“Liberum ferrum.” He stood, unmoving, for several long seconds. To the other occupants of the room, it appeared as if nothing was happening. Neither Douxie nor the sword moved until Douxie’s arm started to quiver. A few seconds later, he gasped and stumbled to the desk, leaning heavily on it.

When he had caught his breath, he turned back to his friends. “This blasted barrier is blocking all magic.”

“Why don’t you just get rid of it?” Steve offered from his place across the room, where he was balancing the pommel of his axe on his palm.

Douxie sighed. “Steve, that’s a-” He froze, the mental cogs turning. “That’s a brilliant idea!”

“No duh, I thought of it.” His axe tilted backward, and Steve yelped as the massive tooth bonked him on the head.

Douxie selected a new set of runes and extended both hands, aiming his pointer and middle fingers at the sword. 

“Aufero incantamentum.” Two wispy ribbons burst from his fingers and assaulted the invisible sphere. They twisted around it, winding around and around like excited ghostly snakes. Finally, they returned to their source and faded into curls of smoke. Douxie frowned.

“It’s like there’s no enchantment there. I can’t find anything. But it definitely exists!”

“What are you looking for?” Claire asked.

“It has to be coming from somewhere. Something sustaining the spell, o-or some magical artifact, or-” He stopped abruptly and turned his gaze to Excalibur. “Oh, bloody hell.”

Douxie knelt down in front of the stone. He studied the sword intently for a moment before slamming his fist against the shield. Nearly invisible behind the flaring of the barrier, a tiny pulse of light burst from the gem in the crossguard. He thumped his fist against the barrier again in frustration.

“Damn it. It’s coming from Excalibur. The barrier is being generated from the inside.”

“So, if we can’t attack it and we can’t remove it, what’s next?” Claire asked.

Douxie thought for a moment. “What about … what about indirect magic? Spells that manipulate the environment.” A wide smile broke out over his face. “Yeah! If I don’t directly attack it, the barrier shouldn’t activate, and it can’t reflect the spell back at me!”

“Are you sure about that?” Archie asked incredulously.

“No, but I’m gonna try!” Douxie declared.

“Oh, good. I’ll get the bandages,” Archie deadpanned, settling into a loaf and most definitely not looking for medical supplies.

Douxie held his hand out towards the stone again. This time, it illuminated with a bright blue glow surrounding it. He raised his hand and the stone rose into the air. Satisfied, he conjured a flat disk in each hand. He brought his hands together, slotting the two disks into each other to form a magical model of an atom. The disks fused and glowed brighter in his hands, and he hurled the ward at the stone. It struck the stone, actually struck it, and ballooned out into a large blue sphere with rotating strings of runes. Douxie stepped up to the bubble and placed both hands on its surface. 

“Auget pressura.” The bubble made no indication of any change occurring.

“Ferventis caliditas.” For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the room’s other occupants saw a slight wavering, like a mirage. The waves got bigger, more eclectic.

“Summus vibrationis.” The surface of the ward rippled. With the effects combined, it now looked to the spectators like the stone was perched atop an invisible jackhammer. Douxie stood back and watched with them, waiting for something, anything, to happen.

He heaved a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping. He half-heartedly began to raise a hand. Archie leapt forward and chomped on it. Douxie screamed and turned towards the attack. He stumbled back, waving his arms wildly, and fell into Steve and Claire. The three landed on the floor with several oofs and yells. Douxie sat up and clutched the offended hand.

“What was that for?”

“Don’t release it!” Archie said sternly. “The magic hasn’t gone anywhere. If you dispel that ward, it will go off with the force of a miniature volcano!”

Douxie gaped like a fish on land, sputtering incoherently while his face flipped wildly between angry and terrified. “You could’ve just told me that, you didn’t have to bite me!”

“I panicked,” Archie said calmly.

“Well, what do I do then?”

“You have to pull the magic back out. Otherwise, every spell you poured into that ward will be released at full force.” 

Douxie sighed. He stood up, placed his hands on the bubble, and squeezed his eyes shut. To the outside observers, nothing appeared to happen. Then, slowly, his hair began drifting around his face, as if dancing in a gentle breeze. The wind affecting only him picked up and he gritted his teeth. The seconds seemed to stretch on forever as the storm surrounding him spun faster and faster. Douxie finally opened his eyes and the two other humans gasped. His eyes were glowing . A high-pitched ringing grew to a piercing intensity. Then, all at once, it stopped. Douxie dropped his arms and crumpled to the floor. The bubble popped and the stone hit the floor with a loud thud.

Claire and Steve rushed over.

“Holy crap! Is he gonna be okay?”

Archie jumped down to inspect his familiar.

“Yes. All the magic came from him, it’s not more than he can take. It’s the rapid reabsorbing of the energy that creates problems.”

“Oh yeah, like scuba divers,” Steve mused.

“Um, sure,” Archie replied. “He’ll come round in a moment. He’ll be alright, but he will have quite a nasty headache.”

Steve dragged him into a crowded corner of the study, stacked with books. Satisfied that her teacher was out of the way and in … relatively good hands, Claire turned to the stone.

“Alright, my turn.”

---

Douxie came to, staring at the ceiling with a pounding headache. He groaned. His ears were ringing, everything hurt, and the lights were far too bright. The light dimmed somewhat as Steve’s face filled his field of view. Douxie could see his lips moving, and could faintly make out his voice, as if hearing it from underwater.

“Wuh?” he mumbled. 

Steve moved away as he continued talking. Douxie winced, squinting his eyes against what seemed to be the sun itself reaching down and blinding him.

“Bri-” The rest of the word danced just out of his grasp. He heard another voice now, one he would recognize no matter how much his head was pounding. Archie and Steve seemed to be arguing about something. Douxie was about to attempt speech again when the light dimmed drastically, and he found himself in an intimate relationship with the pages of a very dusty spellbook. Douxie didn’t have the energy to protest, and quite frankly, he didn’t want to. That spellbook over his face was the best thing he’d ever felt. Granted, he couldn’t remember anything else he’d ever experienced without stabbing what felt like a white-hot knife into his head, but the point stood. He closed his eyes and let his consciousness fade out.

He resurfaced what felt like moments later, though it could’ve been hours. His head still throbbed, but the voices in the room were much more distinct now.

Claire unleashed a shrieking growl. Douxie winced. “Ah, not so loud,” he rasped, his voice muffled by the book still sitting on his face.

“Dude, can we get you some, like, Arthurian Advil or something?” Steve offered.

“Arthurian Advil is beer,” he groaned. “No thanks.”

“Nothing! Nothing works! Not even a scratch,” Claire complained.

Douxie pushed himself up, letting the book fall to the side. He looked at the stone and his frustrated student standing next to it.

He manipulated his bracer. “Comminuet lapidem.”

“Douxie, no!” Archie yelled, but he was too late.

A puff of blue smoke collided with the barrier. Instantly, a line of lightning shot out from the sphere and struck the wall behind Douxie. An avalanche of books fell from the high shelves and stacks, burying him under a mountain of paper and leather.

Douxie groaned, the sound muffled by the rubble.

His friends hurried to dig him out. When he could finally see, he found himself face to face with a very angry dragon. 

He smiled nervously at his familiar. “It was worth a shot?”

“Was it?” Archie admonished.

Claire threw her hands in the air. “This is hopeless.”

“Uh, clearly, you guys aren’t thinking big enough,” Steve said.

“Steve,” Claire asked cautiously. “What are you thinking?”

Steve grinned.

---

Claire and Archie stood on the bridge between the towers.

“This is a monumentally bad idea,” Archie warned.

“Can it really hurt at this point?”

“Don’t ask.” The dragon flapped off the bridge and soared out over the outer walls, or what was left of them. He banked, circling over a stone outcropping just beyond the walls. He slowed his drifting until he was centered over the small cliff, and nowhere near either of the two tiny figures below. Satisfied, he turned back to Claire. Invisible against the night sky, he released a short burst of flames to signal his readiness. Claire nodded and hurried back into the study. Using Archie as an emotional anchor, she opened a shadow portal just below him, facing straight down towards the ground. She opened the other end of the portal directly under the stone. Instantly, it was gone. She held her breath. For a few seconds, the stone, and the sacred sword trapped in it, hung in limbo. She was doing well with her shadow portals, but she still wasn’t as confident as she had been with her staff, especially after her failed attempt earlier. For all she knew, Excalibur was in a deep ocean trench, or somewhere on the other side of the world. Then a horrible crash split the air. It shook the tower, rattling bottles on shelves and knocking over a particularly precarious stack of books. She flinched. No, there was no question that the stone had landed exactly where she intended.

---

Far below, Douxie lay face down in the dew-soaked grass just outside Camelot’s walls, taking deep breaths. The night air went a long way towards clearing his headache. The ringing in his ears had almost stopped, and the blue wisps playing at the edge of his vision were few and far between. Beside him, Steve was yammering on about something, as he had been non-stop since explaining his idea.

“Ya think they’ll make me a knight for this? Ooh, or a duke! A royal advisor! What kind of title do they give someone who saves the kingdom?”

“I don’t know, Steve,” Douxie sighed. A gout of flames high above them caught their attention.

“Oho, here it comes!” Steve said. Douxie pulled his hood tighter around his face. A moment later, the earth shook as a resounding crash echoed through the night. Steve whooped and hollered. Douxie turned his head away from the rush of dust rolling towards them. Steve did not have the good sense to do this, hacking dust and particles out of his lungs before returning to his celebration as if nothing had interrupted it.

Archie flew down to join his familiar. A moment later, a shadow portal opened next to Steve and Claire stepped through. Steve folded his arms triumphantly over his chest, grinning like a moron. “And that, plebs, is how you get a sword out of a rock.”

The four watched as the dust slowly faded. Steve strutted over to Excalibur and froze mid-step, shrieking indignantly.

“Aw come on! Seriously?” There sat Excalibur, firmly embedded in the rock, sitting in a perfectly round crater, as if a large, indestructible ball had been dropped at terminal velocity. Cracks spread out from the point of impact like a spiderweb.

Archie jumped down and shot a concentrated burst of fire at the stone. When it dissipated, the cliff in front of him was scorched black, but the stone itself, along with the blade, was untouched. Douxie carefully stood up and approached the sword, Claire following behind him.

Steve grunted and kicked the stone. His foot collided with the barrier, knocking him off balance. He hit the ground with a loud clank. When his pained squeaking ceased, he kept mumbling to himself, something about Pepperjack.

“Well, what now?” Claire asked.

The unmistakable sound of rock breaking surrounded them. Douxie and Claire inspected the stone, but couldn’t find a crack. Then, the ground beneath them lurched. Douxie watched in horror as a new strand of the spiderweb extended from Excalibur, drawing a jagged line in the ground. A section of rock in front of them broke away, crashing into the waves. Steve screamed.

“Claire, Claire, quick!” Douxie urged his student.

Claire opened a shadow portal directly underneath them just before the cliff crumbled into the ocean, dumping them and the stone all unceremoniously onto the floor of the study.

The group slowly staggered to their feet, rubbing various bruises and bumps.

Finally regaining his bearings, Douxie glared at the sword. He snarled and grabbed the hilt.

“Come on!” He shouted, yanking as hard as he could. He stumbled and fell back onto the hard stone floor. Douxie pushed himself up, rubbing the back of his head with his eyes squinted closed. He’d really had enough of occupational hazards today.

“Uh, Douxie?” Claire said in that tone that warned of something very, very bad. He opened his eyes and saw that Claire was pointing at the stone, and the sword lying on the floor next to it. Douxie blinked. He glanced between the vacant stone and the liberated sword, knowing there was something he should be putting together, but he couldn’t for the life of him tell what it was.

Then it clicked. His eyes went wide. He shrieked and scrambled back until he hit a wall, hyperventilating.

“Douxie, calm down, we’ll figure this out,” Archie implored him, jumping down from the table and hurrying over to his familiar.

“Hisirdoux, what was that?”

“Aw, fuzz buckets!” His adrenaline kicked into high gear as he scrambled to his feet. Douxie fumbled for the blade, grabbed it, and stabbed it as hard as he could back into the stone. He gasped for breath, then wheeled around, plastering a big smile on his face as the door creaked open.

Merlin entered, looking distinctly displeased. “What was that horrible crash?”

“Crash? I-I didn’t hear any crash–”

“They dropped the stone from the top of the tower,” Archie said.

“What?” Merlin exclaimed, his eyes wide.

“Hey don’t throw us under the bus, cat-dragon-guy, you spit fire at it!” Steve yelled, menacing the cat.

“Look, no harm done,” Douxie gestured to the pristine stone and sword. “Really … really, no harm done.”

“I told you not to make trouble and what do you do? I don’t know why I bother. No more experiments!” he warned, shaking his finger at his apprentice.

Douxie raised his hands in surrender. “Nope. No more experiments. Got it out of our systems,” he said with a nervous smile. Merlin glared at him for a moment before leaving the study.

Douxie breathed a sigh of relief before turning on his familiar. “What the hell, Archie?”

“It was what he expected to hear.”

“I really doubt he expected us to chuck it off the top of the tower.”

“He expected to hear that you’d done something incredibly stupid. It stopped him from asking further questions, questions I’m sure you don’t want to answer.”

“Douxie,” Claire asked. “If Excalibur came from the Lady of the Lake, where did the legend of the sword in the stone come from?”

Douxie sighed. “Well, Sir Galahad pulls a sword out of a stone to prove he’s the one destined to find the Holy Grail. Other than that, history, folktales, and rumors all tend to blend together eventually. History isn’t as well documented now as it is in our time, and, once there’s no one left who was there, well …”

Douxie looked around, making sure they were alone. He gripped the hilt of Excalibur, took a deep breath, and pulled. Again, the blade slid effortlessly out of the stone. He stared for a moment before hurriedly shoving the sword back in and stumbling back from the sacred blade, gasping for breath.

“Are you sure you can’t do that? Anyone?”

Steve and Claire both stepped up to the sword, but no matter how hard they tried, neither of them could get it to budge.

Douxie groaned. “But what does that mean ?”

The question hung in the air for several long moments. “I think you know what it means, Teach,” Claire said gently.

“But – but that’s impossible! I can’t … it can’t … this never happened!” Douxie paced the floor, arms folded tight over his chest. After a few laps, he stopped and laughed hysterically.

“This isn’t a problem. I’ll just leave it on the floor. Who knows what happened? Don’t care! Merlin gives it back to Arthur, everything’s fine.”

“That already happened, remember?” Archie pointed out. “Arthur had Excalibur for the better part of a day. None of us saw what happened. None of us except you.”

“I don’t know, okay!” Douxie shouted. The outburst stunned the entire room, even Steve, into silence. Douxie’s shoulders sagged. He sighed. “I’m sorry, I just … I don’t know. He was fighting Bular. Then it just … blasted everyone back, Nimue’s voice came out, and it rocketed off into the sky.”

“So if you give it back to Arthur, and he uses it again, what do you think will happen? What if it’s at Killahead? Arthur can’t wield it. Either we go without it, or-”

“-or someone else wields it,” Claire finished.

“Someone else,” he repeated slowly, “... yeah, alright! Hey Steve, wanna help me test something?”

“Uh, sure,” Steve shrugged.

Douxie pulled Excalibur out of the stone. He turned to Steve and, with the hand not holding the sword, clasped him on the shoulder. He stared Steve dead in the eyes, his face gravely serious. “Sir Steve, I want you to wield Excalibur.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Wait, what? A-are you serious?”

“That I am,” Douxie said, offering the sword to Steve. He took the blade and held it up to examine it, looking like a kid at Christmas.

Douxie summoned the old broom from a corner of the study. He held the broomstick like a staff and stood opposite Steve. “Now, Steve, I want you to hit me."

Steve looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Uh, okay.”

Steve transferred Excalibur to his off-hand and threw a solid punch. Douxie caught Steve’s fist and glared at him.

“Not with your fist, Steve, with the sword.”

Steve looked at him like he’d grown a third head. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Oh-kay?”

Douxie squared off again against his opponent. Steve looked nervously between the sword, the broom, and Douxie. He carefully tapped the blade against Douxie’s makeshift staff. Douxie narrowed his eyes. Without a word, he struck out with the broom, bonking Steve hard on the head.

“Hey! What was that for?”

Douxie responded by bonking him on the head again, his face completely expressionless. Steve was supremely confused by this, but he knew taunting when he saw it, even if it was silent and more than a little bit creepy.

“Alright, you asked for it, scrub lord!”

Douxie held the staff out to parry. As soon as Excalibur met the broomstick, it charged with pale green lightning. Steve yelped and dropped the sword.

“God DAMN IT!” Douxie yelled, throwing the broom to the side.

"Douxie," Claire said. "There's no way around it. It has to be you."

Douxie thought, his brow furrowed. "I've got one more thing to try."

---

Hisirdoux, Merlin’s young apprentice, looked up at the frantic knocking on his chamber door. Before he even had a chance to fully stand up, the door burst open, revealing ... himself. The slightly scary version of himself who had a penchant for sleep spells and destroying time. Hisirdoux startled, looking around for somewhere to hide.

Douxie sauntered in. “Hey, me! Merlin needs us in the workshop.”

Hisirdoux’ eyes widened. “U-us? Both of us? He wants … he wants me and you and, and …”

“Yup! Got a big problem on our hands, needs all the help he can get.”

“O-oh. Well, okay.”

“Great! Come along,” the other him chirped, grabbing his wrist and pulling him out the door.

Douxie took the steps two at a time, literally dragging Hisidoux behind him. They reached the top of the tower and Douxie flung open the door to Merlin’s study. Hisirdoux immediately noticed the distinct lack of his master.

“Where’s Merlin?” he asked.

“Ah, must’ve stepped out to get something, right guys?” Douxie cheerfully asked his assembled friends.

“Uh, yeah,” Claire said.

“Well, no matter. I know what he wanted you to do. See that rock over there?”

Hisirdoux turned and gasped. “Is that Excalibur?”

“Sure is. We’re having one hell of a time pulling it out. Give it your best shot.”

“Me? I’m not very strong. Why me?”

“Dunno. But that’s what Merlin said.”

“Um, alright.” He walked up to the stone and tentatively placed his hands on the hilt, looking like he expected it to bite him. He looked up at Archie, sitting on the desk. The dragon regarded him with a calm, reassuring gaze. Archie would never let anything happen to him. He looked back down at the stone and pulled. The sword stayed where it was.

“Oh, come on. I know you can do better than that,” Douxie teased.

Hisirdoux pulled again, straining against the heavy chunk of wall. With every second that went on, Douxie’s heart sank a little more. He hadn’t really expected it to work, but the fact that another version of himself couldn’t also pull it confirmed something he’d been steadfastly avoiding thinking about. Finally, his younger self collapsed forward onto the rock, huffing and puffing.

“I’m sorry … I tried but … I don’t think it moved at all.”

Douxie stepped up and put a hand on young Hisirdoux’ shoulder.

“That’s alright. You did your best,” he said somberly. Douxie sighed. “Incundum somnia.”

The boy dropped to the floor, snoring. Archie narrowed his eyes. “I told you to stop that.”

“We can’t have him blabbing about this. He wakes up, even if he remembers, he’ll think it was a dream. No more sleep spells, promise.”

“What do we do now?” Claire asked.

Douxie plopped down on the floor and leaned against the wall. After several moments of silence, he opened his eyes to find both humans and Archie staring at him.

“What’re you all looking at me for?”

Claire and Steve exchanged glances, then looked back to their leader.

“Please don’t do that to me,” he groaned.

Claire stepped forward. “Douxie, whatever else happens, we’re lost here. We need you to guide us. So, what do we do?”

Douxie sighed and thought for a moment. 

“We go back to Nimue. She’ll know what to do.”

Notes:

Spells:
Separatio - seperation
Liberum ferrum - free iron
Aufero incantamentum - remove enchantment spell
Auget pressura - increase pressure
Ferventis caliditas - boiling temperature
Summus vibrationis - high vibration
Comminuet lapidem - crush the stone
Incundum somnia - pleasant dreams

Chapter 3

Notes:

Thank you to https://archibalds-den.tumblr.com/ for betaing!

 The Dwoza trolls didn’t have a prison. They’d never needed one. Even if they had, no one particularly wanted to try to move the brute, so they just built the cage around him, fixing iron bars into the floor and ceiling of the small cave.

Jim opted not to point out that Aaarrrgghh could easily bend the bars and start his rampage again. For his part, Aaarrrgghh wasn’t putting up a fight. He sat facing the wall, silently sulking. Jim sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and turning away. It pained him to see Aaarrrgghh, even if he wasn’t his Aaarrrgghh, so hopeless.

Callista slapped Jim on the back, startling him out of his reverie. “Ya did good, kid.”

“Thanks, you too,” he laughed.

She turned to the Galadrigal brothers. “So, you still gonna kick out the only two trolls with the guts to take on the big guy?”

“Oh, alright, fine,” Blinky huffed. “In light of your efforts, I suppose it is only reasonable to let you stay the night. But only tonight.”

“I’ll take it,” Jim smiled.

Blinky sighed. “Well then, come along.”

“Not so fast.” Vendel appeared from behind the brothers, fixing his hard gaze on Jim. “You and I have business to sort out.”

Callista pushed to the front of the group, glaring back at the old troll. “Oh yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Vendel ignored her, using his staff to reach past her and poke Jim in the chest. “That shard in your chest festers with dark magic.”

Jim’s eyes widened. “Wait, do you know what it is? What to do about it?”

“I know that it is an abomination that must be removed.”

“And what happens if you remove it?” Callista asked, folding her arms over her chest.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care.”

Callista bristled. “It’s his corrupted magic shard. He can do what he wants with it. Just like you can do what you want with that stick. Like, for example, shoving it up your stony ass.”

Vendel rolled his eyes. “When it reaches your heart, it will take control. I’ll not have another rampaging beast in our community when it inevitably finishes its work.”

Jim ground his teeth and curled his hands into fists. He fought to hold back a low growl as he glared at Vendel, who remained infuriatingly unphased.

“It won’t,” Jim snarled. “It stopped moving when we went back in time.”

“Time travel?” Vendel asked, raising his eyebrows. “Preposterous.”

“Whatever. If you’re not going to help me, then no, we don’t have any ‘business to sort out'.”

Vendel sighed dramatically. “Fine. But we will be watching you, and if we see the slightest hint of a threat, we will not hesitate to put you down. Blinkous, I trust you not to keep dangerous animals in your care.” He gave Blinky a hard look.

“Yes, yes, understood,” Blinky responded dismissively. He turned and began leading the group away. Jim glanced over his shoulder at Vendel, who was, in turn, glaring at him. He shook his head and followed the others.

---

Jim and Callista stood awkwardly in the Galadrigal residence. Jim was trying to stay out of the way, to not make any unnecessary trouble for the brothers. Callista was less concerned, and mostly just bored.

“Hey, Galadrigal!” A voice from outside called. It was accompanied by a pounding on the door. Blinky hurried over to answer it, grumbling about some people having no manners. As soon as he opened the door, a bucket was roughly shoved into his arms.

“Feeding time.” The voice chuckled as it retreated.

Blinky stood stiff in the doorway.

Jim clasped his shoulder. “I’ll go with you.”

Blinky turned to him. “I do not need a – a chaperone!” he objected.

“Of course not, how about a conversation partner?”

Blinky grumbled. “Fine, come along if you must.”

Jim pretended he didn’t see the way Blinky’s whole body relaxed, just a bit.

They started off in the direction of the makeshift cell.

Jim turned to Blinky. “You said earlier that books are your brother’s specialty. So, what’s yours?”

Blinky cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I uh – I couldn't expect your tiny youngling brain to possibly understand.”

“Try me.”

Blinky sputtered, his eyes darting around nervously. “Well, it’s … it’s quite obvious, isn’t it?”

Jim looked at him confused. “Blinky …”

“It’s Blinkous!”

“Blinkous,” Jim said, the name tasting wrong in his mouth, “what is it you don’t want to tell me?”

They walked in silence for a bit, the question lingering between them. Blinky kept looking over at Jim out of the corner of his eye, checking to see if the youngling would drop the topic. When it became apparent he wouldn’t, Blinky sighed. “I’m nothing. I’m a laughing stock! Everyone hates me.”

“That’s not true.”

Blinky grumbled.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Forgive me if I do not hold your opinion in high regard, outsider.”

“Dictatious doesn’t hate you. You care what he thinks, right?”

“…Yes,” Blinky admitted.

“What does he think about the way other trolls treat you? The way you think of yourself?”

They walked in silence for a long time.

“He doesn’t. I don’t mention it and – he doesn’t notice.”

“He doesn’t notice?”

“He is in the spotlight, the scholar, the expert. I have always been in his shadow … and the light does not regard its shadow.”

Jim’s heart sank. He sighed and tried again.

“Well, what do you want to be?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What are your aspirations?”

Blinky chuckled darkly. “What is there for me to aspire to? I’m nobody.”

“You don’t have dreams? Goals?”

“What’s the point?”

Jim was quiet. Blinky’s self-esteem had never been the best, but to hear his friend, his father, degrade himself so thoroughly … it was staggering. He took a moment to compose himself before continuing.

“Well, I think you'd make a great leader.”

Blinky burst out laughing, one set of hands braced against his knees while the others barely kept the bucket from tipping over. When he recovered, he slapped Jim on the back.

“Ah, thank you, youngling. I needed a good laugh.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’re delusional.”

As they neared the cell, Jim stopped and placed a hand on Blinky’s shoulder. “Just, don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re the kind of troll who’ll step up when no one else will. I know it.”

Blinky turned away, trying to hide the ghost of a smile pulling at his mouth. They approached the two guards blocking the cell. One chuckled.

“Well, well, Blinkous got himself a bodyguard. Scared, Galadrigal?” The other guard joined in his laughter.

Blinky narrowed his eyes and huffed a deep breath. “Jim, wait here.”

“Are you sure?” Jim asked, tucking away the warm feeling he got in his chest from Blinky using his name for the first time.

“Very.” He trundled off to the cell door and walked through.

Jim sighed and leaned against a nearby wall. He jumped when a moment later a vicious roar emanated from the cell. Out of respect for his friend’s social anxieties, he waited, straining his ears for a hint of what was happening. When he heard Blinky’s distinctive voice, he relaxed and settled back against the wall to wait.

Looking around Dwoza, it reminded him so much of Trollmarket. He couldn’t see their heart stone, but he could feel its energy thrumming through him. The rest of it though; the colors, the lights, the trolls. He knew the trolls were immortal. It was spelled out in excruciating detail in A Brief Recapitulation of Troll History, Volume 16. Still, it was uncanny to see so many familiar faces so far back in the past.

“Hey, you!” Jim looked up at the voice and saw a large blue troll stomping towards him. His heart clenched, and he couldn’t help the pained gasp that escaped his lips, luckily swallowed by the sounds of the city.

The troll stopped in front of Jim, looming over him. “What’s your name?”

“Uh – Jim,” he said, fumbling the words.

The troll crossed his arm over his chest, fist over his heart. “Draal, son of Kanjigar. I heard what you did.” He bowed his head to Jim. “Thank you. We were out on patrol, didn’t know anything happened until we got back.”

“They have a patrol here?” Jim glanced around at all the trolls who had cowered behind boxes, content to wait for Aaarrrgghh to pick them off one by one.

Draal laughed. “No. Just us. The rest of 'em would run from a grot snail. But I love them. They’re my family. I am in your debt.”

Jim laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, it wasn’t just me. Callista’s the one who actually stopped him. I was just keeping him busy.”

Draal frowned at the mention of the other troll, looking away from Jim, towards the cell. He growled in the direction of the captive Gumm-Gumm. “You should have killed him.”

Jim narrowed his eyes. “I disagree.”

Draal grumbled but didn’t argue with the troll who had saved his people. “Anyways, if you need me, I’m at your service.”

“Thanks.” He watched as Draal walked away.

Jim smiled to himself. It was bittersweet, seeing his brother again, knowing that when they returned to their time, he would be gone. But at least he could have this now, regardless of how fleeting the moment was.

“I see you’ve met Draal. Insufferable creature.”

Jim turned towards Blinky, who was walking towards him across the causeway. He decided to let the insult slide.

“How’d it go?”

“Swimmingly. Come along.” Blinky beckoned for Jim to follow as he trundled back the way they had come.

---

Jim and Callista tried to make themselves comfortable in the spare room, more like a closet, the brothers had cleared out for them. Callista looked at Jim curiously.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened with that?” she asked, pointing to the onyx shard.

Jim looked down at the shard, then back up to his new friend. “Not really sure, to be honest. We were looking for a new home for the trolls –”

“New home?”

“Yeah, it’s…a long story. This green knight showed up, and he shot this magic shard at me. The next thing I remember is waking up here, surrounded by some very unhappy knights.”

Callista snorted. “Is there any other kind?”

Jim chuckled. They sat in companionable silence for some time. Finally, Jim turned back to her.

“Thanks, for earlier. With Vendel.”

“Hey, I’ll take any opportunity to tell the old goat to stuff it.”

“All the same, thank you.”

Callista smiled at him before rolling over to sleep.

Jim lay down on the hard stone floor, his armor clinking as he tried to get comfortable. He couldn’t sleep. His mind was racing with all that had happened since he woke up in the 12th century. Questions overflowed as he thought through all he had experienced, and, presumably, all that he hadn’t. How did they get here? Where was the Green Knight? What was up with that guy from the cafe? He thought of Claire, back in Camelot. He thought of Blinky, his Blinky, somewhere far removed from here. The rush of thoughts, now that he finally had his first moment of true peace since waking up in the forest, was overwhelming. Why was King Arthur trying to kill the trolls? Where was Merlin? Was Claire okay?

His ears pricked up as he could hear Blinky puttering around in the main room, and the familiar sound helped ease a tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with the shard of dark magic. He closed his eyes and thought of his friends, hoping they were safe.

---

The three humans and one dragon drifted slowly through the fog. Douxie was channeling his magic through an ordinary spear they had swiped from the armory to control the skiff. They coasted around the mountain until they could see the jagged hole in the cave wall. Douxie brought the ship to a halt and stepped up to the prow, Archie at his side.

“Lady Nimue?”

A pale green glow rose to the surface of the lake, the tall, somewhat humanoid form of The Lady rising to her full height. Douxie knelt, the others following a second later.

“Greetings, little wizard.”

“We need your help.”

“I will try to be accommodating. What troubles you?”

“Something is wrong with Excalibur. It rejected Arthur, and – and embedded itself in a stone.

“I know.”

“What?” Douxie squeaked.

“Did you think I would not know what happens with my blade? Did you not hear my voice?”

“I did, I mean, no, of course, but – why?”

“Why?” The lady regarded him with a tilt of her head.

“Why is this happening? No one can pull it from the stone. No magic, no force of nature can touch it.”

“No one?”

Douxie took a deep breath and continued in barely a whisper. “I can pull Excalibur from the stone.” He looked up to meet her even gaze, a silent affirmation as she let the words sink in. “But that can’t be right. I’m … I’m no one.”

“For all of your wisdom, your courage, your kindness, you have let others push you down. Even as Merlin slept, his memory kept you from realizing your full potential. You do not trust yourself. You do not believe yourself worthy of any more than their prods and japes. You lack confidence because you have let others determine your worth.”

“N–” he began before the booming voice knocked him to his knees.

“DO NOT LIE TO ME, LITTLE WIZARD. I SEE ALL. I HAVE SEEN YOU THROUGH CENTURIES. I SEE WHAT YOU ARE, WHAT YOU HAVE BEEN, AND WHAT YOU MIGHT BECOME.” The voice continued quieter in volume but just as colored in rage. “Your words are not your own. You let them tell you what to think, what to be, and you believe them.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Douxie sobbed, hanging his head and bracing for the backlash. A thick, black tentacle pushed gently at his chin, moving his gaze to meet hers, now inches from his face.

“Do not apologize to me, little wizard,” she cooed. “You will excuse your existence no more. You will not accept their lies.”

“I-I don’t know how,” he said as his voice cracked.

“You are not alone. Do you not have allies at your side?” Douxie turned to look at Claire and Steve, their faces painted in concern and fear respectively. Looking down at Archie, he found pity.

Douxie stood, wiping his eyes. “But I don’t want to push my beliefs on people, I don’t want to give orders with an iron fist. I don’t want to be like him!”

“Poor boy. After nine hundred years you still do not recognize your own power.”

“I won’t use force!”

“That is not the power I speak of, little wizard. Nothing happens by accident. I could have given the sword back to Arthur, to Merlin, to the domain of man. What, then, does it mean that I gave it to you?” She punctuated the question with a light tap over his heart, that despite its gentleness, sent him staggering a few steps back. “But you must find the answers within yourself, and your friends.”

“But the timelines. If we change things, our future won’t exist.”

“Many roads lead to the same destination. Trust yourself, and I promise you will return home.”

“And what does that mean, huh?” he snapped. “I’ll not be tricked by some arcane know-it-all twisting words sending us ‘home’ to a world turned upside down and backward!” He panted for a moment before his brain caught up with his words, at which point, he promptly began panicking. “I-I mean –"

“That is the passion you must harness,” The Lady said, her voice calm and perhaps … proud? “It will guide you.”

The water in front of them shimmered and an image appeared: the battle they had left, seen from a distance. They watched as Galahad rammed his tower through the ice bridges. The horrible mouth of the floating skull citadel open, revealing the green knight. The Heart of Avalon fired, carving a bright scar in the sky, just before the beam of combined energy shattered it. The castle pitched and the rift started shrinking. They could barely make out three tiny figures clinging to the edge of the castle above the rift, then saw a crystalline coffin tumble through, refracting the light of the battle. The three small figures fell, seemingly being chased by a green glint. They watched the figures fall through the rift just as it disappeared, the green glint sprouting tiny wings and pulling up abruptly, barely missing the gash in the fabric of reality.

“Arch –" Douxie breathed as the image disappeared. The cat beside him stared dumbstruck at the moonlit water.

“You will return to the exact time and place you left, I promise, but only if you follow your path. Trust in yourself, little king, and you will not fail.”

Her words drifted off as she sunk back into the lake. Douxie stood there staring at where she had disappeared, his chest heaving.

Claire reached out a cautious hand towards him, creeping around him as one would a frightened animal. “Douxie?” She carefully laid her hand on his shoulder, nearly causing him to jump out of his skin. She jerked her hand back, but the spell was broken.

“I – I-I-I can’t. I can’t. I can’t,” he repeated clutching his head as he sank to the deck. Claire knelt beside him and reached out again, and this time he did not flinch away.

“Douxie, we’re right here. You’re not alone. And, for what it’s worth, I’ve seen you do amazing things. She’s right, you’re so much more than you give yourself credit for.” Claire rubbed soothing circles into his back. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

Douxie nodded. She helped him to his feet and led him to the back of the boat where the spear was shoved into the deck like a joystick. Steve stared, clueless as to what to do, but radiating concern. Archie hopped up on the wizard’s shoulders. Douxie took a deep breath and began guiding the boat back to Camelot.

---

The group filed into the small chamber that served as Douxie’s home. Claire closed the door quietly, so as not to wake the moppet sprawled on the bed.

Douxie dropped into a hard wooden chair. “I can’t do this.”

“Why not?” Archie asked.

“It’s not right.”

Claire settled across from him. “To unseat a tyrant? Arthur isn’t exactly a shining beacon of morality.”

“But that’s not how it happened. It will break time for sure.”

“Many roads lead to the same destination,” Archie quoted.

“Time is already broken,” Claire added. “The Lady said you can fix it.”

Douxie sat in silence, studying the wood grain of the table. When it became clear that he had no intention of responding, Archie sighed. 

“Douxie, we both know this isn’t about morality, and it isn’t about loyalty to a king who would see you executed without Merlin’s protection.”

Douxie frowned, avoiding the dragon’s eyes.

“If Merlin took the throne from Arthur, who would you support?” Archie asked.

“What?” Douxie choked on his words. When he finally regained the gift of coherent speech, he pointed an accusing finger at his familiar. “He wouldn’t.”

“I said ‘if',” Archie replied coolly.

Douxie pushed himself away from the table and began pacing, hands clenched in his hair. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. You’re just not willing to say it.”

Claire tilted her head thoughtfully. “You haven’t … actually said the words yet,” she realized.

“What words?”

“Why won’t you say what we’re doing?”

“We aren’t doing anything,” Douxie objected.

Claire leveled a glare at him. “What Nimue wants you to do.”

“I don’t know what she wants,” Douxie complained, throwing his hands out.

Steve gave him a peculiar look. “Really? It’s pretty obvious to me she wants you to be the new king and kick out Arthur.”

Douxie stared at him, sputtering frantically like a wounded tea kettle and gesturing wildly. 

He wrapped his arms tight around himself. “I’m not a,” he hissed the forbidden word under his breath “king, I’m nothing. A street rat.”

“What makes someone a king?” Archie asked.

“I –” Douxie sighed. “I don’t know, Arch,” he lamented.

“You are worthy. You are capable.”

Douxie mumbled something under his breath.

“Beg your pardon?” Archie asked.

Douxie dropped back into his chair and buried his head in his hands.

“I’m not. Worthy,” he whispered reluctantly.

“Oh? And why is that?”

Douxie didn’t respond. He sat, still as a statue, breathing heavily. Archie rubbed up against his arms.

“You are the only one doubting yourself.”

Douxie snorted. “No I’m not. Merlin. Arthur. All the knights, the nobles, the town. I’m a filthy, scheming magician.”

“Is that what you think, or what they think?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes!” Archie insisted.

Claire shifted forward. “Douxie, I don’t know much about your time, here and now. But, think about history. What would our world be if no one ever stood up for what’s right, even if no one believed in them? If they had listened to the powerful people trying to keep them down? Do I need to start naming names?”

“I’m not like them,” Douxie mumbled.

“Why not?”

“Because –” he hesitated and sighed, “because I’m not. I can’t.”

For a moment, the room was utterly still. Then, Archie sighed. 

“Alright, Douxie. Let’s walk away.”

Douxie jerked his head up to stare at the dragon. 

“What?” he squeaked.

“You don’t have to do anything. You have free will. We’ll take your younger brother and leave. Find somewhere nice to settle down, somewhere without murderous troll tyrants. Hurry up, pack your bags. Well, I suppose you don’t have any bags. All the better. Come along.” Archie jumped from the table, transforming into a dragon in mid-air. He pulled one of the door handles and flew out into the tower.

Douxie scrambled up from the table and flung himself out the door.

“Arch, are you mad? If we don’t sort this out, everyone in the future doesn’t exist. Claire, Steve, and Jim will be stuck here.”

“So what?” Archie enunciated the words, sharpening them into weapons.

The question hit Douxie like a ton of bricks, and he gasped as if he had been kicked by a horse.

Archie alighted on the stone railing and transformed back into a cat, face to face with his familiar. “Nimue told you how to fix things. Assuming you trust her, you either repair the timeline, or you don’t. The world will figure itself out. A new timeline, the current timeline, will continue.”

Douxie sputtered.

“So what will it be?” Archie asked, sitting tall in front of him. “Are you going to answer the call, or not?”

Douxie took a shuddering breath and wilted. He trudged back into the room and slumped against the wall. Archie followed him and pushed the door closed.

“The sword was meant for those worthy,” Archie reminded him.

“Would you stop repeating things the Lake Lady said?” Douxie snapped.

Archie stared back at him with cool indifference to his anger. “No, I won’t. She’s right, Douxie, about all of it. You’re thinking about this the way Merlin would. The way Arthur would. With brawn and blades and death to any who stand against you.” He rubbed against Douxie’s leg affectionately. “You are more powerful than you know. That power does not come in the form of brute strength.”

“Obviously,” Steve chimed in.

Archie rolled his eyes. “You are clever and brave. You are cheeky and stubborn. You refuse to stand by in the face of injustice, no matter how small, no matter who would know if you turned away. You would sacrifice yourself with no one looking, even to save just one life. That is the Douxie who freed Nimue from the cave. That is the Douxie who will solve this.”

“No. It’s … I’m … I can’t.” He sank to the floor and curled in on himself as tears welled up in his eyes.

Archie stared at him hard. 

“Do you believe Nimue made a mistake?” he demanded. “That she is wrong? Ill-informed?”

“Stop it, Arch,” Douxie sobbed, slamming his hands over his ears.

“Do you doubt your ability to pull Excalibur out of the stone?”

“Stop it, stop it, stop it!” He shook his head frantically as tears streamed down his face, pouring from his scrunched eyes.

“You can lie to yourself, Douxie, but you cannot lie to me.”

“STOP!” Douxie’s voice echoed through the room as a wave of energy pulsed out of him. It knocked cups off the table, upset stacks of books, and staggered the other people in the room.

Archie dug his claws into the stone as the blast pushed him back, producing a horrible screeching sound. The boy asleep on the bed startled and fell to the floor.

Douxie’s tears kept coming, but he was otherwise frozen in shock, his eyes wide and terrified. For a moment, the room was utterly still. Then, his bracelet lit up and clicked.

Archie dove for his friend just before a blue sphere swallowed them both.

Douxie hugged his knees tight to his chest, head buried in his gangly limbs. Archie placed a paw gently on Douxie’s arm.

“Go away, Arch,” he yelled through his tears.

Archie settled next to him and gave his familiar the time he needed to just cry.

-

The muffled wailing drew the younger boy forward. He hesitantly glanced between Claire and Steve.

“Is he – uh, is me alright?”

Claire turned to the boy with sadness in her eyes, her arms wrapped tight around her chest. “He’s … going through some things.”

“Oh,” he replied.

-

When the sobs began to fade, Archie looked up at his friend and spoke.

“I know this is painful. I don’t know you very well, but I know Douxie. The things Nimue said … it’s clearly been nine hundred years of this. I can’t begin to imagine the demons pushing down on you, and my heart aches to think that I will see you face them. But I will be there. Your friends will be there, always. And you, you are a light in the darkness. You are rare. You have weathered it all and now you are here.”

Archie butted his head against Douxie’s shoulder, the closest he could get to his familiar’s face at the moment. “You are strong, Douxie. Woe to those who stand in your way once you realize that.”

Douxie drew a shuddering breath and let the barrier fall. He sat unmoving against the wall, heaving deep breaths in and out. Slowly, his breathing returned to its usual rhythm, and he sighed.

“Uh, hi!” 

Douxie glanced up at the high, cheerful voice. 

“I don’t know what’s going on, but, it’ll be okay. You can do it! Whatever ‘it’ is.” The boy smiled, doing a very convincing impression of a sunflower.

Douxie stared at himself in shock. Archie was right, nine hundred years had not been kind. No matter what friends and triumphs he had, he had never believed in himself, not really. All those years, he only ever measured his worth against the opinions of those who lorded power over him.

But this moppet, this idealistic, naive, stupid boy, believed in him. And he knew it was real. He remembered being that boy so many years ago and he knew. However misguided he may be, his younger self, with stars in his eyes and joy in his heart, believed in him. It was stupid, the harsh voices he had acquired over the years told him. It’s worthless, this boy’s trust, said the idealisms he had internalized, had absorbed and allowed to be beaten into him. But as he stared into his own eyes, those voices felt flimsy, like paper in the wind. They weren’t real. But the unconditional love in his eyes was. He laughed, fresh tears still spilling down his cheeks.

“Thank you,” he whispered. He sniffled and wiped his face on his sleeve. 

The boy smiled at him with the force of a newborn star.

“So, what do we do?” Douxie asked.

“That’s a question only you can answer,” Archie replied.

Douxie groaned.

“Don’t overthink it. Put simply, what do you do? How does Douxie …” Archie glanced between the twins and cleared his throat, “prevail ?”

Douxie thumped his head against the wall. “I hate this.”

“I know,” Archie said, worming his way into Douxie’s lap.

Claire sat down next to him. “What’s the Douxie way to do things? What are you good at? What’s natural?”

“Magic. But I’m not going to take control of people’s minds. I won’t.”

“Then that’s not the right answer. What else comes naturally?” Claire asked.

Douxie closed his eyes and thought. Getting yelled at by Merlin? No, that’s not something he’s trying to do. He thinks back through his life, traveling, hunting monsters, saving people where he can without revealing himself. Music, playing his lute, his guitar, and all the stringed instruments in between … 

“… showmanship,” Douxie whispered slowly. Images popped into his mind too fast for him to process. Performing with Ash Dispersal Pattern. Disguising himself and acting the part of whoever he needed to be. Creating tricks and traps to ensnare monsters. Pretending to be an actual stage magician when he came too close to discovery. Charming. Swindling. Misdirection. Smoke and mirrors. Feigned confidence. The day Merlin took him in, when he cheated people out of their money as the Lad of Fortune to keep him and Archie fed. He opened his eyes. “I put on a show. Not to trick, to impress.”

He deposited Archie on Claire’s lap and stood to confidently address the room. “We give them a show! Shock and awe. Tell them the truth and perform. Amaze them! Show them the impossible!”

“That sounds wonderful!” Young Hisirdoux exclaimed. Douxie looked at him, realizing the problem they now had. He looked down at Archie, who growled at him. Douxie sighed, then turned to his younger self with a big smile.

“Yes, well, if we want to do any of that, we had all better get some sleep.”

The moppet yawned, eyelids already drooping.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he mumbled, dragging himself back to his bed. “G’night.”

Douxie smiled. “Goodnight,” he whispered earnestly. 

They all waited in silence until they could hear gentle snores coming from the boy. Douxie lit the runes on his bracelet as he summoned a translucent wall, similar to the bubble shields he was so fond of. It bisected the room, cutting them off from the sleeping boy.

“So, do you have something in mind?” Claire whispered.

Douxie gave her a crooked smile. 

“Yeah, I do.”

Chapter 4

Notes:

Thank you to https://archibalds-den.tumblr.com/ for betaing!

Just after sunrise, Douxie stood outside a set of large, ornate doors. He hesitated for a moment before knocking.

“Enter,” a voice called from inside.

He pushed the door open. Arthur stood in the middle of the large chamber, surrounded by attendants helping him dress. Douxie stepped in and closed the door.

Arthur glared at him. “What do you want?”

“Might I have a word with you alone, My Liege?”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think it’s something you’d want… uninvolved ears to hear. It’s about the problem currently sitting in Merlin’s workshop.”

Arthur immediately dismissed his attendants. As soon as they were gone, Douxie continued.

“I have discovered how to free Excalibur.”

The king raised an eyebrow. “You?”

“Yes. We can do it right away, but I’ll need help. Gather everyone important in the throne room – uh, if it pleases you, My Liege.”

Arthur eyed him with suspicion. “Very well. Go.”

“Very good, Sire. Uh, I-I’ll get Merlin.”

Douxie turned and hurried out of the room.

---

Archie flew into the study at top speed.

“Merlin, come quick, something’s happened to Douxie!”

“What is it?” Merlin droned, not looking up from the book he was reading.

“He seems to be trapped in some sort of nightmare state! I can’t wake him up!”

Merlin grumbled about ‘not having time for this sort of thing’ as he stepped away from his desk. Satisfied, Archie zoomed out of the study. Merlin stomped after him, still grumbling.

When Merlin stepped out into the greater tower, he didn’t see the dragon, but that was hardly surprising. The creature surely would have raced to the boy’s side as soon as he had secured Merlin’s aid. The wizard sighed and set off towards his apprentice’s room.

-

Archie alighted on the floor next to a closet out of sight of the door to Merlin’s study. As soon as he was sure Merlin was out of earshot, he rapped on the door. It opened immediately. He slipped inside and followed his familiar and his friends through a shadow portal. They came out in the room Archie had just left. Douxie looked at the sword and heaved a great sigh.

“Look, what I’m about to do is, undoubtedly, high treason. If this doesn’t go well, it means certain death for all involved. Are you sure you want to do this with me?”

“You know I’m with you through anything,” Archie said, leaping up onto the desk. He stretched up on his back legs and bonked his head against the boy’s own.

Claire smiled. “I trust you, Teach.”

All eyes turned to the young knight. “Pff. I’m not gonna wuss out!”

“Steve,” Douxie scolded.

“Also if you die, we don't get back home, sooo…”

Douxie chuckled. “Right then. Showtime.”

Claire summoned a shadow portal. Douxie extended his hand and let his magic flow around the stone, lifting it easily. He took a deep breath and stepped through the portal, followed by his friends.

---

The perimeter of the throne room was packed with knights, nobles, and various other official-looking people, all whispering amongst themselves. Their chatter abruptly ceased when a spinning purple void opened in the middle of the room. Three children and one dragon emerged, along with the makeshift monument that was Excalibur. Douxie set the stone down in the center of the submerged Round Table.

Arthur stared from his throne. “Where is Merlin?”

“He said he was too busy.” Douxie watched his friends take their place among the crowd, then stepped forward and cleared his throat. “I have discovered the problem with Excalibur. I know how to separate it from the stone.”

“Well, then, out with it.”

“Before I do, My Liege, I wish to test something. Would you be so kind as to attempt to pull the sword out? My method is… drastic. I want to be sure there is no other way.”

Arthur glared at him but stood and approached the stone. The room held its breath. Arthur sighed and wrapped his hands around the hilt. He pulled with all his might until the stone itself scraped a few inches towards him. He grunted and pulled again, bracing one foot against the stone. This time, no progress was made at all. He scowled and stalked back to his throne.

“Are you satisfied now, boy?”

“Yes, thank you, My Liege.”

Douxie took a deep breath as he looked back at his friends. Claire smiled at him. Steve gave two thumbs up and a goofy grin. Archie simply stared after him and nodded slowly. He turned back to the room and approached the stone. 

“Excalibur is a magical artifact. It is more than an ordinary sword. It has a certain level of sentience and will of its own, in service to its creator, Nimue, the Lady of the Lake.”

“We know this,” Arthur growled.

Douxie continued. “In the square, during the attack, it was her voice coming from the sword. She spoke the same words she said when she returned Excalibur to us made whole.” And this was it. The point of no return. It was only a matter of time before the penny dropped, and if he didn’t perform the finale before time ran out, well…a quick death would be the best he could hope for.

Douxie stepped up to the stone and climbed on top of it. He grabbed the hilt, and with one smooth motion, pulled the sword free like a hot knife through butter. He raised Excalibur above his head, pointing to the sky. The sun coming in through the large windows refracted off the gleaming metal, casting a thousand fragments of light throughout the room. The main doors burst open behind him, echoing in the hush of the chamber. Douxie met Arthur’s wide eyes and delivered his final line. 

“The sword was meant for those worthy.”

---

“Hisirdoux!”

The boy in question mumbled groggily in his sleep.

Merlin grabbed him by the shoulder, shaking him awake. 

“What? What’s going on? Master?” He said in a sleepy drawl.

“Archie told me you were stuck in an enchanted nightmare. Where is he?”

He heaved himself up to a sitting position and scanned the room with half-lidded eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know about any nightmares, either. I did have the strangest dream, though. The other me said you needed help with something and we went to the study, but you weren’t there. And then he told me to pull Excalibur out of a stone, and I tried, but I couldn’t do it. And then the slorr had babies, and Archie told me I was a mother now and I had to take care of them –"

“No,” Merlin whispered, his eyes wide. “No, Hisirdoux.” He sprinted out of the room, his young apprentice still spouting off details of his slorr nursery. He ran as fast as he could to the study and burst through the doors, looking around frantically. “Hisirdoux!”

He didn’t see his apprentice, but he did notice something that made his blood run cold: the stone, and Excalibur, were gone.

In that moment, Merlin desperately wished he knew shadow magic so that he could find his apprentice that much faster. As it was, he could only rely on his vast breadth of magical knowledge. 

He darted to one of the many bookshelves lining the walls and snatched a crystal ball from its clutches. He focused with all his might on the subject of his distress; his not-so-young apprentice. The surface of the crystal clouded over and a scene began to take shape. Merlin sucked in a sharp breath at the image. Hisirdoux in the throne room, addressing King Arthur. Between them sat that accursed sword. 

He took off like a shot from a cannon, praying that he would make it in time to stop this. As he raced through the halls, his mind spun in a dizzying dance of all the horrible possibilities of what was happening. He knew what Hisirdoux was doing, he had known all along, and had been desperately trying to ignore that notion and find another solution. But he was out of time.

He threw open the heavy wooden doors and froze. The room was crowded with everyone of any importance in the castle. Arthur was sitting on his throne, flanked by Galahad and Lancelot. And in the center of the room, stood upon a broken piece of Camelot’s walls, was his apprentice, holding Excalibur high above his head.

Nothing, he thought, could possibly make this situation worse. 

And then, his apprentice spoke.

“The sword was meant for those worthy.”

Merlin clutched one of the doors and leaned on his staff to keep himself from keeling over. 

It was worse.

---

Gasps and shouts of dissent erupted throughout the hall, rising to a cacophonous chorus. Douxie stared Arthur down with a look of unwavering determination. He focused on his breathing, on holding the pose until the end. It wouldn’t be long. It couldn’t. Arthur’s wretched expression of shock and horror seemed to last forever. And then, it broke. All at once, the king’s face morphed into a murderous scowl.

Arthur pounded a fist against the arm of his throne as he glared past Douxie. “Merlin! What is this?”

Merlin sputtered. The eyes of the crowd turned to him. Before he could formulate an answer, Douxie spoke again.

“Merlin had nothing to do with it. This is Nimue’s design. I am following her will.”

Arthur’s eyes burned with rage.

“Give me the sword, boy!” He demanded, leaping up from the throne.

“I wouldn’t advise that,” Douxie said softly.

“Now!”

Wisps of blue magic spiraled down Douxie’s arm. He released his hold on the hilt as the tendrils surrounded Excalibur. It floated down to hover before the king. Arthur snatched the sword out of the air, and the blue wisps vanished. He studied it for a moment before leveling it at Douxie’s throat.

“You will pay, boy!” 

Pale green lightning shot through the sword. Arthur screamed and dropped it.

“You dare attack the king?” Lancelot shouted, drawing his weapon.

“That wasn’t me. My magic is blue. You saw it. That was Nimue. Just like in the square yesterday. She was very clear: Only the worthy may wield Excalibur.”

Calls erupted from the crowd.

“How dare you?”

“What are you saying?”

“Treason!” Galahad cried, stomping towards the stone.

Archie flitted through the air and landed beside his familiar atop the stone. “Treason is a high crime against the king and kingdom. I see no crime against the true king,” he glared at Arthur and his knights. “ Yet . And I, for one, will stand against any such attempts.”

Claire stepped forward. “We support the True King of Camelot,” She declared in a strong, confident voice.

“Yeah, what she said!” Steve followed.

“Enough theatrics! You think you can wield Excalibur, boy?” Arthur spat. He reached over and wrenched the sword out of Lancelot’s hands, pointing it straight at Douxie’s head. “Prove it.”

Douxie startled. “Wait, what?”

“A duel. To first blood.”

Steve paled. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, first blood? That doesn’t sound good!”

“Well, the other option is ‘to the death’,” Claire offered.

“Oh, oh yeah, first blood, that’s cool.”

Douxie jumped down from the stone and walked over to his knights, Archie following right behind. Claire and Steve stepped forward to meet him. “Steve. Claire. I know what we talked about, but…I have to do this on my own. Don’t interfere, no matter what.”

“Wait, you’re gonna fight that guy?” Steve asked.

“I have to.”

Claire nodded, though her expression did not match the gesture.

Steve was not as composed, looking precisely like someone about to soil his pants.

“Be careful,” Archie whispered.

“Do you accept the challenge, boy?” Arthur shouted from across the room.

Douxie turned back to face Arthur, his expression once again schooled to resemble strength and confidence.

“I do.”

Merlin’s panicked voice came from behind the gathered nobility. “M-My Lord –"

“Silence! You will stand back, old man, lest I count you as a conspirator,” Arthur howled.

Douxie turned towards Merlin’s voice. He couldn’t bear to look at his master’s face, he couldn’t risk it breaking him. This was very much not over. Instead, he focused his gaze on the green gem of the Staff of Avalon. 

“I accept the challenge,” he spoke slowly and clearly.

He summoned Excalibur to his hand, prompting gasps and shrieks from the audience. Blue wisps of magic spiraling around the blade, lifting it on air and bringing it to its master. The two men moved to opposite sides of the stone steps leading to the throne. Douxie’s three co-conspirators returned to their place in more or less the center point between the two, the people nearby backing well away from them.

“If nothing else, Arthur is a man of honor. If Douxie wins, Arthur will not kill him,” Archie said to reassure the humans, though, in all honesty, he was trying to reassure himself.

“What?” Steve demanded, staring at the cat-dragon with the most incredulous look and gesturing wildly at the scene unfolding before them.

Archie flicked his tail in annoyance.

“And if Douxie loses?” Claire asked.

“I’m trying not to think about that possibility.”

“Possibility?” Steve squeaked. “He’s a toothpick facing off against the Hulk, man!”

Claire looked on nervously. “He can do it. Didn’t he say he hunts monsters back in Arcadia? He’s been doing this for 900 years.”

“But not with a sword! He isn’t Lake. This is a Lake thing!”

“He can do it,” she repeated to herself.

---

Douxie had never trained in sword fighting, but he had watched the knights spar often enough. He knew the form. He stood across from Arthur and saluted his opponent. He held his arm straight out, pointing the sword directly at the king. Arthur mirrored his movements. Douxie raised the guard to his chin, the blade pointing straight up, before bringing it back to the previous position. Both settled into a ready stance. Lancelot cleared his throat and approached the midpoint between the two men.

“Are both combatants ready?”

“Ready,” Arthur growled.

“Ready,” Douxie breathed. The knight swung his arm down between them.

“Begin!”

Arthur immediately rushed him, swinging his sword over his head to strike down with a brutal blow. Douxie brought Excalibur up in front of him, swinging up with as much force as he could muster to match Arthur’s strength. 

Douxie never trained in sword fighting, but he knew how to fight. As the battle began, his instincts took over, and he was, for the first time, eternally grateful that in all his time spent fighting monsters he’d had no one but Archie to rely on. He jumped back and readied himself for another blow. Arthur’s attacks were relentless as Douxie parried and dodged. The king growled in frustration.

“Fight back!”

“I don’t want to fight you!” Douxie shouted.

“Coward!”

But Arthur was right. He couldn’t win a duel by simply blocking. To win, either Arthur had to yield, which was not going to happen, or Douxie had to draw blood. He tried to think of a plan, but every blow jolted him right back to the here and now. 

In his adrenaline-fueled trance, suddenly, attacking didn’t seem like the worst idea. He struck back hard with Excalibur, knocking the king’s blade away, but he left himself open, and Arthur saw an opportunity. He released one hand on his blade and punched Douxie solidly in the throat. He stumbled back until his legs hit something hard and cold, knocking him onto his back. As he lay choking and coughing, he realized with horror that he was backed up against the stone with Arthur advancing on him.

Fuzzbuckets . He leaned as far back as possible as Arthur stalked towards him, raising the broken sword for another strike. He swung Excalibur up to meet the king’s blow. Arthur pushed down, driving his blade closer and closer to Douxie’s face.

“Beg for mercy, boy, and I may let you live.”

Douxie gritted his teeth in determination. He pushed Arthur away with all his might and ducked under the king’s arm. He leapt forward, looking to put as much distance between him and his opponent as possible before he whipped back around, locking his gaze on the furious man. Douxie continued backing away from his advancing opponent, never once taking his eyes off Arthur, never once turning his back.

As he was still reeling from the maneuver, a plan began to take form in his head. He stopped and stood his ground, holding Excalibur ready in front of him. As Arthur brought his arms back for another brutal strike, Douxie darted forward and swung up with all his might. The blade passed terrifyingly close to Arthur’s face before slamming into his gauntlet at the wrist. Arthur lost his grip with his dominant hand, and in the same moment, Douxie reached up and grabbed the vacant spot on the sword’s hilt. Finally, Douxie kicked his opponent square in the chest with everything he had, ripping Lancelot’s sword from his grasp. The blow drove Arthur back a few steps, staggering him, but not as much as it staggered Douxie. The much smaller man stumbled back, knocked off balance by the force of the impact. 

Douxie failed to regain his balance and fell flat on his back, air rushing from his lungs. He managed to tuck his head enough that it didn’t fully smack against the stone floor, but the blow to the back of his head still rattled him. For a moment, he lay there in shock. He may have heard faint voices calling his name, or it may have just been a delusion caused by the ringing in his ears. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there before cautiously opening his eyes and raising himself up on his elbows. The swords lay on either side of him, where he had dropped them when he hit the ground.

But it wasn’t over. Disarming his opponent didn’t mean he won the duel, and he had no doubt in Arthur’s ability to reclaim his borrowed blade.The king staggered back a few steps before regaining his balance and turned back to glare at Douxie with burning rage in his eyes.

“Dirty tricks,” He hissed. “You fight with no honor!”

Douxie grinned, unable to help himself. “I fight with strategy. Sorry it doesn’t suit you.”

His smile fell as Arthur advanced on him again. He scrambled back, trying to get as far away as he could, as fast as he could. In his haste, he had left Excalibur, which was now several feet away, and far too close to his opponent to retrieve. He started to reach his hand out, but stopped. Could he use magic to retrieve his weapon? There was no rule against it, but Douxie wasn’t fighting Arthur, he was fighting prejudice. If he used magic, they would cry cheating. No, he had to rely only on his mundane skills, which were looking more and more insignificant with every step the hulking man took towards him. As he approached, Arthur scooped up Lancelot’s broken blade.

Douxie continued backing away until he ran into a pillar. Icy dread seized his heart and shot through his veins. He was cornered.

Each step Arthur took toward him echoed painfully in his still pounding head. Should he surrender? Would it make a difference? The answer was written clear as day on the king’s face. He gritted his teeth against the pain, humiliation, and ultimate death that was soon to come…

But it never did. Gasps and shouts sprang up behind him, spreading around the room. He hazarded a glance up at the mountain standing over him. Arthur stood in stunned silence, staring at the fingertips of his gauntleted hand, where a small portion of the gleaming metal was stained red. Another tiny red drop began to form from the thin line marring his cheek.

“Impossible,” he whispered.

Douxie stared in complete shock, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. He… he’d won. His face broke into a giddy smile and he barked out a laugh in surprise.

“… you.” Arthur’s eyes slid back to Douxie’s position on the floor. His voice was calm and cold as ice. “I’ll kill you.” 

Arthur raised Lancelot’s sword over his head and swung it down like an executioner’s axe. Douxie crossed his arms in front of him, throwing up a protective barrier just before the blade struck. Arthur beat the blade against Douxie’s spell again and again until two armored figures ran up behind him and restrained him, one on each massive arm. A black blur zipped in front of Douxie, flaring out its wings and growling viciously. Arthur struggled against their hold, but his struggling stopped abruptly when Excalibur appeared floating in the air between the two, and began to glow. 

Pieces of metal resembling Excalibur’s cross guard manifested from the light. Spikes of gold hovered around a kite-shaped green gem set into a gold backing. They floated in place for a moment before forming a circle. The pieces began to spin, faster and faster as the pale green glow grew to a blinding intensity. 

With a final pulse, the light dissipated. When Douxie’s vision cleared, he was met with the image of a gleaming golden crown. Radiant spikes of alternating sizes reached up from a thin band, giving way to a magnificent centerpiece of green crystal surrounded by gold. Douxie gasped at the sight of it spinning slowly in front of him. Behind it floated Excalibur, once again wreathed in pale green light, and a familiar, stern voice emanated from it.

“ The sword was meant for those worthy .” 

With that, the crown moved, slowly, to place itself on Douxie’s head. He sucked in a shuddering breath as its weight settled, fitting perfectly around his brow. The voice came again, softer, almost reverent.

“ Rise, Hisirdoux Casperan, King of Camelot.”

 Douxie trembled, trying to breathe normally. He stood slowly, grasping Excalibur’s hilt as the glow faded, and lifted his gaze to survey the room. Hushed silence permeated every crack in the great stone chamber.

He took one last deep breath before addressing the room. “Right. Sir Claire, please escort Arthur to the dungeon.”

He turned to Steve. “Sir Steve, clear the room of everyone except Claire, Archie, Merlin, and yourself.”

Claire took advantage of Arthur’s shock to rip Lancelot’s sword from his hand before tearing a rift in the air and pushing the former king through. The crowd gasped and shrieked as the portal closed neatly behind him.

“Alright, show’s over, plebs,” Steve announced as he ushered them to the door. No one objected as the strange knight pushed them out of the room. They were too shocked, stupefied, or distressed to argue.

“This is yours,” Claire stated as she offered the sword to Lancelot. The knight stood, staring in shock at what had just happened. Claire waited a moment before placing the hilt in his hand, wrapping his fingers around it, and giving him a solid push towards the door. He stumbled mechanically after the others filing out of the throne room.

Steve shut the door behind the last of the spectators, leaving only Douxie, his supporters, and his master.

---

As soon as the doors closed, Douxie collapsed back against the pillar, panting heavily. He was shaking. Archie poofed back into cat form and lunged at his familiar, clinging to his chest and purring aggressively. Douxie raised an unsteady hand and began stroking through the cat’s fur.

The silence stretched on. Douxie finally looked up. The expression on his master’s face would have taken his breath away, if he had any breath to take. He was expecting anger, disappointment, but not fear.

Merlin stood frozen, his eyes wide and hands shaking. It was the first time Douxie had ever seen the Master Wizard truly speechless. After what felt like an eternity, he found his voice.

“Hisirdoux. What have you done?” His master’s voice quavered in a way Douxie had never heard. He realized he had never actually seen the old man scared until now. It terrified him.

Douxie smiled nervously. “I, uh… I fixed Excalibur?” Merlin stared at him, his gaze like a physical weight on Douxie. “M-Master, I –"

Merlin’s face shifted in an instant, the quiet fear suddenly replaced by burning anger. “Do you realize what you have done?” Merlin shouted, swiftly closing the distance between him and his apprentice. “There are no words sufficient to describe the magnitude of the disaster you have wrought!”

“I know, Master. I didn’t want to do this –”

“Then why?!” Merlin shouted, his voice echoing through the empty hall, causing Douxie to flinch.

“Because it was the only way.”

“The only way? And where did that infinite wisdom come from?”

“The Lady of the Lake. You can ask her yourself if you don’t believe me. I wouldn’t blame you. I didn’t believe it myself.”

Merlin glowered. “This will not stand, Hisirdoux. I will deal with you upon my return. I would advise you, in that time, not to go toppling any more monarchies!” He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Chapter 5

Notes:

WARNING: Contains descriptions/depictions of dissociation and panic.

Thank you to https://archibalds-den.tumblr.com/ for betaing!

The cavernous room was silent. Tiny specks of dust drifted and danced in the sunlight spilling through the grand windows. 

Douxie drifted with them as pieces of his dream came back to him. He didn’t dream of Camelot often, and when he did, it was rarely pleasant. But this one had been bright, heroic, familiar. He smiled at the dim memory.

His hands faded into existence first. One was buried in Archie's soft, warm fur. The cat purred almost violently, and Douxie distantly wondered what would spur him to such fervor. In his other hand, he could almost feel the smooth wooden hilt of the sword he had won.

Distorted, unintelligible voices drifted to his ears, along with one clear voice much closer to him. Archie. Give him time. The watery voices seemed to be arguing. A dull screech rent the air as something dark appeared in his periphery, seeming to swallow the light around it.

Next, he became aware of his ragged breathing, and the pounding in his head. Ah, he thought. It must have been a nightmare, after all. That would explain Archie's urgent purring. But he didn’t remember any nightmare, just the fantastical journey of claiming Excalibur. He wasn’t complaining, though. He had enough nightmares he did remember, he could do without one more.

His eyes slid down from the vaulted ceiling to where a large stone sat basking in the sunlight, and the illusion shattered.

All at once, it came rushing back to him. It hadn’t been a dream. The world snapped into razor-sharp clarity. He was painfully aware of everything: the cold metal band squeezing his head, the ache in his limbs from a strenuous fight, the cold, unsettling feeling of his clothes touching his skin. He shut his eyes against the blinding light. His pulse throbbed too fast in the back of his head. He gasped as if breaching the surface of the ocean.

Douxie screamed.

His breathing came quick and sharp, and though he was completely occupied with the task, he couldn’t seem to get enough air. He looked up at the two faces watching him; one dark and furry, the other pale and dopey. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there gasping for breath. His mind was reeling with a thousand incoherent fragments. Finally, his addled thoughts settled on one semi-clear course of action.

“I don’t suppose I can convince either of you to tell me this is a dream and everything’s alright?” He asked weakly.

Steve shook his head. Archie leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Douxie’s as well as he could with the crown in the way.

“It’s not a dream, Doux, but everything is alright,” Archie softly assured him.

Douxie looked around and noticed the rippling shadow portal, and the distinct lack of the witch who had conjured it.

“W-where’s Claire?”

Steve shifted nervously. “She uh... went to go watch Arthur.”

“Alone?” He demanded.

“There isn’t exactly anything keeping the knights from just letting him out,” Archie explained. 

A crushing weight pushed down on Douxie’s heart.

“...It’s still not over, is it?” He asked quietly.

Archie met his eyes with pity. “I’m afraid that what you’ve started will never be truly over.”

Douxie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We – we need to go after her.”

“She’s only keeping watch,” Archie assured him. “She’ll return if anything happens. You need to collect yourself before you attempt anything else.”

“Right. Stop being a pathetic whelp.”

“That’s not what I said,” Archie admonished.

Steve cleared his throat and whistled, looking at Douxie’s forehead. “Nice bling.”

Douxie reached up to where Steve was looking. His fingers met cold metal and he jerked his hand away, as if he had been burned. His heart still hammered in his chest as he picked up Excalibur. 

Using the smooth, flawless surface of the blade as a mirror, he hesitantly reached for the crown again. He touched the metal, running his fingers over the points. As he looked at the green gem, his stomach began to turn.

Archie put his paws on Douxie’s shoulder, rubbing against his familiar’s head. “You did it, Douxie. I’m so proud of you.”

Douxie was quiet for a long moment, staring at both their reflections in the gilded metal. He finally spoke in barely more than a whisper. “What did I do?”

The purple and black void caught his eye again. He sighed and dropped both hands to his sides.

“Let’s go.”

Steve offered him a hand up. Douxie took it and let the knight pull him to his feet. Without another word, he led his friends through the portal.

---

They emerged at a junction in the dungeon halls. Claire stood at the ready, shadows swirling in her palms. Seeing them appear, she dropped the portal and approached Douxie.

“You good?” She asked.

“Kinda have to be, don’t I?” He replied with a slight smile, but his hollow eyes betrayed his true feelings.

Claire frowned but didn’t question him further, only leading the small party down the corridor. They walked through a dark, desolate hall perforated by torches that did little to dispel the gloom. Cells lined the walls, all of them empty except one.

Arthur’s white armor stood out in stark contrast to the shadows around him. He looked up as they stopped outside his cell, two knights and a dragon flanking their king. His eyes immediately locked onto Douxie.

“...You,” he snarled. He lunged at the bars, reaching his hands through as far as he could and swiping at the air.

Claire and Steve pulled their king away from the rabid prisoner. Douxie stumbled back, held up by his knights as he stared aghast. His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out whatever else Arthur screamed at him. 

The world before him swam in an ocean of darkness, his body floated in the haze. The blacks and browns and bright points of yellow shifted before his eyes, like looking up from underwater, everything muted and blurred. 

A sharp, sudden jolt ran through his body. “... uxie. Douxie! ” The urgent voice broke through his trance. 

He blinked back to awareness. Claire was standing in front of him, shaking his shoulder trying to get his attention. “Douxie! We need you, now!”

He snapped back to reality and noticed the encroaching racket closing in on them from both sides. Word had clearly spread through the castle, and the knights were coming. 

Douxie focused and the runes on his bracelet ignited as he held out his arms to either side. Twin disks of magic appeared in his hands, lingering for just a moment before he pushed the energy out. Transparent blue barriers appeared on either side of their party just as guards began rounding the corners. He closed his eyes and sent out another pulse, solidifying the barriers into nearly-opaque blue walls. The sound from outside was almost completely muffled, even as the knights began to bash the wall with their weapons. Douxie lowered his arms, looking entirely unbothered by the assault on his constructs.

Archie stood in front of him, staring the former king down with his fur puffed out and wings flared. A low, menacing growl emanated from the angry dragon.

“Stand down, Archie,”  Douxie ordered.

The dragon looked back at him and complied, though he still presented a terrifying image. Douxie slowly stepped forward as far as he dared and addressed the prisoner.

“Arthur Pendragon, we are here to talk.”

The man glared daggers at him, but did not interrupt.

“I disagree with you on – pretty much everything. You are driven by hatred. You don’t listen when magic speaks. But you are a good king. You are strong and brave and smart enough to know that you cannot go it alone. Camelot is prosperous and happy under your rule. I want you to reclaim the throne, to reclaim Excalibur, but that cannot happen until you listen. Please, work with us for the good of all.”

“I’ll never join you, demon,” he growled.

“War with Gunmar is coming,” Douxie pleaded. “We must work together if we are to save Camelot, to save humanity.”

“What do you care for humanity, witch?”

“I care for all creatures. No one deserves to be hunted, to live in fear. No one deserves to live in a cage. We can win this war, thwart Gunmar’s plans, but we need you. Camelot needs you.”

“Don’t tell me what Camelot needs!” Arthur spat. “You will regret crossing me, boy. Your death will be slow and painful and serve as a reminder of magic’s place in this world.”

Douxie’s face fell and he sighed heavily.

“... I’m sorry to hear that.” He moved to the locking mechanism and placed his palm against the plate. His bracelet glowed and a pulse of magic radiated from his hand across the bars. The surface of the metal shifted with a faint blue iridescence. Douxie sighed and turned back to his friends.

“Let’s go. We don’t have time to waste.” Claire summoned a portal. Arthur began screaming again, cursing them up and down. Douxie glanced back and gave him a pitiful look before stepping into the shadows.

---

They stepped through the portal back into the throne room. The sudden stillness was deafening. Then, Steve spoke.

“What now, Your Highness?” Steve smirked.

Douxie groaned. “Please don’t call me that.”

“You did good, Douxie,” Archie assured him.

“I hope you’re right, Arch.”

“He’s right, though. What now?” Claire asked.

What now? The question echoed in Douxie’s head, along with the horrifying feeling of uncertainty. What now? They hadn’t thought that far ahead. The act of claiming Excalibur had been the most important thing, and what was consuming all their collective brainpower. But now, that was done. He had the sword – his sword, insisted a voice in his head, which he frantically tried to push away – so, what now?

Panic, his brain said. That made sense. The adrenaline of the moment had worn off, the last of it used to confront Arthur without breaking down. Panicking was definitely the right thing to do now.

So, panic he did.

Douxie trembled as his body was wracked by shudders. He clutched his head and started babbling.

“I can’t do this. What am I doing? I don’t know what I’m doing!” 

Archie leapt to his familiar’s side, putting a paw on his leg. “Nimue said to trust yourself.”

“And look what that got us!” 

“It got you that sword and that crown,” Archie calmly responded. “It got you here, where you can make a difference with no high-and-mighty know-it-alls telling you you’re wrong. It got you the freedom to help people your own way.”

“That doesn’t mean ‘do whatever!’ What, am I supposed to go around bashing metaphorical mailboxes with baseball bats?”

“I have no idea what any of that means, but I’m sure you’re being ridiculous.”

“There are consequences for things! I don’t know how to run a kingdom!”

“Somehow I doubt the people will be calling for many audiences in the next few days. The important thing now is Gunmar.”

“But – but…”

“Look, Douxie, you are here for a reason. And that reason is not that you are good at politics. You don’t need to see the grand chessboard from on high. You don’t need to play mind games with leaders. All you need to do is be yourself. Do what is right. You broke all the trolls out of the dungeon. You destroyed Excalibur. You did what you thought was right, consequences be damned. So, what is the next right thing?”

“I don’t know! I –” He buried his head in his hands. A tiny hand fell firm on his shoulder. He turned towards the source and saw Claire smiling at him.

“We’ll figure it out together, remember?”

Together...together, right. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering.

“The next right thing. The next right thing is…” His eyes scanned his assembled allies and he frowned. “We’re missing one. Claire, can you find Jim with your shadow portals?”

Claire’s face lit up. “Yes! Of course. Be right back.” With that, she tore a hole in the air beside her and leapt through.

Douxie closed his eyes and took several more calming breaths. When he finally opened them, he looked in dismay at the early morning light pouring into the throne room. He snapped his fingers and heavy curtains unfurled over the vaulted windows, plunging the room into darkness.

“Ah!” Steve yelped. “I mean it’s cool, I’m cool.”

Douxie waved his hand at the ceiling and the sound of chains echoed in the empty room. Steve made another muffled sound of distress.

“Not to worry. Just a few renovations,” Douxie said as he summoned a ball of blue fire into his hands. He threw it towards the ceiling and the room exploded in cool blue light from dozens of candles fixed in a large chandelier.

“Woah,” Steve gasped as a gentle ripple moved through him to the edges of the room, lighting the candelabras with the same soft glow.

Douxie smiled. “There, much more troll-friendly.” He focused as blue wisps wound around his body and shot out in all directions, passing effortlessly through the stone walls.

---

When the portal opened in the middle of the Galadrigal residence, Jim jumped to his feet and tensed for whatever monstrosity was sure to come through. He blinked in confusion as a small, purple-armored girl stepped through and flung herself at him, locking her arms around his neck.

“Claire?”

“Who else?” She laughed, tears running down her face.

“But, how did –" Jim stopped himself as his thoughts caught up with the scene. He crushed her against him in a bruising hug, earning a giggle next to his ear. “Claire.”

“A human!” Dictatious yelled.

“No! It’s okay, she’s on our side,” Jim assured him.

“A human? Helping trolls? Ridiculous!”

“Whatever, you don’t have to believe me right now, but touch her and I’ll tear your limbs off.” He turned back to his girlfriend who was beaming up at him. “Claire, how did you do that? You don’t have your shadow staff.”

“I know. Douxie taught me how to do shadow magic without it.”

“Was that you on the bridge?” He asked in wonder. She nodded and he crushed her into another hug. “You’re incredible.”

Claire pulled away to look at him, suddenly serious. “Jim, we need you.”

His face fell at once into a soldier’s mask. “What? What’s happening?”

“No one’s hurt, it’s okay,” she rushed to reassure the Trollhunter. “But, well, just, a lot has happened. We’re in uncharted territory with the timeline. You…it’d be easier to just show you.”

He nodded and folded her hand in his. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

“Where exactly are you going?” Callista asked, hands on her hips.

Jim looked back at his new friend. “Where I’m needed. I’ll be back. Hold down the fort here.” 

Before she could respond he disappeared through the swirling black portal, which shrunk down to a pinprick of darkness before vanishing.

-

Claire stepped back through the shadow portal, one hand clasped in a stony blue one, and gasped as she took in the change of scenery. 

“Whoa.” She marveled at the blue flames bathing the room in cool light.

Behind her, the imposing figure of Jim Lake Jr. appeared. The first thing his eyes locked onto was the crown on the nine hundred-year-old wizard’s head. 

“Whoa. What happened?”

Douxie stood there fidgeting. “Well, the short story is that Excalibur broke, we went to the Lady of the Lake to fix it, and when she gave it back, she also gave it a new master?” He squeaked with a nervous smile. 

Jim surveyed the room: Excalibur discarded beside the vacant throne, the piece of the castle wall with a conspicuous gash in it, the new interior design choices, then back to Douxie.

“And the long story?” 

Douxie’s face fell and his shoulders slumped. “Right, better get onto that. But, not here.” 

He scooped up Excalibur and headed towards a heavy wooden door behind the throne, Archie on his heels. The room’s other occupants exchanged glances before following him into a room that was much less cavernous but no less grand. The windows and lighting had received the same treatment as the throne room. On the far side of the room sat a cold fireplace. Bookshelves lined the walls where they were not broken by windows, now firmly blocked by dark blue curtains. The rest of the room was peppered with luxurious armchairs arranged around small tables, except for the center of the room, which was dominated by an imposing table on a dais. The table was littered with tiny flags, model horses, and toy soldiers, along with some decidedly less pleasant figurines, arranged in formation on a map showing the woods immediately around Killahead Bridge.

“What is this, the royal cafe?” Steve snorted.

“The war room,” Douxie responded, walking past the large table without a glance. He approached the fireplace, which was outfitted with a small couch and two armchairs around a long coffee table. The candles closest to the fireplace extinguished, called to Douxie’s hand to form a swirling blue ball that he flung into the charred stone chamber. A roaring fire sprung up in front of him as he fell heavily into one of the armchairs, the candles quickly reigniting themselves. Claire and Jim settled on the couch across from the fireplace, Steve taking the remaining armchair opposite Douxie. Archie jumped into his familiar’s lap and started purring. 

“Right,” Douxie sighed. “The long story.”

---

Merlin slowed his boat to a stop not far from the cave entrance. He freed his staff and walked to the front of the boat, slamming it down onto the deck.

“Where are you, demon?” He spat. 

A dim light appeared in the water, growing bigger and brighter until a glowing, pale green head breached the surface. Nimue rose to tower above the wizard, until her one enormous eye was staring him down.

“The Master Wizard,” she droned with venom to match his own. “What possesses you to dare stand before me?”

“You know perfectly well why I am here. Why have you done this to Hisirdoux?”

“Me? It is you who has brought this down upon him. You and the world of man, who fight and kill, corrupt and destroy. You have created the necessity for a new champion, and now you dare ask me what I have done?”

“He’s only a boy!”

“Hardly. Nine hundred years he has walked this earth. In that time he has faced innumerable hardships and saved countless lives. He will fix what you have broken.”

Merlin glowered. “So, I have angered you and now you take it out on my apprentice? I am right here! Leave him alone!”

“Do not think yourself so important. You are not worthy of my wrath, pitiful old man. You are nothing but a cowardly, selfish, pretentious waste of magic!”

Merlin threw his arms out to the sides. “Yes! I am all of those things! I am damned! Slay me, burn me, lock me away, but leave Hisirdoux out of this! He doesn’t deserve it!”

“DOESN’T DESERVE IT ?” Nimue writhed in the water, threatening to capsize the old wizard.

“He deserves better! Not to be thrown into the crossfire of a war he has no part in! Not to be burdened with an impossible task, opposing the king, putting his life in mortal danger before a single soldier approaches the bridge!” 

Nimue was silent for a moment. “Do you really doubt him so much?” She asked quietly.

“Well you’re the all-wise one, you tell me!”

The enormous eye studied him for a moment. “You do not doubt him. You fear for him.” 

Merlin sighed heavily. “Please,” he begged. “Hisirdoux is good and innocent. To be a general in a war… to be king, it is too much to lay at his feet.”

“He will rise to the challenge. Just as he has risen to every challenge you left him to face alone.”

The water below him churned with shapes and colors as wavering visions appeared on the surface of the lake.

Hisirdoux, bruised and bloody before an unspeakable monster. He ducked and dodged, flinging spells whenever he could while Archie circled above, blasting the creature with fire. The beast swung down with an enormous, scaly arm as Hisirdoux jumped back and the ground where he had just been glowed blue. Several other points lit up in turn, forming a wide circle, freezing the monster in place. Hisirdoux was panting heavily, his face a mess and his clothes torn, but smiling and laughing as he summoned a massive beam of energy, blasting it into the creature’s face.

Hisirdoux, shepherding a cluster of children through a desolate warzone. They ducked through the smokey skeletons of burned buildings. Debris and bodies lay strewn across the ground. Hisirdoux shouted something, and the children huddled together. They stared in awe as he raised a magic shield seconds before the scene exploded in flames and dust. When the smoke cleared, he dropped the spell and kept running the children to safety, repeating the process many times before reaching a hidden door leading deep belowground.

Hisirdoux, his eyes glowing like blue flames, gritting his teeth as he pushed his magic into a cursed relic, the wind whipping around him growing faster and stronger every second. Violent tendrils of magic, his and another’s, lashed at the air and dirt around him. The light grew to a blinding intensity and shattered.

Merlin stared at the visions, unable to draw his eyes away until they faded.

“He will need you, so I will spare you your pitiful life. Do not make me regret this decision, or I will correct it,” the goddess threatened.

Merlin’s shoulders sagged. “Please,” he whispered, his eyes firmly planted on the deck. “Please, someone else. Anyone else.”

“There is no one else,” she said with undeniable finality. “Go, coddle your boy, and when you are done, aid the man he has become.”

With that she sank into the lake, leaving no room for argument.

Merlin sighed in defeat and turned, trudging to the stern of the boat.

A thick wad of algae hit him in the back of the head. He whipped around, but all he could see was a tiny ripple in the water. He grumbled to himself as he slotted his staff into the steering mechanism and directed the boat back to Camelot.

---

“And then Merlin left, and, well,” Douxie gestured to their surroundings. “Here we are.” He sighed heavily as he finished his explanation and downed the tea that had long since gone cold on the table.

“And confronted Arthur again in the dungeon while a battalion of knights bayed for your blood,” Archie offered before returning to lapping at his cup of milk.

“Right, and… that.”

Jim chewed his teacup slowly, processing the mountain of information he had just absorbed. Douxie stood and walked over to the fireplace, standing in front of it quietly. For a moment the only sound was the soft crackling of the fire.

“Fucking hell! ” Douxie yelled as he pounded his fist against the mantle, making Archie’s fur stand on end. “We have three days to fix this, all of it! Three days before Gunmar is either banished to the Darklands,” he squeezed his eyes shut, dropping his forehead onto his fist. “... or takes over the world.”

Jim growled low in his throat at the suggestion. Claire threaded her fingers through his and squeezed his hand.

“Less, actually,” Douxie said as he slowly turned back to the group. He drew a shuddering breath and trudged back to his chair, collapsing into it. He dropped his head into his hands.

“So, what do we do?” Claire asked gently.

Douxie was silent for a long time. Finally, he spoke in a low, measured voice.

“We form a plan.”

---

Merlin looked around the empty throne room, taking in the change of décor. The familiar hum of his apprentice’s magic resonated through the hall like a low, soft melody. Standing in the silence, he heard faint sounds coming from the other side of the room. He walked to a door behind the throne, with every step the sound getting more and more distinct, turning from murmurs to whispers as he stood before it. He placed a hand on the door and pushed. It yielded with little resistance and creaked open. As Merlin stepped in, a great clattering came from the back of the room.

He regarded the small army staring him down. Steve, brandishing his axe and spouting some unintelligible nonsense. Claire, shadows spinning in her open palms. The troll boy, unarmed, but looking no less capable of destroying an entire battalion of knights. And a very angry near-sighted dragon.

And behind them all stood his apprentice, his bracelet glowing, his other hand poised to act, and a look of grim determination on his face. That look was the thing that made Merlin’s breath catch in his throat. It looked wrong. Too old, too world-weary, on the idealistic pupil. A moment later, though, the look was gone. Douxie immediately dropped his guard at the sight of his teacher.

“Master Merlin,” he gasped.

“Don’t back down yet, Douxie,” Claire said, never taking her eyes off the old wizard. 

Merlin raised the hand not holding his staff. “Peace, girl, I mean you no harm.”

Claire kept her eyes locked on him as he walked forward, but made no move to attack. The room was completely silent except for his footfalls on the stone floor. He stopped a respectable distance away from the group.

“What, um… what are you doing here?” Douxie asked.

“Ensuring that Camelot does not fall to ruin.” He took a long look at his apprentice and sighed. “Hisirdoux, this is by far the greatest cock-up you have ever gotten yourself involved in.”

“I know, I’m – Ow! Arch!” The cat dug his claws into Douxie’s shoulder and hissed. Douxie glared at him before turning back to Merlin. “I… agree, Master.”

“I fear the challenge laid out before you will be the hardest you have ever faced. That crown upon your head will not be kind to you. It will test you in ways you never thought possible.”

Douxie removed the crown and stared down at it in his hands. “I –  didn’t want this. I didn’t want to depose Arthur. I didn’t want to be king!”

“And yet, here you are, bearing the sacred right to rule this land. Camelot’s enemies are now your enemies, and they do not care what you wanted. The people, your people, do not care what you wanted.”

Douxie’s hands tightened around the metal. He glared at it with a look of disgust and threw the crown as far as he could across the room.

“Tennebris Excilium!” 

He blasted the crown with wispy blue lightning, sending it ricocheting off the walls, tables, windows, and light fixtures in its path, before it came back to meet its proper mark with significant force. 

“OW!” Douxie fell flat on his back. Oh, that was getting old. He winced and rubbed his head. The crown lay a short distance away from him, mocking him with its very presence.

Merlin chuckled. “I am afraid that won’t work, eh, Trollhunter?”

Jim laughed as he offered his new friend a hand. “ ’Fraid not. Magic artifacts don’t take rejection well.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Douxie groaned.

Merlin stepped up to his apprentice. “So, then, what is your plan?”

“Wait, what?” Douxie croaked.

Merlin raised his eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you don’t have a plan.”

“Yes, but… aren’t you going to just tell me to stand aside and you’ll fix everything and then say ‘And don’t “but Master” me?’”

Merlin chuckled. “No, I’m not.” Douxie stared at him in disbelief. “You are, currently, the rightful king of Camelot. I will follow you to the ends of the Earth. So, what do you need me to do?”

Douxie stood before his master utterly shocked. Various sounds tried to claw their way out of his throat, but none could assert themselves to form words.

Merlin’s face fell back to his usual sour expression and he shook his finger at his apprentice. “But don’t expect it to last once we get this mess sorted out.”

The spell over Douxie broke. He laughed heartily with a brilliant grin on his face, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he shook his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Douxie swept through the room towards the dais. He stopped in the middle of the long table and planted both hands on the elaborate map. His eyes sparkled with determination and his mouth quirked up into a confident smirk. His allies followed behind, arranging themselves around the table.

“Right, we have three main objectives. First, the battle of Killahead is in less than three days. We need to be ready.” A ghostly blue image of Gunmar and his army materialized on the far side of the bridge. Opposite them, an army of armored knights stood ready to meet them.

“Second, we need to create the amulet and get the Dwoza trolls on our side.” Another wisp jumped from the table, adding trolls of various shapes and sizes to Camelot’s numbers. At the forefront, one troll stood out among them, clad in their own brilliant armor and brandishing a large, distinctive broadsword.

“And, finally, we need to make Arthur worthy again.” The image of Arthur Pendragon solidified at the front of Camelot’s army, directly across from Gunmar, holding Excalibur high.

“Wait, we have to make that buttsnack good?” Steve asked.

Merlin nodded. “And you have to do it before the battle. When my amulet opens a portal to The Darklands, the magical shock wave will provide the Heart of Avalon with the required power to send you back to your time. But, it will not last for long. You will need to leave immediately.”

“I can’t stay here,” Douxie explained. “But I can’t leave Camelot without a king. Someone must wield Excalibur. We don’t have time to hold auditions. Arthur is our best, and only, option.”

Douxie looked down at the map with a slight frown.

“There’s... one more thing I’m considering.”

A final wisp skipped to the middle of the table, in the valley between the two armies. It leapt into the form of a tall, proud woman holding a jagged staff.

“Morgana. If we can get her on our side, not only would we not have to fight her, she would also be an invaluable ally. And, maybe, we can save her from herself.”

Claire shuffled nervously. “Uh, Douxie, I didn’t mention it at the time, but, the thing that brought Morgana back… it was The Arcane Order.”

The color drained from Douxie’s face.

Merlin frowned. “What do you know of The Arcane Order?”

Douxie braced himself against the table. “Not much, but they’re the reason you sent us into the past. In the future, they’re attacking Camelot, along with an unstoppable warrior bearing her crest.”

Merlin’s eyebrows rose the slightest amount.

Douxie looked up. “Wait, Master, in the future, you said that the answers lie in the past. What did you mean by that?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“Right, of course not,” Douxie sighed. “Well, figuring that out also needs to be a priority, or we’ll have come here for nothing, and still be about to die by The Order’s hands.”

Images of the fire and ice demons with their warrior formed at the edge of the map, far, far from Morgana. 

Merlin frowned. “You’re missing one.” He touched the map and a mote of green shot across the table to meet Douxie’s ghostly order. It jumped up in front of the others to form what looked like a small girl with antlers and a face full of gleeful malice. “Nari, of the Eternal Forest.”

“Aw man! Like we need another one!” Steve groused.

“We didn’t see her,” Claire said.

Merlin hummed. “Well, I’m sure she saw you, wherever she was.”

Douxie took a calming breath before addressing his assembly.

“Alright. Master, the most important thing for you to do is finish The Amulet. We’ll need it as soon as possible.”

The old wizard nodded.

“Everyone else, I don’t expect the trolls will be very happy to see us. We need to start building bridges now if we’re to have any hope of swaying them to our side. We’re going to Dwoza.”

Chapter 6

Notes:

Hey I realized I can talk to people here, hello people! I wanted to get this out way sooner but then had to focus on my secret Santa gift, which can be found here. This chapter has been sitting at like 95% done for like a month, but if I didn't switch all my attention to my gift when I did, it probably wouldn't have gotten done (honestly I could've stood to focus only on that earlier, but ya know, hindsight). But, now that is done and I have rested a bit, I'm gonna try to keep this moving along as fast as I reasonably can. I'm not one of those people who can set deadlines for myself and release schedules and all that organized person crap, but know that I am working on it.

Thank you for your comments! I will try to respond to them from here on. Bear with me, I've been a hermit for the past few years and am not used to being social on the internet, I am re-learning.

Thank you to https://archibalds-den.tumblr.com/ for betaing!

Claire deposited the party in the woods outside Dwoza. Common courtesy dictated that, when trying to make a good impression, it’s better to knock politely than to appear unexpected and uninvited in the person’s living room.

They approached the remains of the massive stone door. Several civilians stood around the entrance attempting to repair the stone, while two imposing trolls stood guard. Their eyes immediately locked onto the humans.

“Halt,” the larger of the guard trolls called. He signaled for his companion to hold his ground and approached them, brandishing his spear. “Who goes there?” 

Douxie cleared his throat. “Yes, um, hi. I’m -”

“You,” the troll interrupted, pointing at Jim, “you’re the one who fought the brute.”

Jim straightened up. “Ah, yes. Nice to meet you, uh …”

“Kanjigar.”

“Kanjigar,” he repeated with reverence. “I’m Jim.” He held out a hand towards his predecessor. Kanjigar looked at it in confusion and Jim withdrew the offer. “Right, forgot, you – uh – we don’t do that.”

“What are these humans doing here?”

“They’re my friends.”

Kanjigar growled. “And?”

“And … I’m not the one who should be talking for us.” Jim stepped back and the troll’s eyes scanned the remaining members. They passed over Steve with a sneer and locked onto Douxie. His eyes jumped between Excalibur on his back and the crown on his head. 

Kanjigar glared. “Who are you?”

“I am …” Douxie hesitated. “I am King Hisirdoux of Camelot. I humbly request an audience with your leader.”

“ Sure ,” Kanjigar scoffed.

“I vouch for them,” Jim said. “They’re good people. They’re here to help.”

Kanjigar thought for a moment.

“Fine. You two, the girl, and the dragon can come. But not him ,” Kanjigar said, jabbing a finger at Steve.

“What? Why?” Steve whined.

“Knight,” he hissed.

“Aw, come on! I’m one of the good ones.”

Kanjigar snarled.

Douxie stepped in front of Steve, raising his hands to placate the knight. “Actually, Steve, now that I think of it, it would be good to have one of us stay behind to keep an eye on things.”

“What? Merlin’s there!”

“Aaaand he’s busy.”

Steve sighed dramatically. “Fiiiiiine.”

Claire summoned a portal and Steve stomped through, muttering to himself. 

Kanjigar waved for the rest of them to follow him.

As they approached the entrance, Kanjigar looked to the smaller, but still plenty menacing troll. “Stay here and guard the door.”

“Yes fa- er, yes Sir,” he said, ducking his head at his error. When Kanjigar could no longer see him, though, his eyes wandered over the group. He watched Jim, trying to read the expression on the strange troll’s face. The closest thing he could compare it to was when a youngling bruised an old wound. As they passed each other, Jim slowed to a full stop and simply stared. 

The small, purple-armored girl looked at him with the same expression, but quickly turned back to follow their king. “Jim,” she whispered, gently pulling on his arm. 

Jim reluctantly tore his eyes away and trailed after his companions.

As they entered the cavern, Kanjigar motioned to two other trolls standing guard on the inside. “You two, with me.” 

They fell into line behind the group, driving them forward with the threat of their spears.

As they walked through the stone city, a chorus of whispers followed them. Trolls stopped what they were doing and stared. Some peeked out of windows, their heads disappearing the moment one of the outsiders looked their way. Blinky, Dictatious, and Callista appeared from one door and joined the masses on the street watching the spectacle.

Kanjigar approached a tall orange troll with impressive horns.

“Vendel, this lot showed up at the door, said they wanted to talk to you.”

The old troll turned and glared at Jim with impressive form. “Well, I see it’s taken you no time at all to bring us more trouble.”

Jim crossed his arms and glared right back at the old troll.

Vendel turned to their warden. “Kanjigar, what is the meaning of this? Why have you brought humans into our home?”

“This one says he’s king,” Kanjigar replied, pushing Douxie none too gently with the butt of his spear, causing him to stumble.

Jim’s steady hand caught him. Douxie righted himself and cleared his throat. “Greetings Vendel, Elder of Dwoza. I am Hisirdoux Casperan, king of Camelot. I seek an alliance with the trolls.”

“What happened to Arthur?” Vendel inquired, raising his eyebrows.

“I …” Douxie hesitated, then fixed his face in a mask of hard determination. “Arthur is in the dungeons, where he has kept so many of your people. I seek a new path forward, with peace and good will between Dwoza and Camelot.”

Vendel scoffed. “Why should we trust you?”

“Because I am like you.” He opened his hands and a host of blue wisps flew into the air, twisting and dancing around each other before, one by one, they burst and dissipated. “I am a wizard. I have been persecuted like you. I nearly met my end at the edge of a knight’s blade for the simple crime of existing!” He paused and continued quieter. “I truly desire peace between us, but there is another reason I have come to you. In less than three days' time, Camelot’s forces will face Gunmar at Killahead Bridge. We cannot win without you.”

Vendel laughed. “You want us to fight in your war?”

“It’s not just Camelot’s war. I know that you have suffered under Gunmar’s rule. If we win this battle, we will both be rid of him. If Camelot fights alone, and loses, he will come for you next.”

Vendel sneered but did not dispute the point. “Kanjigar, with me.” 

The two walked a short distance away and conversed.

Douxie looked around the cavern, looked at his friends, searching for inspiration, anything he could use to court the sour old troll. His eyes fell on a barred crevice and the figure inside, a figure he was sure he recognized … 

“Hang on, isn’t that …” he pointed at the massive form hidden in the shadows.

 "Aaarrrgghh, yeah,” Jim answered sadly.

“Why’s he in there?”

“He attacked Dwoza. Brought Gunmar’s ‘join or die’ warning.”

Douxie whipped his head around and stared at Jim. “What?”

 "Aaarrrgghh was a Gumm Gumm,” Jim explained gently. “He was one of Gunmar’s generals.”

Douxie looked down, processing that information. Then, he looked back at the gentle giant with unwavering resolve. “I’m going to talk to him.”

“Hold on, what?” Jim asked.

“Elder Vendel,” Douxie called, “I wish to speak to your prisoner.”

Vendel’s turned to him and his eyes widened. “What could you possibly want to talk to him about?”

“I have some questions for him.”

“Nonsense. Besides, he doesn’t talk, he’s a mindless brute. The only thing he’ll do is tear you to pieces.”

“That’s my problem, innit?” Douxie said, crossing his arms.

“Fine,” Vendel huffed, “let him in. Lock the door behind him.”

As Douxie started off towards the cell, Claire stepped forward. “Great Vendel, perhaps we can talk about –”

“And who are you?” Vendel asked, raising a stony eyebrow.

“I’m his … uh …”

“Ambassador!” Douxie supplied.

“Right! We can talk while my, uh, king, attends to his business.”

Vendel grumbled under his breath.

Douxie smiled at her as he walked away. The crowd parted, giving them a wide berth as he and Archie made their way across the town square to the cell.

Archie sat down at the mouth of the cavern. “I’ll be staying on this side of the bars. Be careful, Douxie.”

Douxie nodded to his familiar as an enormous guard opened the barred door.

---

Steve stomped through the castle halls, muttering to himself. “Stupid trolls not letting me into their stupid secret base. I didn’t even wanna go. Lame buttsnacks.”

He startled at a loud thump, followed by a familiar boisterous voice. “How could we have not seen it before? All of this started when those four appeared in the woods!”

Steve flattened himself against the wall and scooted to a nearby door hanging ajar. He peaked around the corner and saw Lancelot and Galahad standing around a small table. He jerked his head back and stood there perfectly still, listening.

“All of this has been their twisted design,” Lancelot added. “They goaded Arthur into perusing the trolls into the Wild Wood. They played on his emotions, conjured images of Gwen, pushed him to the edge, and then tricked him into thinking he had killed his sister. All so they could get their hands on Excalibur.”

“They must have done something to the sword, cursed it so that they could control it!”

“And they used that control to create instability, discredit Arthur, and present their own champion.”

Galahad gasped. “Great Gods, the tournament! The boy immediately separated Arthur from us. And The Butcher, he must have been working with them. In the woods, the monster let himself get captured. It was the boy who stopped him from killing Arthur, to make it seem like he was on our side.”

“Arthur was never the target at the tournament, it was a ruse!” Lancelot gasped. “Their goal was to destroy the walls and terrify the people to set the stage for that witch to take power. He was acting throughout the attack; when he ‘protected’ Arthur, when he destroyed his accomplice! He turned that poor man into a monster and did away with him once he was no longer of use!”

“And what of Merlin? He helped the boy destroy the creature, and he was nowhere to be found during the tournament! He could have blown the walls! And he said he could do nothing about Excalibur. How could he not have known the sword was cursed?”

Lancelot sighed. “I see your point, but I saw his face in the throne room. He was as shocked as we were. Merlin has served Arthur faithfully, we should not assume he is involved, but I will question him.”

For a moment, there was silence.

“So, what do we do?” Lancelot asked.

“Isn't it obvious? We destroy them!” Galahad cried.

“We technically don’t have the support of the crown behind us,” Lancelot mused. “What’s more, they have magic. Rushing in will get us both killed. We need allies. I will summon our brothers.”

“The longer we wait, the more damage he will do!” Galahad insisted.

“I know. We will wait a day, then attack with whatever force we have.”

Galahad grumbled. “Perhaps I will attempt a more … immediate approach.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Utilize our existing resources,” Galahad ground out.

“Be careful,” Lancelot warned. He sighed. When he spoke again, his voice was venomous. “To think, my own squire, in league with the devil. I misjudged him.”

Steve gasped. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

“Do not blame yourself, old friend,” Galahad said gently. “Even the greatest knights have been ensnared by their sorcery.”

A ragged sob tore itself from Steve’s throat. As soon as it did, he shut his lips tight, but there was no taking it back. He heard only silence from the room. He froze, not even daring to blink.

"Who goes there?" Lancelot called.

Steve panicked. He bolted down the nearest hall, taking twists and turns at random. Eventually, he ducked into an alcove and hid there, panting, painfully aware of every sound he made. He heard the stomping of metal boots nearby, but they soon faded, leaving him in silence. He stayed frozen there for another minute before venturing back out into the hall. Peeking around the corner and seeing no vengeful knights, he tiptoed down the hall. He tried to remember how he had gotten here, but the corridors all looked the same. As he rounded the next corner, he nearly crashed headlong into a very familiar face.

“Hello again!” Young Hisirdoux sang with a glowing smile.

Steve shrieked.

“Have you seen Merlin?”

“Um, du – yeah! Totally. He said … uh … that he wants you to play hide and seek! Come on.” Steve grabbed Hisirdoux’ arm and dragged him to the nearest door. Peeking inside, he found, mercifully, a roomy closet. He ducked inside, pulling the young apprentice with him.

“Okay, you stay here,” he instructed as he searched the cleaning supplies. He grabbed a bucket and jammed it down over the boy’s head before pushing him into the deepest corner of the closet. Steve arranged some brooms and boxes around Hisirdoux. “Don’t move, ‘kay? And don’t come out until you hear ‘olly olly oxen free.’ And, if someone does find you, uh, run. And scream.”

“Um, okay. Merlin wants me to do this?” Hisirdoux asked.

“Yup! Told me himself. Okay I gotta go, don’t move!” Steve called over his shoulder as he booked it out into the hall. He closed the door firmly and leaned against it to catch his breath. His eyes jumped up and down the empty corridor, watching for threats. When his heart stopped hammering quite as hard, he continued his frantic wandering, only hoping he was moving closer to his destination.

---

The door slammed shut behind Douxie with a horrible crash. He stood at the mouth of a shallow carve-out in the stone wall. Though the lights from outside spilled in through the bars, the cell seemed to generate its own aura of gloom. Near enough to touch if he reached out, a large figure sat facing the far wall.

“Uh, hi,” Douxie said.

A low, menacing growl emanated from the hulking stony form.

“My name’s Douxie. What’s yours?”

Another growl, louder, more urgent.

“That’s … alright.” Douxie walked slowly to the wall farthest from Aaarrrgghh and sat down where he was in the troll’s periphery. He conjured a small wooden ball and sat there for several minutes, tossing and catching it.

“What want?” The troll finally yelled at him, still not moving.

“Well, I saw you were all alone over here and thought I might keep you company.” He caught the ball and held it. “I know what it’s like to be alone,” he continued in a softer voice. “It’s awful. I’ve got Archie now, but, when I was a kid ….” Douxie sighed.

Aaarrrgghh turned his head a fraction, watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“Why here?”

“Uh ….” Douxie gripped the ball tight. “That’s … a really long story.” Douxie dropped his head back against the stone wall. “Truth is, I don’t know. I have no idea what I’m doing,” he laughed. He turned his head and light from the town outside hit the emerald in the center of the crown, scattering fragments of faint green light through the cell. Aaarrrgghh finally turned to look at him.

“Crown.”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, it is,” Douxie said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Douxie, and,” he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “apparently, I’m king of Camelot.”

Aaarrrgghh fixed him with an unwavering stare. Douxie dropped his gaze, very interested in turning the ball over in his hands. “Yeah, that’s pretty much how I feel about it, too.”

For a moment, they sat in companionable silence.

“You seem sad,” Douxie said hesitantly.

Aaarrrgghh looked down at the ground.

“S’alright. Nothing wrong with being sad.” Douxie’s bracer glowed and he gestured in the air in front of him. A stack of three identical wooden cups appeared from hazy blue smoke. “D’ya like games? When I’m sad, I like to distract myself.” He lined the three cups up on the ground in front of him, then tossed the ball between his hands while humming a little tune. Aaarrrgghh observed him for several long moments. Eventually, Aaarrrgghh got up and took the few steps necessary to reach Douxie. He sat with a thunderous thud and studied him intently. Aaarrrgghh brought his face close to the human and sniffed deeply. 

Douxie held out the ball for him to see. “The trick is to keep your eye on the ball. Ready?”

Aaarrrgghh watched silently as Douxie hid the ball under the middle cup and began switching them slowly.

“Human not afraid?” Aaarrrgghh asked.

“Oh, I am, terrified, really. But not of you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Aaarrrgghh hummed. “Human small. Squishy. Aaarrrgghh could eat.” Outside the cage, Archie growled and puffed out his fur.

“You could,” Douxie agreed. He switched the cups a few more times before lining them up again. “Now, where’s the ball?” he asked, looking up at Aaarrrgghh expectantly. 

Aaarrrgghh hummed and pointed to a cup. “That one.”

Douxie lifted the cup to reveal the ball. He smiled at Aaarrrgghh. “You did it! Again?”

Aaarrrgghh gave an affirmative hum. Douxie reset the game and started swapping the cups again.

“Do you want to talk about it? Why you’re sad?” Douxie asked.

Aaarrrgghh rumbled a low hum.

“You don’t have to.” They sat in silence for a moment with only the scraping of cups against stone.

 "Aaarrrgghh fail. Caught.” He gestured to the cell around them. “Can’t go back. Gunmar kill Aaarrrgghh.”

Douxie frowned. “Would you go back? If you could?”

“Where else go?”

“You could stay here. Join the Dwoza trolls.”

Aaarrrgghh shook his head. “Trolls don’t trust Aaarrrgghh.”

“Yeah, they don’t trust me either,” Douxie sighed.

“Shouldn’t trust Aaarrrgghh. When Aaarrrgghh come, break down door, threaten Dwoza.”

“Why?” Douxie asked as he lined up the cups.

“Skullcrusher said.” Aaarrrgghh pointed to the middle cup. 

Douxie smiled as he revealed the ball. 

“Hehe, too easy,” Aaarrrgghh rumbled.

“Ah, you want it harder, do you?” Douxie switched the cups faster. Aaarrrgghh’s eyes darted back and forth, following the ball.

“Jim said you’re a general.”

Aaarrrgghh gave an affirmative hum.

“That’s quite an honored position. If I might ask, why did you join Gunmar?”

 "Aaarrrgghh not join. Taken.”

Douxie’s hands froze over the cups. “What?”

“Gunmar raided village. Took Aaarrrgghh when only youngling.” 

Douxie sat in stunned silence. 

“That one,” Aaarrrgghh said, pointing to the far right cup.

Douxie blinked out of his daze and mechanically lifted the cup, revealing the ball. He set the cup down beside it and slouched forward with his hands in his lap. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Aaarrrgghh studied him for a moment. “Douxie sad?”

“… Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

Aaarrrgghh regarded him for a moment before ever so carefully lifting two of the cups and placing them in front of himself. He plucked the ball and set it down between them.

“Eye on ball,” he said as he covered it with the last cup. His movements were slow, sliding the cups in overlapping circles almost all the way to the walls. Douxie stared, entranced by the movements, and his heart shattered a little more at the gesture. Aaarrrgghh lined the cups up and lifted his hands away from the set. “Where ball?”

Douxie laughed and shook his head. “Sorry. I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“Choose,” Aaarrrgghh rumbled.

Douxie pointed to the middle cup. Aaarrrgghh gingerly lifted it to reveal nothing. He grinned at Douxie, earning a chuckle from the wizard.

Douxie sighed. "Aaarrrgghh, if you’ll let me, I want to help you.”

Aaarrrgghh cocked his head to the side. “What human king can do?”

“Well, for starters, I can get you out of here.”

“Hm?”

Douxie smiled. “Yeah, I got a friend who can make portals to anywhere. You can come back to the castle with us … would you like that?” 

Aaarrrgghh blinked at him, not seeming to comprehend. 

Douxie’s face fell. “Has anyone ever asked you what you want?” he asked slowly, knowing the answer but not wanting to hear it.

Archie cleared his throat as he squeezed through the bars. “Douxie, may I have a word?” 

Douxie followed his familiar into the far corner of the cell. 

“You’re meant to be earning the trust of the Dwoza trolls, not destroying it,” Archie whispered. “If you spring one of their greatest enemies from their dungeon, what will they think of you then?”

Douxie frowned. “You said to do this my way. You said that’s what The Lady wants. You’re right. There are other ways to earn the Dwoza trolls’ trust, but if I don’t do something, then Aaarrrgghh stays here, probably forever. Or, at least, until they get tired of keeping him and …”

“But what is your plan ? Need I remind you that we have less than three days until the Battle of Killahead?”

Douxie’s face hardened with unwavering determination. “I’ll figure it out. But right now, this is the next right thing. The Lady said, if I trust myself, I won’t fail. I’m not leaving him here.”

Archie sighed. “You’re right. This is what you would do, no matter the consequences. I trust you, Douxie.”

“Thanks, Arch,” Douxie said, smiling warmly at his friend. Then, he turned back to Aaarrrgghh. “Well?”

 "Aaarrrgghh come.”

A brilliant smile bloomed over Douxie’s face. “I’m glad to hear it.” He stepped up to the bars and called to the guard. “Oi. I wanna talk to Vendel.” 

The guard looked exasperated as he unlocked the door.

Douxie turned back to Aaarrrgghh for a moment. "Aaarrrgghh, I’ll be back. I promise.”

Aaarrrgghh nodded as the two left the cell.

---

Somehow, Steve found his way to Merlin’s study. He burst through the doors, already yelling.

“Merl, we have a huge problem. The knights want to kill King Magic Man!”

“Just realized that, did you?”

“No, but like, they’re planning it. They have a whole conspiracy theory and Lancelot’s coming to question you and –” Steve froze at the sound of armored boots on the stairs.

“Hide,” Merlin ordered.

“Where?”

Merlin swung his staff at Steve. 

Steve started to scream as the magic hit him, but the sound grew smaller as he did, until a tiny blond mouse sat squeaking where Steve had stood. He ran in circles for a moment before scurrying off to the workshop nook, still squeaking.

“Quiet!” Merlin whispered harshly. He gestured and several books flew off the shelves to float around him. He opened one and began flipping through it just before Lancelot stalked in.

“Did you know about this?” Lancelot demanded.

“Did I know about what?” Merlin replied in his signature bored tone.

“Don’t play dumb, old man! Your apprentice overthrew Arthur!” Lancelot yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at Merlin.

“My apprentice did no such thing. My apprentice is a dopey musician who regularly manages to botch even the simplest of tasks. The man who overthrew Arthur is a master wizard from the far future.”

“Morgana was your apprentice. She tried to murder the king. Who’s to say you aren’t next?”

“What exactly are you accusing me of?” Merlin droned, still not looking up from his books.

“Conspiracy. Treason.”

“Why stop there? I’m sure there’s plenty more baseless claims you can make about me.”

Lancelot’s face twisted in rage. “Have you even been to see Arthur?”

Merlin looked up from his book with palpable exasperation. “Does he need me to hold his hand? He’s a big boy, you know.”

“He needs you to fight! What are you going to do?”

“I am going to search my vast wealth of knowledge for answers. I am going to finish my amulet so that we might win against Gunmar, or have you forgotten that we are on the brink of war? The law is your department, I haven’t the time for such frivolity.”

“Remove the curse on Excalibur, and return her to her rightful king!” Lancelot commanded.

Merlin quirked an eyebrow at the knight. “There is no curse on Excalibur. He was right when he said it was Nimue’s magic coming from the sword.”

“ What happened when you went to the Lady of the Lake?”

Merlin sighed and set the book aside, turning to fully face Lancelot. “I admit, it was not me who retrieved Excalibur. Nimue and I have a … strained relationship.”

“It was him?” Lancelot asked.

Merlin nodded.

“Why? How?”

“I do not know.”

“How can you not know?” Lancelot yelled, throwing his hands in the air. “Why did you take him in the first place?”

“To keep an eye on him.”

“And why didn’t you do that?”

“… She ate me. When I woke up outside the monster’s stomach, she was gone, and he had the sword. I do not know what transpired between them.”

“ Ate? ” Lancelot gasped in unrestrained horror, his anger temporarily forgotten. 

Merlin ignored the comment and continued sifting through his books.

Lancelot composed himself and continued. “Merlin, I don’t want to believe you to be a traitor. Prove your allegiance! There’s magic on the cell door. Fix it!”

“I doubt that I can.”

“The great Merlin Ambrosius can’t pick a lock?”

Merlin sighed. “Must you be so daft? If he has placed an enchantment on the door, it isn’t as simple as picking a lock. He is not the boy he looks to be, he is a formidable wizard bolstered by the power of a god. You underestimate him at your own peril. Besides, why do you need me? What about your version of a lock pick?”

“We’ve tried. Nothing can breach the walls or the door.”

Merlin turned towards the bookcase and summoned a few more tomes, hiding the smile that pulled at his lips.

“Whose side are you on, wizard?”

“I am on the side of the Greater Good.”

“And which king is the ‘Greater Good’?”

Merlin rounded on Lancelot. “Time is broken! You cannot fix it by going back. We must find a new way forward. Powers beyond your comprehension are at work here, and brute force will only get us deeper into trouble. I am trying to discern the right course of action, and your accusations and blathering on are not helping!” The books arranged themselves in a neat stack on the table and Merlin began slowly stalking towards Lancelot. “If I am not able to fix time, the resulting astral omnimergence will snap the temporal strings, which will cause a complete conflagration of the timelines and create a distemporal rift. If that happens, the intercosmic automitance will transfracticate, allowing extraplanar time worms to invade the material plane. And what will you do then, hm? Bash them with a sword? Gunmar would be the least of our problems.”

Lancelot glared right back at Merlin, who was now inches from him, fully utilizing his height to loom over the knight. He frowned and narrowed his eyes.

“We’ll be watching you,” Lancelot warned.

“By all means, pull up a chair. I’m sure you’ve nothing better to do.”

Lancelot scrutinized Merlin a moment longer before turning and stomping out the door. Merlin used his magic to close it behind him and sighed.

Frantic squeaking at his feet caught his attention. The tiny mouse was running laps around his feet and screaming to high heaven. Merlin rolled his eyes and reversed the magic with a half-hearted gesture.

As Steve grew back into a human boy, the squeak morphed back into a very human yell. Merlin smacked his hand over his mouth and glared at him. Steve stopped screaming and Merlin removed his hand.

“You … you think Dumbledork’s bad too?” Steve gasped.

Merlin dropped his head into his hand. “Oh for the love of – that is what you call acting . Now, go tell Hisirdoux what you’ve heard.”

“R-right, okay,” Steve said. He did not, however, act on those words, instead opting to stand awkwardly shifting his weight between his feet and fidgeting with his hands.

“What now?” Merlin sighed.

“Um, just … the other stuff, with the time worms and the inter- … whatever, that’s not really gonna happen … right?”

Merlin fixed the boy with an incredulous glare. “No wonder you gravitated towards the knights’ craft, you’re as dull as they are. My boy, that was a string of nonsense, to get him to leave . Things will be most dire, however, if the knights are actually able to hinder Hisirdoux, so go warn him .”

“Yessir!” Steve turned to leave.

“By the way, have you seen my young apprentice?” Merlin asked.

Steve froze. “Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuh … nope.”

“Hm. If you do, send him here.”

“Yup, totally, got it bye,” Steve rattled off before sprinting out of the room.

---

“You what?” Vendel gawked.

“I want to take your prisoner off your hands,” Douxie repeated. “You’ve no use for him, just keeping him in a cell. Be doing you a favor, really.”

“And what will you do with him? Release him so he can return to Gunmar?”

Douxie frowned. “If he goes back to Gunmar, he’s a dead troll. He won’t do that. Regardless, I intend to give him asylum in the castle until the battle is over.”

“Out of the question. You show up on our door after years of mistreatment at the hands of humans, claiming to be different with no evidence, and now you are asking for diplomatic favors ?”

Anger flared in Douxie’s eyes. “Right, here’s how I see it. You’ve got a troll who’s had no control over his life locked up in a cage. He wants to change. He deserves that chance. So, one way or another, he’s coming with me.”

“And what if we just throw you in the cage with him and be done with it?”

He crossed his arms as his bracelet began to glow. “You can try. I wouldn’t advise it.”

Vendel glared fiercely down at him.

“Douxie! Diplomacy!” Claire hissed.

“I have no quarrel with you, Vendel. I want peace and cooperation between trolls and humans.” Douxie narrowed his eyes. “Starting with Aaarrrgghh. He’s under my protection now.”

The two leaders stared each other down, neither giving an inch. Finally, Vendel made a noise of disgust and rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he spat, “take the brute and go. It’s your funeral.”

Douxie bowed graciously. “Thank you, Elder Vendel of Dwoza.”

Jim grabbed Douxie’s arm and pulled him aside. “Douxie, are you sure about this? I want to see him free, too, but … he’s not the Aaarrrgghh we know. Not now.”

“Yes, he is. Look, Jim, I barely know Aaarrrgghh in the future, but I know he’s the same troll. He just … hasn’t been given a chance to be that troll yet.”

Jim smiled softly and released him.

Blinky shifted nervously, worrying his hands. As Douxie turned to lead his entourage out of Dwoza, he spoke. “Eh – I say, he doesn’t have terribly good manners. You’ll need someone to watch him. To – make sure he doesn’t break things.”

Douxie looked back and smiled. “You’re welcome to come. Anyone is.”

“Blinkus! You can’t be serious!” Dictatious cried.

“Not to worry, dear brother,” Blinky replied, taking all his brother’s hands in his own.

“Callista?” Jim asked, gesturing towards their group.

Callista shrugged. “Ah, why not? Not exactly welcome here.”

Dictatious turned to Vendel, pleading. “Vendel, you cannot allow this. It’s clearly a ploy to lure naȉve trolls into their clutches.”

“Excuse me?” Blinky protested, all four hands on his hips.

Douxie turned back and addressed Vendel. “I know you’ve every reason not to trust me, but I swear that no harm shall come to any troll within Camelot's walls. Not anymore.” 

Vendel only glared at him.

The party filed into the makeshift cell with Aaarrrgghh.

“Claire, if you would,” Douxie said.

Claire nodded and held out her hands. The darkness of the cell warped and twisted into a swirling black disk.

“After you,” Claire said with a dramatic bow.

“Are we sure this strange hole in space is safe?” Blinky asked nervously.

“Perfectly safe,” Douxie reassured him.

“Ya scared, four arms?” Callista playfully punched his nearest arm. He scowled and rubbed the offended area, which would surely bruise.

Douxie led the way through the shadows. One by one, they passed into the abyss. Blinky cast a wayward glance back at his brother and his community before nervously stepping through the portal. With all everyone accounted for, Claire jumped through the portal and it disappeared.

---

The party emerged into the throne room. 

Blinky looked around at the dark curtains and the soft blue light of the candles. “Not the décor I was expecting from Arthur.”

“It’s not,” Douxie explained. “I did this when Claire went to get Jim. Didn’t want him to burn himself on a bit of sunlight.”

“You did all this … for a troll?” Blinky asked.

Douxie shrugged. “Wasn’t that hard. Pretty basic conjuration.”

Blinky stood staring at the king with wide eyes, both sets of hands clasped in front of him. “Oh.”

Steve burst into the throne room. “Magic dude, we – Ah!”

“Ah!” Blinky cried in turn.

Callista clapped Blinky on the shoulder. “Oh, don’t worry about that one, he’s an idiot.”

“So, hey, you got the big guy … c-cool?” Steve said carefully.

Aaarrrgghh snarled at the sight of Steve's armor. Douxie rushed between them.

“It’s alright, Aaarrrgghh, Steve is on our side. He’s a friend,” Douxie said, putting an arm around Steve’s shoulders.

Aaarrrgghh backed down, but kept staring at Steve with simmering hatred.

“Now, what were you saying?” Douxie asked.

“Uh, right, so, yeah, we have a problem, big problem,” Steve stammered.

“Blast it, what now?”

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat before continuing. “So, Lancelot and Galahad have put together a big conspiracy around you and they’re planning to kill you as soon as their friends get here.”

Douxie groaned. “Seriously? I do not need this right now!”

“You did usurp Arthur, did you not. Surely you knew this was coming,” Blinky scoffed.

“I didn’t mean to!” Douxie objected.

“Well, it’s hardly the kind of thing one does on accident.”

Douxie disregarded the comment and turned back to Steve. “What friends?” he asked.

“I dunno, that’s just what they said.”

A loud boom shook the castle. Douxie ran for one of the windows and ducked behind the curtain just in time to see ten balls of green light radiate from the castle: five fanning out to the north, two arcing west, and three heading east.

“Fuzz buckets! Right, okay, everyone into the war room,” Douxie yelled in exasperation.

The original team led their new troll friends into the room. Once everyone was inside, Douxie shut the doors firmly. With a hand on either door, he pushed a pulse of iridescent blue magic out through his fingers. It spread over the doors, leaving a shimmering aura.

Douxie slumped against the ornate wood. “Okay. I’ve enchanted the doors so that they can only be opened by magic, or a magical creature. This will be our stronghold.”

He turned to look at his gathered allies, clustered roughly in the middle of the room with various expressions of confusion and concern. Douxie sighed and approached them slowly. He brought a hand up to rake through his hair and grimaced when it bumped up against cold metal. Instead, he laced his fingers together behind his head and began pacing.

“Okay, that thing was a recall flare, a magical flare designed by Merlin. It’s meant to call all the Knights of the Round Table back to Camelot in a dire emergency. It sends a bolt of magic to each of them, no matter how far they are, ensuring they get the message. That’s what they meant by their ‘friends’.”

“That sounds really bad,” Claire fretted.

“It is,” Archie confirmed in a grim tone.

“Right, any suggestions?” Douxie asked.

“Hit 'em real hard? You’d be amazed how many problems you can solve with a big stick,” Callista suggested with unrestrained glee.

“No!” Douxie scolded her, horrified. “We’re not going to beat them into submission! Besides, it would only give them more ammunition to turn everyone against us.”

“We need more information,” Claire said. “Once we know what we’re up against, we can fight it.”

Douxie slowly walked around the table to assume his place in the center, opposite his allies. He leaned heavily over the dark wood. “Alright, the battle’s in less than three days, and we need to divide and conquer.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “We’ve got to form a plan, redeem Arthur, and now, put down this rebellion.”

“Blinky’s a master strategist,” Jim said. “He should be working on our plan of attack.”

“I beg your pardon!” Blinky objected. “I told you before, I am no such thing. I’m nobody. Worthless!”

Douxie regarded him curiously. “Why do you think so little of yourself?”

Sitting on the large table beside Blinky, Archie narrowed his eyes.

Blinky sputtered. “Well, I-I’ve never been any good to anyone!”

“Have they given you the chance?” Douxie asked gently.

Blinky silently stared at the floor.

“I believe in you,” Douxie said with a soft smile.

Blinky looked between Douxie across from him and Jim at his side with a sour expression. “Fine,” he groused.

 "Aaarrrgghh help,” Aaarrrgghh announced, stepping up behind Blinky. “Know Gunmar.”

Douxie felt his heart clench and looked up at his new friend. "Aaarrrgghh … I didn’t bring you here with an ulterior motive. You don’t have to.”

The large troll nodded. "I want.”

Douxie smiled. “Right. Thank you.” He turned back to the group. “Anything else?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Also I ran into the other you and the knights were coming so I shut him in a closet. I told him we were playing hide and seek and not to come out until he heard ‘olly olly oxen free’.”

“That’s …” Douxie began before thinking through the situation, “not – a terrible idea, actually. Which closet?”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ...”

“Great, thanks,” Douxie sighed. “Alright, Blinky, Aaarrrgghh, and Callista, stay here behind the enchanted door and form a battle plan. The rest of you, with me. We need to handle this Round Table business.”

Chapter 7

Notes:

Thank you to https://archibalds-den.tumblr.com/ for betaing!

WARNING there is a freshly born horse.

Douxie led his small team of Jim, Claire, Steve, and Archie back into the throne room. “I need all of you to figure out what the knights are planning.”

Steve punched the air in jubilation. “Aw yeah! Medieval super-spies!”

Douxie shook his head as he scrolled through his runes. “Sure. Right, hold still.”

He summoned his magic and blue smoke swirled around his three human allies. When it cleared, they were transformed. Claire wore a purple and black brocade gown with long sleeves and a veil obscuring her short hair. Jim was clad in shining silver armor, holding close to his body like his usual eclipse armor, with the exception of the chest plate, which was inflated to accommodate the shard in his heart. His head was encased in a full helmet adorned with familiar horns. Steve wore a loose tunic and baggy pants, both uninteresting shades of brown. His feet were stuffed into crude leather shoes, more like slippers, really, with a matching pitiful leather hat crammed down over his hair.

“What?” Steve squeaked. “Why does Lake get to be the knight? I am a knight!”

Douxie sighed. “Because a knight is the only thing I could feasibly disguise Jim as, considering his … unusual shape.”

“Okay fine but why am I a peasant? I could be the fancy one.”

“I trust Claire much more not to make a fool of herself around nobles and blow her cover.”

Steve sputtered.

Douxie turned to Claire. “Right, Claire, you’re a noblewoman. You’ll mingle with the other nobles in the great hall.” He conjured a diagram of the castle with three softly pulsing lights, pointing to the one on the ground floor of the keep. “Jim, you’re a visiting knight. You’ll go down to the Place of Arms. And Steve, you’re a stable-hand.”

“A what?”

“You’re in charge of everything outside. Courtyard, training grounds, stables.”

Claire put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Steve. You can say ‘hi’ to Bessie.”

“Why do we need disguises anyway?” Steve groused.

Douxie balked at the question. “So no one recognizes you! Jim’s not exactly welcome, and anyone who was there this morning isn’t going to be very chatty with one of my allies. What do you think would happen if Lancelot saw you?”

Steve went eerily quiet and fixed his gaze on the ground.

“Steve?” Douxie asked.

Steve flinched. “Right, yeah, totally, wouldn’t want that,” he muttered.

Douxie stared curiously at him, but ultimately shook his head and moved on. 

“What about you?” Claire asked, gesturing to Douxie.

“I’ll give you some time to establish your covers. Then, I’ll make the rounds, introduce myself as the new king. That’ll make sure everyone’s whispering. We’ll meet back here at stroke of noon.”

“Yes sir, fairy godmother,” Claire joked with a smile and salute.

Douxie snorted. “Right, point taken, now get out of here.”

They walked away as Douxie turned to his remaining ally. “Archie-"

“The kitchen?” Archie guessed.

Douxie nodded. “You know all the hidden passages. Just make sure you’re actually listening, not stuffing your face.”

“I am highly offended that you would even suggest such a thing.” Archie turned to leave, but hesitated. “You’re an egregious hypocrite, you know?”

“What?”

He turned back to face his familiar. “‘Why do you think so little of yourself?’” he quoted.

Douxie winced. “Yes, yes, alright, I get it.”

“Do you?”

“Yes! I-” Douxie’s voice cracked and tears began to spill from his eyes. He staggered to the ground and curled in on himself. “I’m trying Arch, I am. But people don’t change overnight! Just … give me some time.”

Archie sighed. “Time is a luxury you don’t have.” He ducked under Douxie’s arm and rubbed his face against Douxie’s cheek. 

Douxie hugged him tight as Archie began purring. For a moment, they sat there, Douxie quietly sobbing into Archie’s fur. Finally, he relaxed his hold and scrubbed at his eyes.

“Will you be alright?” Archie asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘course I will. Go on,” Douxie mumbled.

Archie pressed his forehead into Douxie’s chest. “You are so brave, Douxie. I love you.” Then, he turned and padded out of the room.

Douxie took another moment to sit and gather his fractured composure. He drew several deep breaths, and when he was sure his eyes were dry and his voice was steady, got up and walked back into the war room. He entered to find Blinky and Aaarrrgghh standing around the table, while Callista leaned against the wall looking bored.

Douxie approached the two trolls at the table. “Blinky, I need your advice.”

“Blinkous,” Blinky insisted, “but yes, go on.”

Douxie took a deep breath “What do I say to the various factions in the castle who think I’m an evil tyrant who overthrew their king to make them not think I’m an evil tyrant who overthrew their king and also make sure that they gossip as much as possible as soon as I’m gone?”

Callista burst out laughing.

“I’m serious!” Douxie insisted. “What do I say to these people?”

“Ah,” Blinky said. “Consider your audience. What do they want? What do they fear, what do they respect? Each one will require a different approach.”

“But why would they listen to me?” 

“Do the people here not respect Excalibur's divine judgment?” Blinky asked.

“They do, but-”

“You have Excalibur. Use that to your advantage.”

“What, just go around stabbing rocks to show I can pull it out again?”

“Yes, please do that,” Callista giggled.

Blinky rolled his eyes. “Excalibur is a symbol. Invoke it. Use its authority to claim your own.”

Douxie sighed and turned back towards the door.

“Er-” Blinky called, catching Douxie’s attention. “Might I … have a word? In private?”

Douxie nodded and followed Blinky to the far end of the room.

Blinky turned and addressed Douxie in a hushed tone. “Master Douxie, in Dwoza, you said that Aaarrrgghh had no control over his situation. What did you mean by that?”

Douxie looked down, then back up at Blinky. “I think it’s best you ask him yourself.”

Blinky’s face fell. “You won’t tell me anything?”

“I –” Douxie stopped, searching for the right words. “Ask … ask him why he served Gunmar.”

Blinky recoiled. “My, that seems a bit … touchy.”

“That’s what I asked,” Douxie admitted, dropping his gaze. “He … I don’t think he has the life experience to be embarrassed. To – to feel like his privacy has been violated. He just told me. Like it was nothing.” He looked up earnestly at the troll’s face. “Trust me.”

Blinky looked back at him with an expression of nervous dread, but nodded.

They walked back towards Aaarrrgghh in the center of the room. Blinky split off to stand at Aaarrrgghh’s side. He gave Douxie a last forlorn look before restarting his amiable conversation with his new friend.

Douxie continued towards the doors.

“Hey, king kid.”

Douxie turned to face Callista as she trundled after him.

“Ugh. You got something for me to do? Anything’s better than hanging around these knuckleheads.”

“Oh, uh,” he thought for a moment, cycling through his mental to-do list. “Well, I don’t know if you’d want to do this, but … I can’t stay here. I have to go back to my time with my friends, or the timeline will be broken. So … we need to make Arthur worthy of wielding Excalibur again.”

Callista snorted. “Yeah? Good luck.”

“I know, but I can’t leave Camelot without a king or Excalibur without a master. If we mess up history, the future won’t exist anymore. Arthur needs to be reinstated. Which means we need to find a way to redeem him.”

“So, what do you want me to do about it?” she asked, cocking her hip.

“Search his chambers. Hopefully, you can find something that can help us get through to him.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

Douxie escorted her to Arthur’s personal quarters and cast his barrier spell on the door.

“Stay here until someone comes to get you,” Douxie warned.

Callista rolled her eyes and stomped into the lavish room.

Douxie closed the doors behind her.

---

Douxie roamed the castle halls, his hand hovering over his bracelet, wary of any wayward knights. Steve had been able to offer no useful information about where he stashed the young Hisirdoux, or even where he had heard Lancelot and Galahad talking. As a result, Douxie was now making his way systematically through the halls, passing every closet on every floor before moving to the next one. He couldn’t be far now, as soon he would run out of castle to search.

That was, assuming Hisirdoux followed Steve’s instructions and stayed put. But Douxie was choosing not to think about that possibility. He did not have the mental or emotional resources to handle more stress.

He turned down the next hall and repeated his call. “Hisirdoux? Olly olly oxen free.”

A dull thud sounded to his right. He cautiously approached and opened the door just a crack. “Hisirdoux?”

“Yes?” a voice called, cracking slightly.

Douxie winced at the cacophonous crash as a tub stuffed full of brooms and mops spilled across the floor.

A bucketed head popped up from behind the disaster. “Is the game over?”

“Uh, yes, yes it is,” Douxie said as he closed the door behind him. He summoned a small supernova into his hand to illuminate the darkness. All things considered, he was grateful for the bucket. It would make this … slightly easier. He knelt down in front of the young wizard and lifted it off his head. Hisirdoux blinked in the sudden light, giving Douxie a moment to ready himself. He sat, poised to attack, and waited for Hisirdoux to notice.

It didn’t take long. Douxie saw the exact moment the boy’s eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. He waved his hand and a wide, spectral length of cloth wrapped around Hisirdoux’ mouth, tying itself in the back.

Hisiroux clawed at the gag, scratching his nails down his face. Muffled screams emanate from the terrified boy.

“Hey, hey, stop! It’s okay!” Douxie reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Hisirdoux jerked back and frantically scampered away, heedless of the various items in his path. He bumped into a precarious stack of buckets, which teetered and tumbled towards the retreating boy. Douxie threw his magic out and caught them before they could crash down on Hisirdoux.

“Please, I’m sorry, just, please calm down,” Douxie begged.

Hisirdoux squeaked as his back hit the wall. With shaking hands, he began hurriedly scrolling through the runes on his bracelet.

“No!” Douxie shouted. He threw a hand out and a tendril of blue magic wrapped around Hisirdoux’ wrists.

Hisirdoux screamed, kicking and thrashing wildly.

“No no no, stop it! Quiet! Please, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you!” Douxie pleaded, holding his hands up in surrender. “I –” 

He looked at the terrified boy and stumbled back, horrified at what he’d done. “Oh Gods,” he whispered, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. His light fizzled out, plunging the room into darkness, save for the faint glow in the corner, as his knees buckled and he collapsed against the wall.

Douxie drew a shaky breath, then another, trying to calm down. He raised a hand towards Hisirdoux. “Just … please don’t scream.” 

Both restraints vanished in wisps of smoke.

Hisirdoux gasped and scrambled to his feet. He summoned a ball of flowing lightning, casting sharp shadows around him. “Don’t come any closer!” he whispered harshly.

Douxie didn’t react to the threat, just sitting with his head down and his knees tucked to his chest.

Hisirdoux stood there panting for a moment, his eyes wild. Finally, his breathing began to even out. “Why?” he demanded.

Douxie turned his head towards Hisirdoux. “Because I knew you would panic when you saw … what you saw. What I am now. I’m not exactly popular with the knights. They’re plotting to kill me, and they won’t stop to check that they have the right Hisirdoux. Probably go after you anyway, out of spite, hatred for magic. I just didn’t want them to hear you. I needed,” he sighed, “I just needed a moment to explain. Bloody good job I did, huh?”

He turned his face back into his knees. “I’m sorry,” he groaned, the sound somewhat muffled. “I’ll just … just stay here for a while. You can go, just, be careful.”

For a long moment, no one moved. Then, the lightning fizzled out. Cautious footsteps approached, moving past where Douxie sat curled on the floor and stopping just to his left. He heard the rustle of fabric and scratching of boots on stone, then the soft breaths of his younger self sitting next to him. For a long moment, neither spoke.

“What … happened?” Hisirdoux finally asked. He ignited a ball of soft blue light between them, illuminating their faces.

“Um,” Douxie started, his voice thick, “well … I – I usurped Arthur.”

Hisirdoux gasped. “Wh- … why? How?”

“The Lady chose me. To … to wield Excalibur,” Douxie whispered, his voice strained.

“The Lady of the Lake?” Hisirdoux gasped.

Douxie nodded.

Aborted questions tumbled from Hisirdoux’ lips. Finally, he shut his mouth and took a deep breath. “I – don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” Douxie sighed. “… Nimue made me king.” His voice cracked on the last word. “What am I doing? I don’t have any idea what I’m doing.” 

He pulled the hallowed sword off his back and stared at it for a long moment. Then, he chucked it into the deepest corner of the closet, followed closely by the damned crown. He clutched his head in his hands and the dam burst. “I can’t do this! I’m useless! I’m worthless! I can’t lead an army or rule a kingdom, I can’t, I – this is a mistake, she made a mistake. I’ve ruined everything and I’ll do it again!”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Hisirdoux insisted.

“Why not?” Douxie demanded, his voice thick with tears. “It’s true! It’s all true!”

Hisirdoux seized his hand and squeezed it hard. “Stop!”

Douxie looked up into his own eyes, firm and resolute. He thought, choosing his words very carefully. “I … don’t know what to do,” he admitted.

Hisirdoux’ gaze softened. “But you will. And you have friends.” 

“They can’t help me now,” Douxie whispered.

“Why not?”

“My idea. I spread them among the various factions in the castle to listen and learn, see what information they can find.” He sighed. “And now, I need to go around to each one and talk to the people. Can’t just let rumors spread; fear, the like.”

“Well, why don’t you practice with me? What do you want to say to them?”

“I don’t know!” Douxie whined.

For a moment, the silence stretched between them.

“How … how did it happen? You becoming king?” Hisirdoux asked.

Douxie sighed. “I – gathered everyone in the throne room. Told them I knew how to free Excalibur, then I pulled it out.”

“That’s it?”

“Well … no, I said some things, but, that was all a performance. It had to be shocking. But this, this has to be real. I need to reassure people, not scare them. I know how to perform, but I don’t know …” he gestured vaguely, “this.” He shook his head, his eyes fixed firmly on the ground. “Someone else told me to think about what they need to hear, what they care about. But I don’t want to just mimic leaders who give hollow platitudes.”

“Then do both. You know what they need to hear, right?”

“Roughly,” Douxie murmured.

“Then what’s left? What do you want to say?”

Douxie let out a shaky breath and swallowed the heavy lump in his throat. “Um … h-hello, I’m Hisirdoux and I – er – appear to be the king now? Everything’s alright, you won’t have to deal with me for long because I’ll be popping off back to the future, assuming, ya know, there is a future and, erm … that’s all? Bye?” He sighed and looked at Hisirdoux. “How was that?”

Hisirdoux stared at him. “Very bad.”

Douxie dropped his head back into his arms.

“You don’t sound confident,” Hisirdoux explained.

“I’m not confident!”

“Why not?”

“What do you mean ‘why not’?” Douxie hissed. “You know exactly why I’m not confident!”

Hisirdoux smiled. “Well, I know why I’m not confident, but you – you’re 900 years old. You’ve been practicing all that time, learning from the Merlin Ambrosius. You’re powerful and amazing and worthy of wielding Excalibur.”

“Actually –” Douxie stopped himself. He glanced sidelong at his younger self, the giddy smile and the light in his eyes. “Yeah. Learning from the great Merlin. All that time.”

“Exactly!”

Douxie laughs darkly. “Don’t put me on a pedestal. You don’t know me. I’ve been an arse to you since I got here. I’m not the great wizard you think I am. 900 years and what do I have to show for it? No staff. No confidence. I’ll never be that person.”

“So, you’re saying that I can’t become that person? I’ll never be a great wizard, worthy, smart. You’re saying I’m going to end up being an incompetent arse who hides in closets and can’t handle the things those wiser entrust to me?”

Douxie’s head snapped up. “What? No, of course you can!”

Hisirdoux grinned.

It took a moment, but finally, Douxie realized what he had just said. He narrowed his eyes at the boy. “… Fuzz buckets. Why are you so obnoxiously good at that?”

Hisirdoux laughed triumphantly. “I didn’t know that … this is what I was encouraging last night, but I stand by what I said. You can do it!”

Douxie chuckled softly. “Alright.” 

He stood to retrieve his sword and crown, returning both to their proper places. Then, he turned back to Hisirdoux and smiled. “Right, let’s get you to Merlin.”

---

Merlin didn’t even look up as the two Hisirdouxes entered his study. “Ah, finally. Get over here, boy, and help me.”

Hisirdoux skipped to his master’s side, Douxie following close behind him.

“Master,” Douxie started, “I’m worried about him. If the knights see him-”

Merlin sighed, cutting off his concerns. “Hisirdoux, gather my smithing tools,” he instructed as he turned towards Douxie. He placed a hand on Douxie’s shoulder and guided him across the room. When they were well out of earshot, Merlin turned to look at him. “As am I,” he whispered. “The path you have set out on is filled with dangers. But, you know well that he is under my protection, and I will not let any harm come to him while that is my charge.”

Douxie nodded, turning to look at the bubbly apprentice. He knew that Merlin would protect Hisirdoux, but … 

Merlin reached out a hand and a small white box flew into it. He turned himself and Douxie away from Hisirdoux, taking care to block his view of the time map. The blue sphere bloomed from the projector. Merlin and Douxie held their breaths as the map ticked, ticked, ticked. Finally, an image appeared: Hisirdoux staring in awe at the completed amulet in his hands.

Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. “For now, he should be fine.”

“For now,” Douxie repeated grimly.

“We will stay vigilant, but you have much to do and little time to do it.”

“Right … thank you.”

Merlin smiled and turned back towards the workshop. 

Douxie turned to leave.

“Wait, wait!” Hisirdoux bounded across the room and threw his arms around Douxie, squeezing him tight. “It will be okay! I believe in you.”

Douxie gasped at the sudden contact. Tears immediately slipped down his face. He hadn’t realized how much he needed this. He hugged Hisirdoux back with the crushing force of all his pent-up emotions. “Thank you.”

---

Steve trudged into the courtyard, muttering to himself for the second time that day about how ‘it wasn’t fair’. He looked around and sighed. What was he even supposed to do? Just ask people where the knights are? Even he knew that wasn’t very super-spy. He began wandering around the muddy grass, keeping his ears open and trying to think of a better plan.

He wrinkled his nose as he approached the stables. It smelled like shit. Literally. That was not something the Spring Fling King and an honored knight of Camelot should be subjected to. He crept around the buildings, darting between wagons and behind walls. It wasn’t until he nearly ran face-first into a man in elegant clothing that he realized no one was giving him a second glance. As if he was invisible. He didn’t like it. With a sour snarl, he stepped from behind his hiding place and walked right through the center of the grassy square.

“Oi! Outta the way!”

Steve barely avoided being trampled by a galloping horse in full armor, ridden by an equally armored knight. He bit his tongue against telling that buttsnack exactly what he was thinking and continued stalking towards the stables, muttering to himself. Just inside the building, he slumped against the wall and fumed.

“ ‘Ello there,” a voice greeted him. Steve looked around for the source. Standing in front of him was a small, very dirty young boy, maybe about eight years old. “Wha’s your name?”

“I’m Sir– ah … I mean …” He wracked his brain for a dumb old-timey name. It was at that point that Steve Palchuk had a genius idea. He placed his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest, looking dramatically up at nothing. “I’m Brad Pitt.”

“Tha’s a funny name ya got, Mister Bra’pit. I’m Elijah.”

Steve stared at the boy in shock. Small, scrawny, brown hair sticking out at odd angles. He leaned in close to the boy’s ear and whispered urgently, “Pepperjack, is that you?”

Elijah tilted his head in confusion. “Y’don’t gotta whisper. S’not a secret, me name.”

“Uh, right …”

“Ar’ you here to help me muck the stables?”

“Um … yes?” Steve guessed.

“Great! Here,” Elijah said, shoving a bucket full of … oh God.

Steve leaned as far away as possible from the bucket in his arms. “What do I do with … this?” he asked, afraid of the answer.

“Take it to the manure pile an’ dump it out. Then, bring it back.”

“Wait, sorry, the what now?”

“The manure pile,” Elijah repeated matter of factly. “Straight out the stable door, go down to the end of the fence an’ turn left. Can’t miss it.”

-

Steve stared at the horrifying sight before him. Elijah was right, you could not miss it. A mountain of shit sat inside an inadequately fenced area. Steps were constructed up the side to allow one to get above it to dump the – the …

Every fiber of his being screamed for him to vacate the area as quickly as possible. And yet, the bucket of manure was still held securely between his hands. He took a deep breath, which was a big mistake, and gagged on the smell.

He tiptoed towards the pile of refuse, as if, if it didn’t notice him, he would somehow be safe. He gingerly crept up the steps to the raised platform and held the bucket as far out over the pile as he could.

“Ehehew, so gross!” Steve squealed as he dumped the bucket out. Then, he leapt down the stairs and bolted as fast as he could back towards the stables until he could duck behind a wall and the abomination couldn’t see him anymore. He panted, trying to catch his breath, which was still not advisable, but not nearly as bad as it had been.

Steve took a moment to psych himself up. “Right, find out where the knights are. You’re a creepslayer. Dumbledork is counting on you. You got this!” He squared his shoulders and walked back to the stables.

As soon as Steve put the bucket down, Elijah started filling it again with a large shovel.

Steve swallowed his disgust and leaned against a post in a way that he hoped looked casual. “Sooo, uh, you take care of the horses?”

“Tha’s right.”

“That must be cool, being around the knights.”

“I s’pose,” Elijah shrugged. “Don’t see much of ‘em, though, mostly just their ‘orses. An’ when I do see ‘em, no one pays me much mind.”

“Oh …” Steve sighed.

“But tha’s alright!” Elijah chirped. “I like the horses. They’re nice, so long as you’re nice to them, an’ they don’t yell at you for bein’ dirty!”

“Sooo … do you hear any cool stories about what the knights are doing? Ya know, like, adventures and all that?”

Elijah’s eyes lit up. “I ‘eard Sir Bors the Lesser is off on an important mission from King Arthur! Fightin’ for our honor over in Gaul! Givin’ those mainlanders wha’ for!”

“Oh, wow, uh … cool?”

Steve looked at the bucket, which was already nearly full again. He squirmed at the idea of having to return to the accursed manure pile.

A tiny whiny echoed through the stables. Elijah’s head shot up and he bolted out of the empty stall he’d been cleaning. He hurried down the line of uniform pens and crept up on a larger enclosure at the end. Steve happily skittered away from the bucket and followed Elijah to where the boy was peeking over the gate. As Steve approached, Elijah gestured for him to stay quiet. Steve tiptoed silently up behind him and looked over his shoulder.

In the stall, surrounded by unmentionable material, was a tiny horse. It squealed again as its mother diligently licked it head to … well, head to rump. Slowly, the small creature rose on wobbly legs and staggered around the stall.

“Aw, she’s a beau’y, i’nt she?” Elijah whispered. “You wanna name ‘er?”

“Me?” Steve balked.

“Yeah! They all got their names written on the stall doors, but I can’t read, so I just give ‘em me own. That’s Liandrae. What should we call her foal?”

Steve sputtered. “Uh, bah … Aja.”

Elijah’s eyes widened. “Aja. Blimey, tha’s a beau’iful name.”

“Ehe, yeah, she is,” Steve hummed with a smug grin.

“Your attention, good people of Camelot!” a familiar voice called from outside.

Steve turned and hurried out of the stables, Elijah on his heels. A crowd was quickly forming facing the young man stood on a large crate positioned against the castle wall.

Douxie looked at Steve and met his eyes in a brief, silent acknowledgment.

Elijah jumped up on a nearby fence to get a better view. “Blimey, is that Excalibur? Wot ‘appened?”

Douxie cleared his throat. “I am Hisirdoux Casperan, and due to … recent events, I am now your king.”

A murmur spread throughout the crowd.

“I want to assure you,” he continued, “that everything is alright. I know that this is an uncertain time. I will not lie and say that there are not threats. But I am here to face those threats. To protect you, the citizens of this fair kingdom. I will be speaking more on this in the town square at sunset. Um … thank you,” Douxie finished lamely with a nervous glance around the crowd. He hopped down from the crate and walked back towards the castle, Excalibur gleaming in the late morning sun.

The crowd slowly thawed, dispersing into smaller groups of urgent whispers.

“Whoa,” Elijah breathed when the king finally passed from view. He leaned forward on the fence, craning his neck to catch a final glimpse of the departing figure.

“What’s everyone standing around for?” 

They both turned to find a short peasant girl with sharp blue eyes and wavy dark-brown hair.

Elijah bounded up to her. “Miss Zoe! Aw, you just missed it!”

“Ah ah ah,” she tutted, raising a finger to silence him. She reached her other hand into the pocket of her apron and produced a small pastry.

Elijah’s eyes went impossibly wide. “Thank you, Miss Zoe!”

“You’re welcome, Elijah,” she said fondly as she ruffled his hair. “Now, tell me what happened.”

“Oo jus mift it,” he repeated unintelligibly around his treat. He finished chewing before he continued. “Arthur’s not the king anymore!”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, this bloke came an’ told us he’s the king now! And ‘e had Excalibur! That proves it! An’ ‘e’s a wizard!”

“Merlin … overthrew Arthur?” she breathed.

Elijah shook his head. “No, he looked about your age. Said ‘is name was ‘ither-somethin’.”

Zoe narrowed her eyes. “Did he, now?” she hissed. “Thanks, Elijah.” She stalked towards the castle with a scowl and a mission.

Steve stared at the small but formidable-looking woman, then turned to Elijah. “Um … w-who was that?”

“Tha’s Miss Zoe. She’s real nice, ‘cept when she’s mad. But she’s never mad at me,” he replied with the oblivious innocence of a baby alpaca.

“Uhhhh,” Steve squeaked. He turned back to the pissed-off nice-except-when-she’s-mad lady, only to find that she was gone. He blanched and turned back to Elijah. “Right, well I uh, I-I think I gotta go.” He hurried off to protect his king.

---

Douxie strolled back towards the castle. That went well, all things considered. His focus turned to what he would say to the nobles who were undoubtedly driving Claire up the-

“HISIRDOUX CASPERAN!”

Douxie gave a full-body wince at the exclamation. He knew that voice, and, oh did he know that voice when it was angry. He considered turning himself invisible or just running, but before he could make a decision, a hand grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and spun him around. 

Piercing blue eyes bored into him. Zoe grabbed him by the front of his tunic and yanked him down to her level. “What did you do?”

“Uh, Zoe, h-hey!” he stammered. “How, uh – how are you?”

Zoe gave him a long, hard look. Her eyes narrowed. “Where is Hisirdoux?” she demanded.

“Me?” he squeaked. “I-I’m right here –"

“You are not Hisirdoux. Your voice is wrong, you’re far too coherent, and your hair is blue!”

“Uh – s-slorr … accident?”

Zoe growled.

“No, no, it’s me. I uh – a lot has changed in the … oooh, how long has it been since we last saw each other?”

Her free hand sparked with pink lightning.

“No, Zoe, it’s me, I swear!” He grabbed her wrist and reached out with a tendril of his magic to touch her’s.

Zoe stumbled back, clutching her wrist and staring at it in disbelief. “What? H-how?”

“Look, um,” he cleared his throat, trying to pitch his voice to match the one she knew, “a lot has happened in the past, er, day or so. But don’t worry, I have everything under control!” he announced with blatantly false confidence. 

She glowered and stalked right up to him. “What is this?” she asked, flicking the crystal at the center of the crown hard.

“Ow! It’s a long story.”

“I’m listening,” she snarled through gritted teeth. Despite their considerable height difference, it felt like she was looming over him.

“Uuuuh, right, so, the Lady of the Lake said I’m supposed to be king now, and I can wield Excalibur, and Arthur can’t, so I kinda … took over?” he finished with a nervous smile.

The fury on Zoe’s face could make Gunmar himself flinch. “Hisirdoux!”

“I know, I know,” he pleaded as he backed away holding his hands up in surrender, partly to sell his role, and partly because Zoe was terrifying.

“You imbecile! How could you do something so stupid? You are going to get yourself killed!”

He opened his mouth to deny it, but considering he currently had his team searching for information on the people who actually did want to kill him, he thought better of it.

At that moment, Steve ran up, followed closely by a small stableboy. “Hey, whoa, what’s happening? Dooo you need help with the scary lady?”

“No no, this is Zoe, she’s a friend,” Douxie explained, hoping that statement was still true.

“Who is this?” Zoe demanded, pointing to Steve.

“H-he’s a friend! I have friends helping me, see. Everything’s going to be okay!”

The little boy looked between the two men, his eyes the size of dinner plates. Finally, he turned back to Steve. “You’re not really a servant, ar’ ya Mister Bra’pit?”

Douxie turned to Steve in confusion. “Mister Bra- … Steve,” he reprimanded with a thoroughly disapproving look. 

“What?” Steve demanded with an innocent shrug. “They don’t know him.”

Douxie shook his head and turned back to Zoe. “Look, e-everything’s gonna be fine, I promise.”

She gave him a deadly glare. “If you are lying about anything …” She left the threat hanging between them.

He nodded nervously. “Right, understood.”

With a final menacing stare, she turned and stomped away.

---

Claire had been nervous. All the way to the great hall, she had been fretting, racking her brain for a convincing backstory, rehearsing lines she prayed would be convincing enough that she wouldn’t be instantly discovered as a fraud. She’d been dizzy with the worst stage fright she had ever felt.

…

An hour. It had been a full hour, by the chiming of the clock, and none of these airheads had even asked her name.

Nine centuries and half a world away, she still had to deal with asinine high school gossip.

For the past hour, though it certainly felt like much, much longer, she had been sitting with two girls around her age who reminded her so much of Mary and Darcy that she was sincerely worried she might be hallucinating.

“Oh. My. God,” Lady Mary gushed. “Did you hear that Baroness Etheldred is having an affair with Lord Roland?”

“She wouldn’t!” Lady Darcy protested.

“Are you calling me a liar?”

Lady Darcy rolled her eyes. “Oh please, everyone knows you’re a liar.”

Lady Mary flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Perhaps, but this is true!”

“What’s Lady Cateline doing about it?”

“She doesn’t know!” Lady Mary squealed.

Lady Darcy gasped.

Claire rolled her eyes.

“Well, I heard that Countess Aldith said that Lady Melisende is a puterelle,” Lady Darcy gossiped.

“NO!” Lady Mary’s hands flew to her mouth.

“Yes!” Lady Darcy hissed with vicious glee.

Claire cleared her throat. “Do you guys – er – ladies, know anything about the Knights of the Round Table?” A bit direct, but considering the conversation so far, she was pretty sure they wouldn’t question her.

She was right.

“Oh, Sir Percival,” Lady Mary swooned. “Spare me those eyes, and that smile. He’s big and strong and dumb as a rock.”

Lady Darcy smacked her on the arm. “Forget Sir Percival, what about Sir Tristan? Have you heard the man play the harp? Oh, he’s such a romantic.”

“O-oh, um … are they here?”

“No,” the two ladies answered in unison with matching melancholic expressions.

“Sir Tristan left last week on a mission for his uncle in the North,” Lady Darcy lamented.

“And Sir Percival is always running off after whatever adventure he can find. He joined Sir Bors the Lesser on his campaign in Gaul,” Lady Mary lamented.

Claire was considering how she could get more information from the girls when a shrill voice from across the room cut through the din. “Listen to me! This young magic twit overthrew Arthur and took Excalibur! I was there, I saw it!

“No one cares, Lynette!” another voice called. The room erupted in laughter. 

When they had finally calmed down, Claire looked at the two girls with a curious expression.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Lady Darcy scoffed, “she always starts spouting nonsense whenever Sir Gaheris is gone.”

“Is he another one of the Knights of the Round Table?” Claire asked.

Lady Mary looked at her with pity. “Oh dear, you really are quite stupid, aren’t you?”

Claire’s temper flared. She shut her eyes and raised her hands to her face to block the purple-tinged void bleeding into her vision.

“Really now?” Lady Darcy admonished her friend. “There was no need for that. Obviously she doesn’t know anything but you don’t have to point it out! Look what you’ve done now, you’ve made her cry!” She reached over and placed a soothing hand on Claire’s arm. “There, there. It’s alright. Don’t mind her, has the manners of a troll.”

“Excuse me?” Lady Mary demanded, scandalized. The two began bickering like children.

Claire took a deep breath, willing the darkness to retreat. She didn’t have time for mean girl bullshit. She sighed and lowered her hands, fixing a plastic smile on her face. “Has he, uh … been gone for long?”

“Ugh, since last week!” Lady Mary moaned. “And we’ll have to put up with her whining for a month!”

“Oh, wow. What’s he doing for a month?”

“I don’t know, something boring, probably, like him.”

The conversation turned back to court gossip. Rats! Maybe she could go grill this Lynette lady-

Claire perked up as she saw the doors open and a familiar figure enter. Finally, something interesting would happen.

Douxie met her eyes as he entered. He cleared his throat to call the room to attention. “Good day, fair-”

Raucous laughter burst from somewhere to Claire’s right, completely drowning out whatever the king had been trying to say.

She giggled at the clear annoyance on his face as he rolled his eyes. His bracelet flashed with a wispy burst of magic.

“YOUR ATTENTION, PLEASE,” his voice boomed through the hall.

This time, the nobles did take notice. As they each turned and took in the sight of Douxie with the crown on his head and Excalibur on his back, the atmosphere of the room abruptly switched from warm merriment to sickly, cold uncertainty.

“Thank you,” Douxie said to the hushed room, his voice back to its normal volume. “Good day, fair lords and ladies of Camelot. My name is Hisirdoux Casperan, and as of this morning, by the divine grace of Excalibur, I am your king. I am not here to make sweeping changes. My concern is the safety of Camelot. I assure you that neither your standing, your titles, nor your holdings are in any danger. More information will come at sunset, in the town square. Thank you.”

Douxie turned and walked out of the great hall, shutting the door behind him. For a moment, there was perfect stillness.

And then the room exploded into chaos. 

Claire grabbed the teacup sitting in front of her and quickly raised it to her lips to hide her smile. It didn’t matter. People were paying her even less attention than before.

The men were standing, gesturing wildly and shouting at each other. The women were in various states of distress; some crying, some clinging to the nearest man, and some simply fainting. From the center of the pandemonium came a triumphant shriek of, “I TOLD YOU!”

“OMIGOSHOMIGOSHOMIGOSH, WHAT DO WE DO?” Lady Mary screamed.

Lady Darcy frantically patted her friend’s hand “There, there. It’ll be alright, love.”

Lady Mary sobbed the most theatrical ugly cry Claire had ever seen. It was fantastic.

Claire took another languid sip of tea.

Lady Mary stared at her in disbelief. “HOW ARE YOU SO CALM?” she wailed.

Claire was so glad she asked. She smiled sweetly and tilted her head. “I’m stupid. I don’t know anything.”

Lady Mary made a sound like a choked rubber chicken and collapsed into Lady Darcy’s lap.

 

Notes:

Lady Mary cry like this

Chapter 8

Notes:

Hi, this hasn’t been beta-d yet, but since it’s almost done, I want to get it out now. And also to put a note with it. I’m not sure what the next days/weeks/months are going to look like for me re: writing. My cat is currently at the vet in critical condition. If things go bad, I’m not sure what my state is going to be. Maybe I’ll throw myself into writing harder to distract myself, but I might end up disappearing for a while. A lot of things are uncertain right now.
So, I’m posting this now and will be updating it once it has been beta-d/I’m up to it. As it has not been beta-d, it’s not my best work, but …
Warnings:
1. There is A LOT of swearing in this one, mostly from Callista (of course) and a decidedly Scottish original supporting character. In case anyone has trouble understanding the Scottish accent, I have included a list of all her lines in proper English in the end notes.
2. THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS PSYCHOLOGICAL BAD TIMES (dissociation, flashbacks, panic attacks, the works)

Jim stepped through the wide archway onto the balcony overlooking the place of arms. The room was expansive. The blue candlelight gave it a dark, eerie feeling, though it was no less bright than a yellow flame. It was his first time getting a good look at the place; the first time he came through here, he’d had other things on his mind, and the second time, he’d been focused on escaping. 

He surveyed the large room. The far end of the hall was dominated by an arena with an audience of training dummies looking on. Racks of various weapons were sprinkled haphazardly around the room. Directly below him was, put simply, a bar. Dirty tankards littered the tables. Along one wall were a row of kegs. Another large archway was set into the far wall, which he knew led to the dungeon beyond. 

Jim turned towards the stairs leading down to the ground floor and hesitated. The memory of being dragged down in binds burned bright in his memory. He took a deep breath and reminded himself of the reality of his situation; he was free, he looked like one of them. As long as he played his part, everything would be fine. If they did discover him, it would probably still be fine considering he had full use of his body and didn’t have to worry about sunlight, but that situation would not be ideal. He was supposed to blend in, gather information, not get in a fight. With a heavy sigh, he started down the stairs. 

There were several knights milling about, drinking, gambling, and otherwise bullshitting. He noticed that one knight, in particular, was glaring daggers at him. Jim turned to try to disappear among the other armored occupants, but it was too late. 

“Oi, why you got your helmet on in here?” he demanded, stomping towards Jim.

“Ah …”

“Maybe he’s got an ugly mug,” laughed a second knight, who had remained at the table.

The first knight narrowed his eyes. “I don’ like it. Hidin’ ‘is face.”

Thinking fast, Jim raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, you got me. The truth is, I’m not a knight. I’m a nobleman’s son. He wants me to study politics, negotiate land deals, and all that, but I want adventure . So, I came to learn from the Knights of the Round Table, to prove to my father that I can be a knight, not just some useless rich guy drinking tea in fancy castles. But, some of the people here know me, and my father. I don’t want them to recognize me. They’d send me right back.”

The knight considered this with a dubious expression. “Hm. Alright, we’ll keep your secret, if you can best me at arm wrestling.”

“Are you sure?” Jim asked.

The knight laughed. “Wha’s wrong, lad? Scared?”

Jim sighed, sincerely sorry for what was about to happen to this poor human. “If you insist.” He sat opposite the knight and placed his plated elbow on the table, clasping hands with his opponent.

The other knight stood between them, holding his hand like a racing flag. “On ya mark … ge’ set … go!”

The other knight immediately began straining futilely against Jim’s strength.

Jim’s hand didn’t move.

The knight looked at Jim’s calm posture. He growled, quickly growing red in the face. “Are you – even – bloody tryin’?” he gasped.

Jim smiled inside his helmet. Then, he slowly pushed the man’s arm to the table with ease.

The knight collapsed forward, panted. “Blimey, you’re strong!” 

Jim laughed nervously.

The second knight pulled up another chair. “Nicely done, Lad. ‘Bout time someone put ‘im in ‘is place.”

“Oi, fuck you,” his companion swore.

The second knight held out his hand to shake. “I’m Aldus, an’ tha’ there is Hamon. An’ wha’s your name?”

“Uh …”

“O, right, all secretive,” Aldus teased.

Jim laughed nervously.

Hamon shook his head. “Sorry to tell you, lad, but the Knights of the Round Table don’t all live here. They’re always goin’ out on quests or missions or wha’ have you.”

“Oh. Well, then, who is here?”

“Lancelot and Galahad are the only ones here now,” Aldus said. “You just missed Gareth and Gawain, they left yesterday mornin’.”

“Bloody shame, too,” Hamon sighed, shaking his head.

“Why’s that?” Jim asked.

Hamon stared at him in disbelief. “You haven’t ‘eard, lad?”

“I, uh, just got here. What are you talking about?”

“Bloody witch assaulted the castle, stole Excalibur an’ tossed Arthur in the dungeon.”

Jim straightened up in mock surprise. “I thought only the rightful king could wield Excalibur.”

Hamon nodded grimly. “Aye, so did we all. Didn’t see it ‘appen, but I ‘eard ‘e bewitched the blade, twisted it with magic to bend it to ‘is will.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “I see. So, Arthur is in the dungeon?”

“Aye.”

“Why hasn’t someone just … let him out?”

“Bloody magic again. Cell’s impenetrable,” he said, taking a swig of beer.

Jim nodded. “So what are you doing about it then?”

“Hah!” he laughed, banging his tankard against the table. “Wha’d’ya mean, lad? Look around!” He gestured to the blue flames lighting the candles and torches. “We’re at the end of days. An’ all of us, we’re just your average knights. The Round Table will figure it out. Meantime, nothin' to do but drink.”

-

Nothing to do but drink, indeed.

Besides the obvious reason, Jim was grateful for the full-helm obscuring his face, hiding his persistent scowl. He didn’t wish for these men to be more organized or less drunk, but the fact that they called themselves knights and were content to sit back and relax in the middle of a crisis grated on his nerves.

Jim’s eyes caught movement in the shadows at the far end of the room. A glint of steel caught the candlelight moments before the king stepped confidently into the light, Excalibur clasped firmly in his hand. He cast a fierce glare around the room before stabbing the sword into the stone floor in front of him. 

“I am Hisirdoux Casperan!” he shouted. “As I’m sure you have all heard, I am now your king. I know there are whispers of treason. I am not here to accuse or arrest, I am here to clear your doubts. So, I challenge anyone in this room to take Excalibur, the holy weapon of Camelot, and unseat me.” He took a step back away from the sword and crossed his arms, keeping his cool, even glare trained on the knights.

Jim looked around at the gathering of knights. Not a soul so much as breathed. The seconds dragged on with no one stepping forward to challenge him. Seriously? Fine. Jim stood, scraping his chair against stone as he did, producing an awful noise. He stomped across the room to face Douxie.

“How hard can it be?” he scoffed. He stepped up to the sword and stared straight at the king as he reached with one hand for the hilt of Excalibur. His armor clinked as he yanked on the handle. 

A slight smile pulled at Douxie’s lips. 

Jim made a show of looking down at the sword and his gauntleted hand wrapped securely around the hilt. He grunted as he pulled again to no avail. He pulled with both hands, straining against the sword, before stumbling back. He snarled and stalked back to his chair, dropping into it with as much indignation as he could muster. The rest of the room remained frozen.

Douxie looked around expectantly at the assembled knights. “What, is that it?” Douxie taunted. “I thought the knights of Camelot were the fiercest, bravest men in all of England. And none of you have the guts to try?”

Jim sighed. Douxie was right. All these “brave knights” were just going to sit and gawk at him. Then, as soon as the king left, they would be right back to denouncing him as a cowardly, invalid criminal. Something had to be done about that. Someone had to demonstrate the reality of the situation. He looked to a nearby weapons rack and smiled. Oh, yes . 

Jim grabbed a sword and charged at Douxie with a theatrical war cry, his blade raised. The whole display was laughable. His approach was extremely inefficient, more show than substance, giving Douxie plenty of time to retaliate. But, as Jim advanced, Douxie just stared at him with a look of pure horror. He began to doubt whether the wizard would mount a defense. If he didn’t …

Please, play along, Jim silently begged.

At the last moment, Douxie threw his arms across his chest. His bracer flashed and a blue bubble of spinning runes surrounded him. 

Jim’s sword bounced off, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“What’s wrong, Your Majesty ?” Jim sneered, bashing his blade against the bubble. “Scared?” 

“I’m not going to fight you,” Douxie gasped.

Jim laughed. He swung his sword back and smashed it into the magic shield again. And again. Cracks began appearing in the sphere where his blade connected.

Douxie shut his eyes tight, gritting his teeth. As Jim swung back for a hesitant final blow that seemed would shatter the shield, Douxie flung his arms out, turning the shield into a magical shockwave. The force blasted Jim back into a table, rattling it and the knights sitting there.

Douxie stood panting in the sudden silence. “We have a war to fight, and that war is the reason I am here instead of Arthur. I need all of you to be ready for Gunmar with your heads screwed on straight .” He shouted the last words directly at Jim. “I do not have time for games. If you are satisfied, I will take my leave.” 

He wrenched Excalibur out of the stone floor and stalked up the stairs. At the top, he paused, addressing the room without looking at them. “I will be speaking to the people in the town square at sunset.” With that, he turned and left the chamber.

-

Jim stared dumbly at the place he and Douxie had clashed. What just happened?

Low hisses of swears and threats dissipated throughout the room.

“Bloody ‘ell, lad, that was impressive,” Aldus laughed, directly to his right.

“Thanks …” Jim said automatically, his voice hollow.

Aldus clapped him on the shoulder. “You wanna train with the knights, you should meet Lamorak. He’d like you.”

“Yeah? When will he be back?” Jim asked, clearly lacking the appropriate enthusiasm. Luckily, these two were either too drunk or too stupid to notice. Or both.

“Yer in luck. ‘E’s s’posed to be back any day now.”

Their conversation turned back to asinine topics of slaughter and conquest.

Jim wasn’t listening. A cold sickly feeling festered in the pit of his stomach as he replayed the interaction endlessly. Something wasn’t right.

“Oi, Lad?” Aldus said, waving his hand in front of Jim’s face. “You still with us?”

Jim shook his head back to the present. “Uh … yeah. I – I got somewhere I need to be.” He stood from the table and began walking away.

Hamon raised his tankard towards Jim. “ ‘Ope to be seein’ you, lad.”

Jim ascended the stairs while the jovial atmosphere hung like a thick fog below him.

He wandered down the hall away from the place of arms, trying to sort out his jumbled thoughts. They were supposed to lurk and listen for whispers, but he couldn’t bear staying there a moment longer.

Footsteps echoed down the hall towards him. A shadow danced on the wall, cast by the blue glow from the next hall. Jim stiffened as a portly knight rounded the corner and walked towards him. He reached down instinctively and flexed his fingers to manifest Daylight. His hand snatched at empty air, and he grimaced at the memory that he couldn’t call the sword anymore. He curled his fingers into a tight, shaking fist.

But as their paths crossed, Galahad passed by without a word. He looked like a man on a mission. 

Something about that pricked at Jim’s nerves, but then, what wasn’t? He huffed a sigh of relief and continued on his way back to the throne room, deeply unsettled.

---

Blinky was thinking. He was often thinking, but, currently, he was thinking more than usual. Specifically, he was thinking about whether or not he was absolutely mad. Here he stood, within the walls of Camelot, serving a human king alongside a delusional youngling and a Gumm-Gumm of all trolls.

Dictatious had been right. Of course, he had. Dictatious was always right. Blinkous Galadrigal was nothing but a naïve troll, swept away by a brief, idealistic illusion of a perfect world. By Gorgus, what had he gotten himself into?

Cold reality seeped through his entire being, locking him in an inescapable spiral of dread. He was going to die. Not only that, he was going to die in a horrible fashion, torn apart by a fearsome warrior of Gunmar, thrust into sunlight by vicious knights who would mutilate his brittle stone corpse-

The sound of splitting wood ripped him from his thoughts, followed by a low and sincere, “Oops.”

He turned towards the source and found the ‘fearsome warrior’ staring over his shoulder at the poor chair he had evidently just obliterated with his stubby tail.

Blinky sighed and mentally smacked himself. Imbecile . Those were Dictatious’ words, Dictatious’ thoughts. This was no fearsome warrior. Well, he was, but here and now he was nothing but a clueless giant, trying his best to navigate a world made for much smaller and … less inherently strong beings.

“Aaarrrgghh, my good fellow, we really must do something about your discordant relationship with this room.” Blinky waddled over to help clear the debris. He examined the situation and sighed. “This simply won’t do. Clear yourself a space where you can comfortably reside without bumping into anything.”

Aaarrrgghh hummed and began stacking chairs and tables in a corner of the room.

“Now, back to the matter at hand: planning. First, we must set the battlefield.”

Camelot’s forces were already scattered on the near side of the bridge; ten white tokens. A piece of parchment lay beside them, outlining the humans’ proposed plan of attack. It was obsolete, now, for many reasons, but one piece of information caught his eye: the total unit count. Originally, it had declared two hundred soldiers as Camelot’s combined forces. Now, that was scratched out, the new number reduced by nearly half. If Bular alone did that…

He shoved the thought aside. There would be plenty of time for doomscaping later. He pulled out a drawer built into the great table, which contained a variety of figurines to represent the players in the theater of war.

“There are between two and three hundred of us in Dwoza, but most of us are not, eh … skilled warriors .” He considered this for a moment, then placed down ten green tokens beside the white ones. 

“Then this ‘Trollhunter’.” He rummaged through the drawer of generic markers. No, those wouldn’t do. He pulled out a few more drawers until he found one with an assortment of chess pieces. Ah, yes, that would do nicely. He placed a rook at the front of the Dwoza forces. 

“Three wizards: Master Douxie, Merlin, and … the purple one.” He placed three more chess pieces at the head of Camelot’s army.

“Right, then. Aaarrrgghh, how many Gumm-Gumms does Gunmar have at his disposal?”

Aaarrrgghh stopped his redecorating and began counting on his fingers. When he ran out of fingers, he scrunched up his face and hummed. “Uuuuuuuuuuh …”

Blinky began offering suggestions. “Ten? Twenty? Fifty? A hundred? Two hundred? A thousand? ”

Aaarrrgghh tilted his head as he weighed the numbers. “Less than one hundred.”

Blinky sighed. “Well, that , at least, is reassuring.” He began placing figures on the other side of the dry river bed. Out of the corners of his eyes, he watched Aaarrrgghh , who was diligently building a tower of chairs and tables. “Eh, if you don’t mind my asking, how long ago did you become a Gumm-Gumm?”

Aaarrrgghh looked at him in clear confusion. “Aaarrrgghh always Gumm-Gumm.”

“You were born into it? Your parents were Gumm-Gumms?”

Aaarrrgghh shook his head. “Aaarrrgghh not have parents.”

“Well,” Blinky scoffed, “objectively, you did , but … then, did they recruit you?”

Aaarrrgghh furrowed his brow. “Reek-root?”

“Eh, yes, when someone comes and asks you to join a cause.”

“What is ‘ask’?”

Blinky balked at the absurdity of the question. “A … a request. An offer.”

Aaarrrgghh shook his head. “No ask.”

Blinky sputtered. “Well then … I’m afraid I’m not following. How did you end up in Gunmar’s army?”

“Gunmar take Aaarrrgghh from village.”

Blinky stared at the giant peacefully stacking chairs. Rarely did he find himself truly speechless, but …

Master Douxie’s words rang in his head. He just told me. Like it was nothing.

Like it was nothing.

Blinky could feel his insides turning to lava. His face twisted into a horrible mask of fury. How dare they? He had known that Gunmar was a monster, but this … Blinkous Galadrigal was not a combatant, but now – now he just might have a reason to take up arms.

His bubbling rage cooled as he looked again at Aaarrrgghh, quietly going about his business. Righteous anger was all well and good, but it wouldn’t help the poor creature, not now. Blinky took a deep breath and turned to his tried and true weapon of choice: philosophy.

He cleared his throat. “Well, now, that is over. You are free to choose your own destiny, to reclaim your self-determination!”

“Self-ter-mee-stay-shun?” Aaarrrgghh repeated.

“Yes, self-determination! Autonomy! Sovereignty! The right of any living creature to make their own decisions, rule their own life!” Blinky pulled a chair over to the large table and used it as a stepping stool for his stubby legs. He climbed atop the hardwood table, his stage, and professed to an imaginary audience. “You are no longer Gunmar’s pawn. You are your own troll! You are Aaarrrgghh-” he paused and looked down at the hulking Krubera. “Eh, what is your last name?”

“Last name?”

“Yes, your family name. For example, mine is ‘ Galadrigal’ ,” he explained, reveling in the regality of his own name.

“Don’t have one,” Aaarrrgghh said. “Just name Skullcrusher gave.”

“I’m sorry, Gunmar gave you the name ‘Aaarrrgghh’?”

Aaarrrgghh nodded. “When people see Aaarrrgghh, scream ‘Aaaaaaaaaaarrrgghh’,” he demonstrated.

Blinky suppressed a grimace. “Well, we shall have to fix that. Give you a proper name that doesn’t paint you as a monster.”

Aaarrrgghh shrugged his huge shoulders. “Aaarrrgghh not care. Why name important?”

Blinky gaped, his eyes wide. “Your name is your identity! It is a fundamental part of you. And you, now, are liberated. You can reclaim your identity, redefine yourself! Do you want people to run screaming when they see you?”

Aaarrrgghh tilted his head in confusion.

Blinky’s face fell. “You’ve never asked yourself that question, have you. I’m sorry.” Blinky sighed. “Far be it from me to tell you how to live your life, but … I believe you deserve better than an echo of the wrongs that have been done to you.” He clasped his hands nervously and averted his gaze.

A painful silence stretched between them. Blinky was about to excuse himself, to take it all back-

“Okay,” Aaarrrgghh rumbled.

Blinky’s eyes lit up as a wide grin split his face. “Splendid!” he crowed. “Well, then, what will your name be?” 

Aaarrrgghh hummed. “Don’t know.” 

“Well, instead of screaming, perhaps ‘Aargh’ can be a … a calling . Shouting.”

Aaarrrgghh nodded along.

“Excellent! And, then, for the rest of it …” He looked Aaarrrgghh up and down “Well, you are quite a mountainous individual. How about ‘Aarghaumont’? ‘Calling to the Mountain’.”

Aaarrrgghh tilted his head and hummed. “‘Arr-ga-mont’? Complicated.”

“You can still be Aaarrrgghh, of course you can. But, now, it’s yours. Not his.”

Aaarrrgghh smiled. “Aargh-au-mont,” he rumbled affirmatively.

“So it shall be, Aarghaumont! ” Blinky declared. “Now, then, we have work to do!” 

Blinky looked back to his makeshift stairs and blanched. The way down looked much, much steeper than the way up had been. “Erm, Arghaumont, would you mind terribly helping me down from here?”

Blinky yelped as Aaarrrgghh grabbed him and pulled him with both massive hands and effortlessly crushed Blinky against his hulking chest. This was it. He was definitely going to die. 

The beast’s arms constricted around him. 

Blinky closed all his eyes and braced himself for the horrible end … 

… that didn’t come.

He peeked one eye open to examine his suspiciously-not-dead state. Aaarrrgghh’s chest gently rose and fell beneath him. 

A hug, he realized. This was a hug . A very large hug, but a hug nonetheless. 

Blinky sighed, silently berating himself for his prejudice. He extended all his arms and pressed them flat against Aaarrrgghh’s stone skin to return the gesture. It wasn’t exactly a hug, in the traditional sense, but be was beginning to doubt the superiority of ‘tradition’.

Aaarrrgghh finally set Blinky gently on the floor, a big, toothy grin on his face. “Blinky good friend.”

Blinky looked away bashfully. “Uh, it’s ‘Blinkous’, actually.” 

“Hmm.” Aaarrrgghh screwed up his face “‘Blihn-kuss’. ‘Bling-cus’...” 

Blinky stared at the endearing creature and his valiant attempts to pronounce his name. He loathed the moniker, he really did, especially when it bastardized such a magnificent name. But, when Aaarrrgghh said it with so much earnestness… 

The blue troll smiled at his new friend. “Actually, ‘Blinky’ will do just fine.”

---

Douxie ducked into an alcove in the hall and threw up a glamour spell. As soon as he was concealed, he sank to the floor, clutching his head in his hands as he struggled to breathe. You do not have time for this. You have an obligation to fulfill, GET UP!

It was too late. He squeezed his eyes shut against the memories as he spiraled down.

The massive armored figure roared and charged, his sword raised high above his head. Sunlight bounced off his gleaming armor and flashed in Douxie’s eyes, blinding him. When the spots cleared from his vision, he saw the blade swinging down towards his head. Ice rushed through his veins. At the last moment, he crossed his arms tight over his chest, throwing up a barrier between him and the raging knight. 

The sword smashed against his magic, producing a shockwave that rattled his bones. Two voices echoed around him.  

                                                     “What’s wrong, Your Majesty? Scared?” 

“I’ll kill you.”                                                                       

The sword beat against his shield again, and again, and again, each blow sending a jolt through his body.

Tears spilled from his eyes. “Arch!” he cried . “Claire, Steve, anyone, please!” 

No one answered. No one came. He searched the crowd for his friends, but he couldn’t find a single familiar face.

His shield was weakening. He could feel every crack like it was etched into his skin. Douxie squeezed his eyes shut and cried out desperately, “Master, help!”

The only response was the incessant hammering ringing through his head. He couldn’t breathe.

No. No, no, no. He opened his eyes and stared up at Arthur’s murderous expression. The sword bounced off a final time as the shield shattered.

For a moment, there was silence. Stillness. Douxie drew a single shuddering breath. Then, the sword swung down towards him like a guillotine. He screamed.

Douxie’s eyes shot open and he gasped for air like he was drowning. He found himself paralyzed on the stone floor of the castle hall, drenched in a cold sweat and trembling. He didn’t know how long he remained frozen. Every second felt like an eternity, if a second had even passed at all.

Eventually, his breathing evened out. He curled in on himself and closed his eyes. 

Douxie lay there until the merciless chimes roused him. He held his breath as he counted the bongs. One … two … three … four … five … six … seven … eight … nine … ten … eleven …

He breathed a sigh of relief. Eleven. He still had time. He hadn’t ruined everything with his weakness.

Yet, his ever-helpful brain supplied. He huffed and pulled himself to his feet, taking a moment to steady himself. Then, he trudged through the halls, following the sounds and smells to the kitchen.

-

Douxie stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching the well-oiled machine at work. The castle would fall in a day without them. Archie was nowhere to be seen, but then, that was to be expected. He would be lurking in the shadows, watching and listening. 

At first, no one noticed him, too focused on their tasks, until one servant carrying a stack of plates nearly walked into him. They skillfully shifted their weight to avoid the collision, the plates only clinking slightly at the sudden movement. But then, they looked up to assess the obstruction, and the plates instantly crashed to the floor with a cacophonous screech, leaving perfect silence in its wake.

All eyes turned to the source of the disaster, and then, to Douxie. For a moment, no one dared to even breathe. The pressure was stifling, choking him as he tried to speak.

“Uh, hi,” he finally managed.

They stared like frightened deer facing down a predator, ready to bolt at the slightest movement. Well, that was a great start. His mind raced, searching for some way to salvage the situation, when-

“HISIRDOOX CASPERAN!” a strong, angry voice shouted from across the room. Standing in another doorway opposite him was a servant girl with wild red hair and a thick Scottish accent. She glowered at him with her hands on her hips. “Did yoo turn ma fookin’ kitchen blue?!”

“O-oh, right. Hi, Ùna … maybe?” he squeaked.

The girl marched forward, the other servants parting in her wake. Many took the opportunity to fully flee the room. She stopped in front of him. “Wha’ the fook are y’ wearin’?”

“Uh,” he rubbed the back of his neck, at this point honestly more tired than sheepish, “a crown …”

“I can see tha’. What di’ y’ do?”

“I became king,” he grumbled. 

Ùna laughed. “No, absolootely not.”

He sighed. “I know it’s hard to believe but it’s the truth.”

“ Yoo? ” she scoffed.

Douxie frowned. “Well, you don’t need to sound that surprised.”

“Yer an absoloote moron.”

Douxie groaned. “Do you have to? Zoe already chewed me out.”

“As she shoold!” Ùna said with a nod of approval at her fellow woman’s actions. “Yer li’tle game ain’t funny an’ it ain’t cute! ‘Ave yoo no’ got a brain in yer ‘ead?”

Douxie squeezed his eyes shut against the coming tirade, ice creeping in at the edges of his being. 

“Y’ bet’er ‘ope Merlin finds y’ ‘fore th’ knights, ‘else-”

“Stop!” Douxie yelled. He reached behind him with a shaking hand and slowly pulled Excalibur from its place on his back, holding it out to her. “See for yourself.”

Ùna recoiled. She held her breath as her eyes dragged over every part of the sword; the golden hilt, emerald gem, and silvery edge. Glancing up at Douxie, then back to the sacred artifact, she whispered, “Tha’s – tha’s real , innit?”

He turned the blade point-down and drove it into the stone floor. “Try it,” he mumbled.

She took a few hesitant steps back from the hallowed sword. “Ah, no, tha’s alright.”

Douxie sighed and surveyed the empty room. There was no one here, no one to perform for. He slumped against the wall and slid down to the floor. Gods he just wanted to sleep. The kitchen was warm and comforting. He closed his eyes as tears slipped down his cheeks.

“... Hey,” Ùna called softly. She leaned down and placed a hand on his shoulder. “If yer gonna ‘ave y’self a cry, let's at least go somewhere more comfortable.”

She pulled him to his feet and led him through the archway she had come from. At the end of the hall, she shouldered open a large wooden door, revealing the rest of the kitchen servants sitting in small clusters, talking. A modest congregation had formed in one corner around a very happy black cat.

The moment they walked in, everyone froze. The room was silent, save for the loud rumbling of a purring kitty.

Ùna released Douxie and stepped forward with her hands on her hips. “Wha’ are yoo lazy fooks staring at? Back to work!”

The hoard of servants stampeded past them and down the hall.

The cat stopped purring and opened his eyes. He pulled a pair of wire spectacles from somewhere . As soon as they were on his face, his eyes widened. 

“Douxie!” Archie jumped up and ran to his familiar. “Douxie, talk to me!”

Douxie stared blankly at the floor.

“What’s wrong with him?” Archie demanded.

Ùna shook her head. “I’s jus’ too much, A think.” She guided Douxie to one of the beds and sat him down. She wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and held him tight against her chest.

Archie jumped into his lap and began purring intently.

A steady stream of quiet tears dripped down Douxie’s face. His eyes slipped closed and he drifted into a trance, warm and breathing.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, just existing in safety. Eventually, the cruel clock struck noon, the chimes echoing throughout the castle. Douxie slowly opened his eyes.

“I was supposed to make a speech …” he said slowly. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned back into her shoulder. “I have ruined everything I’ve tried to do.”

“That is most certainly not true,” Archie objected.

Douxie stared at the floor in front of him. “Archie, you have not seen all the mistakes I have made.”

Ùna rubbed his back. “It’s alright, ev’ryone fooks up.”

“No, I don’t have time to fuck up! This is too important, there’s too many people’s lives at stake-”

“Oi! Don’ make me bop y’ on tha ‘ead!” she warned. “Wha’ever magic fookery yoo’ve gotten into, A know y’re goin’ to solve it. Y’ always do. Fret’n’ about it ain’t goin’ t’ help anything.”

He gave a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Right. We’re already falling. Either I fly, or we all crash. There’s no third option.”

She tilted her head to look at him. “Ar’ yoo tha’ stoopid wizard boy A know?

Douxie chuckled. “No. Sorry.”

“Who ar’ yoo, then?”

“I …” he sighed, “I am Hisirdoux Casperan, 919 years old.”

She reeled back and stared at him. “Well y’ don’ look it!”

He barked out a laugh. “Thank you, Ùna. You could always make me smile.”

“An’ A can make y’ miserable, too, so don’ test me.”

“I know,” he laughed. He took a deep breath. “ Your Hisirdoux is with Merlin. He’s fine.”

“O’, A know.”

“Wait, what?”

She grinned at him. “If ‘e wasn’t, Zoe’d’ve torn y’ limb from limb. An’ Archie don’ seem to mind.”

Douxie laughed. “Fair point. … Are you mad?”

“Wha’ kind of question is tha’? Yoo’d know if A was.”

A slight smile pulled at his lips. “I didn’t mean to-” he stopped and considered his plan, his actions. “I suppose I did mean to deceive you. I’m sorry.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

Douxie sighed. “I have to go.”

“Well come on, then.” She grabbed his hands, hauling him up from the bed, and dragged him back down the hall.

The kitchen was back to its usual pace, except for the frequent nervous glances and the way the workers very deliberately rerouted their paths to avoid the sword sticking out of the floor. As Douxie and Ùna appeared in the doorway, it all came to a screeching halt again. Dozens of eyes locked onto him. No one dared to breathe.

Douxie took a deep breath. “Hi, I’m … I’m Hisirdoux. Um …” he trailed off, averting his gaze nervously.

“Oi! He’s your fookin’ king now, so y’ bet’er act like it!”

“Ùna, no,” he sighed. Douxie turned and faced the room with steady determination. He walked through the center of the room to the hallway guarded by Excalibur, Archie at his heels. 

The mosaic of shattered plates was still there just before the archway. With a wave of his hand, blue light surrounded the pieces, and they floated up into the air, reassembling and stacking themselves on a nearby counter. 

He turned to face the room and placed his hand on the hilt of Excalibur. “My name is Hisirdoux,” he stated, slowly and clearly. “Who I am and why I’m here is … complicated, but I want you to know that you are safe. I will see to that. I will explain more tonight at sunset, in the town square.” He pulled the sword smoothly out of the floor and affixed it to his back. 

Douxie looked straight across the way to where Ùna was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. “Ùna, thank you,” he said sincerely. 

Ùna rolled her eyes. “Ah, don’ be givin’ them any ideas tha’ I’m soft.”

“Of course not. You’re a merciless terror,” he chuckled. 

“An’ don’ yoo forge’ it,” she warned. “Now off with y’!”

With a parting smile, he and Archie turned and started back down the hall. A few steps in, he stopped and turned back. “Oh! Also, would you mind sending some food up to the throne room for –" he counted on his fingers, “three humans, one cat, and uh …” he thought for a moment, “and as much rubbish as you can find. Broken bits of metal, busted pots, dirty laundry, whatever.”

“Rubbish?” she asked as he turned and ran back through the maze of corridors. “HISIRDOOX!”

---

Callista groused as she entered Arthur’s chambers and took in her ridiculous surroundings. The entire room was disgusting. The walls were “decorated” with all manner of mounted horns and antlers; some animal, some troll. An intricate tapestry depicting silver knights hunting trolls and slaying dragons dominated one wall. She sneered at it. Gleaming weapons, suits of armor, and various gold statues were scattered along the walls. She eyed a few of the swords. Find something that can help us get through to him, the kid had said. Those would certainly get through something .

As she made her way farther into the room, she came to a small table displaying a glass bowl filled with an assortment of glittering jewels. She cocked an eyebrow. Well, at least he’s courteous enough to leave snacks for visitors. She popped one into her mouth and continued trundling through the ridiculous space.

She spied an ornate desk piled high with letters. Those looked promising. 

Callista dropped into the cushy chair and picked one at random. She tore open the seal and started reading. 

Your exalted highness,

Per my previous correspondence, I am writing to inquire as to why the funds for this ship have not been approved. I have requested a mere £700* to build a glorious warship to represent your empire. I’m sure you are already aware that King Gustav of Sweden has already begun construction of his prized ship. Should he complete it, it will be the most powerful and spectacular warship in all of Europe. It wouldn’t do for Britain to be outdone.

As I already explained in my last letter, I have England’s best shipbuilders and an army of laborers ready to begin construction as soon as they receive their payment. I look forward to your prompt response.

Your most humble subject,

Duke Eustace of Cambenet

She stared at the letter in disbelief. Is this really how they talk to their king? At least she had the decency to tell Vendel off to his face in no uncertain terms.

Callista picked through a few more letters and found the same pretentious attitude, the same false flattery. She didn’t feel bad for Arthur, not by a long shot, but she was thoroughly disgusted by the egotistical indifference found in their words.

Someone ought to put these fleshbags in their place.

… 

Callista took a quill and a fresh roll of parchment and began penning her response.

Dear Duke Prissypants,

Fuck you and your boat! You know how many people I could feed with that money?! How many houses I could build, the infrastructure I could improve, social programs I could establish?!

If you wanna have a cock-measuring contest with King Who’sit of Wherever, use your own!

Take a hint and don’t come crawling to me to fund your dumbass wet dreams again!

Sincerely, 

Your KING

She hummed to herself merrily as she sealed the letter, labeled it, and dropped it neatly into a small box of outgoing mail. Well, that was cathartic.

Callista started pulling out drawers. In one of them, she found a leather-bound journal.

“Ooh, a diary? Yes please!”

She skimmed through it, hoping to find scandals and secrets, but the whole thing was thoroughly underwhelming. There were no confessions, just the tired account of a bitter old man.

June 23

Galahad’s men returned with a horde of magical abominations. They now rot in the dungeon, where they belong. Morgana, of course, objected. She does not understand. We are at war. I am king, and as king it is my duty to keep the people safe. Yet, she believes that they are misunderstood, innocent. She is naïve. 

“Ugh.” Callista flipped to a more recent page.

August 1

How can Morgana be so blinded by idealism when she witnessed Gwen’s murder? If we show those fiends mercy, they will overrun us. Her compassion for monsters is indefensible. I wonder, at times, whose side she is really on.

She rolled her eyes and skipped ahead.

September 16

I love Morgana as a sister, but the truth is that she is not. While we share the same mother, she is borne from the loins of Duke Gorloïs, an enemy of my father. She would be right to want revenge for what Uther Pendragon did to him, and our mother. 

I fear she cannot be trusted. When her damned magic emerged, I charged Merlin to watch her, keep her under control, but she has only grown stronger. I feel her eyes in the shadows, watching me, waiting to strike …

Callista looked to the final entry on the opposite page.

September 17

Morgana … my dear sister. You were the last good thing I had. I watched magic poison you and did nothing. I was a fool. When I looked at you, I saw Gwen’s light. Now, there is only darkness …

Callista tossed the book onto the desk in disgust. The gall of this man! Condemning her one moment then mourning her the next. Serves him right. He doesn’t get to choose who his hatred destroys. Unlike Arthur, destruction holds no prejudice. 

Pity, though. This woman, Moragana, she sounded like a good person. One exception in a sea of loathsome humans. Callista grimaced at the unfairness of it all. Of course, the good always drown.

Callista sighed and turned back to the task at hand; digging through chests and wardrobes, examining the portraits staring down at her, glaring back. She wandered aimlessly around the room and sighed. How long had she been here? It felt like hours.

She dropped herself into a chair, relishing the sound of it groaning under her weight. On a table before her sat a chessboard with a game in progress. She glared at the white king, he and his knights facing off against the black army.

“Up yours, fuck nugget.” She flicked the tall piece across the room. It hit one of the heavy curtains, but rather than clinking against a hidden window, the plush fabric cushioned the impact. The figure fell to the floor and rolled back behind the veil.

“Huh?”

While every other curtain lining the walls was midnight blue, this one was a deep ruby red. She hadn’t thought anything of it before, what did she care about his shitty interior decorating?

Callista crept up and hesitantly poked the center of the curtain. Rather than cold, hard glass, her hand met open air. She frowned and cast her dubious gaze around the room. She knew that deadly sunlight hid behind every dark panel.

She carefully pinched the fabric and lifted the edge a cautious inch off the ground, shuffling her feet back away from the oncoming threat. Except, there was none. No sunlight spilled across the stone floor. Callista looked around, thoroughly distrustful, but too curious to turn away. 

“Alright, Arthur, let’s see what dark secrets you’re hiding.” She grabbed the curtain and threw it to the side.

Callista wasn’t really sure what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t … this. The velvet curtain concealed a small alcove cut into the stone wall. A small altar sat below a portrait of a beautiful woman she recognized. She turned around and saw the woman again in the painting hanging over the fireplace. In it, Arthur sat holding Excalibur, looking decidedly less cruel than he was now. The woman stood at his shoulder in an elegant gown, one hand resting on his shoulder, with a kind smile on her face.

She turned back to the altar. It was draped in a white satin sheet. There were candles, jewels, and small tokens scattered across its surface, but the most eyecatching piece was an ornate box sitting in the center of the grand display. Where everything else in the room was cold and hard, with sharp edges, this was soft with elegant curves. It was made of a golden-brown wood, inlaid with pearls and gold. A small keyhole interrupted the flawless surface.

Callista picked it up and pulled on the lid. It didn’t move. Of course, it’s locked, she thought. Probably keeps the key on a stupid little chain around his neck. She tried again, pulling harder. The wood around the latch and hinges fractured. She froze in the deafening silence following the jagged sound.

… Welp. It’s open now.

She glanced around for someone to reprimand her, but found no one. With a sigh of relief, she set the box down on the altar and laid the lid gingerly to the side before examining the contents.

Her eyes widened. “Whoa …”

She spent about an hour just looking through the box, being extremely careful with each item. When she reached the bottom, she sighed heavily.

This wasn’t her thing. She was a crass troll with no patience for frilly, sappy stuff. But, sitting here observing the hateful man’s vulnerability … he felt just a little less monstrous. If this could barely get through to her, then maybe …

She gingerly reassembled the box, putting everything back in its place. She winced at the sight of the splintered lid, and set it precisely on top of the box. Hopefully, that magic kid could fix it. 

As Callista stood to leave, she stopped and turned back towards the alcove. She set the box down on a nearby table and waddled back to the altar. “Uh, sorry, I’ll be more careful with it. Promise.” She respectfully drew the curtain before collecting the box and wandering back to their base of operations.

---

As the clock struck noon, Jim paced in the throne room, hands wrapped tightly around his horns. He’d been replaying the scene over and over in his head, trying to figure out what went wrong.

He looked up as the door creaked open and Claire entered. His face lit up. “Claire!”

She ran forward and jumped into his arms. 

He spun her around and kissed her. When they finally parted, he looked at her with deep worry.

“Claire, I think I did something wrong, but I’m not sure what.”

“What happened?” Claire asked.

“When Douxie came to talk to the knights – no one challenged him. They just sat there. So I ran at him. I wanted them to see that he can hold his own, that they shouldn’t mess with him. I wasn’t actually going to hurt him, I figured he’d stop me long before I got to him. But he just … froze. He barely got his shield up and – what?”

Claire shook her head, reaching out to take his hand. “Jim, I understand what you were trying to do, but … after Douxie won the duel, Arthur didn’t stop. He lost it and charged at Douxie. He kept smashing his sword against Douxie’s magic until Steve and I grabbed him. Arthur was trying to kill him. He said as much.”

Jim’s eyes widened as he pictured the scene, noticing the disturbing parallels between it and his ill-fated performance. “Claire, I –"

“Being a peasant sucks butts!” Steve declared as he stomped into the room. He threw his hat on the floor and set to trying to fix his hair.

Douxie entered a moment later with Archie riding on his shoulder. He gestured vaguely in their direction, dispelling the illusions.

“Douxie, I’m so sorry,” Jim said.

“What?” Douxie asked with a look of genuine confusion.

“Claire told me –"

Realization dawned on Douxie’s face. He grimaced and dropped his gaze to the floor. “It’s fine, Jim.”

“No, it’s not!”

“We don’t have time to get hung up on petty things,” Douxie insisted. “We move forward. That wasn’t your fault and trust me, your mistakes are nothing compared to mine.”

Archie cast a concerned glance down at his familiar, but didn’t comment.

Silence stretched between them as Jim and Douxie stared at each other.

Steve looked back and forth between the two. “Wait, what happened?”

“Nothing,” Douxie said softly as he walked towards the war room, Claire and Steve trailing behind him.

Jim stared after the wizard and silently swore that the next time someone threatened Douxie, he would be at the wizard’s side, ready to defend.

---

Douxie led his entourage into the war room.

As they walked in, Blinky jumped up and stood in front of them. “UBUPBUPBUP. May I introduce, Aargaumont ,” he announced with a theatrical bow towards the hulking troll. 

Aaarrrgghh nodded. “Still call Aaarrrgghh.”

“Yes, but now it is his own identity, not Gunmar’s.”

Douxie smiled at the large troll. “That’s wonderful, Aaarrrgghh.”

Aaarrrgghh grinned wide with his tombstone teeth.

Douxie stopped off at the grand table on his way to their previous meeting place at the end of the room. He searched the drawers until he found what he was looking for, a small box full of very particular flags.

He took the box to the table in front of the fireplace and dumped it out. Twelve tiny banners affixed to little posts scattered across the table. He stood each one up on its little stand, then took his place at the head of the table.

His friends followed, returning to their spots around the table. Blinky and Aaarrrgghh took up positions behind the couch, looking on.

“Right, what do we know?” He removed his crown and set it at the end of the table in front of him. Then he selected two banners and placed them inside the circle. “Lancelot and Galahad are already here in the castle with us, there’s nothing we can do about that.”

“Some dude named Boris is fighting in Goal,” Steve reported.

Douxie shook his head. “Gaul. France. Right, Sir Bors is out, there’s no way he could get here in less than a week.” Douxie tossed Sir Bors’ banner back into the box.

“Sir Percival is with him, and Sir Tristan is in the North doing something for his uncle,” Claire added.

Douxie nodded. “His uncle’s castle is in the far North. They’re both out.”

“And, I don’t know where Sir Gaheris is, but he isn’t supposed to be back for a month,” she finished.

“Good.” Douxie put another three banners back into the box. He turned to Jim.

“Gareth and Gawain left yesterday,” Jim said slowly as he studied the make-shift map.

Douxie sighed. “They’ll be nearly back by now.” He placed two banners just outside the castle.

“And … they told me about Lamorak? They said he should be back any day.”

“Damn,” Douxie hissed. He reluctantly deposited another banner outside the castle. He eyed the three remaining banners. “Okay. That leaves Sirs Bedivere, Kay, and Geraint. Anyone hear anything about them?”

His companions reacted with silence and shaking heads.

Douxie let out a deep breath. “Right. We’re up against five to eight of the Knights of the Round Table, including some of their fiercest.”

“What’s the plan?”

Douxie thought for a moment. “I don’t think they’ll try anything today. They want as many allies as possible, or else they wouldn’t have bothered with the flare and would have tried to kill me by now.”

He looked up as the door opened and Callista entered, holding a small wooden box. “Hey, magic kid. Can you fix this? I sorta … broke it.”

“Callista!” Douxie gasped. “You shouldn’t be walking around the castle alone!”

She handed him the box. “Don’t patronize me, I can take care of myself. See, got a souvenir.” She held up a massive steel battle axe.

Douxie placed the box on the table and examined it. His eyes widened.

“This is exactly what we need, good job Callista!”

Douxie held the box and wispy blue ribbons wrapped around it, mending the damage.

“So, what now?” Claire asked. 

Douxie folded his hands under his chin, warring with himself over whether or not to propose what he was thinking. “There’s … something I want to try, but you’re not going to like it.”

“You’re the king. It’s your call.”

Douxie frowned at the blind loyalty, but …

“I want you to take a message to Morgana.”

Notes:

If Douxie gets his meltdown card punched nine times, he gets the tenth one free. XD

A note on Callista's axe: I struggled with that a lot and if I remove it later I'll also remove this note. I swear to every god, that's Callista's axe. It is not Chekhov's axe. I have no plans for it (though things have changed as I've progressed through writing this fic, that could change). But given access to free weapons, Callista would absolutely yoink one. And she deserves it. Let the woman have a big ass axe. It is an axessory.

*I spent way too much time trying to figure this out. He wants to construct a warship comparable to Vasa. According to the Royal Navy, Vasa would be considered a third-rate warship (in the 1700s). Vasa was built about a century earlier. Of course, all of that is about 500 years after the events of Wizards, but then, King Arthur was actually in the 5th century so who’s more in the wrong here?

Anyways, Vasa cost 200,000 Rex dollars (money of the king), whatever the fuck THAT is. I could not find any reference for what a rex dollar was/is worth. However, it was also 5% of Sweden’s yearly national income. Then I found this:

 

“A century later, and King Edward I’s construction work in the newly conquered North Wales proved particularly expensive. Between 1282 and 1304, the total cost of his castle building came to at least £80,000, almost six times Edward’s annual income.”

 

£80,000 divided by 6 is about 14,000. So I went with a king’s income being £14,000. I dunno how a king’s income compares to the sum of the kingdom’s treasury, so I just ignored that. 5% of £14,000 is £700.

TL:DR IT’S A SHIT TON OF MONEY

Also if you aren’t familiar with Vasa, look it up XD. He wants a shitty boatload of money to build a shitty, shitty ship.

Ùna’s lines in plain English:

"HISIRDOUX CASPERAN! Did you turn my fucking kitchen blue?"

"What the fuck are you wearing?"

"I can see that. What did you do?"

"No, absolutely not."

"You?"

"You're an absolute moron."

"As she should! Your little game isn't funny and it isn't cute. Have you not got a brain in your head?"

"You better hope Merlin finds you before the knights, or else-"

"That's – that's real, isn't it?"

"Uh, no, that's alright."

"... Hey. If you're going to have yourself a cry, let's at least go somewhere more comfortable."

"What are you lazy fucks staring at? Back to work!"

"It's just too much, I think."

"It's alright, everyone fucks up."

"Hey! Don't make me bop you on the head. Whatever magic fuckery you've gotten into, I know you're going to solve it. You always do. Fretting about it isn't going to help anything."

"Are you the stupid wizard boy I know?"

"Who are you, then?"

"Well you don't look it!"

"And I can make you miserable, too, so don't test me."

"Oh, I know."

"If he wasn't, Zoe would have torn you limb from limb. And Archie doesn't seem to mind."

"What kind of question is that? You'd know if I was."

"Well come on, then."

"Hey! He's your fucking king now, so you better act like it!"

"Ah, don't be giving them any ideas that I'm soft."

"And don't you forget it. Now off with you!"

"Rubbish? HISIRDOUX!"

Chapter 9

Notes:

Aight, some things.
Thing 1: Hi.
Thing 2: What is below was supposed to be only half of this chapter. I decided to cut it in the middle because
a. The doc was almost twice the length of a usual chapter.
b. This half was basically done, while the second half still needed a lot of work. And it was just dragging on, I felt like I was never going to get this chapter out which lead to me having a harder time working on it because what was the point, and repeat into a death spiral. As such, the ending is a bit abrupt, BUT hopefully I will also have part 2 out soonish as it is at least mostly drafted already.
Thing 3: I no longer have a beta. Nothing happened, just life. But, as such, if anyone would like to beta this, DO hit me up.

A lot of shit's been happening for me, but hopefully dividing this chapter will help some. I have no intentions of dropping this project.

Claire emerged above the shallow valley where the infamous bridge stood. 

Morgana stood on a ledge overlooking what would be their battlefield in two days. The mid-day sun shone down, setting her armor ablaze. Her helmet lay abandoned at her feet, and a faint breeze gently swept her bangs.

“Handmaiden,” she hissed without turning to look at Claire. “Did I not make my position clear?”

Claire drew on all her acting experience to project strength; shoulders back, head held high, voice clear with careful enunciation. “I’m here with a message from the king. He wants to speak to you.”

“I have nothing to say to my brother,” Morgana spat.

Claire smirked, letting the expression bleed into her words. “I didn’t say your brother. I said the king. ”

Morgana finally turned and regarded Claire with curiosity. “Are you trying to lure me into a trap?”

Claire crossed her arms, giving Morgana an incredulous look. “If I was, do you really think you couldn’t get out of it?”

Morgana hummed. “And why would you invite me inside Camelot’s walls?”

Claire shrugged. “Ask him yourself.”

---

Douxie was pacing in front of the throne. To say that he was nervous would be an understatement. His chest rattled with the force of each shuddering breath.

To one side of the throne, the twelfth-century trolls were assembled. To the other side, Jim and Steve stood with a gap left for Claire to join them. Archie sat on the dais with Douxie, watching his familiar’s pacing with deep concern.

“I thought Morgana was dead,” Callista commented from the far end of their arc.

“That depends on your definition of ‘dead’,” Archie drawled.

Callista frowned at the dragon. “Deceased. Un-alive.”

Archie sighed. “She was. But now she’s un-un-alive.”

Blinky worried both sets of hands as his six eyes carefully tracked the king’s movements. “Master Douxie, are you quite sure this is a good idea? Inviting our enemy into the very heart of our operation?”

Douxie frowned. “She isn’t our enemy, not yet. Morgana was … is my friend. She’s a good person who was pushed too far.”

“Is that who we’re inviting in? You said she died and was brought back by primordial gods. Are you sure she is still herself?”

“Yes,” Douxie assured him. “Morgana is nothing if not strong-willed.”

“And yet, you are not confident in her allegiance.”

Douxie grimaced. He couldn’t deny it; Morgana’s cooperation was anything but certain.

“If she is so strong-willed, how do you think you are going to change her mind?” Blinky insisted.

Douxie stopped pacing and thought. What was his plan? 

The truth was, he didn’t have one. He realized that this entire charade wasn’t about swaying Morgana, it was a desperate, naive hope that his friend was still in there, unchanged by her transformation. This was about his own peace of mind. He had to try one last time to bring her back. 

But that was horribly short-sighted. Douxie knew history, knew that, for events to happen as they would to form the future they came from, Morgana would side with Gunmar, would try to bring about the eternal night. The only conclusion was that he was deluding himself, and risking so much to indulge that selfish urge. 

This was a bad idea. A horrible, doomed idea. He shouldn’t be doing this.

A purple void opened in the center of the throne room, catching everyone’s attention.

Douxie sucked in a sharp breath. It was too late to turn back.

-

Claire emerged first, moving quickly to assume her spot at his side.

A moment later, Morgana stepped through the portal.

Douxie’s heart stopped at the sight of his friend transformed. Her face was the same, with the defiant pout and full cheeks he was so familiar with. Her bangs framed her face, while her long, wrapped braid swung down to her feet. 

And that was where the similarities ended.

Morgana was covered from the neck down in shimmering golden scales. Elegant gold armor plates adorned her arms and legs. The fingers of one hand were tipped in long, razor-like claws. The other hand, the one Arthur had cut off, was just green.

The two wizards locked eyes. Morgana’s indignant frown immediately dissolved into awe. “Little Douxie?”

Douxie swallowed the lump in his throat. “Morgana,” he addressed her, his voice wavering as he fought back tears. “It’s … good to see you, alive.” He took a deep breath. “Um, no, well, yes, but –” 

He sighed and started over. “Yes, I am Hisirdoux. But not the one you know. I am Hisirdoux from nine hundred years in the future. I was the one in the forest who conjured the memories of you and Arthur and Gwen. My meddling is the reason you died. It … it wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked on the last word.

Morgana leveled her intense gaze at him. “You are the reason I died?”

Douxie winced and hung his head. 

“… Then I suppose I should thank you.”

Douxie’s head shot up. “What?”

Morgana smiled at him with vicious glee. “Dying was the best thing that ever happened to me,” she purred. She examined her green hand as flecks of gold magic swirled around it. “It gave me the power to change things.”

The words felt like a blow to the chest. “Morgana, you always had the power to change things,” Douxie croaked.

“Then why did the trolls rot in the dungeon?” she demanded. “Why did the knights hunt magical creatures?”

“Because no one person can change the world on their own! They need allies. Friends.”

Morgana pointedly looked away and didn’t respond. She instead searched the renovated throne room and narrowed her eyes. “Where is Arthur?” she ground out, every syllable a threat.

“In the dungeon.”

“Alive?!” she demanded. She shook her head. “Of course you didn’t have the stomach to kill him. Time hasn’t changed you, Little Douxie. You’re too soft.”

“I …” Douxie looked away, searching for an apology, some way to excuse his failure. Excuse the inadequacy of his very being, his chronic inability to play by the rules …  

No. Those were Merlin’s thoughts. Arthur’s thoughts. Morgana’s thoughts. But he was different.

Douxie swore he could feel the crown buzzing happily around his head. He turned back to Morgana with firm resolve in his eyes. “No, I didn’t kill him. I am not going to be like him, taking by force.”

Morgana laughed. “How do you stand here wearing his crown if not by force?”

“That’s not Arthur’s crown,” Claire said, folding her arms over her chest.

Morgana looked at Douxie hard, picking him apart with her eyes. “... So it isn’t.” She furrowed her brow and thought for a moment. “And what of Merlin? Is he not pulling your strings?”

Douxie took a breath, measuring his words carefully. “Do you see Merlin here?”

Morgana narrowed her gaze. “No. Is he in the dungeon, too?”

Douxie didn’t answer.

“Of course not,” she snapped. “You wouldn’t touch the old man, and Merlin will never turn against Arthur. As long as he is involved, Arthur is in control. Merlin is Arthur’s dog! And you, you are nothing more than a foolish, naive little boy.”

Douxie gasped and staggered back, wrapping his arms tight around his chest. Morgana’s accusation stabbed through his heart. The words burned, especially because they were true. Or, at least, they had been true for nine hundred years.

Morgana’s mouth curved up into a cruel, patronizing smile. “Don’t try to lie to me, Little Douxie. A thousand years, and yet you are still the same stupid welp trotting at Merlin’s heels.”

Douxie grimaced as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

“Hey! Leave him alone!” Steve shouted, jumping to his king’s defense.

Morgana whipped her head around to stare at him. Her eyes pierced him like a butterfly pinned to a board. She addressed Douxie without looking at him, her voice an eerie drawl. “What strange company you keep.”

Steve was paralyzed. His eyes darted all around the room, looking for an escape.

Darkness swallowed her eyes as Morgana turned to face Steve properly. She rose a mere inch off the floor and lazily drifted towards him.

Claire and Jim tensed. Shadows swirled in Claire’s hands.

Morgana raised her hand towards Steve. 

“ENOUGH.” Douxie’s voice echoed through the chamber as a wall of blue fire erupted between Morgana and his fellow time travelers. 

The trollhunters jumped back away from the flames. 

Morgana froze, looking at Douxie out of the corner of her eye. 

Douxie’s voice rang through the hall, clear and strong. “I did not call you here to trade barbs or settle scores! I called you here to talk.” He narrowed his eyes. “And you will not hurt my friends.”

She glared back at him for a moment before alighting on the floor and slowly stalking back to her place before him “Then by all means. Let’s ‘talk’.”

Douxie’s fire died as he let out a breath. He tried again, his words slow and deliberate. “You asked me a question. I stand here wearing this crown by divine mandate. I am Nimue’s new chosen.”

Morgana balked at him. “The Lady of the Lake? You spoke with her? That’s not possible.”

Douxie pulled Excalibur off his back and held it between them. The gem gleamed in the candlelight and blue wisps of magic clung to it like a gas flame.

Morgana sucked in a sharp breath. If he didn’t know better, Douxie would have sworn she flinched at the sight of the blade. “How?” she asked, her eyes never leaving the sword. “No one but Merlin is allowed to meet with her.”

The corner of Douxie’s mouth quirked up. “I didn’t exactly have Merlin’s blessing. Nine hundred years, I’ve gotten pretty tired of doing what I’m ‘allowed’ to do.” He sheathed the sword on his back and continued with a more sober tone. “Nimue chose me to fix what Arthur broke. She said I don’t need to be like Arthur and Merlin. And you. I don’t need to force people to my will. She promised me that doing what I think is right will work. The remedy to hate is not more hate, it is understanding. We can bridge the gap.”

Morgana fell silent. She looked down as doubt and sadness flashed across her face. 

For a moment, Douxie clung to the improbable hope that he had actually gotten through to her. 

Then her grim scowl returned. She shook her head. “It’s too late. Too much suffering stains this land. Only retribution will heal these wounds. Camelot represents the hate you speak of, an edifice to our persecution. It must fall, and Arthur with it! As long as it stands, nothing will change!” Her hands curled into fists. The claws of her right hand scraped against her armor, producing a horrible sound. “They had their chance, had far too many chances. Now, humanity shall fall and magic will rise!”

“If magic strikes back, how long until we are the oppressors and the humans rise up against us?”

“They can try,” she threatened.

Douxie stared at her, mouth agape. “Do you not hear yourself?”

Morgana grinned. “Oh, I do. Finally, after so many years of mistreatment and subjugation, I no longer bow to decorum and properness. I will no longer temper my rage so as to not upset the humans who slaughter us! I will not deny the superiority of magic!” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You are a creature of magic, like me. Why do you fight for them? You are taking Arthur’s side against magic, betraying your own kind! Just like Merlin.”

“There are no sides!” Douxie insisted. “In conflicts of ‘us versus them’, no one ever wins. Merlin has made mistakes, but he has always tried to do what is right. As am I.”

“Then he has failed,” she snapped. “And so will you. You will see, when Arthur is dealt with and magic reigns supreme.”

“You mean when Gunmar reigns supreme? You would trade one murderous tyrant for another?”

“Gunmar would not hurt his fellow magical creatures.”

A low rumble came from the troll contingent. Aaarrrgghh was looking pointedly at the floor. “Would.”

Morgana turned to face the giant. “He cares for magic, for his people.”

Douxie squeezed his eyes shut. “They all care about their people,” he said gravely, slowly. “Their cause is noble, fueled by righteous fury and indignation. That’s how it always starts, with grand visions and worthy goals. And then, the poison spreads. They claim they will make things better, but it doesn’t work like that. It never works like that. It always ends with hatred and blood. Their list of enemies grows to include their own people, any who disagree, any who do not bow. I have seen it again and again and again. War does not lead to peace, it only leads to devastation and submission.”

Enough!” Morgana cried. “I am protecting the interests of magical creatures!”

“At what cost?” Douxie demanded.

“Any cost!” she thundered.

Douxie stared at her in disbelief. For a moment, deafening silence stretched between them.

“What about me?” Callista asked.

Morgana startled, then turned to look at her curiously. “I recognize you. You were in Arthur's dungeons.”

“Where am I supposed to go? We got a pretty clear message earlier: ‘Join Gunmar or die’. I defied that. So did every troll in Dwoza. What happens to us?”

Morgana opened her mouth, but all that came out were scattered syllables. Her eyes flitted around the room, as if searching the walls for a justification. “This is for the good of all magical creatures. You will see.”

Callista laughed. “Ya know, I liked you, reading about you in his diary.” She frowned. “But you’re just like him: fueled by rage, smashing anything and anyone that gets in the way of your revenge. It’s not that simple, and when you powerful whoevers wage your wars against each other, it only ends up hurting us, the people you claim you want to protect.”

Morgana opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. She lowered her gaze, something like shame staining her face. 

Douxie breathed a sigh of relief. Thank Deya. Callista may have given him the opening he needed. It was now or never. “Morgana, please. It’s not too late. If you had only seen Arthur after you fell. He shattered Excalibur in his grief. Despite your differences, you are family, Arthur and Morgana Pendragon-”

The shadow witch’s eyes flared with rage. “Morgana Pendragon is dead!” She rose several feet into the air. “I am Morgan le Fay! The Pale Lady, Mother of Monsters!” She glared down at Douxie. “I have no quarrel with you, Little Douxie. Do not let me meet you on the battlefield, for I will show no mercy.”

A vortex of gold-tinged shadows bloomed behind her and swallowed her whole.

-

Douxie stared at the spot where Morgana had disappeared.

“I’m sorry, Douxie,” Claire said softly.

“S’alright. Was stupid anyways,” he mumbled. He sighed heavily and looked to his friends with determination. “Our objectives remain the same. We have lots to do and little time to do it. Blinky and Aaarrrgghh, keep working on the battle plan. Callista … sorry, I actually don’t know what to have you do. It’s best if you stay in the war room, beyond my ward.”

“Sleep, got it!”

“Archie, go help Merlin and the other me with that amulet.”

Archie nodded and trotted out of the room.

“Someone needs to get to the bottom of the whole debacle with The Green Knight and The Arcane Order. Claire-”

“Steve’s on it!” Steve shouted with grating enthusiasm.

The entire group stared at him. 

“Are you sure? Douxie asked carefully. “No offense, but, you’re not really a ‘books’ person, Steve.”

Steve snickered. “You’ll see. I’ve got this.”

Douxie sighed and shook his head. “Alright then. Claire-”

“I … want to try to find something to convince Morgana,” Claire muttered.

Douxie’s eyes stung as he stared at her. He agreed with a silent nod.

Jim turned and smiled at his girlfriend. “I’ll help.”

Douxie held up a hand. “No, Jim. I need your help, personally.”

---

Douxie waited for the room to clear, everyone going to their assigned tasks. When they were alone, Douxie sighed and turned to Jim.

“What’s up?” Jim asked.

Douxie pulled the sword off his back. “Arthur was right. I can’t wield Excalibur.”

Jim sighed. “Douxie –"

“I mean I can’t wield it.”

Jim laughed. “Apparently, you can. You beat Arthur in a duel.”

“That was luck,” Douxie argued.

“Are you sure about that?” Jim contended.

Douxie sighed. “I don’t know how to fight with a sword. Like you do.”

“Does it matter? From what I’ve heard, you’re amazing with your magic.”

A slight smile pulled at Douxie’s lips. “Even so, Excalibur is a powerful weapon. I’d rather know how to use it, should I need to, rather than fumbling around when it really counts. I want you to train me.”

Jim’s eyes widened. “Uhh, remind me how much time we have until Killahead?”

Douxie chuckled. “I don’t expect to become a master swordsman in an afternoon, I just want to have some idea of what I’m doing.”

Jim thought for a minute. “Alright.”

Douxie grinned. He hurried over to a door behind the throne and came back with a very uninteresting sword. He handed the sword to Jim, radiating excited determination. “Alright, I’m ready!”

“Ready for what, exactly?” Jim laughed.

Douxie sputtered. “Um …”

Jim set his sword aside. “Square up. Show me how you hold a sword.”

Douxie was suddenly very self-conscious. He tried to copy what he’d seen the knights do, hyper-aware of every move, the exact angles of his body.

Jim circled him slowly, observing his positioning. He wandered behind Douxie, out of sight.

The wizard held his breath and tensed his muscles even more.

Douxie shrieked as Jim grabbed his shoulders, shaking him around. Douxie stumbled forward and turned on Jim, swinging the sword around carelessly. “What was that for?”

“You need to chill,” Jim laughed. “Relax. What are you so worried about?”

Douxie looked down and didn’t respond.

“Are you nervous?”

Douxie sighed. “Maybe. Yes.”

“Why?”

“Make a fool of myself,” Douxie mumbled.

“Do you think I’m going to laugh at you?” Jim asked.

Douxie kept his eyes on the floor.

Jim sighed. “When we get back to the present, ask Blinky about my training. I promise, you are not going to be more embarrassing than me.”

Douxie grit his teeth. He was being ridiculous. He had asked for this, after all. He let out a long breath. “Alright. I’ll try.”

Jim smiled. “Okay. The first thing to work on is your stance.” Jim showed Douxie how to stand, where to place his feet. He corrected the wizard’s posture (“Lean forward, otherwise a stiff breeze could knock you over,”) and adjusted Douxie’s grip on the hilt (“You don’t need to strangle it, Doux,”).

“Alright. Now, let’s teach you how to use it.” Jim retrieved his sword and began explaining. “Excalibur’s a broadsword, like Daylight. You’re not going to be doing a lot of stabbing with it. Broadswords are made for power over finesse. It’s heavy, its strength lies in momentum and wide swings.”

Jim showed Douxie some basic movements; how to strike from various angles, how to parry, how to properly follow through on his strikes. “Right, you got all that?”

“Uh, I think so.”

“Good. Then it’s time to put it to the test.” Jim crossed his arms and smirked. “I dare you to hit me.”

“What, that’s it?” Douxie asked incredulously.

Jim smirked. “Yeah. Land one hit on me.”

Douxie laughed and lunged at Jim.

---

The grating sound of crunching stone came again from Blinky’s right. He turned towards Aaarrrgghh and sighed at the contented look on the goliath’s face as he chewed.

Aaarrrgghh reached for another figurine on the table.

Blinky slapped Aaarrrgghh’s massive hand away from the table. “Would you stop eating all the knights?”

Aaarrrgghh licked his lips. “Mmm. Tasty.”

Callista snorted. “Not his fault the humans made ‘em out of marble.” She picked up a statuette and inspected it. 

“Put Merlin back!”

“Why is Merlin the queen?”

“Because the queen is the most powerful piece. She stands beside the king and can move wherever she pleases. A fitting analogy for the master wizard,” Blinky lectured, quite pleased with his own symbolismic genius. Then, the implications of her question caught up with him. He stopped and turned to her. “How do you know that is the queen?”

Callista crossed her arms.“Know a lot of human things. Knights took me from my village as a youngling. They tried to ‘civilize’ us, ya know, before Arthur went completely genocidal.”

The vast quantity of situations rendering Blinky speechless today was becoming quite concerning; he worried that it would become a chronic condition. Nevertheless, Blinky stared dumbly at her. 

Callista was a troublemaker. An outsider. She was a horrifying mutilation of what a troll should be. For the first time, those thoughts brought heartbreak rather than a feeling of superiority. Blinky looked over at Aaarrrgghh, who was attempting to build a small tower out of chess pieces, then back to Callista. Two sides of the same coin. Two victims of equal and opposite wrongs. He let out a shaky breath. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to mend bridges with her, to regard her with the respect she deserved.

Callista raised an eyebrow at him. “You got a problem, Four-Arms?”

Blinky shook himself out of his reverie. “What? No, no – um, where was I … Ah! Yes, the other pieces.” He cleared his throat and continued with his explanation. He was ill-prepared for social revelations on this scale, but lecturing, he could do. “Master Douxie is the king, obviously. Merlin I have already explained. The shadow witch is the knight. She moves about the board in unexpected ways, creating unique opportunities to strike at her enemies. And finally, the ‘Trollhunter’. The rook. A stalwart pillar of defense.”

Callista rolled her eyes. “Okay, sure, but we’re planning a battle, not writing a poem. Wouldn’t it make more sense to assign pieces based on something more obvious than symbolism?”

Blinky crossed two arms and planted the remaining ones on his hips. “Oh? And what do you suggest?”

Callista smirked. She swapped the positions of the queen and king, and the knight and rook. Then, she pointed to each in turn. “Spiky hat. Tall and pretentious. Short. Not human-shaped.”

Blinky sputtered. He couldn’t deny the pragmatic reasoning, but he was damned if he was going to admit it. He suppressed an indignant huff and just sighed, composing himself for a much more cordial conversation. He forced a smile onto his face and turned back to Callista. “I didn’t think any trolls besides myself and my brother knew anything about chess. Do you play?”

She grinned viciously. “Oh, yeah, totally.” She picked up a spare pawn and turned to Aaarrrgghh. “Hey big guy, wanna play chess?”

Aaarrrgghh’s eyes lit up as she swung the hand holding the piece underhand. His tail wagged like a puppy’s.

She launched the piece into the air, arcing it beautifully towards his mouth.

He easily caught the figure and crushed it between his enormous teeth.

Blinky gave a horrified gasp. Disrespecting lore was one thing, but this … perhaps he had not been so wrong in his initial assessment of her. It was a draw.

Aaarrrgghh chewed and swallowed the small stone piece. He hummed contentedly. “Aaarrrgghh like chest.”

Blinky sighed in defeat.

Steve chuckled from across the room. 

Blinky looked up to admonish the third unruly child surrounding him, but found that Steve was not paying attention to them at all, but rather was fully engrossed in whatever project he was working on at the other end of the room. “Judging by your snickering, I can only assume that you are creating lewd drawings or some such sophomoric antics.”

Callista perked up. “Ooh, count me in!”

Steve balked at him. “What? Naw, man. I’m working. This is the highest form of detective work.”

Blinky waddled over to the far side of the room, which the young knight had completely taken over with various papers and materials strewn about on the table before him.

“I’m gonna crack this whole thing wide open,” Steve promised, folding his arms confidently over his chest.

Blinky examined his work. “Hm. Yes, I see, well it does make sense. What does this say?”

“Uh, it says ‘Who is The Green Knight?’”

“It says no such thing. Your penmanship is atrocious. Here, let me do it.”

---

All things considered, Douxie was making amazing progress. But now, they had hit the inevitable breaking point

Douxie’s first few swings were good; they were measured, careful. He adjusted his grip and checked his stance before swinging and completely missing Jim. To be fair, Jim had been there.

“Tighten up your movements,” Jim instructed. “You’re spending way too much energy.”

Douxie huffed. “You’re not going to fight back?” he demanded.

“I am. The best way to not get hit is to not be there.”

Douxie became more and more frustrated with each passing second. His swings were accompanied by yells and grunts.

Jim easily dodged the blade. “Be aware of your body. A two-handed sword is also your shield.”

Douxie swung the sword with enough force to knock himself off-balance. 

Jim danced out of the way. “You’re over-committing. If you swing that hard, it takes longer for you to recover for your next move.”

Douxie lunged forward, swinging the sword down against the floor hard enough to crack the stone.

Jim sighed. “Douxie, let’s take a break,” Jim suggested, stepping back with his hands raised in surrender.

“No! I can do this!” Douxie shouted, swinging the sword at him like a very enthusiastic child furiously hunting a pinata.

Jim ducked out of the way. “Yes, you can, but you need to take a break and refocus. You’re not thinking about what you’re doing. Right now, you’re practicing how not to win a fight. Your swings are too wide. You aren’t using the space around you to your advantage.” 

Douxie yelled as he swung the sword again and again.

“To be brutally honest, if you fought like this against someone with any sword training whatsoever-” Jim lunged forward and swung his hand flat towards Douxie’s neck, bringing his fingers to rest just barely touching his throat, “you’d be dead.”

Douxie froze. He stood there panting, the sword still hovering over his shoulder. His eyes darted between the trollhunter’s impish smirk, his arm extended to Douxie’s throat, and the sword in his other hand, which he hadn’t raised once in the skirmish. Douxie narrowed his eyes and swung the sword down towards Jim. 

Without moving his gaze, Jim dropped his sword and effortlessly blocked the blow, catching Excalibur’s crossguard in his palm. 

Douxie pushed with all his might, then tried pulling the sword back, but it didn’t budge from Jim’s iron grip. Finally, his shoulders drooped and he stopped fighting. 

Jim stepped back, releasing the sword. 

Douxie stood there silently for a moment before tossing the sword to the ground and stalking away. He sat heavily on the shallow stone steps leading to the throne and hung his head, his arms resting on his knees. 

Jim retrieved the hallowed sword. He placed the point of Excalibur on the stone floor, holding the hilt out to Douxie. 

Douxie reluctantly took the hilt, but otherwise didn’t move.

“Douxie, you’re doing really well,” Jim insisted.

Douxie’s head snapped up and he fixed his furious gaze on the trollhunter. “That a joke? This is pointless! I’m useless with a sword!”

A tiny bolt of pale green lightning zapped Douxie’s hand. He shouted and dropped Excalibur.

The lightning danced over the sword before disappearing into the green crystal in the hilt.

Douxie snatched up the sword and held it close to his face. “I refuse to believe that you are listening to literally everything I say!”

Jim smiled. “Am I interrupting?”

Douxie sighed.

“Relax. I didn’t expect you to be able to hit me.”

“What?”

Jim laughed.

“What, so all of that was just a joke?”

“No, it was practice. You’re way better than you were when we started.”

The look on Douxie’s face told Jim that he was not convinced. Jim sighed and sat beside the wizard. “The first night I was the trollhunter, Bular came after me. I didn’t know I could run away so fast.”

“Doesn’t sound like an unreasonable reaction to me,” Douxie mumbled.

“Maybe not, but that was where I started. And I failed. A lot. I almost got beaten by a gnome.”

Douxie smiled softly. “You learned fast, though.”

Jim chuckled. “Self-preservation. I could learn, or I could die. How do you think I would do if I tried to learn magic? You didn’t just start out knowing how to do all the things you can do now, right?”

Douxie looked down and frowned. “I don’t remember, actually. My childhood, my family, learning to use my magic; I don’t remember any of it.”

Jim’s smile disappeared. “Douxie, I’m sorry.”

The corners of Douxie’s lips quirked up in a sad smile. “First thing I remember is waking up in the woods somewhere and meeting Archie. After that, you’re right, I wasn’t good at controlling my magic. Couldn’t use it for much except blowing things up when we needed to run away.”

“But now, you’re amazing. You’re Merlin’s apprentice. You’ve got this.”

Douxie smiled more genuinely.

Jim jumped up and offered the wizard his hand. 

Douxie accepted it and pulled himself up. 

They stayed there for a moment, hands clasped with matching determined smiles.

“And Douxie,” Jim said, his voice suddenly firm and serious. He placed his hand firmly on Douxie’s shoulder. “Next time someone threatens you, I’ll be there. Promise.”

A smile pulled at the corner of Douxie’s mouth. “Thanks, Jim.”

Jim gave him a wide grin in return. “Ready to try again?”

Douxie nodded. “Yes.”

Notes:

To be continued ...

Morgana’s last name isn’t actually “Pendragon”. It’s “Shut Up, I Do What I Want”. (It’s Gorlöis, which could’ve been a fun angle, but it was getting to be too many ingredients. Maybe I can do something else with her being pissed about what Uther did to her parents.)

Chapter 10

Notes:

I wasn’t sure about this part, if it’s too much or it’s boring or whatever. I had a much shorter, shallower “everything is okay” version, which I ultimately decided against, and since I don’t have a beta right now it’s all up to what I want and think is good. Therefore, until such a time as I have someone to be a sounding board, all criticism should be directed to the complaints department. *shakes trashcan*

Warning: Dissociation episode

Time slowed down to milliseconds as Jim caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. He reacted on pure instinct and shoved Douxie as hard as he could, sending the smaller man careening backward into the great stone wall behind the throne just as a crossbow bolt zipped past the place Douxie’s chest had been less than a moment ago. 

A frantic scrambling and crash of metal came from the hall.

Jim was at the door in an instant. He burst into the corridor and found one of the knights he had talked to that morning, Aldus, desperately sprinting away. The poor bastard stood no chance as Jim pounced on him, locked his stone arms around his prey, and dragged him into the throne room kicking and screaming.

“Steve! Get out here!” Jim shouted.

Pounding footsteps and the faint clinking of armor came from the war room. A few seconds later, the door rattled, followed by a muffled, “Aw, come on!”

The door opened and Steve stumbled into the throne room. His eyes flitted between Jim, Douxie, and the knight in Jim’s arms. “Whoa! What happened?”

“An assassin,” Jim grunted. “Go get the others.”

“A-assassin?” Steve squeaked. “Wha-what do we do?”

“Go get the others,” Jim ground out.

“Uh-okay, right, right,” Steve stammered before fleeing the room.

In his wake, Blinky, Aaarrrgghh, and Callista appeared in the open door.

Aldus shrieked at the arrival of more trolls.

Blinky waddled out at the front of their group. “Did you say- OH good heavens!” he exclaimed, his eyes falling on the king’s limp form. He hurried to where Douxie lay leaning against the throne.

Aaarrrgghh looked at Douxie, looked at the knight, and snarled. In two large bounds, he crossed the distance to stand before Jim and roared in the knight’s face, “HURT FRIEND!” 

Jim ducked himself and his captive out of the way of Aaarrrgghh’s massive fist.

“Woah there, big guy,” Callista called, sprinting over to only symbolically stay his hand. “Let’s not get carried away.”

Aaarrrgghh snarled and bared his teeth at the knight, but didn’t attack.

Blinky knelt beside Douxie. “Master Douxie? Master Douxie, are you alright? Say something!” He looked desperately back at Jim. “What do we do?”

“Is he hurt?” Jim asked. 

“I don’t know! He isn’t bleeding or screaming.”

Jim looked down at the assassin, looked up, and took a deep breath. “Then we wait for the others.”

---

Claire stood in front of the fireplace in Morgana’s chambers, staring up at the portrait of the royal siblings. They didn’t look … happy, but they looked peaceful, quietly tolerating each other like family does. Maybe, for them, that was happy.

 No, ‘happy’ was in the woods, in the visions of them as children. There had been joy and laughter, true happiness … once. 

Claire sighed and looked away, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. How could it all have gone so wrong?

A faint sigh, like the rustling of grass in a soft breeze, sounded from behind her, sending a chill down her spine.

Claire whipped around, shadows spinning in her hands ready to deal with the threat, but found herself alone. 

She took a deep breath. Get ahold of yourself. It was just your imagination. 

She jumped as the whisper came again from the far wall, darting through the shadows into an unnaturally dark corner of the room. 

Definitely not her imagination. Claire gathered her nerves and stalked carefully towards the darkness. As she got closer, the fragmented whisper grew stronger, more consistent, until it was a faint droning filling her head. A second and a third joined it, building until there were a thousand tiny voices hissing in the dark.

She felt something, something dark and familiar. The shadow staff, she realized. It felt like the faint pull of the shadows when she had the staff. But that couldn’t be right. Morgana had had the staff in the throne room just a few hours ago. 

The whispers and the pull guided her to a small, unimpressive table in the corner, upon which sat a sleek, flat wooden box. 

That was … odd. She had just finished searching this room top to bottom, and she was certain that that table had not been there before. In the candlelight, she could see the usual patterns and knots of the grain, but the wood itself was pitch black.

The whispers came faster, more excited.

Claire carefully lifted the lid of the box. Resting on a cushion of black silk was a hauntingly beautiful dagger. The metal was as dark as the void and cool to the touch. The hilt was wrapped in intricate gold designs, while the blade curved gently back towards the user. She picked it up and stared at it, entranced by its strange beauty. 

She cautiously grasped the hilt

The whispers seemed to approve.

“Okay, cool, but what does it do? Why are you whispering?” she demanded.

The whispers faded out like the last grains of sand falling through an hourglass, giving no answer. 

She rolled her eyes. Honestly, magical artifacts could be such dramatic bitches.

Claire scrutinized the dagger in her hand. She focused as Douxie had taught her, took a deep breath, and let the shadows surround her.

The blade melted into a cold, viscous liquid and bled onto the floor, forming a sinister puddle at her feet. A moment later, her hand followed form. She stared in horror as it turned black and dripped to the floor like wax. 

“Ah!” She dropped the dagger and staggered back, clutching at her deformed wrist. 

The puddle of shadow raced towards her. As soon as it touched her foot, the missing hand reformed, leaving only a faint cold sensation in her fingertips. She inspected her hand, curling her fingers into an experimental fist. There seemed to be no sign of the previous damage. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief. 

Claire fixed her eyes on the dagger, watching as if she expected it to lunge, but it lay quiet and lifeless on the floor. She took some deep breaths and cautiously inched forward until she could reach out and grab it. It felt as cool and solid as it had been before. 

She set her mouth in a determined line and focused. Again, the dagger dripped onto the floor. As the deterioration reached her hand, her skin turned black and began to slip away. The condition slowly crept up her arm. As it reached her shoulder it suddenly accelerated, and in a second turned her entire body into a puddle of liquid shadow. 

-

Claire marveled at the place she found herself in. It wasn’t the shadow realm, at least not properly. She could sense that this place was small and close, despite every direction seeming to be an endless sea of darkness. 

Looking down, she saw herself, exactly as she had been before. She was still holding the dagger. 

In front of her was a watery image of Morgana’s room, warped as if seen through a fisheye lens. Or, at least, Morgana's room as seen from the floor.

Claire reached out towards the image, and the space around her seemed to reach, too. She paused, then took an experimental step forward. 

Her perspective changed, moving just a bit farther into the room. Claire gasped, a giddy excitement rising in her. She took several more cautious steps before running straight across the room. She ducked under chairs and around table legs until she came to the wall. 

Reaching out to touch it, her perspective changed again, the angle shifting up. No. She couldn’t. Could she? Claire took a deep breath and stepped forward.

It was disorienting, walking up a wall. She felt as if she were going to fall any second, but her feet were steady against the stones. 

Walking on the ceiling was worse. The vertigo was overwhelming. Claire threw her arms out to steady herself, though, logically, she wasn’t sure it made a difference. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and stepped forward. 

Without being able to see her surroundings, Claire’s upside-downness didn’t bother her. She slowly made her way across the surface. After several steps, she stopped and opened her eyes. 

There she was, standing on the ceiling as if it was solid ground. It was a cool party trick, and could certainly be useful for … something.

It was at that moment that it occurred to her that she didn’t know how to get back. 

In a rush, the whispers returned, this time much stronger. Their unintelligible, hissing voices screamed in her ears, one after another, layered on top of each other in an endless, inescapable cacophony. The shadows swarmed around her, pulling at her arms and legs. She fought desperately to free herself, but they only got stronger, pulled harder, shrieked louder.

Douxie’s voice echoed in her head. Don' t let fear control you, use it. Stay true to yourself, that will protect you from the shadows.

Claire grit her teeth. She wasn’t afraid, she was in control. With a long shout, she violently flung the shadows away. 

The sudden quiet around her was deafening. It wasn’t completely silent; the whispers were still there on the edges, but maintained a respectful distance. She wasn’t being eaten alive - that was good. Now, to get back to reality.

Claire looked out the window with fierce determination. She got herself in here, she could get herself out. She took a deep breath and thought about how she made shadow portals. Focus. Find your emotional anchor … 

Her friends. She couldn’t stay stuck in a tiny, pocket shadow realm. Her friends were out there. Her parents, her brother, everyone she cared about. Jim.

-

Claire gasped as if breaking the surface of the ocean and opened her eyes to find herself back in the material realm – on the ceiling and suddenly subject to gravity. She shrieked as it took hold and yanked her towards the floor. Just before smacking into the hard, unforgiving stones, she threw a shadow portal beneath her and slammed face-first onto Morgana’s expansive bed. 

She groaned and rolled over. “Right. Note to self: next time, make sure you're on the ground before coming back from …” she held up the dagger and narrowed her eyes, “whatever this is.” She sat up and inspected herself, making absolutely certain she was all there.

“Claire!” 

The shadow witch gasped. She swiftly pocketed the dagger and turned towards the sound.

Steve’s voice echoed from the hall, growing louder. “Claire, there’s a problem! Jim said to get you! There’s a-”

Claire didn’t hear the end of that sentence, already leaping through a shadow portal.

Steve rounded the corner just as the portal winked out of existence. “Aw, come on! Couldn’t you have done that for me? Now I gotta – ugh.” 

He took off running for Merlin’s tower.

---

Steve came hurtling into Merlin's study. “Merl! Cat-dragon guy!”

“What is it?” Merlin droned.

Steve leaned over with his hands braced against his thighs, wheezing from the exertion. “Ass – ass –" he gulped down a deep breath, “assassin!”

Three sets of eyes locked onto him. For a moment, there was delicate silence - no one even dared to breathe.

Then, Archie leapt from the table, transforming in mid-air, and shot out of the room.

“Why’d ya gotta make this place on the top floor?” Steve wheezed.

“An assassin?” Merlin demanded.

“Yeah,” Steve huffed.

“Is Hisirdoux alright?”

“Yeah, yeah I think so. Like he’s not dead, or bleeding, or whatever.”

Merlin looked between the knight and the wide-eyed boy frozen in the middle of tidying the room. The master wizard swung his staff towards his young apprentice. 

“Mas-” the boy began, but the rest of the word morphed into a high shriek as a green beam enveloped him. 

The ball of light shrunk, as did the voice inside it. When the light cleared Merlin’s apprentice was gone.

Where Hisirdoux had once stood now sat a small blackbird, bouncing unsteadily on his tiny feet and tweeting indignantly.

“You,” Merlin commanded the bird, “stay here. If anything happens, if anyone comes into this room who you do not recognize, fly.” He pushed on one of the stained glass panels behind him. It swung out on tiny hinges, letting in a soft breeze.

With that, Merlin stalked out of his study.

Steve stood there a moment longer, catching his breath.

Hisirdoux fluttered up to the workbench and chirped frantically.

“Hey … it’s alright lil' guy … everything’s gonna be okay.” Steve extended a finger and pat the bird on the head with the utmost gentleness. He gave a short whistle.

Hisirdoux repeated the whistle back to him.

---

As space and light warped beside him, Jim took his first deep breath since this all started.

Claire jumped out of the shadow portal and ran to her boyfriend. “Jim! Steve told me to come. What happened, who is this?”

“A would-be assassin,” Jim snarled as he wrestled with the desperate knight. “I need to check on Douxie, can you hold this guy?”

Claire’s eyes turned black. She held out her hand towards the knight and his shadow warped, turning into grasping tendrils that lashed around his limbs. “I’ve got him,” she said, her voice echoing slightly.

Jim hurried over to where Douxie lay. “Douxie? Hey, Doux?”

Douxie gave no indication that he understood or even heard Jim. His breathing was coming in harsh gasps. 

Jim picked up Douxie’s wrist and winced at the cold clamminess of the wizard’s skin and his racing pulse. He checked for physical injuries. It was like Blinky had said: no bleeding, no obvious wounds, no broken bones. He didn’t think Douxie hit the wall that hard. 

Aaarrrgghh’s heavy steps sounded behind him. “Douxie okay?” the giant asked. 

Jim closed his eyes and forced himself to think calmly. “He will be.”

A black blur flew through the door and slammed full force into Douxie’s chest. “Douxie!” 

“Archie, stop!” Jim tried to grab the small dragon.

Archie flipped around and growled at him, his eyes wild and his teeth bared.

Jim raised his hands in surrender. “I know you’re scared, we all are. You don’t have to leave him, just … be careful. Don’t put too much pressure on him.”

Archie held his ground for a moment, his chest heaving. Then, he deflated with a whimper. “Is he alright?” Archie asked, his voice strained.

“He isn’t hurt, at least, not seriously,” Jim answered.

Archie turned back to his familiar. “Douxie? Wake up. Say something, please.”

Douxie looked past him with a thousand-yard stare.

Archie turned back to Jim. “Why won’t he respond?”

Jim looked away. “I think … he’s not available right now.”

“What does that mean?”

“He’s protecting himself. Like a turtle in its shell.”

“Is he-”

“WHAT HAPPENED?” Merlin’s harsh voice cut through the room. It took him only a moment to find his apprentice, and less than a moment for him to sprint to Douxie’s side. He briefly regarded the boy crumpled on the ground before turning to address the room at large. “Someone, tell me what is going on here!”

Jim took a deep breath. “Douxie asked me to teach him how to wield Excalibur. We were practicing, and then …” 

The subsequent silence told Merlin everything he needed to know.

Jim was focused on Douxie, watching for any change in his condition. He didn’t see Merlin turn away, but he did hear the furious incantation and subsequent terrified shriek of the prisoner.

A moment later, Claire appeared at Jim’s shoulder. “What do we do?”

Jim carefully scooped the wizard up in his arms. “We need to get him somewhere safe and calm. And warm.”

“And then what?”

Jim sighed. “Then, we wait.”

---

Douxie’s eyes were open. He could see faded colors, hear faint sounds, but none of it formed anything recognizable. The world was a watercolor painting left in the rain. It was strange, disjointed, but safe.

He drew a shaky breath.

“Douxie,” a voice called gently, “can you hear me?”

Yes, he could. It was some time before he could communicate that with a slight nod.

“Can you look at me?”

Douxie frowned. ‘Looking’ was a lot of effort, but something compelled him to try. He slowly turned his head towards the sound and focused on the figure in front of him. As his vision sharpened, the colors and voice meshed together to form a recognizable something: Jim.

“How do you feel?” Jim asked.

Douxie stared blankly at Jim. He understood each word, could parse what they meant together, but applying them to himself didn’t make any sense. 

Jim seemed to realize this at the same time. He looked down sheepishly. “Nevermind.” A moment passed in silence. Then, Jim looked back up and began again. “You’re safe.”

Douxie furrowed his brow. That’s an odd thing to start a conversation with.

“Tell me five things you can see,” Jim requested.

Douxie tilted his head. “Huh?”

“Can you see?” Jim asked.

“Yes?” 

“Name five things you see. Please.”

Douxie sighed and looked around. He saw Jim, the solid point among the indistinct surroundings, sitting cross-legged on a stone floor. That was only one. 

Looking past Jim into the chaos beyond, shapes and colors began to arrange themselves into recognizable patterns. They were in a rich room, medieval era. A parlour fit to house nobles doing … noble things. “You, couch, table, rug, candelabra,” he listed.

“Good. Now close your eyes. Tell me four things you can feel.”

Douxie reluctantly complied. At least it was getting less demanding. 

There was something heavy laying over him. The material rasped against his hand as he moved. Wool. “A blanket.”

As he shifted around, two shapes emerged as separate from the weight of the blanket, one on each side. “Two people.”

“Who?” Jim asked.

Douxie huffed, but focused. On his left was a large, bulky frame with arms wrapped securely around his waist. To his right, a much smaller someone was curled against his side with their head resting on his shoulder. Slender arms were wrapped almost painfully tight around his shoulders. Yes, he knew these people. 

“Claire and Steve,” he reported.

“Correct. One more.”

He turned his head and his face brushed against a wall of soft, short hairs. “Fur.”

“Three things you can hear,” Jim prompted him. 

Douxie listened. He heard the crackle of fire and felt the warmth emanating from it. The mass of fur he was laid against gently rose and fell, accompanied by the calm tempo of deep breaths. “Fire, breathing …” he listed. 

He listened more. There was a voice, clipped and proper, speaking in hushed tones. He opened his eyes and found the source standing behind the couch, arguing with Callista. “Blinky?”

Blinky looked up at him immediately. “Master Douxie-”

Jim held up a hand to silence him. “Not yet, Blink.”

Blinky shut his mouth but kept all six eyes locked on the king.

“Two things you can smell.”

Douxie took a deep breath. He smelled sun-warmed trees, and the bite of them being consumed. “Can I say fire again?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Fire and …” He breathed in the atmosphere, searching for another smell to latch onto. As he took another breath, he was uncomfortably aware of the expectant room holding theirs. He frowned. “Feel weird doing this.”

“Why?” Jim asked. 

“Sitting here sniffing things,” Douxie sneered. 

“You’re doing great,” Jim assured him. 

Douxie sighed. Focus. He took a breath, trying to notice things. He turned towards Steve and sniffed. There was something there, something sharp and bitter that evoked warm nostalgia. “Have you been using ink?” 

“Yeah?” Steve replied.

Douxie scrunched up his nose. “Okay.”

“One thing you can taste,” Jim said. 

Douxie tilted his head. “Uh … my mouth?”

Jim chuckled. “Okay. Good job.”

“Thanks?” Douxie cast his gaze properly around the room. Most of his friends were gathered around him, with the exception of Merlin, who was standing across the room against the open door. Something outside held his attention. 

As Douxie watched, Merlin’s gaze slid back to him and their eyes met. There was something grave in his master’s face. It was a look Douxie had seen before, when he was younger. When it seemed everything was going wrong, no matter what the master wizard did. 

“Douxie,” Jim called gently.

Douxie broke away from Merlin’s gaze, focusing again on his immediate surroundings. Everyone was looking at him. In the back of his mind, he knew that was a bad thing that should make him self-conscious. But the warmth, the pressure, the closeness prevented that anxiety from touching him. He just was.

As he surveyed the gathering, he caught sight of a furry, black face far to his right. He turned his head towards it. Small, wide eyes stared at him from behind wire spectacles perched on a long, thin snout, which was mounted on a large head tipped with little round ears.

Douxie processed the two bits of new information. 

First: that was Archie. 

Second: “You’re a bear,” Douxie mumbled to his friend.

“Yes,” Archie responded, his voice wavering.

Douxie smiled. “Cool.”

“Can you tell me who you are?” Jim asked.

“Douxie,” he responded. 

“More than that.”

Douxie narrowed his eyes. “Did I get a concussion?”

“No. Well, I don’t think so. Please just go with it.”

Douxie sighed. “Hisirdoux Casperan. 900-year-old wizard apprentice to Merlin.”

Jim nodded. “Do you know where you are?”

Douxie looked around. “Camelot. Somewhere in the castle. We went back in time.”

“Good. What else do you remember?”

“Uuuuuh …” This was getting tiring, and Douxie didn’t see the point in it. He tried to keep his annoyance off his face. His friends were only trying to help him, though he still didn’t know with what.

Jim reached behind him. “Do you remember this?” he asked as he produced a gold crown set with a green gem.

Douxie gasped. A rush of memories bombarded him, and he reflexively started crying. Frantic voices called to him, like echoes down a deep cave. 

Jim’s calm voice cut through the surrounding noise. “Give him time.”

Claire and Steve squeezed him tighter.

Douxie’s head dropped to Claire’s shoulder. Harsh breaths racked his chest, but he didn’t feel the pull against his body or the rough drag of air through his open mouth. Instead, he felt weightless, drifting back as if slowly falling out of his body.

“Jim, he’s doing it again!” Claire exclaimed.

“Give him time,” Jim insisted.

Distantly, he felt his body shift. Then, he was enveloped in a soft, warm hug. This is nice, he thought as his eyes slipped closed. He drifted, listening to a familiar heartbeat. His breathing slowed down and his tears stopped.

The arms around him tightened, bringing with them a sense of calm. It was safe and warm here. He didn’t want to leave, but a nagging feeling in the back of his mind told him there was something he was supposed to be doing. Reluctantly, he pushed himself to the surface like a diver leaving the serene pressure of the sea. 

Douxie opened his eyes and found Archie watching him intently. He was being held like a baby in the bear’s enormous arms. The blanket was gone, but Archie’s fur was dense and warm, acting as its own sort of blanket. Douxie snuggled closer and sighed.

“Are you back?” Jim asked.

“… Yeah.” There was a finality in his voice, a sureness that hadn’t been there before.

“What do you remember?”

Douxie thought back. He remembered so many things, so many emotions. How had so much happened in less than a day?

“Morgana,” Douxie muttered.

“Yeah?” Jim urged him on.

“Tried to reason with Morgana. Didn’t work.”

“And then what?”

“Uh …” Douxie trailed off and went silent.

“You asked me to teach you how to use a sword,” Jim provided.

… Right, he remembered that. Douxie nodded.

“What happened?” Jim asked.

Douxie huffed. “Got frustrated.”

“Yeah. And then what?”

“And then …”  

And then his brain hit a wall. There was nothing after that. “I don’t know. Waking up here.”

“Okay.” Jim took a deep breath. “You’re safe. We have everything under control.”

Douxie grimaced. “Jim, just tell me how I fucked up.” He closed his eyes and curled in on himself, bracing for the coming blow.

The room erupted with several vehement objections. As quickly as they started, they disappeared.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Jim’s calm voice came again. “Douxie, one of the knights tried to kill you.”

Douxie’s eyes flew open. He remembered. He’d seen Jim’s expression shift, and then everything happened all at once: Jim shoved him back; something small and fast brushed past his chest; Jim disappeared. 

What happened next was a blur of echoing shouts and distorted images he couldn’t parse. He drew a deep, ragged breath.

Jim patiently continued. “He was peeking through the door with a crossbow. I pushed you out of the way. We have him in custody outside.”

Douxie sat with this new information for a moment. Then he let out a long sigh. “... Let me down, Arch.”

Archie carefully lowered Douxie until his feet touched the ground. The bear kept his large paws hovering around Douxie’s shoulders until both were sure of his footing.

Douxie trudged the short distance to the couch and sat heavily.

Archie shifted into a cat and jumped onto Douxie’s lap, purring intently.

Douxie buried one hand in Archie’s fur. The other supported his own head. “What time is it?” he asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jim responded immediately.

“Yes, it does,” Douxie insisted.

“Douxie, you have to take as much time as you need to recover,” Jim argued.

“I’m fine.”

The clock rang throughout the castle. Douxie closed his eyes and counted. One … two … three … four …

Douxie let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Okay. He had time.

Blinky approached, his hands clasped in front of him. “You gave us quite a scare. You were unharmed, but it was as if your mind was gone.”

Douxie sighed. “Yeah, that about sums it up. ‘S not a big deal.”

Archie lunged at his familiar’s face, bracing his paws against Douxie’s shoulders. “NOT A BIG DEAL?”

Douxie stared in confusion. Why was Archie surprised? Didn’t he remember … Oh. “Right. You’re young.” He sighed. “That happens every so- … well, it’s not uncommon.”

Archie stared at him with such hopelessness, it broke Douxie’s heart. “The last time I saw you like that was … when I found you in the woods.”

Douxie’s scattered thoughts ground to a halt. He shouldn’t be surprised; it made perfect sense. But … Archie had never told him that. He grimaced, looking away from his friend. “Well, you’d better get used to it,” he mumbled bitterly.

Archie’s ears drooped.

For a moment, silence suffocated the room. Then, Claire spoke cautiously. “What was that?”

Douxie didn’t respond.

“It’s a defense mechanism,” Jim supplied.

“How do you know?” Claire asked.

Jim hesitated. “... I’m familiar.”

“Who have you seen like this?”

Jim was silent. 

Douxie’s sympathies were with Jim as the gears turned in Claire’s head. 

She gasped as they clicked into place. “Oh, Jim …”

“It’s fine, Claire.”

“See?” Douxie insisted without raising his head. “You know what I mean. I’m fine.”

Jim dropped his gaze in resignation. “Yeah, I know. What do you need to do now?”

Douxie took a deep, shuddering breath. “Take care of this.”

---

Douxie replaced the crown on his head and reaffixed the hallowed sword to his back. With one last deep breath, the group started towards the throne room. Douxie trudged behind them with only Archie at his side, who mercifully said nothing. 

Merlin, still standing in the door frame, watched as each member of Douxie’s court filed through until only the king remained.

As Douxie stepped up, the master wizard stopped him with a hand on his apprentice’s shoulder. 

Looking up into his master’s eyes, Douxie found the familiar intensity Merlin always wore, but it was tinged with a sadness and worry he had never seen.

“Are you alright?” Merlin asked softly.

Douxie stared at him for a moment before catching himself and averting his gaze. “… Yeah.”

Merlin left his hand there a moment longer before silently turning to join the crowd. 

Everything about the great wizard shifted instantly from concerned to menacing. As he walked, his staff tapped out a slow and foreboding tempo that boomed through the captive silence of the room.

Douxie followed just behind his master. There was a stifling tension in the stone chamber that squeezed the air from his lungs. He pushed on through the thick atmosphere to the front of the crowd, and, for the first time, got a good look at his attacker.

Bars of solid green energy rose up from the stone floor in a tight circle. Inside, a very pathetic-looking knight sat curled on the floor, leaning as far away as possible from Aaarrrgghh, who was staring him down with murderous intent.

Merlin stopped in front of the frightened knight with a glare to rival Gunmar’s. “The penalty for treason is death!”

Douxie gasped. He hadn’t thought of this, of the consequences that were now to be dealt. His eyes widened at the realization that this man’s fate was to be decided, and perhaps delivered, here and now.

“I-I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!” the knight pleaded.

“DIDN’T MEAN IT?” Merlin roared. 

Douxie winced. He wasn’t sure what he’d meant, just moments ago when he said he needed to ‘take care of it’, but it wasn’t this. And yet, he held his tongue. Merlin was no stranger to defending against vicious plots. It was surely the wisest thing Douxie could do to trust him. Still, his heart beat in time with the prisoner’s. He curled his hands into fists, his fingernails biting into his palms.

“Had his knight not acted in time, your arrow would have pierced his heart! Would you have ‘not meant it’ then?”

The knight let out a high whimper. It echoed in Douxie’s head, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the violence emanating from Merlin.

“You are a coward!” Merlin continued. “Not even the conviction behind your act to own up to it!”

“Master Wizard,” Douxie called, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. He took a deep, shuddering breath and fixed Merlin with a hard glare. “Is this not my problem to resolve?”

Merlin sighed heavily. “It is,” he conceded. 

“Then let me handle it,” Douxie commanded.

Merlin grumbled, but reluctantly deferred to the king.

Douxie took a moment to breathe and quiet his frayed nerves. Finally, he stepped up to face the knight. “Why did you do it?” he asked, as calmly as he could manage.

The knight stared at him, speechless. Eventually, he found his voice. “F-for the bounty.”

“Bounty?”

“S-sir Galahad has put a price on your head. ‘He who slays the demon king shall be made a duke.’”

A low, angry rumble filled the room, surprisingly not from the goliath who had been glaring death at the knight the entire time. 

Douxie turned towards the source.

Jim growled low in his throat, arms crossed, eyes burning with rage. 

It was a ferocity Douxie hadn’t thought the trollhunter capable of, that reminded him that no matter how noble and gentle Jim was with his friends, he was a warrior, the warrior who took down Gunmar.

Douxie turned fully, taking in the entire assemblage of his allies.

Jim, Aaarrrgghh, Merlin, and Archie all wore similar scowls that bared their boiling fury.

Claire was the opposite, fixing the prisoner with a frigid glare as cold as the void.

Callista just looked disgusted. She knew better than anyone the flavor of humans’ hatred of magic; to her, this treachery was no doubt as predictable as the sunrise.

Steve hung at the back of the group with his arms wrapped tight around himself. He looked more hurt than anything else, as when coming to terms with a deep betrayal.

Blinky seemed to be lost in thought rather than watching the trial. His brow was deeply furrowed as he studied the floor, the corners of his mouth drawn down into a bitter frown. He looked up, as if he could feel Douxie’s eyes on him. “It is as you said, Master Douxie,” Blinky said, answering Douxie’s unspoken question, “this is for you to decide, no one else.”

Douxie nodded. He closed his eyes and considered the options before him. He knew what the proper response was, and he could only imagine what Merlin would suggest. Looking around at his companions’ faces, there was a clear consensus that this man would regret his actions dearly, should he be alive to do so. 

Douxie took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “I’ve made my decision.”

The knight squeaked, his eyes wide.

“You shall remain in confinement until this evening, when I make my address.” 

If it was possible for the man to turn paler, he did so. 

Douxie sighed. “At which point, you will be released with no charges.”

“THAT’S ALL?” Merlin demanded.

Douxie turned to face the master wizard. “Are you questioning my authority?”

“I am questioning your sanity! If you show weakness-”

“Mercy is not weakness!” Douxie snarled.

“-it will only embolden them! They will try again, they will not listen!”

“So, what, I make an example out of him? Prove them right? What good will that do?”

The wizards stood their ground, both unwilling to give an inch. They stared each other down for what felt like an eternity before Douxie spoke again.

“Nimue told me I don’t have to be like Arthur. Like you. I’m not here to be who they expect.”

“You are a naive fool!”

Douxie froze. Morgana’s words rang in his head. ‘And you, you are nothing more than a foolish, naive little boy.’

She was right. They were both right. He was stupid, idealistic, foolhardy. Douxie took a deep breath. With hard determination in his eyes, he looked back up at Merlin and spoke in a calm, measured tone, “Is it not my right to be a naive fool?”

Merlin balked at him. “This is not a game, Hisirdoux! You cannot just disregard the weight of the situation!” 

“I have made my decision!” Douxie shouted. He threw his hand out towards the cage, earning a shriek from the captive knight. An invisible wave crashed over it, and the solid green bars turned to a smoky, shifting blue.

Merlin stared, looking between Douxie and the stolen cage in unrestrained shock.

Douxie smirked before turning to address the prisoner.

Merlin huffed and stomped off to stand beside Jim. He hissed under his breath, “This will invite more treason, more attempts on his life, if they see him as soft.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Jim promised, his voice cold and flat.

Merlin looked at the trollhunter’s grim expression, then turned his gaze back to the room. “Very well.”

---

At Douxie’s instruction, Jim shoved the terrified knight none-too-gently into a small closet behind the throne. 

Douxie cast his ward on it to prevent non-magical creatures from opening the door.

With a final indignant grumble, Merlin stalked off back to his study to continue his work on the amulet. 

“C’mon, Eye Guy, we’ve got work to do!” Steve seized one of Blinky’s hands and dragged him back into the war room. 

“AAAhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Blinky screamed.

Aaarrrgghh turned towards his new friend. “Here,” he rumbled, and followed them inside.

Callista rolled her eyes and trundled after them.

Claire gave Douxie a final concerned look before disappearing into the shadows.

Douxie walked to the throne room doors, mumbling, “Should’ve done this hours ago.” He closed the large wooden doors. With a hand on each, he pushed magic out through the wood, which glowed a faint, electric blue. 

Jim remained, leaning against one of the pillars, still as a statue with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed.

Douxie sighed. “That’s enough training for now, Jim. I’ve got a spell to work on. You can find something else to do.”

Jim looked up with fire in his eyes. “I’m not leaving you alone,” he asserted, leaving no room for argument.

“Neither am I,” Archie agreed.

Douxie rolled his eyes. “Fine. Watch me meditate if you want. I’ll need you later, anyways.” He didn’t wait for a response as he made his way to the center of the room.

He sat cross-legged on the stone that once held Excalibur and removed his crown. It sat askew on his lap as he scrolled through the runes on his bracelet. He locked in the complicated sequence and the crown rose into the air between his hands. 

Douxie closed his eyes and focused. Wispy threads of magic curled down his arms and slowly wound their way around the crown like a ball of yarn, leaving faintly glowing blue trails that began to form a sphere.

The glow grew brighter with every strand added, eventually obscuring the crown completely.

For the entire time Douxie sat meditating, Jim stood ready between him and the door. Even if it was warded, the trollhunter wasn’t taking any chances.

Finally, the threads ceased. The last strands buried themselves in the brilliant blue ball. It hung there for a moment before the glow faded and the crown dropped into Douxie’s hands.

Douxie took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He placed the crown back on his head and hopped off the rock.

“Jim, I need your help.” Douxie reached out with his magic. A door behind the throne swung open and a broom flew into his hand. “I’ve integrated a shield spell into the crown, based on the barrier that surrounded Excalibur when she was in the stone. I need you to test it.”

“Test it how?” Jim asked cautiously.

“Try to break through. Here, hit me with this.”

Jim hesitantly took the broom and stood opposite Douxie. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Archie rose from his place lounging on the throne and flapped over to the now-vacant rock. “As much as I sympathize with your incredulity, Jim, I can confirm that this actually isn’t a terrible idea.”

Jim sighed. “Okay then …” He swung the broom gently, meeting no resistance, and tapped Douxie lightly on the arm.

Douxie gave him a look. “Jim, you didn’t mean that.”

“Of course, I didn’t! I don’t want to hurt you!”

Douxie smiled. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I need to know the limits of my spell, and it's based on intent. It won’t work unless you’re actually trying to hit me. If you want to help keep me safe, you have to do it for real.”

Jim took a deep breath. “Okay.” He studied Douxie for a moment, his eyes flitting all over the wizard’s body with his mouth set in a calculating frown. Then, he swung the broom, aiming for Douxie’s upper arm. It smacked into a wall of force, solid as a brick wall, a good two feet from making contact.

Douxie grinned. “Yes! Do it again.” 

Jim swung again, meeting the same resistance. The broom bounced off. 

Douxie put his hands on his hips and smirked. “Come on, now, Jim. Is that the best the great trollhunter can do?”

Jim smirked. He swung the broom as hard as he could. The wood shattered at the point of impact, sending splinters cascading through the air. 

Both stared in shock at the ragged end of the broomstick. 

Douxie recovered first. “Right, then,” he picked up the sword Jim had been sparring with and held it out to him, “onward and upward.”

Jim choked on his words.

“Absolutely not,” Archie objected.

“Guys-”

Jim held up a hand to silence him and fixed Douxie with an admonishing glare. “You’re testing this barrier to see what can break it, right? So what happens when I’m swinging a sword at you, as hard as I, a half-troll, can, and it goes through?”

Douxie blanched. “Uuuuuuuuh …”

Archie flew to one of the decorative suits of armor lining the walls and relieved it of its shield. He flapped back and gave it to Douxie. “Hold this.”

“Yeah, that’s … probably a good idea, actually,” Douxie admitted sheepishly.

“Ya think?” Jim snapped.

Douxie strapped the shield to his arm and readied himself. “Alright. Go.”

Jim swung the sword at Douxie’s shield-bearing arm with moderate force; not enough to chop any limbs off, but certainly enough to leave a nasty mark. It rebounded off the barrier, redirecting more of the force back to Jim than the broom had.

“Again,” Douxie ordered.

Jim swung again, harder. It bounced off, sending his arm flying back.

“Again.”

Jim swung the sword. It crashed into the barrier, vibrating as its momentum threw it back.

“Again!”

Jim swung the sword. Were he not made of stone, the recoil would have wrenched his arm out of its socket. 

Douxie winced and stumbled back half a step. “Again!” he ground out, his eyes shut tight.

Jim hesitated. 

When the blow didn’t come, Douxie cautiously opened his eyes and glared at the trollhunter. “Jim! Do it.” 

Jim huffed and readied himself for another attack. He swung the sword. 

For a moment the barrier resisted the blow. Then, it shattered, letting the full force of Jim’s swing through. The sword hit the center of Douxie’s shield and sent him tumbling back across the floor.

Jim dropped his sword and raced to Douxie’s side, Archie right behind him. “Are you okay?”

Douxie sat up and chuckled. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

Just then, a shadow portal opened beside them and Claire hopped neatly through. She looked between them. “It’s sunset. Time to go.”

Notes:

Assassin is the best word because it contains the word ‘ass’ twice. XD

THE URGE TO CALL HIM TWITTERDOUX! Merlin came back to find him being the living embodiment of Rockin’ Robin. For the love of God, Hisirdoux, you’re supposed to be hiding.

Forgive me for the purple prose bullshit, I hate it, but it was necessary for effect here. Going forward we will be back to sarcasm and irreverence and incredibly specific analogies.

Chapter 11

Notes:

Warning: Technically there is peer pressure to drink in here. There is also plenty of just straight-up drinking, including underage drinking. (Barely. It’s a toast.)

Thank you to Nezio for betaing.

It was time.

Claire volunteered to get Steve from the war room while Douxie did his best to not think about what he was about to do. 

A tap on his shoulder caught his attention. He turned to find Jim standing behind him. 

“Hey, Douxie, can you make me that armor again?” the trollhunter asked.

“Um … yes, but why?”

“Got an idea,” Jim smirked.

Douxie gave him a disapproving look. “Jim, you don’t have to do whatever you’re thinking of doing.”

“Yes, I do. Trust me.”

“What are you going to do?”

Jim grinned. “Make an impression.” 

Douxie sighed. “Alright, just, be careful.” He raised his hand over his bracelet. The runes glowed, but he hesitated, long enough for Jim to take notice.

“Something wrong?” Jim asked. 

Douxie looked up at Jim with the utmost sincerity. “Thank you, Jim.”

Jim frowned and looked away. “Don’t. It’s my fault.”

“What?”

“Galahad. After you left, I knew I’d done something wrong. And their admiration for it … I couldn’t handle it. I left, before noon. When I was walking back, I passed Galahad. If I had stayed two minutes longer, I would’ve known about the bounty. This wouldn’t have happened.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that,” Douxie insisted.

Jim grimaced.

Douxie placed his hand on Jim’s arm. “I don’t blame you. I am alive because of you. And … I don’t just mean saving my life. Thank you for taking care of me.” He smiled warmly. “I’m glad you’re here, Jim.”

Jim’s lips twitched into a faint smile.

Douxie waved his hand over his bracelet and the silver armor materialized from blue smoke.

Jim flexed his gauntleted hand experimentally. “Thanks. When I give you the signal, make it disappear.”

“And what is this signal?”

“You’ll know,” Jim called over his shoulder as he jogged out of the room.

Douxie shook his head as he walked over to the makeshift holding cell and dispelled the ward on the door. He opened it to find the pitiful knight cowering in a corner. “You’re free to go, as promised.”

The knight didn’t move. He stared at Douxie like a deer facing down a hunter.

Douxie suppressed a sigh.“Right, I’ll just leave the door open and you come out when you’re ready.” He turned and walked back to rejoin Archie as Claire and Steve came in from the war room.

“Ready?” Claire asked.

“No. Let’s go.”

-

The group walked properly down through the keep rather than taking a portal, both to give Douxie a bit of time to prepare and to put into motion a very important part of the show. They stopped at a large window that overlooked the square. From there, they could see the people gathered. Douxie frowned. He didn’t have stage fright. He’d been performing in various capacities for 900 years. The very notion was ridiculous …

He drew a deep breath and pulled Excalibur from his back. “Ready for some shock and awe, Arch?”

Archie smirked. “Always.”

Douxie offered the sword to his familiar. 

Archie grabbed it by the crossguard. He flapped in place for a moment, adjusting to the weight of the object. Nothing he couldn’t handle – he was a dragon after all – but it did throw his balance off, just a little. Once he was satisfied, he swooped out the window. 

They watched as Archie soared over the roofs of the town, all the way to the ruined wall, where a small mountain of stone bricks still rested despite the repairs underway. As he passed over that space, just in front of the wall, he dropped the sword. It landed perfectly straight, sunken into a stone halfway up the crumbled wall. Archie circled around and came to rest precariously on the pommel. He folded his wings and glared, daring anyone to question him.

The stage was set. 

The humans continued to the main door of the castle, perhaps a bit slower than necessary, though no one would mention it. They stopped just before the door. 

Douxie closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. He wasn’t ready, didn’t have the luxury of time to prepare, but then, this wasn’t something he would ever truly be prepared for. Finally, he opened his eyes and turned to his companions. “Showtime.”

Steve looked around. “Wait, where’s Lake? Shouldn’t he be here?”

“He’s performing his own bit of showmanship. He’ll meet us there.”

---

Jim stomped down the stairs to the place of arms. It was nearly empty, populated by only a few knights, including the one he had arm-wrestled earlier.

“Eeey, look who’d back,” Hamon crowed, drunkenly slurring his words.

Jim dropped into the vacant seat across from him. “Where’s your friend?”

The knight laughed. “The poor fuck said ‘e’d take Galahad up on ‘is offer. I told ‘im it ain’t worth it! Left a few hours ago and ‘aven’t seen him since. I told ‘im the witch’d get ‘im …” he took a long swig of his ale and shook his head, “I told ‘im.”

“What was he planning?”

“Said ‘e’d snipe the little shite, pick ‘im off with a crossbow, jus’ like tha’. Poor fuck. I’ll drink to his memory.” He wasted no time making good on that promise.

Jim crossed his arms. “The ‘witch’ has called the entire kingdom to assemble. Seems he’s going to make a speech.”

“So wha’?” Hamon snapped.

“You’re not going?” Jim asked innocently.

“To listen to tha’ false king brat?” He spat on the floor. “You’ve got t’ be kiddin’.”

Jim smirked inside his helmet. “Huh. Well, I’m going. Just wanted to tell you that, if you show up, I promise you’ll see quite the spectacle …”

Hamon grinned. “Aye, if you’re promisin’ tha’, I wouldn’t miss it.” He threw back the rest of his drink and pounded the empty mug against the table.

Jim jerked his head towards the stairs, beckoning Hamon and the few remaining knights to follow him. 

At the top of the stairs, a frantic knight slammed into Jim’s side. 

“Aldus!” Hamon cried. 

Aldus jumped, shrieking like a tea kettle. 

“You’re not dead! I’m impressed.” Hamon laughed and clapped his friend on the back. “Come on, Lad’s got a reckonin’ for tha’ little shit.”

Aldus turned to Jim with wild eyes. “Don’t do it! For the love of all tha’s holy, don’t do it!”

“Why not?” Jim asked.

“H-he’s got magic! And a troll bodyguard! The monster’s got horns and fangs and wears demonic black armor covered in blood! It nearly ate me!”

“Really?” Jim asked with a tilt of his head. 

Aldus nodded vigorously. 

“That won’t be a problem,” Jim assured him.

The knight stared at him in awe. “Wha’ are you goin’ t’ do?”

Jim chuckled. “You’ll see. I have … something special in mind. A real showstopper.”

“Come on then, ya sissy!” Hamon shouted, throwing an arm around his friend’s shoulders and half-guiding, half-dragging him out into the early evening.

---

Douxie walked down the avenue from the castle to the town square, accompanied by his two knights. He focused on every aspect of his presentation; eyes forward, back straight, chin up, shoulders back. Long strides, but not too long. Hands clasped regally behind his back. Face set in a mask of strong indifference.

The streets were silent and deserted until about a block away from the square, where the low murmur of many hushed voices gave away the presence of the crowd. 

As soon as Douxie entered the square, the voices cut off, leaving an unnerving, dead silence. All eyes were on the king and his knights as they approached the small mountain where Excalibur and her dragon protector rested.

As Douxie climbed up the stones, Archie took to the air and began circling above.

Douxie stopped behind Excalibur, facing the crowd.

Claire and Steve followed after their king and settled into position behind him, one on either side.

Archie swooped down and landed gently on Douxie’s shoulder.

Douxie looked out at the crowd. It seemed the whole of Camelot was in attendance, mostly packed up against their houses, not daring to stray too close. Some hung out of windows, others spilling out from side streets and alleyways. In the center front of the crowd, he saw a familiar horned helmet, flanked by the assassin and another knight he remembered from earlier.

He lifted his gaze to the castle. Scores of nobles were assembled on the balconies, along with two menacing, silver-clad figures. On a private balcony higher up, he spied an old man and a young boy. And he swore he saw many, many eyes peeking out the windows of the war room.

Douxie looked down at his bracelet and considered manifesting a microphone, but no, he couldn't afford to lose any more points with these people than he already had. Magically producing a strange object from the future definitely wouldn’t earn him any fans. Instead, he tapped a single rune on his bracelet. Wispy trails of magic clung to his fingers. He brought them to his neck and cleared his throat, the sound rapidly increasing in volume. He took one last, calming breath, and began.

“Good people of Camelot. On this very spot, one day ago, Excalibur rejected her champion, and chose another.” He pulled the sword out of the stone and held it aloft. “I am Hisirdoux Casperan! I am the chosen of the blessed sword Excalibur, and as such, I am also your king!”

He lowered the sword and hesitated before continuing, his voice a bit softer and less regal. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want to take Arthur’s place. He’s fine, by the way. Um –” He sighed and started over. “I … am a wizard. Some of you may recognize me as Merlin’s apprentice. Some of you may recognize me as the little git who used to swindle you on the streets.”

“Was that in the script?” Steve mumbled.

Claire elbowed him in the side.

“Neither of those things are why I am here. I am here because our situation is dire. War with Gunmar is imminent. I know humans and I know magic. I belong to both. I have protected the material plane from monsters for 900 years. I have fought all manner of magical beasts and sent them back where they belong. And – I have seen the boundless extent of human cruelty, the scars we inflict on our world, our prey … and each other.” Douxie’s eyes grew distant as memories of atrocities flooded his mind.

Archie rubbed his head against Douxie’s cheek. “Stay on message.”

Douxie blinked back to the present moment. “Right … I am here to lead all good people, humans and trolls, in the fight against Gunmar. This evil afflicts us all, and if we work together, we can defeat it. This is my only goal. I would ask each of you to make a choice: to stand beside me, or stay out of the way.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, the clinking of armor echoed through the square as the horned knight shouldered past his companions. He stomped across the empty square to stand in front of Douxie.

They both stood perfectly still, regarding each other. Then the horned knight sank to one knee, his head bowed in deference. 

A collective gasp arose from the crowd.

The knight removed his helmet, carefully sliding his horns through the holes in the metal. He looked up at Douxie, meeting his king’s gaze, and nodded. 

Douxie gestured at the knight and the silver armor evaporated into blue smoke, leaving black and red in its place. He took a breath to calm himself before he spoke. “Rise, Sir Jim of Arcadia.” 

The murmur of hundreds of low, urgent voices filled the air.

Jim stood and turned to face the crowd. His eyes immediately locked onto his two ‘friends’, fixing them with a gaze that could turn them to stone. Aldus pointed frantically at Jim, while Hamon just stared, looking as if he’d seen a ghost.

“That is all. Thank you.” 

Douxie mounted Excalibur on his back and started back the way he had come, flanked by Claire and Steve, Jim walking behind him, Archie perched on his shoulder. He stared straight ahead, continuing his deliberate march until the castle doors swung shut. Safe behind the stone walls, he finally let out a shuddering breath, his body shaking so hard that it threatened to fall apart.

Claire placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s over. You were amazing.”

A nervous laugh stumbled from Douxie’s mouth.

Claire gave him a soft smile as she conjured a portal back to the throne room.

“You guys go ahead,” Jim said. “I’ll meet up with you later.” He turned and headed down the corridor. 

One by one, the party stepped through the swirling vortex. Just before the portal closed, a hooded figure darted from behind a nearby pillar and leapt neatly through the shadow door.

-

The group appeared in the throne room as the doors to their stronghold opened and three trolls trundled out. 

Blinky approached Douxie with a look of wonder. “Master Douxie, that was … wonderful.”

“It was passable,” Merlin drawled as he came in from the opposite direction. 

Douxie blushed at the high praise. He took a deep breath. “Well, what now?”

“HISIRDOUX CASPERAN!” 

Douxie flinched at the all too familiar admonishment in that all too familiar voice. 

Zoe stalked out from behind a pillar. “You have some explaining to do!”

“Aaaaa, scary lady!” Steve shrieked.

“Uh, Zoe, hi,” Douxie laughed nervously.

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Oh good, you’re here.”

Zoe ignored the jab. “NINE HUNDRED YEARS?”

Aaarrrgghh glared at her and growled.

Douxie took a step back. “Right, a-about that-”

Her fists crackled with pink lightning. “I knew you weren’t Douxie!”

“No, no, I am! Just, ah-”

“Zoe?”

Zoe whipped around to stare at the younger Hisirdoux, who had appeared at the throne room door. 

“See, he’s fine! I mean, I’m fine!” Douxie cheered with strained enthusiasm, gesturing to his younger self.

Zoe looked back and forth between the two, then stomped over to Hisirdoux and began inspecting him.

“Blast it all, Hisirdoux, I told you to stay in the tower!” Merlin scolded him.

“I know, Master, but- AH! Zoe, what are you doing?” Hisirdoux protested as she grabbed his head, turning it this way and that.

Archie jumped down from Douxie’s shoulder and hurried over to them. “Zoe, you know I wouldn’t let anything happen to him. It’s alright.”

Aaarrrgghh observed the debacle with rapt interest. “Two Douxies?”

Douxie nervously scratched the back of his head. “Well, kinda.”

Blinky looked between the two boys in wonder. “Ah, yes, that’s right. You are the you from the future, so this you is the you from the past – er – present … oh dear.”

Steve leaned his elbow on Blinky’s shoulder. “I know. Time travel, right?” 

“Woah!” Hisirdoux pushed past Zoe and walked right up to Aaarrrgghh, his mouth hanging open in wonder. “You’re trolls!”

Aaarrrgghh smiled at him. “Hiiiiii.”

“What’s your name?” Hisirdoux asked.

“Aaarrrgghh,” the giant rumbled.

“Aaarrrgghh?”

“Short for Argaumont,” Blinky supplied as he stepped up to the boy. “I am Blinkous Galadrigal,” he announced, extending a stone hand.

“Pleased to meet you,” Hisirdoux breathed, taking the offered hand. 

Hisirdoux turned at a gentle tap on his shoulder. 

“Know game?” Aaarrrgghh asked, miming the action of switching cups.

Hisirdoux’ eyes lit up. “Yeah!” He immediately conjured a stack of three cups in one hand and a ball in the other.

Merlin stepped up and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “No, Hisirdoux. We do not have time to faff about.”

Hisirdoux wilted. “Oh. Yes, Master.” He hung his head as the items dissipated into blue smoke. 

“Come, there is still much work to be done on the amulet,” he turned and glared at Zoe, “and you are not invited!”

“Fine! I didn’t want to go anyways!” She turned and narrowed her eyes at Douxie. “I’m keeping an eye on you.”

Douxie gave a nervous chuckle. “Great! Glad to, uh, have you onboard …”

Merlin turned and started back toward the corridor with a guiding hand on Hisirdoux’ back.

Hisirdoux threw a last longing glance over his shoulder and watched the others disappear into the war room.

---

Two knights sat at a little wooden table, drinking like it was their salvation. They didn’t notice the stone predator, perched in the rafters above like a gargoyle. They didn’t notice him crouch and pounce. They didn’t notice anything until Jim landed beside them with enough force to crack the stone floor.

Both of them shrieked and threw their mugs.

“Troll!” Hamon screamed.

“Yes, I am.” Jim’s voice was low and level, almost monotone in its quiet measure. 

Aldus scrambled back out of his chair and tried to meld with the wall. 

Hamon maintained a fragment of bravery or stupidity. He stood and drew his sword, shakily squaring up against Jim. 

Jim grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted gently – gently for someone whose body is made of stone. 

Hamon cried out and dropped the sword. 

Jim promptly stomped on the blade, pinning it to the ground. He shoved the knight back into his chair. “I’m here to deliver a message. Douxie is my friend. If anyone lays a finger on him, if anyone even thinks of hurting him, I will take it as a personal offense, and that person will have to deal with me.”

There was no doubt in their minds that his words were utterly sincere.

“Any questions,” he growled, his tone distinctly lacking the intent of a question. 

Both knights shook their heads vigorously. 

“Good.” Jim leaned over the table, gripping the edges with enough force to split the wood. “Now, you’re going to go tell your friends,” he turned to Aldus and stared right into his wide eyes, “ everything.” 

Aldus shrieked and started scrambling back along the wall as fast as he could. 

Jim stalked after him. “You are going to tell them exactly what happened; the truth. Especially the part about how you’re only alive because Douxie said so. Got it?”

Aldus nodded like his life depended on it.

Jim looked back at Hamon to find the other knight also nodding, having not moved an inch from where Jim had put him.

“Then go!” Jim commanded.

Neither of the knights moved. Aldus let out a pitiful whimper.

Jim snarled deep in his throat. 

Aldus bolted past him. Both knights ran impressively fast toward their nearest exit, screaming all the way. 

Jim straightened up and smiled to himself. That was fun. He whistled as he walked back up the stairs to complete his next errand.

-

Jim hesitated just outside the door to Merlin’s tower, watching the old wizard at his worktable.

“If you’re going to stand there and gawk about, you might do it elsewhere,” the wizard grumbled.

Jim jumped at the voice, but quickly composed himself and approached.

Douxie was on the other side of the room, staring at him, mouth agape in what was either unrestrained shock or horror. Wait, no. Not Douxie. He looked like Douxie, but his hair was all-black, and the focus he wore on his wrist was much smaller.

“Um, hi?” Jim greeted him.

The boy jolted as if he had been struck by lightning. His wide eyes darted all over. A jumble of syllables overflowed from his mouth as if he was trying to say a hundred things at once. Finally, he took a deep breath.

Jim thought it must be to help him calm down. It wasn’t.

The Douxie-looking boy ran around the massive table straight at Jim, stopping just short of completely smacking into him. He looked up at Jim in awe. “You – you’re the trollhunter! You’re the one who uses the amulet! This is the armor! Where’s the sword? Can it do other things? You’re a troll! That’s so cool! How does the amulet turn into this? Can I see it? Where do your clothes go when you put the armor on? Are they just underneath? Do you wear clothes? Do you-”

“HISIRDOUX,” Merlin shouted, “stop badgering him and get back to work.”

Hisirdoux’ face fell. “Yes, Master,” he mumbled. With one last wistful look at Jim, he turned and slunk back to his tasks.

“Oh, it’s okay, I don’t mind,” Jim assured them. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he did mind the questioning or not, but he would tolerate it as long as necessary to bring back the light in the boy’s eyes.

“I do. We haven’t time for such shenanigans. Now, you came here for a reason,” Merlin prompted him.

Jim sighed. “Right. I can’t summon Daylight here.”

“I know. Currently, the amulet doesn’t exist. There is nothing for you to pull it from. The armor you now wear is not the Amulet of Daylight, either. It is proper, solid metal. You could doff and don it as you would any other.”

“Okay, sure, so what do I-”

“Here.” Merlin gestured and a silvery blur nearly slammed into Jim, who reacted just in time to catch it. 

Jim examined the item in his hands: a large broadsword in a plain scabbard with twin straps to affix it to the weilder’s back. 

“I was expecting this. Her name is Galatine. Not magical, but a fine sword nonetheless.”

“Oh, um … thank you.”

Merlin gave a noncommittal grunt.

Jim stood there, expecting some kind of continued conversation, but the wizard seemed to have completely forgotten his existence. With a sigh, he turned and left the study to rejoin his friends.

---

Douxie was nervous. Not the scared, doomed kind of nervous he had been all day. This was the ‘Oh God, what now?’ kind of nervous, because Steve was standing at the front of the class looking very pleased with himself. Behind him was a large something covered by a white sheet.

He wasn’t sure if the fact that Blinky was standing opposite Steve, also looking very pleased with himself, made things better or worse.

From the armchair next to Douxie, Zoe glared death at him, still distrustful despite his exhaustive explanation of who he was, how he got here, and what was happening.

“Where’s Lake?” Steve demanded for the umpteenth time.

Douxie sighed. Pleased, confident, and impatient. Yeah, this was definitely something to be nervous about.

As if on command, the door to the war room opened and Jim walked in carrying a broadsword.

“New sword?” Claire asked.

“Yeah.” Jim walked over to show her. “Merlin gave it to me, since I can’t use Daylight.”

“AH-HEM,” Steve called. “If you losers are all done goofing around …”

“What’s this?” Jim asked as he sat beside Douxie.

“While you were all playing in evil ladies’ rooms and getting shot at, Steve and my man Blinky here were working. Now, hold onto your butts, because we are about to crack the case!” Steve pulled the sheet off the object and stood beside it with the glowing pride of a third-grader presenting his volcano to the science fair. 

To everyone from the twenty-first century, it was immediately identifiable as, undoubtedly, a murder board. It was a very impressive murder board for the Middle Ages. There were no photos or newspaper clippings, of course. In their place were a series of definitely refrigerator-worthy children’s drawings and several notes that could not possibly be in Steve’s handwriting. The string and pins were spot-on. Along the top in chunky block lettering was the question “Who is the Green Knight?”. 

Blinky stepped up on the other side of the board. “We have assembled a thorough representation of the parties involved and their relations to each other, as well as relevant notes and events.”

“Is the Green knight saying ‘Grrrr’?” Claire asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve replied. He picked up a long stick and turned to face his audience. “So! Who is the Green Knight? We see the subject represented here.” He thwacked the drawing in the center with his stick. “And what do we know about him? We know that he attacked the troll patrol and shot Lake with evil magic. We know that he is connected to the Arcane Order,” he whacked their representations, “and Morgana,” he smacked her drawing with his pointer. “But more on them later. We also know that he has the symbol thingy of Camelot-”

“Seal,” Blinky corrected.

“Aaaaaand that he commands an army of giant evil salamanders.”

“Shadow mephits,” Douxie groaned with his head in his hands.

“Yeah, whatever!” Steve began to pace. “Moving on! Next, we have The Arcane Order. Jack Frost and Lava Girl. And, apparently, another one. ‘Cause, ya know, two wasn’t hard enough. They’re mega-evil, they have mad magic powers, and they attacked flying Camelot … that’s all we know.” 

Zoe rolled her eyes. “How insightful.”

“What we don’t know is: why did they attack the castle? What were they after? A trollsicle? A crotchety old man?” 

“Trollsicle?” Jim muttered incredulously.

“And finally, we have Scary Shadow Lady, who … might be dead? Not sure about that. She uses spooky, evil magic – no offense.”

Claire crossed her arms and glared.

“She tried to kill Arthur because she loves trolls.” He pointed to a drawing of a heart with 'I love trolls' scrawled inside in what definitely was Steve’s handwriting. “She was controlling the changeling at the tournament and is probably best friends with the angry troll king dude. I didn’t remember what he looks like so I just drew Godzilla.”

“It’s not far off,” Blinky cheerily assured him.

Steve rounded on his audience. “So, I ask again: WHO is the Green Knight, WHAT does he want, and WHY is he GREEN?”

The assemblage sat in stunned silence.

“So … what’s your conclusion?” Claire asked. 

Steve shrugged. “Hey, I put the murder board together. You guys get to figure it out.”

Jim scrutinized the board. “So, this third member of The Arcane Order …”

“Nari. She wasn’t there when they attacked,” Douxie mused. “Or, at least, we didn’t see her.”

“Maybe she died?” Claire suggested. “It is 900 years.”

Douxie shook his head. “Highly unlikely. They’re immortal, like all magical creatures.”

“And they’re strong,” Zoe added. “They’re forces of nature. That’s like saying ‘maybe in a thousand years, the wind will stop blowing’.”

Jim furrowed his brow. “Maybe … she was somewhere else. Division of labor?”

Douxie pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Maybe, but they seemed pretty hellbent on destroying us. Pretty sure it was an ‘all hands on deck’ kind of situation.”

Steve gasped dramatically. “What if that’s what they were going for? What if she was in Camelot and they were trying to bust her out?”

“Steve, that’s-” Douxie’s thoughts ground to a halt. Was it ridiculous? Douxie narrowed his eyes and pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll be back.”

---

Douxie stalked the halls to Merlin’s study. 

Archie followed on his heels, wary of his familiar’s boiling rage. 

Douxie threw open the doors to the study and strode in with the presence of a king. “Did you imprison Nari?”

“I beg your pardon?” Merlin drawled.

“The third member of The Arcane Order. She was the only one who wasn’t there when they attacked. We were talking about it — probably not just her off on her own picking daisies — and then we thought, ‘What if that’s what they were trying to get? What if they were trying to break their compatriot out of Camelot?’ And I thought to myself, ‘Who do I know with a history of trapping powerful magical creatures, which eventually leads to death and destruction?’”

Merlin narrowed his eyes. “That crown’s made you quite cocky. You wouldn’t address me as such before.”

“Maybe that was my mistake,” Douxie sneered, crossing his arms. “Answer the question. Did you imprison her?”

Merlin let out a deep sigh, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know. You’re asking me about events 900 years in the future. But I can tell you I wouldn’t. It’s a stupid idea.”

“Why?”

“The Arcane Order is older than time itself, and more powerful than any earthly force. Trying to contain one would only anger them and lead to an untimely end. Do you really think I’d let that threat roam the earth if I had an alternative?”

Douxie scowled. “Why was she in Arthur and Morgana's vision?”

“It was your vision, you tell me, Your Majesty,” Merlin leered. “Obviously she was there because Arthur and Morgana remembered her.” Merlin turned back to his worktable and began enchanting some bits of metal. 

Douxie stood still as a statue, his eyes burning holes in his master’s back. 

They remained that way for several long moments, Merlin very deliberately ignoring his apprentice, while said apprentice very deliberately focused all his rage and frustration on his master. 

Finally, Merlin sighed. “Is that all, or do you have more to accuse me of?”

“Don’t act like it’s not a reasonable question. We’re here because you imprisoned Nimue.”

Merlin rounded on his apprentice. “No, we are here because you traveled through time!”

“You told me to!”

“I did no such thing!”

“You told me to open a portal! You told me to steer Camelot through the rift!”

“And then what?”

“And then –" Douxie’s rage abruptly left him, leaving only a deep, gnawing ache at the memory of what they had left behind. What was waiting for them when they got back. He finally continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “And then … they destroyed the Heart of Avalon. The castle pitched, and … we fell. Through the time rift. Just before it closed.”

Merlin’s eyes widened. He looked away, offering no response. A stifling stillness descended on the room.

Douxie sighed. “So, here we are.” 

Merlin nodded. “Indeed. Here we are.”

For a moment there was silence.

When Douxie spoke, his voice was small and weak. “Why did you do it?”

Merlin hesitated. “I think you know the answer to that, Hisirdoux.”

“The Greater Good?” Douxie snapped.

Merlin nodded.

“What Greater Good comes from locking an innocent creature away?”

“I do not know.”

“Wh-” Douxie sputtered. “How can you not know?”

Merlin sighed. “The universe, time, and fate do not care for prophets. They do not deign to explain their machinations to me.” He turned and began wandering away, slowly circling the room. “The people say that the gods blessed me with the gift of foresight, but that is not true. To know what will come is a curse. Imagine: a man has been convicted of a murder he did not commit and has been sentenced to death. Your testimony would clear his name and implicate the real murderer. What would you do?”

“I would save him!” 

“Of course. That is the only way forward for those we consider kind, brave, noble. But, what if you knew that if that man lives, barbarians will overrun the country? They will raze every village, slaughter every man, woman, and child.”

“Why?” Douxie demanded.

Merlin shook his head. “You do not know why. All you have is that one certainty.”

“Bullshit! The future is always changing. You taught me that.”

“It is. But that does not mean that every outcome is random. One way or another, his continued existence comes with a high cost. Would you still save him? Trade one life for thousands?”

Douxie sputtered. “But that – that’s not fair!”

“Exactly! Life rarely is.”

Douxie grit his teeth. He could not deny the cold truth in Merlin’s words, but he was damned if he was going to admit it.

“You don’t approve of my methods,” Merlin stated. “We are inherently different. I serve the whims of higher powers. You serve your heart.”

“Right, I get it. I’m deficient, can’t put my feelings aside and do what needs to be done like ‘The Great Merlin’,” Douxie spat.

Merlin smiled fondly at him. “You misunderstand.”

“Really? What else is new?”

Merlin leaned in and placed a hand on Douxie’s shoulder. He smiled and said in a gentle voice, “I daresay neither of us has yet been led astray.”

Douxie’s anger and frustration evaporated. He was speechless at the notion that, rather than reprimanding him, Merlin was praising him for doing something right.

Merlin turned and summoned a worn book from one of the bookshelves. It floated to Douxie and placed itself on the table. 

“This is everything I know about The Arcane Order from over a thousand years of thwarting their efforts to end humanity.” The book flipped open to a page with an intricate drawing of the goddess in question. “Nari is the most chaotic of The Order. Bellroc and Skrael rule the forces of Earth: hard, uncaring facts of the world. Nari rules life – every living creature.”

Douxie studied the recreation. She looked like just a small child dressed in leaves, but after 900 years of protecting the mortal plane, he knew better than to trust appearances.

“The Order serves their own Greater Good: the Greater Good of Magic. But, Nari is like you. She follows her heart. She has been known to be kind to those who respect nature and magic, as in your vision; to forgo the ideals of her siblings in order to preserve life. Perhaps, in the future, she has split off from The Order.”

Douxie closed the book and gingerly picked it up. “Thank you,” he mumbled, his voice void of emotion. With that, he turned and walked away.

He was nearly to the door when Merlin spoke. “I am sorry that I have disappointed you.”

Douxie froze but didn’t turn around. 

“But, that disappointment speaks to how you have grown. I have not changed. It is owed to your own progress that you no longer see me as infallible.”

Douxie didn’t respond. He didn’t know how to, after everything that had happened.

“Goodnight, Hisirdoux.”

Douxie swallowed the lump in his throat. “Goodnight, Master.” He stepped out into the hall and slowly made his way back to the war room.

Archie fell into step beside him. “I’m here if you want to talk.”

“I know.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

---

Claire buried her head in her hands and prayed for mercy as Steve gasped again. 

“Or maybe,” Steve started, “The Green Knight is a bunch of goblins stacked on top of each other. They’re green.”

“AHA!” Blinky crowed. “I never trusted the dirty little scoundrels! It all makes sense!”

“Jim, make it stop,” Claire groaned.

“Um …” He looked around at the pandemonium, then settled for patting Claire on the back.

Zoe and Callista weren’t helping. They were thoroughly entertained by Steve and Blinky’s wild conspiracy theories, and occasionally shouted out suggestions to stoke the fire.

Claire looked up as the door opened and Douxie entered like the grand master of a funeral procession. With his eyes glued to the floor, he trudged across the room toward the gathering. 

“Everything okay?” Claire asked.

“Yeah,” Douxie muttered. He was clutching an old book tight to his chest. His knuckles were white where they curled around the edges.

Claire turned to Archie for confirmation.

Archie looked between her and his familiar and sighed. “He’s … alright, all things considered.”

Douxie made his way to the couch and sat, completely ignoring the chaos around him. He opened the book and began reading.

Claire peeked over his shoulder. The words were a haphazard smattering of letters that didn’t make any sense. Some of them almost looked like English, if they had been written by a drunk toddler, but others were completely incomprehensible. She did, however, understand the monstrous drawing of an imposing figure wearing an animal skull, their body wreathed in flames. She tore her eyes away from the looming threat and refocused on Douxie. “What are you doing?”

“Studying. I need to figure out what the Arcane Order is doing.”

“You need to get some sleep.”

Douxie didn’t look up from his reading. “Can’t. We only have two days until the battle. Everything has to be set by then.”

“So you’re gonna make yourself sleep-deprived? How is that going to help?”

“I’ll sleep when this is over. When we’re back in the present.”

“Where the Arcane Order is waiting for us,” Claire countered.

“Which is why we need to use this time to prepare anything we can for the fight in the future,” Douxie insisted. “You guys sleep. I’ll be fine.”

Claire narrowed her eyes. So, that’s how he wanted to play it. “You at least need to eat something. I’ll be back.”

-

Claire followed Douxie’s directions to the castle kitchen, fuming all the way. As she stomped through the castle, her anger turned to chaotic glee. A sly smile spread across her face. She was going to get food, but she also had something much more devious in mind for King ‘I-Don’t-Need-To-Sleep’.

The rich smells of a kitchen wafted down the corridor. She reached the end of the hall and stepped through the archway.  “Um, hi,” she said.

A handful of servant girls looked up at her and stared, frozen by shock, fear, or both. They all looked about her age or younger.

When it became clear that she was not going to get a response, Claire continued. “Hey, so, could you guys get some food together for three people and a cat?”

“... To be taken to the throne room?” one girl asked hesitantly. 

“Oh, I can take it, actually.”

“Y-yes, milady … will you also be wanting the rubbish?”

“Huh?”

“We’ve been collecting it since His Majesty requested it earlier today.” She gestured to a corner containing a pile of broken chairs, dented pots, scraps of cloth, and other refuse. 

Claire stared at it, mouth agape. “Yes! Yes, thank you! Ohmygosh, you’re amazing! Um, I’ll be back in a few minutes. Got something else to take care of.” With that, she opened a portal and jumped through.

-

Claire stepped out of the portal into Merlin’s tower. “Douxie won’t sleep.”

“I would appreciate it very much if you would at least knock,” Merlin replied without looking up from his workbench.

“I know you don’t know shadow magic, but it must be similar. How do I make him sleep?”

Merlin froze and looked at her, his face grim. “No. What you meddle in is dark magic, as you well know. If you were to use it to induce sleep, you would be more than likely to traumatize the poor boy with horrible visions of the shadow realm.”

Claire crossed her arms, “Okay, but, he needs to sleep.”

“Yes, yes, I heard you.” 

Merlin knelt and rummaged under the table while a parade of herbs and powders emerged from various cabinets and fell into orbit around his workbench. Bottles floated up from the shelves behind him and settled on the surface. He produced a small metal pot and a contraption Claire recognized from science class. Merlin placed the pot above the medieval bunsen burner, which ignited with a small, green flame. He poured unmeasured amounts of strange liquids into the tiny cauldron, while one by one the dry ingredients added themselves to the mixture, each one giving off a puff of colored smoke.

Claire gravitated towards him, entranced by the process. It looked chaotic, but she could tell there was a careful method to the madness.

Merlin added a few more ingredients before speaking an incantation above it. “Somnus dum aurora.” The mixture briefly glowed pale before fading to a deep blue liquid flecked with pinpricks of white. 

Merlin produced a small glass vial and filled it with the dark-blue liquid. “A drop of this, and he will sleep until sunrise.” He stoppered the potion and offered it to Claire.

“Thanks,” she chirped.

Merlin mumbled something and waved her off with a vague gesture.

She pocketed the vial and opened a portal back to the kitchen.

-

Claire appeared in the kitchen to the frightened squeaks of the servant girls. She smiled sheepishly. “Uh, sorry about that. I-It’s faster than walking.” 

The girls were crowded around a large serving cart piled with plates of food, and they had nearly finished stuffing the lower levels with as much trash as possible.

One of the girls turned to her and curtsied. “As you requested, milady.”

“Great! Oh, could I also get a bottle of wine?”

“Of course, milady.” She pulled a bottle from the wall and added it to the cart.

Claire thanked them again before disappearing into another portal.

-

Claire pushed a cart laden with food and trash through the void into the war room. She quickly hid the wine before calling the room to attention. “Dinner is served!” she announced.

“What’s all this?” Blinky asked. He gasped dramatically. “Are those socks?”

Claire nodded. “Yup. Douxie told the kitchen servants to collect them for you.”

The group descended on the offerings.

Steve ran up and grabbed a turkey leg. “Woo-hoo!” he crowed before biting into it far more savagely than necessary.

“Hey, Jim,” Claire sang. She shook a bucket of twisted metal at him.

Jim’s eyes lit up.

Claire looked over at Douxie, who hadn’t moved from his place on the couch. She rolled her eyes and picked up two dishes. The first was a plate of roasted salmon. She set on the cushion in front of Archie, who instantly pounced on the fish. The other was a bowl of mini meat pies, which she plopped rudely on top of the page Douxie was reading.

He looked up at her in confusion and mild annoyance. “What?”

“Eat!” she commanded.

“Oh.” He looked down at the bowl, and smiled. “Thanks, Claire.”

“Eat them,” she ground out.

Douxie chuckled. “Alright, alright.” He turned back to the book, munching on meat pies as he read.

-

When Claire was sure Douxie had eaten all of the meat pies, and Jim had relieved him of his tasty wooden bowl, she casually slipped away to enact the next phase of her plan. She retrieved the bottle of wine, as well as several wine glasses from a medieval mini-bar in a corner of the room.

Claire poured a small amount of wine into one of the glasses, as she’d seen her mom do countless times when wooing political donors, then pulled Merlin’s potion out of her pocket. She uncorked the vial and carefully poured a drop of the dark liquid into the wine. It hung for a moment like ink in water before dissipating into the innocent celebratory drink. She turned around and nearly dropped the glass.

Archie was sitting on the back of the sofa, piercing her with his yellow gaze. For a moment, they stood locked in a staredown, Claire caught red-handed spiking the drink. Then Archie turned and hopped back down onto the couch.

Claire stood there petrified, but as the seconds ticked by and neither the dragon nor Douxie appeared to reprimand her, she began to calm down. She took a deep breath, walked over to Douxie, and shoved the glass in his face.

Douxie looked up at her dubiously. “What’s this?” he asked.

“Since this morning you’ve become king, rescued Aaarrrgghh, confronted Morgana, rooted out a plot against you, and won the hearts of the people. I think that calls for a toast.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Not sure about the hearts of the people …”

“Whatever. That’s still a lot. It deserves some kind of fanfare.” Claire held the drink steady before him, her expression daring him to refuse.

“Wh- but …” Douxie sputtered.

Archie stretched and wandered across the cushions to his familiar. “Oh, come on, Douxie. What harm will one drink do?”

Douxie looked around at his fellow time travelers. “You – none of you are of legal drinking age,” he protested.

“What’s a ‘legal drinking age’?” Zoe asked.

Steve turned and stared at her. “I like her, she’s cool.”

Claire cocked an eyebrow and kept staring him down. 

“Claire, please.”

“Not until you toast me, Your Majesty,” she teased.

Douxie sighed in resignation. “Fine.” He accepted the glass, holding the stem delicately between his fingers. 

Claire went around the room distributing wine glasses to all the humans, trolls, and half-trolls assembled. For Archie, she brought a small teacup. When she reached Aaarrrgghh, she hesitated. “Um …” she hedged, eyeing his fingers that were each the size of rolling pins.

Aaarrrgghh placed his open palm in front of her.

Claire carefully set the delicate glass on the flattest part of his hand she could find.

Aaarrrgghh regarded the tiny glass cup for a moment. Then, he hurled the entire thing back into his mouth.

Claire cringed at the sound of crunching glass. She shook off the discomfort and picked up the bottle. She made the rounds again, pouring each person a splash of wine. When she was done, she turned back to the rough circle of friends and raised her glass. “To King Douxie.”

A chorus of toasts rose up around her.

“Aw yeah, alcohol!” Steve downed the entirety of his glass before promptly spitting it out. “Ah, gross! This tastes like moldy feet!”

Douxie laughed as he raised his own glass. “Cheers.” He sipped the ceremonial drink, his mouth forming a crooked smile despite his objections. He turned back to his studies, but before long his eyelids began to droop. He listed to the side and collapsed against the arm of the couch.

Claire caught the glass as it fell from Douxie’s limp hand. 

“Masterfully done,” Archie congratulated her.

Jim laid the sleeping wizard down on the couch and draped a heavy blanket over him. He removed the crown and placed it on the coffee table.

“Hah, lame!” Steve taunted the sleeping wizard. “What a lightweight! You’d think someone so old could drink more.”

Claire rolled her eyes. Some people were truly hopeless. 

---

Hisirdoux lay awake on the cot laid out for him in Merlin’s chamber, crammed between stacks of ancient tomes and tables littered with artifacts. He had never been in the master wizard’s chambers before, and he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. However, he knew that a dumping ground for grimoires, magical items, and dirty laundry was not it. He wasn’t sure how Merlin found anything in the mess. The sheer volume of magic produced a low, constant hum that reverberated throughout the room. It wasn’t distracting; Hisirdoux found it rather soothing, actually.

And yet, he couldn’t sleep. His mind was plagued by thoughts of the hardships his future self was facing, the weight of all the responsibilities crushing down on him. Hisirdoux hadn’t lied. He knew the older him could do this, and had friends to support him. Still, if only there were something he could do to help.

Hisirdoux’ eyes flew open. Yes, maybe there was something he could do! 

He crept out of bed and tiptoed past Merlin. Focusing intently on the sleeping wizard, he didn’t notice the stack of precariously balanced books sitting on the edge of a table. He brushed against the tower, providing just enough force to send them all crashing to the floor.

“Fuzz buckets!” he hissed. He watched his master with bated breath, waiting to be caught and reprimanded, but the old man only let out a loud snore and continued sleeping.

Hisirdoux breathed a sigh of relief. He carefully picked up the fallen books and placed them back on the table. Then, he continued to the door and snuck out into the hall.

The time map, which had been sat atop the tower of books, lay where it had landed: under Merlin’s bed, between a box of trinkets and a balled-up robe. It shuddered and popped open, bathing the cramped space in soft blue light as it ticked, ticked, ticked …

Notes:

What a fun, relatively light tone I’ve created in this chapter. It would be a shame if something were to happen to it …

I wanted to find something gender-neutral for Bellroc but there just weren’t any others that required as little brain power as Steve was giving it.

I realize that the Merlin imprisoning Nimue leading to the whole situation doesn’t really make sense, but Douxie’s real upset about that and sees them as connected. Though, to be fair, they wouldn’t be there if Merlin hadn’t imprisoned her, as then Douxie wouldn’t have freed her, but he’s not gonna realize that as it would absolutely break his soul.

Spells:
Somnus dum aurora - sleep until dawn

Chapter 12

Notes:

WARNING: After the second page-break, this chapter is almost entirely moppet angst or the results of moppet angst. If that is not your jam, you may want to skip everything beyond that. I will include a detailed summary minus angst in the end notes of this chapter, and a brief summary minus angst at the beginning of the next chapter.

It’s not that bad, at least compared to the people I hang out with. XD I’m pretty weeny when it comes to angst, I like it for story reasons but I am not into gratuitous pain/torture/injury just for shiggles.

Also: Previously I was imagining the dungeon as like a storage center or a residential area arranged in a grid. I have since realized that it is actually a circle with one hall going off it. We didn’t spend much time in the dungeon before, so it’s not a big problem, but I wanted to mention it as things will not line up, just a little.

I used this website for Old English, it’s great. Don’t worry though, you don’t have to translate it yourself. The Old English is repeated in Modern English further down.

Thank you to Nezio for beta-ing!

The castle was dim, lit only by scattered blue torches. Hisirdoux crept through the corridors, wary of every sound, but the longer he went without seeing a single soul, the more confident he became. By the time he reached his destination, he was walking casually along as if it were a lazy afternoon. 

He stopped at the door leading to the throne room and admired the faintly glowing ward. Earlier, with Merlin, he hadn’t had a chance to appreciate the craftsmanship. The runes, many of which he’d never seen before, wound together in a beautiful tapestry. His heart fluttered at the thought that, one day, he would be capable of that.

Hisirdoux pushed the door open and snuck across the throne room. On the other side was another warded door. Beyond was a room he’d never been in, but he knew what it was. The war room, where leaders met and battles were planned. He smiled. How fitting.

He carefully cracked the door open and slipped inside. The room was lit by only a low-burning fire at the far end of the room that cast an eerie, blue glow and threw long shadows on the walls. In the soft light, he could see the various members of the court sleeping.

Claire and the trollhunter were cuddling on a pile of pillows they had liberated from various places in the room. A green troll, who he hadn’t been introduced to earlier, was lying on the floor against a wall. Nearby, Zoe had grabbed a single pillow and passed out flat on her stomach.

Steve was curled up in an armchair, cuddling a pillow and mumbling in his sleep. Blinkous Galadrigal was leaning back in another armchair, snoring impressively, with his feet up and his hands folded over his stomach. Aaarrrgghh lay on the floor beside Blinkous, curled up like a very large cat. His deep, rumbling breaths reverberated through the room.

Hisirdoux tiptoed across the ornate floor. As he approached the cozy seating area at the far end of the room, he finally found himself laid out on the couch, sleeping peacefully. He also saw the small lump under the blanket next to his older self. 

Cats were notoriously light sleepers; even a gentle vibration could rouse them instantly. Luckily, Archie was not actually a cat. He was a dragon, and it was said that dragons could sleep through the end of the world.

He turned his gaze to the table and stifled a high squeak. An old book, one of Merlin’s if he had to guess, lay open on the table to a horrifying image. He recognized it, though only barely. Merlin had only mentioned them in passing, brushing off Hisirdoux’ questions as nothing he need worry about. Bellroc, Keeper of the Flame, leader of the Arcane Order. Was that what they were up against?

Focus, he told himself. He turned back to the matter at hand.

Excalibur lay on the table beside the crown, along with an ornate chest, about the size of Archie. Hisirdoux reached for it and carefully opened the box. Inside was a pile of folded papers of varying types. He carefully selected one of the pages and unfolded it. In the low firelight, he read the salutation at the top. “My dearest Gwen,”

Hisirdoux gasped. He grabbed another one. In a different hand, the letter was addressed to “My dear Arthur,”

Hisirdoux’ heart beat faster. He picked up the box and sat beside the fire. He read letter after letter, entranced by the story unfolding before him. His heart ached for the words on the pages.

-

The soft bong of the bell startled Hisirdoux out of his reverie. Pages and pages of letters lay scattered on the floor around him. Only one letter remained in the chest, dated about a month ago. He carefully unfolded it and began to read.

 

My love,

To-day Merlin and Morgana got into quite the spat – over what, I do not know. She told him, “Your approval on the matter is as dear to me as a festering mole on a donkey’s backside!” The old man’s face turned the shade of an over-ripe plumb. I know that this exchange will bring me joy for as long as it remains in my memory. I hope that, through my recounting, you might chuckle as well.

I long for the days when I might again tell you of these amusements in person, and we will laugh together as children. Not a day goes by that I do not think of your smile. When my duties threaten to overwhelm me, it is that smile that gives me the strength to go on.

Yours forever,

Arthur

Hisirdoux put the letter down and sighed, tears pricking at his eyes and firm determination stirring in his heart. He placed the letters back in the chest before returning to the small table. As he reached for the sacred relics, the magnitude of the transgression he was about to commit made him hesitate … but, if this worked, no one would have to know. No one would get hurt. 

It will work, he told himself. 

He affixed Excalibur to his back and placed the crown on his head. It hummed a low, disapproving warning.

“Yes, yes, I know I’m not the right one. Now, be quiet!” he hissed. With the chest in his hands and a giddy smile on his face, he walked confidently out into the castle.

---

As Hisirdoux closed the dungeon door behind him, he took a deep breath and pushed down his nervousness. He wouldn’t be nervous, and it was time to get into character. He out pulled the ribbon holding his bun, letting his hair fall and brush against his face. His hands tightened around the small chest covered with a dark cloth, and he started down the hall with strong, purposeful steps. 

Following the calamity that freed all the trolls, gnomes, and other magical creatures, the dungeon was eerily abandoned. The torches along the walls were insufficiently placed, leaving large gaps of darkness. Drips of water echoed down the dark hall, and even though he stepped carefully, the soft crunch of his boots on the damp stones was cacophonous, alerting the former king to his presence long before he was in sight.

The hurried scuffing of boots on stone came from ahead. “Who goes there?” Arthur demanded.

Hisirdoux reached the end of the hall. He set his face in a strong, determined mask, and stepped out into the wider dungeon. 

Only one cell was occupied. The occupant of that cell scowled viciously as soon as he recognized his visitor. 

Hisirdoux stepped forward, coming to a stop right in front of the barred door. For a moment, neither he nor Arthur said anything, only silently observing each other. Then, Hisirdoux smiled. “Good evening,” he chirped.

Arthur glared at him. “What do you want?”

“To talk,” Hisirdoux answered simply.

“And why would I talk to you?” Arthur growled. 

Hisirdoux beamed. “You already are talking to me.”

Arthur glowered at him.

Hisirdoux dropped the cheeky cheerfulness and assumed a more serious demeanor. “I want to talk to you. Not as a king and a prisoner, as friends.” 

“We are not friends,” Arthur spat.

“Why not?” Hisirdoux asked.

“Why-” Arthur stopped himself and chuckled. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am. Why can’t we be friends?”

“Whatever game you are playing, I will not fall for it!”

Hisirdoux’ face crumpled. He wasn’t naive enough to think that Arthur would welcome him with open arms, but … well, he supposed he was naive to not expect this level of hostility; to imagine that this would go smoothly.

“What are you doing?” Arthur snapped.

Hisirdoux frowned. “I’m trying to understand. But I can’t. Please explain why you hate me so much.”

“You overthrew me! Humiliated me! Took my crown, my kingdom!”

Hisirdoux shook his head, pulling on all he had gathered about the circumstances that had led them here. “I didn’t want to. It was the will of Excalibur, and The Lady. But, even so, that’s not it. If you were only concerned for Camelot’s well-being, you would accept The Lady’s decision … but you don’t. You don’t hate me for my actions; it’s something else, something deeper. Why?”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Magic,” he hissed.

Hisirdoux dropped his gaze. “You hate magic. You blame it for your grief, your pain. I’m sorry. Losing someone so dear … it must be unbearable.”

“Do not speak to me of loss! You know nothing!”

“... You’re right. I don’t know loss. The first memory I have is of being alone in the woods as a child, finding Archie. I don’t know anything about my family. I don’t remember how I lost them.” Hisirdoux smiled sadly. “Maybe it’s better that way. Can’t be too sad about something you can’t remember, right?”

Arthur didn’t respond.

“I can’t imagine what that’s like, to lose someone you love so much, to have to go on without them; everyday, feeling their absence. If I lost Archie or Master Merlin … they’re all I have. I don’t know how I would go on.” Hisirdoux took a deep breath and began again. “I want to talk to the real Arthur. Not King Arthur.”

“What nonsense do you speak? There is no other Arthur.”

“Yes, there is,” Hisirdoux insisted, “when you talk to her.”

“What?”

Hisirdoux sat down crosslegged and unwrapped the box.

Arthur gasped, all his hostility gone in an instant and replaced with desperation. “Where did you get that?”

Hisirdoux smiled. “Where do you think?”

Arthur scrambled to his knees and reached out for it.

Hisirdoux tried to hand him the chest, but immediately ran into a problem: it was much too big to fit through the bars. He considered this for a moment. Then, he opened the door, slipped the box inside, and closed it again.

Arthur stared at him like he’d grown another head.

“What?” Hisirdoux asked.

Arthur shook his head. With trembling hands, he opened the chest and began reading the letters.

Hisirdoux sat quietly, watching as Arthur’s eyes scanned the pages. His face was completely transformed, from a cold mask of hatred to the awe of a man looking upon the face of his god.

Finally, Hisirdoux spoke. “You write to her as if she’s just gone away. You don’t mention trolls or magic, or her death. There is no malice, no grief.”

Arthur gave a hollow chuckle. “She wouldn’t want to hear it.”

“Tell me about her?” Hisirdoux asked hopefully.

Arthur sighed. “She was stubborn. She had a sharp tongue and a sharp wit. She never hesitated to tell me when I was wrong, or anyone else for that matter; she once gave the king of Denmark quite the talking to. She was kind, but never let anyone take advantage of that kindness. And, though we grew to be adults with the responsibilities of ruling, she never lost the child-like wonder she held for the amazing; for music, art, nature … magic …”

Hisirdoux grinned. “She sounds amazing.”

Arthur nodded. “She was.”

Hisirdoux paused and took a deep breath before continuing in a slow, somber tone. “There are those … who use magic for evil, revenge, horror. Who abuse their power, delight in the pain of others. I’ve seen it. And, there are humans who do the same. Magic is not more than the mundane, it is just different. Magic can bend the will of others. Can you not do the same with diplomacy, threats, blackmail?” 

Arthur looked away and didn’t respond.

“Magic can create grand structures and reshape the earth. Was it not human ingenuity that created the towering castle above us? Have you not diverted rivers to feed your fields, carved out mountains to suit your needs? Magic can cause great harm and suffering. What of your wars, your weapons, your technology; when you lay siege to a fortress and starve the population? Humans have accomplished great and terrifying feats. Magic is not more, it is just different.”

Arthur grimaced. His hands curled into shaking fists.

“Hate is easy. It is satisfying. Understanding and tolerance are hard and tedious. But hate only breeds more hate. It feeds a downward spiral of destruction and pain –”

“I KNOW!” Arthur shouted.

Hisirdoux stared at him in shock.

Arthur took several deep, shaky breaths. He looked away and whispered, “I know …”

“... Then, why?”

Arthur sighed. “It is as you say. Hatred is easy, satisfying. Her death … she was not slain before me. She did not succumb to illness. She was not captured by an enemy to sway my hand. She was just gone.” His voice broke as a tear slipped down his cheek. “There was nothing I could do. She wandered off into the depths of what she loved, where I would not dare to stop her from going, as she had done countless times before. And then … she was gone. I could not send my armies to rescue her. I could not cut down hoards of enemies to find her. There was nothing, nothing I could do.”

Arthur drew a deep breath and continued. “I begged Merlin to find a way to bring her back, but there was none. I pleaded with the gods, but my prayers went unanswered. I was king of England! I had everything to give: lands, riches, armies, power, my own life! I would have given it all for her … and none of it mattered!” A bitten-off sob choked the rest of his words. 

Hisirdoux waited patiently for the disgraced king to continue. 

When he did, Arthur’s voice was thick with suppressed tears. “None of it was worth anything. I was powerless to save her.” He took a shaky breath. “So … I fought. I swore that I would not be made powerless again. I sent my men to slaughter all that magic touched. I convinced myself that, through domination, I would know peace.” He grimaced. “But it does not bring me peace. It is hollow. And – I know that it is a lie,” he hissed, “... but it is all that I have left.”

For several long moments, the only sound was the occasional drip of water echoing through the chamber.

Finally, Arthur gave a lifeless chuckle. “And now, here I am: defeated, truly powerless, at the mercy of magic.” He sighed. “Thank you for letting me be with her one last time. It is more than I deserve.” He placed the letters back in the chest and reverently shut the lid before bowing his head. “Take your revenge, mage.”

Hisirdoux was speechless as he stared at the man before him; an ordinary, honest man, baring his soul. He didn’t know what to say to such a confession. But, there was one thing he did know. “... I don’t want revenge.”

Arthur balked at him. Then, his surprise sharpened to anger. “I have slaughtered hundreds of your kind! How can you not hate me?”

Hisirdoux hugged his knees to his chest and shrugged. “What good would it do me?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. “It won’t bring them back. It would only start the cycle anew.”

He closed his eyes and held himself tight as he tried to will away the tears threatening to spill over. For a moment, there was silence.

Then, Arthur’s voice came again, gentler than he’d ever heard it. “Who are you, boy?”

Hisirdoux’ eyes shot open. “Me?” he squeaked. “Y-you know who I am, ‘course. I’m His- I mean King Hisirdoux Casperan.”

Arthur shook his head. “No. You are not the same. You are not the one who wielded that sword against me.”

“I-” Hisirdoux stopped. He sighed and looked away. “... I am Hisirdoux Casperan. Merlin’s apprentice. Nineteen years old. A novice.”

“Why did he send you in his place?”

“He didn’t. I … came on my own.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows. “You stole Excalibur?”

Hisirdoux scratched the back of his head nervously. “N-not stole. More like … borrowed?”

A faint smile played on Arthur’s lips. “Alright. Why did you borrow Excalibur?”

“Because-” Hisirdoux sighed. “I don’t know. It seemed … it seemed like the right thing to do. Like something I could do, ‘stead of just sitting around being useless. I want to help. There’s so much – so much he has to deal with. I thought, maybe, I could do this for him.” He gave a hollow laugh. “But you saw right through me … how did you know?”

Arthur hesitated. “There is a hardness in his eyes. It comes from having one’s soul broken, putting the pieces back together, whole but never the same. From scars on your heart that will never heal. I recognize it. It is in my eyes as well.” He lifted his gaze to meet Hisirdoux’. “But your eyes are bright. They are full of the innocence of one who has not yet been beaten down by the world. You hold a precious hope that, once lost, can never be found again.”

Hisirdoux fixed his gaze on the ground. “Oh …” He lapsed into a stiff silence, unsure what to do now that his ruse had been discovered.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Arthur pointed out. “Why did you pretend to be him? If not for revenge, why did you come?”

Hisirdoux stared at him in shock. “To … to convince you to change.”

“Well then?” Arthur made a sweeping gesture. “Present your argument.”

“Oh, uh …” Hisirdoux’ eyes jumped around the chamber, as if the answers were written on the walls.

Arthur gave him a warm smile. “You were doing a marvelous job before.”

Hisirdoux blushed. He took a deep breath and began slowly, “I know that it is hard to not give in to hate.”

“What wrongs have been done to you? You are but a child.”

“I’m a wizard,” Hisirdoux stated. “I walk these halls every day, and to the vast majority of the people I see, my very existence is offensive. When I first arrived in Camelot, I nearly died to Galahad’s blade. Were it not for Merlin, I would be dead. And every day, I am reminded over and over of the fact that he is the only reason I am still alive. Sometimes with words, sometimes … other ways.”

Arthur furrowed his brow. “Who?”

“Loads of people. Knights, squires, nobles, townsfolk …”

“And you don’t hate them for it?”

Hisirdoux was quiet for a moment. “Sometimes I do. Sometimes, when I get home, I scream and cry and destroy things. But … it’s a choice. I could contribute to the hate they hold for me. I could prove them right. Or, I could choose kindness instead. It is tiring and painful and thankless, but if I respond with kindness, maybe they will do the same.”

Arthur smiled sadly. “A pity we all can’t be so noble.”

“Why can’t you?” Hisirdoux asked.

“There is too much blood on my hands. I cannot simply pretend it didn’t happen.”

“It’s not about pretending. It’s about setting things right.”

“How?”

“Well, you could start by apologizing,” Hisirdoux suggested.

Arthur laughed. “The denizens of magic would not accept my apology, nor should they.”

“How do you know if you don’t try?”

Arthur shook his head. “You certainly are a persistent one.”

Hisirdoux smiled. “Nothing is too broken to be fixed.”

Arthur sighed and looked away. Hisirdoux could see the gears turning in his head. Finally, he raised his head to meet Hisirdoux’ eager gaze.

In a flash, Arthur’s expression turned from one of faint hope to horror. “Look out!”

Something crashed against Hisirdoux’ mind, like the backlash of a misfired spell. He winced and stumbled to his feet, looking around wildly for the threat. 

Menacing footsteps echoed from the hall as, slowly, a large, armored figure stepped out of the shadows into the blue torchlight. Though he wasn’t much taller than Hisirdoux, the man seemed to tower over him. He had dark, wavy hair and green eyes as cold as the void. A tapestry of scars marred his face. 

Hisirdoux recognized him, and he was terrified.

The man smirked. “I’d offer you the chance to make this quick and – relatively painless,” he swung a heavy mace up onto his shoulder, “but that wouldn’t be any fun.”

Arthur pounded his fist against the bars. “Stop! As your king, I command you to stop!”

“Don’t look much like a king, locked up in a hole. But don’t worry,” he assured Arthur with a mocking bow, “your knight in shining armor is here to save you.”

Hisirdoux gathered all the nerve he could muster. “S-stay back! You don’t want to fight me!”

“Is that why you quiver like a newborn deer?” the knight called. As he stepped forward, Hisirdoux took a reflexive step back.

“You will stop this needless violence at once!” Arthur commanded.

“Whose side are you on?”

“Not yours!” Arthur growled.

The knight looked at Arthur, then turned and glared at Hisirdoux with renewed hatred. “You’ll pay for whatever you’ve done to him,” he promised before launching himself across the room.

“No!” Arthur kept yelling, but Hisirdoux couldn’t make out the words over the pounding of his heart, all his focus concentrated on survival as the battle began. 

The knight was upon him in seconds. 

Hisirdoux tried to duck out of the way, but he wasn’t fast enough.

The knight swung his mace at Hisirdoux’ shoulder. It impacted an invisible force a few feet from hitting the wizard.

The feeling was that of being inside a giant bell as it rung. Hisirdoux clutched his head as he staggered away. He forced his eyes open. The pain in his head was immeasurable, but his instinct to survive overruled it, granting him temporary clarity.

The knight was reeling from the force of the impact, too.

Hisirdoux only had a moment. He called up as much magic as he could muster and locked his shaky gaze on his attacker. “Tenebris Exillium!” he shouted. 

A wide beam of blue light shot from his hand and hit the knight squarely in the chest, knocking him all the way back against the wall. He staggered as he tried to regain his balance.

Hisirdoux took a deep breath. He looked to the side and saw the object that had struck him before: a bola. He picked it up with his magic and sent it flying at the knight, who swatted it out of the air effortlessly with his mace.

Hisirdoux smiled. Though the attack had been unsuccessful, it had given him a brilliant idea. He summoned a magic lasso and threw it around the knight’s arm. When he pulled on the cord, he met solid resistance. “Hah!” he crowed

The knight raised an eyebrow at Hisirdoux. Then, he yanked his arm back.

Hisirdoux yelped as he was pulled off-balance and crashed to the floor with a grunt. He looked up to find the knight bearing down on him. Hisirdoux threw himself to the side, rolling out of the way just before the mace smashed into the stones. He stumbled to his feet, backing away as fast as possible.

Hisirdoux dodged as the mace came at him again. He grabbed desperately for the runes on his bracelet and threw light in his attacker’s face. 

The knight grunted and stumbled back.

Hisirdoux quickly assessed the situation. He was tired, and the pounding in his head was making it hard to think. Whatever had been protecting him so far surely wouldn’t last forever. His only option was to run.

He panted and searched desperately for an escape. The knight standing between him and the door was blinking the last of the light from his vision. Hisirdoux doubted that would work again … but then, it didn’t have to be light that blinded his opponent. His eyes jumped to the torches hanging at irregular intervals along the walls. He called up his magic. “Exsting-”

The knight appeared out of nowhere. With a savage war cry, he swung the mace at Hisirdoux’ side.

For one final moment, the mysterious barrier held. And then, it shattered.

The mace slammed into Hisirdoux', picking him up and hurling him across the arena. He landed in a heap on the opposite side of the room. The crown clattered to the floor and rolled off into the darkness.

Hisirdoux lay gasping on the cold, damp stones. Every breath felt like a knife plunging into his side. He clawed at the ground and tried to pull himself to his feet, his knees, anything, but moving his head even an inch off the ground set the room spinning and forced him right back down.

The knight grabbed Hisirdoux’ hood and dragged him along the floor, dropping him outside Arthur’s cell. “Remove your enchantment,” he demanded.

“No!” Hisirdoux gasped. 

The knight knelt beside him. “There’re two ways I kill your kind,” he murmured. “Slow, and slower. This is your one chance to choose. How much do you want to entertain me, witch?”

“He can’t!” Arthur shouted. “I have been trying to tell you! He is not the one who took Excalibur and locked me in here!”

“What’s this, then?” the knight asked, ripping the sword from Hisirdoux’ back.

“He stole it, pretended to be the other! But this one is just a child!”

“So, he’s useless?” the knight asked. He straightened up and placed Excalibur against Hisirdoux’ neck.

Arthur gasped. “N-no! No, he – he can be a hostage! The other will surely come to rescue him.”

“Hm,” the knight mused. He withdrew the blade. 

Hisirdoux breathed a shaky sigh of relief.

Then, an armored boot connected with the side of his head, and the world fell away.

-

Arthur stared in horror at the boy crumpled on the ground. Any words he may have had were caught in his throat.

His knight followed his gaze and laughed. “Fuckin’ witch.” He turned and slid Excalibur between the bars of the cell. “You hold onto that.”

The sword clattered to the ground. Arthur looked at it, then back to the brute outside.

“Well then,” the knight said as he hoisted Hisirdoux onto his shoulder. “I’ll be off.” He turned and walked away.

Arthur’s reticence evaporated, replaced by burning fury. “You fiend! Get back here!” He kept screaming as the ominous sound of the door closing echoed through the dungeon.

---

Hisirdoux opened his eyes to cold moonlight illuminating an unfamiliar room. He was sitting with his back to a hard, stone wall, and his wrists were bound in shackles over his head. Everything hurt. The pounding in his head that came in time with his heartbeat matched the sharp pain in his side when he breathed. 

There was a disturbing emptiness in the pit of his stomach he couldn’t identify. He tried to create light, a very simple spell. Nothing happened. Cold dread settled over him. That was it: no magic. His breathing came faster as he tried not to panic. 

The door opened, admitting a wide beam of light and a tall, armored figure. Hisirdoux saw the man’s face, and, suddenly, it all came back to him. He tried desperately to use his magic to free himself. The emptiness he was met with took his breath away. 

The air seemed to grow colder with each step the knight took toward him. He knelt in front of Hisirdoux. “Do you know who I am?”

Hisirdoux kept his eyes trained firmly on the floor. He didn’t respond, didn’t acknowledge that he’d even heard.

“I said,” the knight grabbed Hisirdoux’ arm and began to slowly twist, “do you know who I am?”

Hisirdoux bit down on the wretched scream clawing its way up his throat. He wouldn’t cow, wouldn’t give this man the satisfaction of seeing him cry. The radiating pain grew stronger,  his bones grinding against each other until it seemed they would snap. With a broken gasp, he relented. “Lamorak,” he croaked.

Lamorak released him immediately. “See, that wasn’t so hard. I wonder what else you can say.” He raised a gauntleted hand, the fingers tipped with steel claws, and held it against Hisirdoux’ face. With his other hand, he produced a simple dagger. He placed it against Hisirdoux’ cheek and stared him dead in the eyes. “Hail King Arthur.”

“No!” Hisirdoux gasped.

Lamorak started pushing the blade closer, so slowly with terrifying control. 

Hisirdoux squeezed his eyes shut and tried to turn his head away, but the massive hand held him steady. His skin gave a bit before yielding to the blade. Hisirdoux winced, his breath coming fast through gritted teeth. He held on with all his will as he felt blood dripping down his cheek, determined not to give this monster the satisfaction he craved.

“Say it,” Lamorak growled.

Hisirdoux remained silent. A high whine escaped his throat and tears spilled from his eyes as the dagger bite farther into his skin.

The door banged open, causing Hisirdoux to jerk back. He cried out as the motion carved a jagged line into his cheek.

“Fuck’s sake, lad,” a gruff voice called.

Hisirdoux remembered that voice. It was not a good voice. Still, in the moment, he was relieved, as the interruption caused Lamorak to pull the dagger away.

Lamorak stepped away to address the newcomer. “Oh, come now. I was only having a bit of fun.”

A harsh grunt was the only reply.

Hisirdoux hesitantly opened his eyes, knowing what he would find; the man who almost ended him when he first arrived in Camelot stood in the doorway.

His relief was short-lived as Galahad turned towards him and narrowed his eyes. The stout knight stomped across the room. “No Merlin to save you this time, boy. No black cat.” He stopped in front of Hisirdoux. “You tell us what we want to know, an’ we’ll let ya live.”

Hisirdoux didn’t believe him for a second.

Galahad crossed his arms. “Where are they hiding?”

Hisirdoux couldn’t resist. He looked up at Galahad with a shit-eating grin. “You didn’t look very hard, did you?”

Something shot past his head and thudded against the wall. Hisirdoux froze. The sharp burn of a wound bloomed at the edge of his ear, and a slow, thick liquid traced the outer shell. He turned his head and found Lamorak’s dagger embedded in the stone beside him. His breathing stuttered as his heart pounded faster.

Galahad sneered. “You’d do well to answer, boy. My brother is not the sort to let insults go unpunished, or to pass up an opportunity for blood. Now, where are they hiding?”

“I won’t tell you anything,” Hisirdoux swore, his voice much faster and breathier than he would have liked.

Lamorak stalked slowly toward him. He crouched over Hisirdoux again and yanked the dagger out of the wall. For a moment, he just held the blade, studying it with a thoughtful expression. Then he looked directly into Hisirdoux’ eyes and stabbed him in the thigh.

Hisirdoux screamed.

Lamorak twisted the knife. “You can make it stop. Answer him.”

Dark spots appeared on Hisirdoux’ vision and his breath came in desperate gasps. The world swam before him, no sense of time or space, only overwhelming pain. “Th’waroom,” he wheezed.

Lamorak yanked the dagger out.

Hisirdoux gasped for breath, slowly coming down from his delirium. The pain lessened but didn’t go away. 

As his head cleared, a wave of shame crashed over him. He hung his head and fought back tears. He’d betrayed them. Now, they would all be hunted down and killed, and it was his fault. 

“How many are there?”

“A thousand!” Hisirdoux spat, putting all the hatred he felt for himself into the words.

Lamorak raised the bloody dagger.

Hisirdoux’ heart kicked to a gallop. No, not again. He couldn’t take it again. He wasn’t brave and strong like them. He was weak and useless and stupid and – 

He gasped. “WAIT!”

Lamorak scowled but stayed his blade.

Hisirdoux took a deep breath. “I-I don’t know exactly. Less than ten.” He gathered his nerve and glared at the two knights. “It doesn’t matter what I tell you. The king’s warded the door. You’ll never get in. And even if you did, you don’t stand a chance against them! They’re strong and smart and powerful! Not like you!”

Lamorak’s face twisted in rage. He slashed the dagger up across Hisirdoux’ chest. 

Hisirdoux grunted. The thick brocade of his jerkin caught most of the force; the blade left only a shallow wound, but it still burned.

Galahad ignored the insult and continued with his questioning. “What are they planning?”

Hisirdoux let out a shaky sigh. “He told you, told all of Camelot. They’re going to fight Gunmar and save everyone, magical and mundane.”

“Ridiculous,” Galahad spat.

“I don’t know any more than you do! I’m not part of their club!”

“What did you do to Arthur?” Lamorak growled.

“What?”

“You bewitched him. Orderin’ me to spare you.”

Hisirdoux shook his head. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Lies!” Lamorak cried as he slapped Hisirdoux. The tips of the metal fingers raked across his cheek, leaving four burning welts as his head was thrown to the side.

For a moment, the only sound was Hisirdoux’ harsh breathing as he fought the urge to either throw up or faint. Finally, he dredged up the energy to respond. “Even if I did do something,” he said slowly, every word distinct from the last, “it would be gone now. You’re blocking my magic. Any spell I cast would have ended when you did.”

Lamorak smiled. “Yes, quite an interesting room, isn’t it? Do you know what it’s for?”

Hisirdoux stared at the ground.

Lamorak dipped his head to meet Hisirdoux’ eyes and continued in a sickly sweet voice. “Your precious master built it to contain Morgana. We all knew she would snap eventually. Pity, it never got to fulfill its purpose. But then,” he gestured to the room around them, “why let such a marvelous creation go to waste?”

Hisirdoux drew a deep breath through his nose and focused very hard on not crying. He wouldn’t give these knights the satisfaction, no matter what. Besides, it was just a lie to get under his skin. It couldn’t be true, it couldn’t …

“The lad’s useless,” Galahad declared. “We’ll use him as bait to snare the other one.”

Lamorak studied Hisirdoux like a lion assessing its prey. “Do we really need live bait?” He held up the bloodied dagger between them. “One less witch.”

“Long as he’s alive, they’ll do what we say.”

Lamorak sighed. “Fine,” he snapped. He glared at Hisirdoux, then, a wicked smile spread across his face. “Hey Galahad,” he began in a jovial tone horribly ill-fitting to the surroundings, “this one and the other witch, they’re the same person, right?”

“I don’t know. It’s some kind of magic fuckery.”

“They look the same,” Lamorak reasoned.

“Aye.”

“Both magic welps.”

Galahad watched his brother with cautious suspicion. “Aye … where’re you goin’ with this?”

“Well, he may not have the answers to our questions, but he can provide … other information.” 

To his credit, Galahad stiffened and stared at Lamorak in horror. “Good gods, you’re relentless!”

“You don’t have to watch,” Lamorak hummed.

Galahad nodded. “Aye, I’m goin’ to get a drink. Don’t kill ‘im.”

“Please, Galahad, do you really think me such a brute?” Lamorak purred as he stroked the back of one clawed gauntlet down Hisirdoux’ cheek. “I’m an artist.”

Galahad grunted and stepped out into the hall. The door slammed behind him with a deafening finality.

Lamorak tipped Hisirdoux’ chin up and stared into his eyes. “Now, you’re going to tell me everything I want to know about how your king bleeds and screams.”

---

Callista woke up to garbled shouting. She groaned and rolled over, trying to block out the cacophonous racket.

Four hands grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her violently. “Wake up you lazy lump!”

Callista opened her eyes and scowled up at Blinky. “You got a death wish, Six-Eyes?”

Blinky glared back at her. “I do not have time for your juvenile threats! Excalibur is missing!”

“Huh?” Callista sat up and surveyed the chaos around her. Douxie and the purple one stood in the middle of the room, arguing. 

“Yes, it was right there!” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes!”

Across the room, Aaarrrgghh lifted a table and looked under it. "Not here."

“Okay!” Douxie shouted, calling the room to attention. “Okay … let’s think about this. Only someone with magic could’ve gotten in.”

“Or out …” Callista noted through the last cobwebs of sleep.

Douxie curled his hands into tight fists. “I don’t want to believe that,” he ground out.

Steve hesitantly raised his hand. “Couldn’t have been me. I can’t open the door … just sayin’ …”

Douxie took a deep breath. “Merlin is the only person not in this room who could have gotten in. So, we talk to Merlin. If he doesn’t know anything, he’s still the best person to go to for help.” 

The door banged open behind them and Merlin barged into the room. “Hisirdoux!” he shouted.

Douxie turned to him. “Master.”

Merlin stopped and took in the gathering. “Oh, well, yes. I meant the younger Hisirdoux. Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Douxie snapped.

“He isn’t here?” Merlin asked.

“Not to my knowledge. Look, I don’t have time to worry about where the other me wandered off to! Excalibur is gone!”

“You lost it?” Merlin gasped.

“I didn’t lose anything!” Douxie shot back.

“Hm.” Merlin turned and examined the door. “The ward is intact. Only someone with magic could have entered.”

“That’s why we were going to ask you. You’re the only one who wasn’t in this room who could have gotten in.”

“Me, and Hisirdoux,” Merlin corrected him.

Douxie sputtered. “I mean, yeah, but why would he take Excalibur?”

Merlin narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know why you do half the things you do, and I shudder to find out. You, find that sword, I am going to find my apprentice!”

“I’m coming with you,” Archie announced as he flapped after the master wizard.

Douxie let out a long sigh and dropped into a chair. “Why do I have to be such a bloody nuisance?” he muttered.

Zoe scowled. “My Douxie is missing and all you can do is insult him? Are you seriously not concerned?”

“No!” Douxie shouted. “I wandered off in the castle all the bloody time!”

“And were you always the most wanted man in Camelot?”

Douxie groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face.

“I’m going to find him!” Zoe turned to Steve. “You!”

Steve yelped as she snatched his arm.

“You’re coming with me!” She dragged him out the door and slammed it behind them, leaving a deafening silence.

For a moment, the remaining occupants of the room kept to their own heads; moaning, cursing, praying …

Then, Claire’s eyes lit up. “Douxie! What if he didn’t take the sword? What if he was taken with the sword. There’s one more person who could get in here.”

Douxie’s eyes widened. “Morgana.” He grimaced. “Blast it all! We don’t have time for this! Claire-”

Before he could finish the thought, a shadow portal appeared next to him.

“Let’s go,” Claire said as she started towards Douxie and the void.

Jim caught Claire’s arm. “I’m coming with you.”

Douxie shook his head. “Jim, you can’t. We don’t know where Morgana is. If we pop out into sunlight, you’re toast.”

“We’ll be okay. Promise.” Claire pecked him on the lips before leaping through the portal, Douxie right behind her. A moment later, it disappeared.

Jim fell into a chair, growling as he raked his hands through his hair. “I can’t stand just sitting here doing nothing!”

“Welcome to my world,” Callista snarked. She sighed and scanned the room, now abandoned save for her, Jim, and the idiot brigade.

Her eyes fell on the table where the sacred sword had lain, now only containing an old book. She furrowed her brow. “Where’s the chest?”

“What?” Jim asked.

“The chest I brought back yesterday. Did someone move it?”

“I dunno. What was in it? Gold? Jewels?”

“Love letters.”

“Huh?”

“Letters Arthur wrote to Gwen and she wrote to him. Found them in his room. Thought we could use them to get him to calm down on the murder.”

“Arthur …” Jim leapt to his feet. He snatched up Galatine and affixed her to his back.

“Where’re we going?” Callista asked.

“To visit Arthur-” Jim’s brain caught up with her exact words. “No, Callista, you should stay here.”

“Uhu. Like you were going to? I spent all yesterday in this room being bored.”

“It’s dangerous.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t insult me. You think I can’t take care of myself?”

“No, I didn’t mean-”

Callista hefted her battle axe onto her shoulder. “Anyone who wants to try me can meet my new buddy.” She jogged past him to the door. “C’mon!”

Jim stood staring at Callista for a moment before regaining his senses and hurrying after her. Running headlong into danger for fun; she really was something else.

---

Merlin stalked off toward his study with Archie flying along ahead of him, flapping lazily to keep pace with the old man. As he walked, Merlin grumbled about his troublesome apprentice. Was it really too much to ask, in the midst of a deadly crisis, for the boy to just stay put?

Archie suddenly dove to the floor and froze, every muscle pulled taunt.

Merlin sighed. “What is it?”

“I can’t feel Douxie!”

“Fuh. Probably went somewhere with that shadow witch.”

“No, I mean I can’t feel any Douxies! I can’t feel our Douxie!”

Merlin’s eyes widened. There were very few things that could interfere with a familiar bond. He sprinted the rest of the way to his study, Archie flying right alongside him. 

They burst into the room and Merlin immediately ran to a nearby bookshelf. He seized his crystal ball and stared deep into it. Hisirdoux. Hisirdoux! Where is Hisirdoux? The seconds stretched on, but no image appeared. 

“Blasted thing!” He put the crystal ball down and picked up a small, silver mirror. Again, he stared at its surface with deep concentration, but he saw only his own face.

He resisted the urge to hurl the mirror across the room. Instead, he set it on the table and raised his staff. “Reperio Hisirdoux.”

The emerald in his staff glowed. A green mist formed in front of him, swirling like a dense, lazy fog. It hung in the air for a moment before vanishing.

Merlin clutched the edge of the table. 

“What does that mean?” Archie demanded.

“It means either I am losing my touch, or there is something preventing my magic from finding him.”

The dragon’s eyes widened. “I hope you’re going senile.”

“As do I.” Merlin took a deep breath and raised his staff again. “Reperio Excalibur.”

Again, the emerald glowed and the fog formed. This time, the mist solidified into a clear image of Excalibur, clasped in the trollhunter’s hand as he raced through the castle.

Merlin licked his lips, trying to dislodge the dread stuck in his throat. “Unfortunately, it would appear I am not.”

Archie turned and flew out of the room with Merlin right behind him.

---

Steve and Zoe had turned Hisirdoux’ tiny room upside down and come up empty. Now, they were walking back through the halls as Zoe shouted threats to the stones.

“Hisirdoux Casperan! If you don’t show yourself right now, I’ll rip your guts out and feed them to you!”

In that moment, Steve was very glad that his name was not Hisirdoux Casperan. He was lost in thought as they mounted the final staircase. This was not the medieval times adventure he’d been hoping for. It was supposed to be a sweet dungeons and dragons adventure, with knights and monsters and everyone being okay in the end. He’d seen the knights, monsters, dungeons, and dragons, but now … with Magic Man’s dope sword stolen and Baby Magic Man missing – it was all beginning to feel very uncool.

Steve walked right into Zoe, a much sturdier obstacle than you’d expect for someone so small. “Ah! What?” he squawked.

Zoe stood frozen in place at the top of the stairs. Her eyes were wide and her face was pale.

Steve followed her gaze and found the source of her distress. There was a note stabbed into the throne room door with a bloody dagger.

“Oh …” Steve whispered.

Zoe sprinted forward and tore the note off the door. A high shriek escaped her mouth as her eyes scanned the words.

“What? What is it?” Steve ran up to her and looked over her shoulder.

 

JOR ǷITʃ BOI IS ÆT ÞU TOP UF ÞU IST TAǷR. BRIŊ ÞU RIL ǷUN IF JU ǷANT HIM BÆK.

He couldn’t read the jumble of letters, but the symbolism was unmistakable.

Zoe collapsed to her knees. “They have him. They have him. They have him,” she gasped as her tiny frame shook like a leaf.

“Hey, hey,” Steve whispered as he knelt down and placed a supportive hand on her back. “It’s gonna be okay. Just breathe.”

Zoe drew broken, shaky breaths as tears poured down her face. She clutched her head as she muttered, “No, no, no, no, Douxie, no, no, Douxie, no …”

“Zoe!” Steve called. He tilted her head up and met her watery eyes with stern sincerity. “I promise we’ll save him. We’re the heroes. It’s what we do.” He pulled her into a tight hug. “But we gotta get the others, ‘kay? We can’t do it alone. C’mon.” He eased them both to their feet and guided her to the doors.

As he reached for the handle, he felt the slight hum under his fingers, like the high whine of an idle microwave. He stopped and looked down at Zoe. “I need your help. I’m not cool like you guys. The door doesn’t like me.”

Zoe reached out with a shaking hand and pushed the door open.

“Thanks,” Steve smiled as they walked into the throne room.

---

Douxie and Claire exited the portal into the rising sun.

Before them, at the edge of a jagged cliff, stood Morgana in all her golden glory. Immediately, she turned and glowered at them. “I told you not to let me see you again!” 

“You started it!” Claire shouted back. “You took Excalibur!” 

Morgana recoiled. “What are you talking about?”

“Someone stole Excalibur. The room was warded so that no one else could open the door. Unless, say, they could pop in through the shadow realm!”

“I have no need of your trinket!”

Claire crossed her arms. “Then who else could’ve taken it?”

“How should I know?” Morgana snapped.

As the two shadow witches shouted each other down, Douxie’s mind was elsewhere. He simply didn’t have the resources for another crisis right now, but the more he thought about it, the more Zoe’s words sunk in. He was a target, both hims, that’s why they’d all agreed that his younger self would stay with Merlin. While Hisirdoux may have been excitable, distracted … he wasn’t so careless as to purposefully disappear when he knew it would worry people.

The best case scenario was that Morgana had stolen him away, ‘rescued’ him. But, looking around the bluff, he found it woefully empty of young, gullible wizards. 

“What about me?” Douxie asked.

Morgana narrowed her eyes. “What about you?”

“The younger me is missing. Did you take him?”

Morgana’s irritation instantly melted into concern. “Little Douxie is missing?”

A slow, heavy thumping rumbled through the cliff.

Morgana paled. “Get out of here!” she hissed.

Claire and Douxie dashed behind a large rock just as Gunmar appeared in the shadows of the cliff.

“Arthur has sorcerers of his own,” the troll king rumbled. “They won’t be tricked by your impure changelings again.”

Morgana threw out her hand toward him. The jagged stone sword glowed gold and flew to her hand. “With your Decimar Blade, all will submit to your will.” As she ran her fingers over the weapon, the blue veins running through it glowed brighter. Then, she sent it shooting back.

Gunmar snatched it out of the air and held it ready.

Claire stifled a gasp. “The Decimar Blade!” she whispered.

“What’s that?” Douxie asked.

“When he attacked Trollmarket, he used it to turn the peaceful citizens into his soldiers. Complete mind control!”

“Do it,” Morgana challenged.

The troll king dropped four glowing rocks on the ground and held the sword over them. Blue energy spiraled down his arm, through the sword, and into the stones. They shuddered as the ground rose up and swallowed them, forming a stout, armored troll.

Gunmar regarded his creation before turning back to Morgana. “Bring the witch to me,” he sneered.

The mindless troll stomped across the cliff towards Morgana. Instantly, the sunlight began spreading its deadly fingers over the stone skin. The soldier kept walking, showing no indication of pain. As the petrifying affliction reached down its leg, the only effect was a slight stutter in its step. It reached out to her, and, just before making contact, crumbled into rubble.

Douxie winced. “And, apparently, the power to create as many golems as he’d like.”

Gunmar bared his fangs in what was probably supposed to be a smile. “Come. We have much to discuss before the battle,” he growled.

“O-of course,” Morgana replied.

The monstrous troll turned and walked away.

Morgana drifted slowly after him. She turned her head to stare at a particular outcropping. The faint sound of the shadows rent the air for a moment before silence resumed. She stared at the rocks a moment longer before turning to follow her new master.

---

Callista and Jim sprinted through the halls of the castle. 

They heard Arthur long before they entered the dungeon. The racket the former king was making could wake the dead.

Callista threw open the door to the dungeon and charged down the hall, Jim right behind her. As they approached the center of the chamber, a flash of light and the screech of a blade on metal emanated from within. She recoiled from the blast; not daylight, but blinding nonetheless.

Jim charged ahead, heedless of the light.

As they emerged into the cavernous room, they found Arthur slumped against the back wall of his cell, red-faced and panting. Excalibur lay on the ground in front of him. He looked up and his eyes instantly locked onto Jim. “You! Troll boy!”

“What happened?” Jim demanded as he sprinted to the barred door.

“Merlin’s apprentice, the younger one. He came in the night, pretending to be the other. Lamorak ambushed him! I was able to stop him from killing the boy, but … he would not listen! Lamorak took him, I know not where.”

As Jim talked to the former king, Callista’s eye caught a glint in the shadows. She wandered across the room toward it. As she reached into the darkness, her hand closed around Douxie’s crown. “Um,” she began, turning back to her friend, “Jim …” She held out the crown.

Jim’s eyes widened. “We have to go! Come on!”

“Wait!” Arthur shouted. He slotted Excalibur through the bars and offered it to Jim. “Your king will need this.”

Jim stood frozen in shock, staring at Arthur with wide eyes.

“Go!” Arthur ordered.

Jim grabbed the sword and sprinted back down the hall.

Callista remained, staring at Arthur as he stared back. Neither said anything, but in his eyes, Callista swore she saw understanding, regret, sincerity. She tore her gaze away from his and ran after Jim.

---

The doors to Merlin’s chamber glowed green and burst open.

“Hisirdoux!” Merlin shouted.

“Douxie!” Archie called from behind him as he flapped through the door.

Merlin looked around the room for … he wasn’t sure what. Anything. Some key to the mystery that would confirm that the boy was fine, that he’d lost track of time playing his lute or gotten distracted by the clouds drifting overhead. Something to alleviate the knot in his stomach, growing tighter every second, that told him that something was very, very wrong.

“Merlin!” Archie yelled.

The master wizard turned to find the dragon peeking under the bed.

“There’s something back here. I can’t tell what around all the junk you have thrown about.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, it’s a mess, thank you for that enlightening information.” He got down on his knees and looked where Archie indicated. A soft blue glow emanated from behind a box full of gods know what. Merlin reached out with his magic and called the item to him.

The time map landed neatly in his hand. He stared in horror at the image projected in the middle of the blue ball.

“Oh no …” Archie gasped.

Merlin had no words. He staggered to his feet and shot out of the room.

---

Douxie and Claire ran back through the portal.

“We have a problem!” Claire announced. “Morgana just gave Gunmar the power to make infinite soldiers!”

Blinky stepped forward to meet them. “I’m afraid that crisis will have to wait.”

Douxie’s eyes fell on Zoe, curled up in the fetal position, sobbing while Steve rubbed her back. He ran over to them. “What’s wrong?” 

Zoe wailed.

Steve silently handed him a letter streaked with blood.

Douxie took it with shaking hands.

 

YOUR WITCH BOY IS AT THE TOP OF THE EAST TOWER. BRING THE REAL ONE IF YOU WANT HIM BACK. 

“No. No, nonono, how?”

Jim and Callista burst in behind him. “The other you took Excalibur and tried to reason with Arthur last night!” Jim announced.

Douxie whirled around and stared at Jim.

“He was attacked and taken somewhere,” the trollhunter continued as he offered Excalibur. 

Douxie felt numb as his hand closed around the hilt of the sword.

Callista stepped forward and placed the crown on Douxie’s head. 

Claire ran up to join Jim. “You got it! Where did you find it?”

“We went to check on Arthur. He had it. I think he was trying to break out.”

Claire folded her arms over her chest. “Of course he was.”

Jim shook his head. “No, not like that. He just told us what happened and gave me the sword. I think … he was trying to help.”

Douxie drew a shaky breath. “Okay, um … um …” 

Archie blew through the open door. “Douxie’s in trouble!”

Merlin stumbled in a moment later, gasping for breath, one hand clutching the time map. He held the device out for the gathering to see. 

Douxie stared in disbelief at the image projected inside the blue sphere. The time map showed his younger self, battered and pale, collapsed on the ground in a pool of blood.

Merlin panted. “I cannot locate him with magic. We must determine where he is!”

“Top of the east tower,” Douxie muttered.

Merlin paled. “The east tower?” he repeated.

His master’s tone tore Douxie’s gaze from the morbid image. The look on Merlin’s face was that of one watching a trainwreck. He opened his mouth to ask why –

Zoe pushed past him. “Come ON!”

Douxie snapped back to the task at hand. He slotted Excalibur onto his back. “Right, let’s go.”

---

Douxie knew where the East tower was, but he’d never been to the top. It was restricted. Now, though, nowhere was restricted to him.

At the top of the stairs was a heavily reinforced door. Douxie shoved it open and ran through.

Inside was … just a room. A barren room lit by a single high window. A blade of sunlight fell in and cut across the stairs that clung to the wall.

There was something deeply unsettling about the room. It wasn’t the iron loop protruding from the wall, which wouldn’t look out of place in a dungeon for holding some poor sod in shackles. It wasn’t the blood smeared on the walls and floor surrounding it. Those were obvious.

No, there was something unnaturally still in the air that lit Douxie’s every nerve on fire, telling him to run.

He pushed all that aside to address the most pressing problem with the room: it was empty. “Where–”

A light breeze blew in from the open door at the top of the stairs.

“The roof!” Archie launched himself toward the high door.

Douxie shot up the stairs after his familiar. What he saw at the top froze him in place.

Under a dome of green energy, the younger Douxie was on his knees with his hands tied behind his back. Even through the distance and the barrier, Douxie could tell he was in bad shape. His head hung limp from his neck, his long hair blocking his face. His clothes were bloody, and his chest heaved every time he attempted a breath.

He was flanked by two armored figures. One was stout and familiar, with one hand firmly gripping Hisirdoux’ collar. The other, Douxie had only seen from around corners and through the cracks of doors. His pulse pounded in his ears. Merlin had told him not to go near this man, to never let this knight see him. When he’d asked why, Merlin had only given him a grim look and told him not to find out.

Merlin sucked in a sharp breath as he saw the same thing. “Lamorak.”

Archie snarled.

“Douxie!” Zoe shrieked. 

Douxie threw his arms around her and held her tight.

“Good morning!” Lamorak called with a jovial tone and a bright smile that didn’t match the malice in his eyes. “So glad you could make it.”

“Let him go!” Zoe screamed. Pink lightning crackled up and down her body.

“Zoe, stop! Think!” Douxie commanded.

“You’d do well to listen to him, girl,” Lamorak said as he brushed his sword against Hisirdoux’ neck.

Zoe froze.

Merlin narrowed his eyes. “What is the meaning of this, Galahad? I thought you would not stoop to such levels.”

“This is war,” Galahad declared. “We do what we must.”

Lamorak’s eyes fell to Excalibur on Douxie’s back. He scowled. “Thief!”

“And what does that make you?” Douxie sneered.

Lamorak’s growl melted into dark laughter. “Doesn’t matter. You won’t have that sword much longer.”

“Douxie, what do we do?” Claire pleaded.

Douxie grit his teeth. He released Zoe and stepped to the front of the group. “What are your demands?”

Lamorak smirked. “We’ll give you back the boy,” he explained casually. “In turn, you will surrender. You will be restrained. You will remove the enchantment you placed on Arthur’s cell and all you have done to the castle. And then, Arthur will be reinstated, and you will be publicly executed.”

“What?” Steve squeaked. 

“No,” Claire breathed.

Lamorak watched them with a sadistic smile. “Well then?” he asked slowly. “What say you?”

Douxie held perfectly still, analyzing the situation. His eyes flitted around the scene, finally coming to rest on the small device projecting the magic wall. “Master, what is that dome?” he whispered.

“My own creation, I’m afraid,” Merlin replied, not moving his eyes from the captive boy. “A spell barrier. No magical energy can pass through it.”

“Only passing through? Could a spell be activated once inside?”

“Yes.”

Douxie thought for a moment. His eyes slid to the barely contained fury of a hedgewitch beside him. “Zoe,” he hissed, “I need you to cause a scene.”

“Gladly,” she snarled. She fixed her burning glare on the knights. “Hey! If you don’t get your filthy hands off him right now –”

“Zoe, stop!” Douxie shouted. He wrapped his arms around her chest and pulled her back. With his lips at her ear, he whispered, “Fight me.” 

Zoe stomped on his foot.

Douxie cried out in genuine pain. “Zoe, calm down! Please!”

“Fuck you!” she screamed as she struggled against his hold.

Douxie yanked her farther away from the standoff. “A moment, if you will, evil knights, bit of a situation here!”

“Of course. Take your time,” Lamorak drawled.

Douxie slowly wrestled Zoe back down the stairs until he was certain they were out of sight.

Zoe jammed her elbow into his stomach. 

“Ow! Zoe, you can stop now!”

“I know,” she growled.

Douxie dragged her to the bottom of the stairs where Jim was vibrating with nervous energy. “Stay here,” he ordered her.

“What’s happening?” Jim asked.

Zoe turned to the trollhunter with desperate eyes. “They have him! They – they want to trade o-or they’ll –” She rounded on Douxie. “This had better be part of a plan to save him!”

“It is,” Douxie assured her as he removed his crown. He turned and ran back up the stairs. Just before reaching the roof, he paused and clutched the crown tight in his hands. Alright, Nimue. If he dies, pretty sure I die too. So, if only for my sake, if you care about me being your champion or whatever, save him! Please …

He mounted the final stairs and placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Distract them,” he whispered. 

Steve sputtered for a moment before stepping forward and clearing his throat. “Hey, uh, guys? Doesn’t this seem kinda – ya know, not very knight … ly?”

“What?” Galahad squawked.

“I mean aren’t we supposed to go on quests and rescue princesses and stuff?”

“Ah, yes, questing, rescuing,” Lamorak grabbed Hisirdoux’ hair and pulled his head back, exposing his neck, “ridding the world of evil.”

“Is he, though? Like, he’s just a kid.”

Galahad shook his head. “Gods help ya, lad, you really are stupider than a drunken sheep!”

Douxie stepped in close to Archie, Claire, and Merlin. “We need to get the crown on him,” he hissed.

“How?” Archie demanded. “If we approach they will kill him!”

“I don’t know, but between the four of us, someone must have a way. What about a shadow portal?”

Merlin shook his head. “No! They will hear it. It will only take them a moment to slit his throat.”

Claire furrowed her brow. “I think … I have a different way.” She pulled out a wicked and beautiful black dagger.

Merlin gasped. “Carnwennan! Where did you get that?” he hissed.

“Does it matter right now?”

“That weapon is cursed!” he insisted.

“Why? Because it’s Morgana’s?” Claire snapped.

“It is an instrument of darkness! If you use it, it will consume your soul!”

“I already did use it!”

Merlin stared at her aghast.

“Claire, can you do it?” Douxie asked.

Claire considered the question for a moment. “Yes.”

“... Alright. Be careful.” He pressed the crown into her hand.

With the crown in one hand and the dagger in the other, Claire quite literally melted into the shadows.

Douxie took a breath. Now, it was his turn. “Steve,” he called, interrupting the ill-fated argument. “Don’t waste your breath. They won’t listen.”

Steve looked back at him with wide eyes.

Douxie stepped forward, away from the group, and addressed the knights. “You’ll let him go?” he asked, his voice flat and dangerous.

“Of course! We aren’t unreasonable,” Lamorak assured him.

“And what guarantee do I have of that.”

Lamorak scoffed and clutched at his heart in mock hurt. “On my honor!”

Douxie narrowed his eyes. “Forgive me if I don’t value that.”

“Then let me give you a promise you can trust,” Lamorak hissed. “If you do not obey our demands, I will kill him.”

A pool of liquid shadow, slightly darker than the ones surrounding it, crept along the wall through the early morning shade of the parapets. When it was safely behind the knights, it changed course, slinking straight across through the sunlight.

Douxie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay. You win.”

Lamorak grinned. “So glad we could come to an understanding.” With his free hand, he pulled out a set of shackles and swung them around gleefully. Douxie didn’t need to read the runes carved into the metal to know what they were. “Well, then, let’s not waste any time,” Lamorak prompted.

Douxie started walking toward them.

“Halt!” Galahad barked. 

Douxie froze, his every muscle tensed.

“Your magic bracer. Remove it.”

Douxie grasped his bracelet in his right hand. With a thought, it expanded. He slid it off his wrist and dropped it to the floor. As soon as the focus left his hand, the magic inside him flared, uncontained and wild, clawing at his skin for a way out. He grit his teeth against the chaotic, volatile push of his soul.

Galahad nodded. “Good. Now, continue.”

Douxie stepped forward, slowly and deliberately. He kept his eyes locked on the knights as a dark shape rose behind them.

The shadow solidified into purple armor, pale skin, and black and white hair. Claire put the dagger away and clutched the crown with both hands. She crept through the barrier and, in one swift motion, thrust the crown firmly down around Hisirdoux’ head.

A ghostly scream ripped through the air as the crown blazed with a blinding light. The knights were violently ejected from either side of the dome, slamming into the batements with a dull clang.

Hisirdoux’ clothes and hair whipped around him in a phantom wind, temporarily contained by Merlin’s device.

Claire locked her arms around Hisirdoux, clinging to him through the storm.

Douxie pulled Excalibur from his back. As soon as his hand touched the hilt, the sword ignited with flowing blue energy racing up and down the blade. He jammed it into the floor and knelt behind the sword.

A moment later, the dome shattered, and the storm broke loose. A whirlwind roared across the tower.

Douxie held tight to the hilt as his magic flowed freely over the sword. As the wave hit him, Excalibur flared, and the wind blasted past him on either side.

The scream slowly faded, the wind dying down with it until, finally, all was quiet.

Douxie let out a heavy breath and looked up. With the barrier gone, he could clearly see the horrifying state his younger self was in. His ashen skin was accentuated by the deep red of the wounds covering his body. His clothes were shredded and crusted with dark, dried blood. He looked unimaginably frail, and Douxie was sure that Claire was the only thing holding him up.

Archie launched himself at Hisirdoux. He stood between his familiar and the attackers, snarling viciously with his wings flared out.

Douxie stood and pulled the sword from the rock floor. “Claire, get everyone back to the war room,” he commanded.

Claire only nodded.

Steve hesitantly scooped the boy up and hurried down the stairs with the others, leaving only Merlin and the two knights.

Douxie surveyed the scene. To one side, Galahad lay unmoving, except for the heaving of his chest. To the other, Lamorak was on the ground, trying desperately to get his bearings.

Douxie stalked toward Lamorak. Magic was leaking out of him, flowing over his skin and bleeding into his vision. “You have a problem with me?” he snarled. “I’m right here. But, hurt innocent people, and you will pay!”

Lamorak stared up at him, his eyes brimming with pure, unadulterated terror. 

For a moment, Douxie reveled in the fear. Then, he swung the flat of the blade against Lamorak’s head. Magic jolted through him and he screamed before collapsing in a similar manner to his accomplice.

Douxie stood over the treacherous knight’s unconscious body, shaking with rage. 

The world was absolutely silent. No birds sang, no breeze shook the flags. Even the sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs below was soft enough to be lost by the time it climbed the tower. 

The stillness of the early morning grated on his tattered nerves. In the quiet, his own harsh breathing and pounding heartbeat were deafening. Coupled with the magic roiling under his skin, Douxie felt like he was about to shake apart. 

Slow, cautious footsteps came from behind him. “Hisirdoux,” Merlin called softly as he stepped into Douxie’s periphery. He didn’t say anything else, only silently offering the focus.

Douxie took a deep, shuddering breath. With jerky movements, he raised his hand to take the bracelet. As soon as his fingers touched the worn metal, the energy trying to burst out of his skin quieted. The buzzing in his head stopped, leaving an eerie silence. He slipped his hand through the cuff and settled it back on his arm where it belonged.

Douxie addressed Merlin in a shaky voice. “Bind them. We’re going to have a talk with the Round Table.” 

Notes:

Meet Lamorak, the most vicious of the Knights of the Round Table. : D

Carnwennan is also a real dagger in Arthurian lore. It was said to have the ability to cloak its user in shadows.

Spells:
Exstinguere - Extinguish
Reperio Hisirdoux/Excalibur - Find Hisirdoux/Excalibur

No-Angst Summary:
Hisirdoux wakes up alone in an unfamiliar room. He is in pain and his hands are shackled above his head. He tries to free himself with magic. Nothing happens, and he feels a sickening emptiness. There is no magic in this room. A man enters. Upon seeing his face, Hisirdoux remembers what happened. This is Lamorak, the most vicious and sadistic of the Knights of the Round Table. Galahad comes in and they question him about Douxie and his allies. Hisirdoux resists, but then realizes it doesn’t matter what he tells them, they can’t get to Douxie and Friends because of the wards. From that point on, he answers them honestly. They don’t believe most of his answers as they do not fit with the knight’s narrative.

Douxie and Friends wake up to find the crown and, more importantly, Excalibur missing. Merlin comes in and informs them that Hisirdoux is also missing. They split up.

Merlin and Archie search the study and Merlin’s room. As they go to the study, Archie panics when he realizes he can’t sense any Douxies. Merlin discovers that he is unable to scry on Hisirdoux or find him with location spells. In Merlin’s room, they find the time map.

Zoe and Steve search Hisirdoux’ room. They don’t find anything there. On their way back, they find a note stuck to the throne room door that says “Your witch boy is at the top of the east tower. Bring the real one if you want him back”. Zoe freaks out and Steve comforts her.

Douxie and Claire go to question Morgana. Morgana is hostile, but when she hears that Hisirdoux is missing, she immediately switches to concerned. Heavy footsteps shake the cliff. Morgana tells them to hide. The scene where Morgana enchants the Decimar Blade happens. Douxie and Claire witness this.

Callista notices that the box of love letters is missing. She and Jim go to Arthur. They find him bashing Excalibur against the bars, trying to get out, only to be repeatedly thrown back by the sword’s magic in a tiny-scale version of the blast that happened when he fought Bular during the tournament. Jim talks to Arthur, who tells them exactly what happened. Callista finds the crown. Arthur gives them Excalibur, saying “your king will need this”.

Everyone meets back up in the war room and they put the pieces together. Merlin is spooked by the letter directing them to the east tower. They run there and find the room Hisirdoux was in last night, but he isn’t there now. There is a door open to the roof. Jim and Callista stay there because sunlight.

Everyone else runs up the stairs and find Hisirdoux, Lamorak, and Galahad under a green dome of magic projected from a small device. It is one of Merlin’s inventions, a spell barrier that prevents any magical energy from passing through. Spells can, however, be activated from the inside. In exchange for Hisirdoux’ safe return, the knights demand Douxie’s surrender and say that he will be executed. Douxie forms a plan. He tells Zoe to make a scene and wrestles her back down the stairs, getting him out of sight. He removes the crown and heads back up. He tells Steve to distract them. Then, he huddles with Merlin, Claire, and Archie to come up with a way to get the crown onto Hisirdoux. A shadow portal behind them would be too loud, they would notice. Claire pulls out the dagger, which Merlin identifies as Carnwennan, and uses it to become a shadow and sneak behind them. Douxie pretends to surrender to hold the knights’ attention. Claire reforms behind them, steps through the barrier, and puts the crown on Hisirdoux’ head.

All hell breaks loose inside the barrier. The knights are violently ejected as a ghostly scream comes from the crown. A whirlwind appears inside the barrier. A moment later, the barrier shatters and the wind blasts across the tower. Everyone withstands this using various methods. Hisirdoux is badly injured. Douxie commands Claire to take everyone back to the war room. They take Hisirdoux and leave, except for Merlin. Galahad is unconscious but Lamorak is not. Douxie yells at him, threatens him, and smacks him in the head with the flat of Excalibur. He tells Merlin to restrain them and says that they are going to talk to the Round Table.

Chapter 13

Notes:

Hey sorry it’s been a long time, I’ve been in a deep dark depression hole. My brain’s been saying no and my inferiority complex has been thriving.

Thank you to Nezio for beta-ing.

Reverse of last time: Above the first two page breaks is still angst, after that there’s discussion but no specifics. Same solution: I’ll put a summary in the end notes with no angst. There’s nothing essential to the overall plot in those two sections, you can just jump over it if you want and read the summary at the end.

Moppet has become his own unique entity at this point, I don’t make the rules.

DOCTORS TODAY ARE GOOD AND DO GOOD SHIT AND YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO THEM but up until the beginning of the 1900s you were really probably better off digging your own grave than seeing a doctor. The joke is on them, NOT modern doctors.

Brief no-angst summary of chapter 12 starting after the second page break:
Moppet wakes up in a strange room with no magic. Lamorak and Galahad interrogate him. The next morning, The crew wakes up and panics upon finding Excalibur and the crown gone. Merlin informs them that Moppet is also missing. They split up to look for all these things. Douxie and Claire go to Morgana. She learns that Moppet is missing. Douxie and Claire watch her enchant the Decimar Blade. Jim and Callista go to talk to Arthur, who is banging Excalibur against the bars. He tells them what happened and gives Excalibur to Jim to give to Douxie. The others find clues to where Moppet went. They regroup and follow the clues to the top of the East tower. Lamorak and Galahad offer to trade Moppet for Douxie. Claire uses the dagger (Carnwennan) to sneak up behind them and put the crown on Moppet with explosive results. Steve picks up Douxie and everyone but Merlin and Douxie leave. Douxie rages and knocks them both out, and tells Merlin to help him take them to talk to the rest of the Round Table.

Archie launched himself at the high door, Douxie flying up the stairs behind him.

Jim started after his friends as they rushed up to the roof, but a firm hand on his arm held him back.

“Jim, stop!” Callista ordered. She pointed to the light spilling through the window. 

He growled in frustration, but there was no avoiding it; neither of them could cross the sunlight that bisected the room. He strained to hear what was happening, but all he got was the indistinct sound of conversation – until he heard the very distinct sound of Zoe losing her shit. 

A moment later, Douxie appeared, struggling to contain the angry teenage girl. He slowly made his way down the steps, being careful not to fall off.

Zoe jammed her elbow into his stomach. 

“Ow! Zoe, you can stop now!”

“I know,” she growled.

Douxie dragged her to the bottom of the stairs where Jim was vibrating with nervous energy. “Stay here,” he ordered.

“What’s happening?” Jim asked.

Zoe turned to the trollhunter with desperate eyes. “They have him! They – they want to trade o-or they’ll –” She rounded on Douxie. “This had better be part of a plan to save him!”

“It is,” Douxie assured her as he removed his crown. He turned and ran back up the stairs.

The two trolls and one witch stared up at the door, waiting impatiently for some sign of what was happening. They didn’t have to wait long. 

A blast from above shook the tower. 

Zoe tore up the stairs.

“Zoe, wait!” Jim tried to stop her, but she was too quick. 

She stopped at the door, frozen but not screaming. Hopefully, that meant that at least the worst hadn’t happened. 

After a moment of unbearable silence, Zoe ran back down, followed by Claire, Archie, and Steve. 

Steve … Jim couldn’t process what he saw. Hanging limp in Steve’s arms was the boy who looked like Douxie, with bright eyes and a million questions, bloody and broken.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Claire held her hands out to conjure a portal. Nothing happened. “What?” she gasped.

Zoe grabbed Claire’s wrist and dragged her towards the door. “Can’t you feel it? There’s no magic in here!”

Upon reaching the hall, Claire’s efforts produced a familiar swirling darkness and the party rushed through. 

As soon as they emerged into their headquarters, Jim started shouting orders. “I need clean cloths and clean water! Steve, lay him down here!” The trollhunter dropped to his knees as Steve carefully deposited Hisirdoux on the floor. “I need scissors, or a knife or something!”

Claire immediately produced a curved, black dagger.

Jim eyed it suspiciously but pushed aside his questions for now. It was a knife. It would do.

“It’s the Middle Ages!” Claire argued. “Where are we supposed to find clean anything?”  

Archie leapt into the air in front of her. “The kitchen! I’ll show you.”

Claire made a portal and she, Zoe, and the dragon ran through.

“Steve, get a pillow for his head,” Jim demanded.

Blinky gasped. “Great Gorgus!”

Steve grabbed an ornate pillow from one of the plushy armchairs and dove to the floor opposite Jim. He cringed as he gently shoved in under Hisirdoux’ head.

Aaarrrgghh just stared at the frail boy for a long moment. Then, his eyes turned black. “Who did this?” he growled, low and dangerous.

“Who do you think?” Callista grumbled. 

Jim used the knife to carefully slit the fabric right up the center of Hisirdoux’ chest. “Bring me the wine from last night.”

Blinky ran over with the bottle of wine and handed it to Steve, who pulled the cork out and started tipping it into Hisirdoux’ mouth.

“What? Steve, no!” Jim batted the bottle away.

Steve turned to him, wide-eyed and confused. “What? That’s what they do in Old West movies!”

“It’s for disinfecting!” Jim hissed, snatching the bottle.

Archie shot back through the portal. In an instant, he was at Hisirdoux’ head, staring down at his boy with hopeless worry. 

Claire and Zoe were right behind him. They placed a bucket of water and a stack of folded white cloth on the floor beside Jim.

Zoe turned to Claire. “My teacher can help. She’s a healer! Do one of your portal thingies!”

Claire frowned. “I can only make portals to places I know or places with an emotional anchor. I can get us to town, though.”

“Okay. Do it!”

Claire tore a hole in the shadows and they jumped through.

Blinky’s eyes darted desperately around the scene. “What can we do?”

“Just, give me space. Let me focus.” Jim looked down at Hisirdoux and noticed his lips trembling in a quick pattern. He leaned in closer to hear what the boy was saying.

“ ’M sorry, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry …”

“Hisirdoux!” Jim called sharply.

The boy flinched. He hesitantly opened his eyes and looked up at Jim.

“Stop apologizing. There’s something really important I need you to do, okay?”

Hisirdoux nodded.

“I need you to count backwards from 100 by 7s.”

“What?” he croaked.

“Please.”

Hisirdoux blinked at him. “Um … one hundred?”

“Yes! Keep going!”

Steve gave Jim a look. “Is that a doctor thing? Do you need a calculator?”

“It will keep his mind occupied and calm him down,” Jim explained. 

“... ninety-three …” his breaths came in strangled gasps.

Jim placed a hand gently against Hisirdoux’ chest. “Slow down. Deep breaths.”

The boy looked up at him desperately and whimpered.

“Follow me. In …”

Hisirdoux sucked down a shaky breath.

“Now, hold,” Jim instructed.

The boy whined, but did his best to follow the instructions.

“Then, breathe out slowly.”

Hisirdoux let the air out in a rush and resumed his gasping.

“Easy, you can do it. In, hold, out.”

Hisirdoux screwed his face up in concentration. Eventually, his breathing slowed to an acceptable rate.

“There you go,” Jim smiled. “Ninety-three, what comes next?”

“... Eighty-six.”

“Good.” Jim laid two fingers against Hisirdoux’ neck. His pulse was frantic, but strong.

“... seventy-nine …”

Jim turned his attention to the boy’s chest, covered in a tapestry of cuts and slashes. They were all shallow; meant to hurt, not kill.

“... seventy-two …”

He ran his fingers lightly over Hisirdoux’ body, avoiding the visible wounds.

“... six – Ah!”

Jim winced. Bruised ribs.

“S-sixty-five.”

Jim continued removing the blood-soaked clothes. He slit down one of the sleeves. It was immediately apparent that the arm was broken. He gingerly grasped the two pieces, but when he tried to realign them, he met a troubling resistance. 

The arm wasn’t broken. Jim’s mouth went dry. He couldn’t process the prospect of having to injure the boy more, even if it was necessary. He pushed that thought aside and continued liberating Hisirdoux of his bloody clothes.

“... fifty-eight …”

Jim turned to Steve. “Help me sit him up.”

Together they gently leaned him forward. Jim removed the tattered remains of the boy’s shirt and vest, and checked his back. If there was some mercy, it was that the damage seemed to be only on the front of his body. They lowered him back to the floor.

“... fifty-one …”

Jim turned to the rest of Hisirdoux’ clothes. The metal-plated leather boots were slashed and bloody at the cuffs, but largely intact. Beneath them, the boy’s lower legs had also been spared. Above that, though …

“... fourty-four …”

The trollhunter cut away Hisirdoux’ pants. Slashes and stabs peppered his skin in a similar manner to the rest of him, with the exception of a gaping wound in his thigh. Jim reminded himself to breathe.

“... t-thirt – um … oh, fuzzbuckets,” Hisirdoux sobbed.

Steve leaned into the boy’s vision. “Hey, it’s okay. You said fourty-four. Seven back from fourty-four is … um …” he screwed up his face as he tried to do the calculation. “Uh, we’ll do it together, alright? Fourty-four …” Steve held up seven fingers, “fourty-three …” He put one finger down. “Fourty– …” he trailed off, looking at Hisirdoux expectantly.

“Two,” he whispered. 

Steve smiled and put down another finger. “That’s it! Then …”

“Fourty one,” Hisirdoux said. “Fourty.”

Steve nodded and kept counting down with him.

“Thirty-nine, thirty-eight, thirty-seven …” Hisirdoux stopped as Steve hid his last finger. He sighed. “Thirty-seven.”

Jim dipped one of the cloths into the bucket of water and began to gently dab at the blood. 

“Uh!” Hisirdoux flinched, jerking away from Jim. “AH!” he cried as the movement pulled on his wounds.

Jim pressed the boy’s shoulders firmly against the floor. “I’m sorry. It’s going to hurt. Just keep counting.” He turned to Steve. “Hold him down.”

“... thirty …” Hisirdoux’ voice was tight as he weathered the attention given to each wound.

Jim gently dabbed at a large splotch above the boy’s heart. As the blood came away, the wounds began to show themselves. They were shallow, already completely healed, leaving only thin red lines. As he washed away more blood, the lines formed a crude drawing: a two-legged dragon with a serpent’s tail, its wings blown back and claws reaching out. He frowned. “Blinky, what is this?”

“... twenty-three …”

Blinky leaned over and gasped. “If I am not mistaken … that is the red dragon of Arthur’s personal banner.”

Jim just stopped. His rage sent tremors through his body.

“... sixteen …”

“Focus, Jim!” Blinky urged him. “Your anger won’t do him any good now, warranted though it may be.”

“... nine …”

Blinky was right. Jim forced deep breaths through his lungs.

“... two … I’m out of numbers.”

Jim sighed and returned his attention to the wounds covering the boy’s body, avoiding looking at his chest. “That’s alright. I’ve got some questions for you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“What’s your name?”

“H-hisirdoux Casperan.”

“What year is it?”

Steve looked at him in disbelief. “Do you know the answer to that?” he whispered.

“Shut up, Steve,” Jim hissed back.

“Um … 1120.”

Jim would have to take his word for it. He opened his mouth to continue and stopped. Who’s the president? That wouldn’t do. Who’s the king? He grimaced. No, definitely not …

Archie sat curled around the boy’s head, purring incessantly.

Jim pointed at the cat. “Who’s that?”

Hisirdoux tried to tilt his head back to look.

Archie stood and leaned over into the boy’s view.

A genuine smile broke over Hisirdoux’ face. “Archie,” he sighed.

“I’m here, Douxie.”

Jim continued until all the wounds had been washed. Then, he grabbed a clean cloth and picked up the wine. He poured a bit of wine onto a new cloth and dabbed at one of the wounds.

“AH!” Hisirdoux cried. He jerked away, but Steve’s hands on his shoulders held him in place.

In an instant, something changed. Panic flashed in the wizard’s eyes, and then he was screaming and thrashing, striking out with every ounce of energy he had.

Archie jumped up. “Douxie!”

“Let him go!” Jim ordered.

Steve backed away and held up his hands in surrender. 

Hisirdoux scrambled back until he hit the wall, where he pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms tight around himself. His eyes were impossibly wide, and his breathing was right back up to hyperventilating. 

Jim reached a cautious hand towards the boy. “It’s okay, you’re safe.”

Archie took a hesitant step towards his familiar. When Hisirdoux didn’t react, the dragon hurried to his side and gently pushed his head against one of the boy’s hands.

Jim saw the moment when the adrenaline wore off. 

Hisirdoux’ eyes unfocused and his head drooped. He groaned and listed to the side. 

Aaarrrgghh extended one massive finger and pressed it gently to the boy’s shoulder, preventing him from fully falling over. 

Hisirdoux’ head fell against the cool stone and his eyes slipped shut.

Jim grabbed the heavy blanket from the couch and carefully approached. He knelt beside the boy and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Huh!” Hisirdoux gasped. His eyes fluttered, but he couldn’t quite make them open.

Jim pulled him forward and draped the blanket around his shoulders. He pulled it tight around the boy’s shaking frame.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you,” Jim said. “Just breathe, okay?”

Hisirdoux whimpered as he tried to take deep breaths.

“There you go. You’re doing so well.” Jim rubbed soothing circles into the boy’s back. “I know what I was doing hurt a lot, but it’s important. People won’t know about this for — a really long time, but if I don’t clean the wounds properly, you could get really sick. It could kill you, even if all your injuries are healed.”

The boy bit his lip and nodded his understanding. 

“Can I finish cleaning your wounds?”

He nodded again.

“Thank you.” Jim slid one arm under his legs and wrapped the other around his back. “I’m gonna pick you up now okay?”

Hisirdoux took a deep breath and tucked his head against the trollhunter’s chest

Jim carried the boy back to where they had been and laid him down. 

“I’m sorry,” Hisirdoux whispered.

Jim shook his head. “You have nothing to apologize for.” 

Archie settled back around Hisirdoux’ head and resumed purring while Steve held his hand.

Jim tipped more wine onto a fresh cloth and continued tending to the wounds. 

Hisirdoux squeezed his eyes shut and hissed through his teeth as the alcohol stung his skin. 

“The burning will go away soon. You’re being so brave,” Jim murmured, repeating the words his mother said to him every time he got a skinned knee or a sprained ankle.

Hisirdoux squeezed Steve’s hand with more force than it seemed he should be able to muster. His chest heaved with the effort of controlling his breathing. Slowly, his reactions subsided, and he lay there quietly drawing deep breaths.

Jim continued swabbing the cuts until he heard the familiar sound of the shadows.

---

Claire and Zoe emerged into an alleyway in Camelot.

Zoe looked around frantically. “That way!” She tore down the street, her hands fisted with white knuckles in her skirt.

Claire followed her down a maze of alleyways, ignoring the looks of the townsfolk they passed. 

Finally, Zoe made a sharp turn and burst into one of the shops. “Madame Amabel!” 

“Where have you been, girl?” A voice like gravel in a blender snapped back from the back room. “You don’t come home, don’t tell me anything, as the kingdom is in upheaval? Just what was I supposed to think?” The owner of the voice, a stout, wrinkled old woman wearing an apron, stomped out into the main store. She stopped as soon as she saw Zoe, and her demeanor instantly changed. “What’s wrong?”

Zoe ran up and stumbled into her teacher. “H-hisirdoux ... he ... t-they –” she sobbed, fisting her hands in the woman’s apron.

Claire stepped up behind the distressed girl. “He’s hurt. Badly. We need your help.”

The woman, Amabel, nodded. “Zoe,” she commanded.

Zoe looked up, her small frame shaking as tears poured down her face.

“Gather my supplies.”

Zoe nodded and ran off deeper into the shop.

Madame Amabel eyed Claire curiously with a sly smile. “Aren’t you a surprise?”

“Uh …”

“Quite the performance your friend gave last night. What’s your name?”

The shadow witch hesitated. “Um … Claire?”

“Well, Claire, you’ve got some nerve. Certainly more than any of his knights ever showed.”

“I’m sorry!” Claire said in a rush as she took a reflexive step back.

Amabel’s eyebrows shot up. “Sorry? For what?” she squawked.

“A-aren’t you mad at me? ‘Kingdom in upheaval’ and all that? Making things dangerous for her and you and …”

The woman cackled. “No, dear. It’s always been dangerous for us. All that’s changed now is we don’t know the script. No, that’s just an old woman worrying about her charge. The scolding is more for her than me. She’s a spirited young lass.”

Claire nodded. “I’ve noticed.”

Zoe rushed back out into the shop carrying a basket large enough for her to fit in, piled high with herbs, bottles, cloths, and who knows what else. “Ready, Madame!”

“Good. Let’s go.” She turned towards the door.

Claire conjured a portal before them. 

Madame Amabel stared at the swirling void. “Well, that’s rather impressive,” she mumbled. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, she waddled through the portal, Claire and Zoe following right behind her.

-

They emerged back in the war room.

The old woman paused to take in the scene; the castle, the trolls, the very injured boy. After a moment’s consideration, she set to work. “Zoe, start some tea, then prepare the capon’s tail and elf leaf.

Zoe nodded. She knelt beside her friend and started unpacking the basket. Bitten-off sobs fell from her mouth as tears rolled down her face.

Hisirdoux looked up at her. “Zoe … ‘m sorry.”

The girl was speechless for a moment. Then, her face twisted in rage. “You’d better be!” she shrieked. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? You’d better hope you can run, because when we’re done here I’m gonna –”

“Zoe!” Madame Amabel snapped. “Focus!”

Zoe shut up and went back to work.

Jim turned to Amabel. “He’s got some bruised ribs. No internal bleeding, I think. There are wounds all over his face, and on the front of his torso, arms, and upper legs. He’s lucid, I don’t think he has a concussion. Pulse is high but stable. I cleaned all the wounds and disinfected most of them.”

Amabel raised her eyebrows. “Well, good morning to you, too!”

“Um …”

She cackled, then knelt down beside the boy and scanned his body. “Very good,” she murmured, turning back to Jim. “You have a healer’s touch.”

Jim sighed. “He's really lucky.”

“No, he’s a wizard,” she snapped. “His magic has been repairing the damage. I expect he’d be dead, otherwise.”

“Then, why isn’t it working now?”

“Because he’s run dry. Without magic to heal him, he has to do it like any other creature of flesh and bone.”

Jim winced. “About that.” He indicated Hisirdoux’ arm. “It’s already healed, but it’s crooked. Do I have to …”

Amabel waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Ah, don’t worry. It will sort itself out once his magic recovers and he’s in a less critical condition. Human healing will help with that, and right now, it’s all he’s got.”

“Right.” Jim eyed her suspiciously. “You’re … not gonna put leeches on him or something, are you?”

She threw back her head and laughed. “Hah! No, dear. I’m a healer, not a doctor. You’re welcome to observe, if you like.”

Jim watched intently as the woman calmly explained every step of the process; what everything was and why she was using it. Tea to solve his clear dehydration, and to calm him down. A potion to numb the pain. This cream to prevent disease, that poultice (made of reasonable, harmless herbs) to speed healing. Everything was mixed and applied with a few arcane words or a faint glow of magic. 

Claire was shocked by how much she sounded like a modern doctor, if one with a taste for natural healing.

Despite her painfully raspy voice, something about Amabel’s methodical explanation and calm demeanor had a soothing effect on everyone in the room. They all watched with rapt attention as she cast her spell on them.

-

When the healer was done, Claire felt like she was waking from a trance.

Hisirdoux looked remarkably better. The color had returned to his face. His hair had been brushed and cleaned of blood, and his body was wrapped in bandages. Loose-fitting clothes had been procured from his room, and while the light hadn’t quite returned to his eyes, they were open and alert.

As Madame Amabel finished her final tasks, she addressed her patient. “Now, you’re going to eat and drink as much as possible. And rest. No more excitement for you.”

“Yes, Madame,” Hisirdoux croaked.

“Zoe,” the woman commanded.

Zoe snapped to attention.

“You’re going to stay here and watch him. I’m putting you in charge of his care. I don’t want to see you back at the shop until he’s made a full recovery, got it?”

Zoe smiled and nodded vigorously. “Yes, Madame Amabel.”

The corner of Amabel’s mouth quirked up just before she turned away. “Claire. Would you be so kind as to send an old lady home?”

“Y-yes! Of course!” Claire sputtered as she conjured a portal.

Just before the woman stepped through, she turned back and gave everyone in the room a stern look. “You had all better not do anything to need my services again.” Then, she disappeared into the shadows.

---

The two wizards made their way to the barracks in silence. Douxie carried the rogue knights, wrapped in Merlin’s spectral chains, in a bubble floating behind them.

As they walked through the castle, Douxie could feel the stares of servants and early-riser nobles. No one said a word. He felt a twinge of regret for the image he was currently presenting, but he couldn’t bring himself to truly care. Not after this. He ignored them, keeping his eyes focused straight ahead.

Merlin was silent, and it was tearing at Douxie’s frayed nerves. He should be yelling or lecturing or espousing his great superior wisdom. The expectation felt like a sword hanging over his head. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why aren’t you yelling at me?” Douxie snapped, looking back at his master.

Merlin raised his eyebrows. “Do you want me to?”

“No, I –” Douxie squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t know! You should. This is my fault.”

Merlin shook his head. “No, Hisirdoux. Even if it was, what good would scolding you do now? You have enough to handle on your own.”

They resumed their silence as they traveled the final distance to the Round Table barracks. 

-

Douxie threw open the door and stormed in. 

Lancelot stood in the middle of the room, talking with another tall, lanky knight who Douxie recognized as Sir Bedivere. Both jumped to a ready stance as the wizards entered.

Douxie threw the groggy renegades to the floor at their feet. “DID YOU KNOW?” 

Both of his prisoners grunted as they hit the floor, wincing as they shook themselves out of their stupor.

“Release our brothers at once!” Lancelot shouted.

“Are they? Do you stand with them?” Douxie demanded.

“What are you talking about?”

“Your brothers kidnapped, tortured, and held a child hostage!”

Lancelot stared at Douxie in shock. “That … can’t be. You’re lying!”

“Ask them yourself.”

Lancelot turned to the two bound knights. “Is this true?”

Galahad stared at the floor and didn’t answer.

Lamorak laughed. “Wasn’t a child, was a witch. Tryin’ to ensorcell Arthur; dangerous.”

“HE’S NINETEEN,” Douxie roared. “He is stupid and incompetent and naive!”

“Didn’t fight like a child,” Lamorak sneered.

Douxie masked the surprise and significant pride he felt at that nugget of information. He tucked it away for later and continued his condemnation. “You would fault him for defending himself?”  he growled.

Bedivere was stunned.

Lancelot was horrified. He turned to the man who had been his only ally since their world shattered. “Galahad, tell me you didn’t do this,” he begged, his voice wavering.

Galahad cleared his throat, still refusing to look at anyone. “Well … I-I act for the good of the king! For Camelot! We are under attack! In times like these … certain things must be done to ensure the kingdom’s safety. A-and do you really think I could’ve stopped him? I did tell him not to kill the lad!”

“You think you deserve a medal?” Douxie hissed.

“Fuckin’ coward,” Lamorak spat at his accomplice.

Lancelot turned to Douxie with a look of utter desperation. “Is he alright?”

Douxie deflated. “… He’s alive.” 

For a moment, no one spoke. 

Then, Douxie raised his head to stare at Lancelot, his eyes hard and unforgiving. “You need to decide whose side you’re on.”

Lancelot scrubbed a hand over his face. When he turned back to Douxie, his eyes widened. He reached out, as if to stay a blade. “Wait!”

Douxie whirled around and seized the threat before he had even fully processed it. When his mind caught up with his reactions, he was holding two more knights, Sirs Gareth and Gawain, thrown up against the wall. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, loosening his grip but not releasing them.

Lancelot stepped forward. “I condemn their actions, and I know my brothers share in my sentiment.”

Douxie fixed him with a steely gaze. “Are you sure about that? You should consider what you think you know about your brothers.”

Lancelot’s face crumpled. He looked away but didn’t refute the point. 

“You four have a decision to make. When I come back, you will tell me where you stand.” Douxie turned and stalked back to the door. He placed his hand on the wood and it blazed with blue light.

Merlin followed and gently ushered Douxie into the hall.

Douxie looked back over his shoulder and locked eyes with Lamorak. 

The vile man was glaring fiercely at him, baring his teeth, his green eyes blazing. 

For a moment, Douxie saw a different face: a cruel mask of death with jagged teeth and glowing eyes inside a metal shell. His eyes widened as Merlin closed the door behind them.

---

The entire assemblage sat in a rough, wide circle surrounding a small table piled with untouched food.

Zoe sat beside Hisirdoux, helping him slowly eat bread and broth. Everyone else sat motionless and silent, as if a spell lay over them that none of them dared break.

“Guys, you have to eat,” Jim insisted.

The reception was that of a speech given to a graveyard.

Douxie stared at his younger self, unable to get the image of Lamorak out of his head, scowling like a familiar adversary. Someone who would do this, his endless malice and vicious green eyes … the similarities were impossible to ignore.

Hisirdoux took a shaky breath and hung his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“What?” Douxie asked.

“This is all my fault.”

The room erupted in a chorus of denials and self-accusations. 

“If I had been there, I could have stopped you!” Archie insisted.

Merlin shook his head. “I should have kept a closer eye on you.”

Claire wrapped her arms around herself. “If I hadn’t drugged Douxie, maybe he would’ve woken up.”

“Wait, you did what?” Douxie squawked indignantly.

“You wouldn’t sleep!”

Douxie glared at her, but his expression quickly fell. “It should’ve been me. I am responsible for this. I could’ve stopped it. If I’d made peace with the knights. If I’d paid more attention. If I hadn’t taken that bloody sword in the first place! It should’ve been me …”

“Alright, enough of this!” Callista snapped. “You’re all idiots! This is only one person’s fault, and that’s the asshole who did it! You’re looking for a way to convince yourself you had any control over the situation because you can’t handle the fact that you can’t stop the world from sucking. Now, you can sit here feeling sorry for yourselves, or you can glorkin’ do something about it!”

Everyone stared at her in shock.

Jim sighed. “She’s right.”

The room fell into a different kind of silence. 

Finally, Merlin addressed the group. 

Douxie wasn’t sure what was being discussed, because as soon as his master started speaking, the younger him flinched ever so slightly. “What’s wrong?” he asked over the great wizard’s speech.

Hisirdoux glanced up at him, then immediately fixed his gaze on the floor and wrapped his arms around himself. He winced as the motion irritated his wounds.

Zoe snatched his wrist with a stern glare, while Jim placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.

The boy’s eyes flicked around to the other people, the floor, but most often back to Merlin. After a few false starts, he took a shaky breath and asked, “Did – did you really create that room to trap Morgana?”

“What?” Douxie stated, his voice low and dangerous. 

“That’s what they said,” Hisirdoux mumbled.

It all made sense now. The anti-magic sewn into the walls, the shackles … Douxie scowled at Merlin. “What is this, your bloody hobby?!”

“Hisirdoux –”

“Don’t ‘Hisirdoux’ me!” Douxie raged. “Was it your idea, or Arthur’s?”

Merlin stared at the floor.

“I see.”

“You don’t! It was the kindest thing I could do for her! It set Arthur at ease and prevented him from killing her!”

“Did she know about it?”

Merlin didn’t answer.

Douxie shook his head. “I can’t believe you.”

“It’s not that simple. I told you –”

“Yeah, you told me. The Greater Good and fate and all that crap. I don’t buy it. Your fucked up trolley problems are shit!”

An oppressive silence stretched between them.

Finally, Merlin let out a long sigh. “There is work to be done on the amulet. If you’ll excuse me …” He stood and trudged to the door, shutting it behind him with a soft click.

-

They ate in silence.

When they had finished, Hisirdoux looked around at the gathering. “I –” he took a deep breath. “I want to talk to Arthur again.”

Douxie was stunned. He opened his mouth several times before closing it again, biting back his words. Finally, he lifted his head to meet his own eyes. “Can I talk to you … alone?”

The others quickly got the hint and filed out into the throne room.

Zoe gave him a solid glare before leaving.

The door closed, leaving only the two Douxies in a silent room.

Douxie slowly stepped forward until he stood in front of his younger self and sighed. “... Why did you do it?”

Hisirdoux looked away. “I wanted to help. I felt useless.”

“You don’t have to be useful.”

Hisirdoux turned back with fire in his eyes. “Camelot is my home, and I’m the one who’s going to have to live with the consequences of this war, not you. Don’t forget the things I’ve been through. I’m not that fragile! We’re the same!”

Douxie shook his head. “No, we’re not. I am nine hundred years older than you. The things I’ve seen, the things I’ve done, things I’ve survived and fought, they’ve changed me. I am stronger, wiser, more experienced, more powerful by degrees of measurement! I am you … but you are not me.”

“What would you have done differently?” Hisirdoux demanded.

“I wouldn’t have gone!” Douxie shouted.

Hisirdoux stared for a moment. Then, he narrowed his eyes. “I hope you’re lying. Because that’s not someone I want to be.”

Douxie dropped his gaze. He took a shaky breath before saying, “You – shouldn’t have gone.”

Hisirdoux looked down. “I know.” He paused. “I’m not asking to go alone. I know I was wrong to do it, but I think I almost got through to him. You can’t afford to throw that away.”

Douxie sighed. He was right. “Okay,” he relented.

Hisirdoux grinned. “Thank you.” He gingerly reached out and wrapped his arms around his older self.

Douxie carefully returned the hug.

When Hisirdoux pulled back, he found Douxie giving him a sly smile. “What?”

“You hit him back?”

Hisirdoux blushed. “Yeah.”

Douxie flashed a feral grin. “Nice.”

---

As soon as the door to the barracks slammed shut, Merlin’s chains melted away.

Lancelot stood frozen in the wake of the wizard’s accusations.

Gareth and Gawain dusted themselves off and approached the others.

For a moment, there was silence as they all processed what had just happened.

Finally, Lancelot turned to Lamorak. “How could you?”

“What are you on about?” Lamorak sneered.

“You attacked a child!”

“Bloody hypocrite. All up in arms over a magic child, but were you not just discussing with Bedivere how to slay the elder?”

Lamorak continued his tirade, but Lancelot didn’t hear it. He was stuck on what Lamorak had just said. He was a hypocrite. 

There was no doubt that Gunmar was a monster, a bloodthirsty tyrant who must be eliminated. He delighted in indiscriminately slaughtering any human unlucky enough to stumble into his territory, and his ultimate goal was to subjugate humanity in the name of his race’s superiority. 

… Just like Arthur.  

The thought was painful, but he could no longer ignore the similarities, nor could he deny his own guilt. He had never questioned his orders, never considered whether or not they were just. Every argument, he met with disdain, having already determined it to be lies and treachery. Morgana …

“Are you listening to me?” Lamorak demanded.

Lancelot slowly shook his head. “Morgana was right.” He turned to properly address his brothers. “We abhor magic, but Arthur rules by divine right of an enchanted sword, bestowed upon him by a faerie. We look to Merlin for wisdom and power. We allow the magic we can control and wipe out all else.”

Lamorak scoffed. “I don’t see a problem with that.”

“Of course, you don’t,” Lancelot growled bitterly. He turned to the others. “What do you make of this?”

Gawain and Gareth turned to each other, as if looking for answers in their brother.

Bedivere sighed. “This is … overwhelming. We left a Camelot we knew. Now, we come back and Arthur has been deposed, a wizard wields Excalibur, there are trolls in the castle. Morgana is undead and aiding Gunmar. The bloody lights are blue!” he stressed, gesturing wildly around them. “And Lamorak is not wrong. When hell broke loose in here, you were telling me of the evil poisoning this castle. I have just watched four of my brothers fall victim to magic.”

“Fall victim?” Lancelot balked. “Are you a knight or a hen? What he did was no different from what we do with might and steel.”

“Hmm,” Bedivere frowned.

“Would you abide the torture of a child?” Lancelot demanded.

Bedivere narrowed his eyes. “No. But one wrong act does not damn an entire army, nor does it saint an insurrection.”

Gawain sighed. “Bedivere has a point. We know not of what has happened. Gareth and I have just arrived. We are blind.”

Lancelot turned to meet his best friend’s supportive gaze. He let out a long breath and tried to regain his patience. “You are right. Forgive my passion.” He could not fault his brothers for not jumping to his side. They knew nothing of what had transpired: the events of the tournament, the trouble with Excalibur, the –

His mind ground to a halt. They didn’t know. Gawain, Gareth, Bedivere, Lamorak; none of them had been there. None of them would know. But, Lamorak …

Lancelot turned slowly back to the vicious man. “How did you know that Arthur was in the dungeon?”

Bedivere leapt to attention. “He’s what?”

Lamorak smirked. “A little birdy told me.”

Lancelot turned to Galahad. “What did you tell him?”

Galahad kept his eyes firmly on the floor.

Lamorak stretched his legs out and folded his arms behind his head, like he was relaxing on a beach. “Said the witch stole Excalibur, then attacked Arthur before the entire court. Now he’s brought his armies into the castle to prepare it for Gunmar’s invasion.”

“WHAT?”

Gawain put a steadying hand on his friend’s shoulder. “If you claim this is not what happened, Lancelot, give your account.”

Lancelot sighed. “Excalibur rejected Arthur, embedded herself in stone. None could free her but the wizard boy. He proclaimed himself the worthy ruler. Arthur challenged him to a duel. The boy won honorably, and then, Arthur tried to kill him. His allies restrained Arthur and put him in the dungeon, used magic to make the cell impenetrable. That is all.”

“We know what magic does!” Galahad insisted. “We know how this will end if we do not act!”

“So you condemned them based on an assumption? That is not –” Lancelot’s words caught in his throat, his mind screeching to a halt. Yes, that absolutely was how knights conducted themselves. He grit his teeth and curled his hands into tight fists. “That is not fair.”

“Fair?” Galahad balked. “The demons that curse this land do not deserve fairness!”

Lancelot rounded on the stout knight. “You encouraged vigilante justice, sent an assassin after the wizard, and they let him go unharmed. Then, acting on your false information, Lamorak came upon an innocent child causing no harm and maimed him!”

Lamorak scoffed. “Not innocent. He was twisting Arthur’s mind, manipulating him.”

“I’d like to hear Arthur’s account of that.”

“Arthur wouldn’t know. He was already wrapped around the witch’s finger when I got there. Told me to spare the little fuck.”

“So, you disobeyed a direct order?” Lancelot accused.

Bedivere scowled at Lamorak.

“He didn’t know what he was saying,” Lamorak argued.

“How do you know?”

“Formidable wizard,” Lamorak grumbled, “attacked me with his bloody magic.” 

Lancelot folded his arms over his chest. “I see no wounds on you. I know this boy. He looks just like the elder. He’s as skinny as a pole, a stiff breeze could knock him over. That is who you claim to be a formidable wizard, an untenable threat that could best you in combat?”

“Don’t need to be strong. They cheat! Always up to their tricks.”

“He hasn’t the good sense of a melon!” Lancelot insisted. “He makes up stupid songs about his chores! I have seen him skip through the castle!”

Lamorak narrowed his eyes. “You’re a fool, Lancelot. That, or the witch got you, too.”

Lancelot glowered back at him. “I am not bewitched. I am thinking for myself for the first time in far too long.”

“You would let Camelot burn in place of a witch?”

The words flung Lancelot back in his memory to the awful moment when Bular was set free. He remembered seeing the beast charge, felt the cold dread of seeing the threat and knowing that he would not get to his king in time. The wizard whom Arthur so hated had leapt into the fray without a moment’s hesitation and shielded him from what would surely have been a fatal blow.

Lancelot scowled. “I have seen Camelot burn, and the wizard was there, protecting the king.”

“An act!” Galahad cried.

“How far can you take that excuse, Galahad? What great deeds of yours could I dismiss as deception as you wait for the time to strike?”

Galahad sputtered.

“It is not your place to think!” Lamorak spat. “You are a sword!”

Lancelot shook his head. “Not anymore.”

“You swore an oath to King Arthur!” Bedivere asserted.

“And what if he was wrong? What if our cause is not just?”

“Our cause is just!”

“Have you ever questioned that?”

“Why would I?” Bedivere growled.

Lancelot narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps you should.”

“You forgo your oath?”

“I forgo my hatred!”

“Bloody fuckin’ traitor,” Lamorak snarled. He curled his hands into fists and stalked towards the blond knight.

Lancelot held his ground, reaching for his sword. 

Gareth stepped between them, and with a hand on both their chests, forced the two angered knights as far apart as possible. “Stand down. No blood shall be spilled here.” The statement was both a promise and a threat.

Lancelot took a deep breath and turned to the others. “My opinion is clear. What of the rest of you?”

“I will not turn on my king so easily,” Bedivere seethed.

Gareth turned to face Lancelot. “Your words have merit,” he spoke carefully. “As for your suggesting that Arthur is unjust … I shall have to think on this.”

“Agreed,” Gawain said.

Lancelot nodded. “I understand, but what of the boy.”

Gawain frowned. “There is no justification for what they did.”

“Indefensible,” Gareth agreed, scowling at the perpetrators.

After a moment’s consideration, Bedivere gave a reluctant nod.

Lancelot breathed a sigh of relief.

---

The team stepped through a portal into the dungeon.

Arthur sat on the floor of his cell. He looked up at the sound of their arrival, then immediately averted his eyes.

Jim helped Hisirdoux sit, a slow process with lots of wincing. 

When he was comfortably settled cross-legged on the floor, Hisirdoux turned to Arthur with a sunny smile. “Good morning.”

Arthur stared steadfastly at the floor. “Why are you here?” he asked slowly.

“We didn’t get to finish our conversation last night.”

Arthur didn’t respond. For a moment, all was quiet.

“... Thank you,” Hisirdoux whispered.

“What?” the fallen king gasped.

“You tried to stop him.” 

“And look what good it did!” Arthur shouted, gesturing to the boy’s injuries.

“You convinced him not to kill me right there.”

Arthur opened his mouth, as if to refute the point, then stopped and looked away.

“Why did you try to help me?” Hisirdoux asked.

“… I don’t know how to answer that.”

A heavy silence stretched between them.

Hisirdoux stared at his hands in his lap. Finally, as if the world was made of glass, he spoke. “They did it for you.”

Arthur winced.

Hisirdoux lifted his gaze. “Isn’t that what you wanted? To kill the older me? To get your kingdom back?”

Arthur grit his teeth.

“You could’ve gotten out. You could’ve had freedom. But you lied.”

“I did not lie.”

Hisirdoux smiled. “Well you certainly didn’t tell the truth. You knew I could open the door. Why didn’t you tell him?”

Arthur hesitated for a long moment. “... Because, he would have had no more use for you.”

“So, you admit it!” Hisirdoux crowed. “You protected me!”

“Don’t try to paint me as a saint!” the fallen king spat. “This is my fault. He is my knight, my sword! He enforces my will!”

“But he didn’t,” the boy stated. “You told him to stop, and he laughed at you.”

Arthur didn’t have a response for that. He let out a long breath. “You should hate me.”

Hisirdoux gave him a weak smile. “I’m not very good at doing what I’m supposed to. Ask Master Merlin.” He tilted his head. “Why do you want me to hate you?”

“... I don’t know.”

Hisirdoux watched him for a moment before he spoke. “Hate is easy. I could hate you. Or, I could show you kindness, and maybe you’ll do the same.”

Arthur shook his head. “I don’t deserve kindness.”

“Everyone deserves kindness!” Hisirdoux turned to Douxie with bright eyes. “Can we let him out?”

A spectrum of reactions sprung up from everyone in the room, from the slight tensing of Jim’s jaw to the shrill “WHAT?” from Zoe.

Douxie kept a neutral expression, unsurprised by the request. It was, after all, what he would do. He looked between the boy and Arthur. “Why?” he asked earnestly.

“Because he tried to help me. And he wants to change, I know it!”

Douxie thought for a moment. “... House arrest. He will remain in his chambers.”

Hisirdoux grinned. He turned to the trollhunter, who courteously helped him to his feet.

“This is madness!” Arthur insisted.

“Are you saying I’m wrong?” Hisirdoux asked.

Arthur choked on his response.

“See? I knew it!” Hisirdoux reached for the door.

“Nope!” Zoe shouted, batting his hand away.

“Wha-”

“You’re gonna hurt yourself. No moving heavy things.”

Hisirdoux pouted. “I’m not that weak!”

Douxie smiled at the familiar banter. He stepped up beside his younger self and pulled on the door.

It sang as it swung open on rusty hinges.

Arthur stood slowly, clutching the ornate box close to his chest. “... I don’t understand.”

“Maybe you can try to understand,” Hisirdoux offered.

Claire created a portal just outside the cell door.

Arthur took a hesitant step forward. With one last look at the boy, he stepped into the shadows. 

As the portal closed, Douxie sighed. “Okay. Claire, send them back to the war room. You,” he turned and wagged a finger at Hisirdoux, “you’re gonna sleep, got it?”

Hisirdoux nodded entheusiastically. “Yes, sir!”

Douxie turned to Zoe and Archie. “I’m trusting you to enforce that.”

Archie nodded dutifully.

“Oh, he’ll sleep,” Zoe assured him with a dangerous edge to her voice.

Hisirdoux turned to her with a look of mild horror. “I don’t like the way you said that.”

“Good.”

Claire produced another portal and Zoe promptly shoved the boy through, Archie flapping behind them.

“What now?” Claire asked.

Douxie turned to his remaining allies. “Now, we sort out the rest of them.”

---

Lancelot jumped to attention as the king and his knights stepped through a portal into the barracks.

Douxie immediately fixed his hard gaze on Galahad and Lamorak. “Claire, send them to the dungeon,” he commanded.

Claire gestured below the offending knights, who both fell through the floor with a cut-off shout.

The others startled at the action and eyed Douxie and his allies with suspicion.

“Now, the rest of you …” Douxie looked around at the newcomers. “Bedivere, Gawain, Gareth, welcome.”

“Who are you?” Gareth asked.

“Hisirdoux Casperan. Merlin’s apprentice from 900 years in the future. Due to … extenuating circumstances, my friends and I were sent back in time.”

“And you wield Excalibur?”

“I do.”

Lancelot took a step forward. “My brothers don’t trust you, but they disavow Lamorak and Galahad.”

“Do you trust me?” Douxie asked.

Lancelot sighed. “Honestly, no.”

Douxie nodded. “I’d be more suspicious if you did. People do not change overnight.”

“Indeed …” Lancelot mumbled solemnly.

“Where is Arthur?” Bedivere demanded.

“Safe,” Douxie responded.

“That is not what I asked.”

Douxie narrowed his eyes. “I know.”

Bedivere growled. “What’s it to be, then, turning the castle over to Gunmar? Spreading his wrath across the world?”

Claire crossed her arms. “We are not on Gunmar’s side.”

“And yet you overthrow Arthur and lock him in the dungeon!”

Douxie frowned. “You are equating two things that are not the same. Despite how much you believe in your own greatness, Camelot cannot fight Gunmar alone.”

“You expect us to believe that you would fight Gunmar?” 

Douxie met the knight’s belligerence with cool patience. “You stand in the presence of the one who will slay Gunmar in the future.”

“You?” Bedivere sneered.

“Not me.” Douxie stepped aside and turned to Jim.

Gawain raised his eyebrows. “Him? But he’s a troll.”

Jim shook his head. “I used to be human. I became a troll to stop Gunmar. I gave up sunlight, human food, my whole life to make sure he couldn’t hurt anyone else. To make sure I could kill him.”

“You chose to become a troll?”

Jim hesitated. “... Yes. I did.”

“Why would you fight so hard for a battle that is not your own?” Gawain asked.

Beside him, Gareth crossed his arms and gave his brother a look of exasperation.

Jim took a deep breath. “Because I was chosen. Because it was the right thing to do. Just because people are different from you doesn’t mean they matter any less. It doesn’t mean they shouldn’t have the chance to live their lives in peace. The trolls in my town, they’re ordinary people, just like your people in Camelot. They’re business owners and tinkerers, scholars and leaders. And those people, my people, they’re here too, in Dwoza. And you’ve hunted them down. They are enemies of Gunmar. By hunting them indiscriminately, by not listening, by thinking that an entire race of people deserve to die, you’re just like him.”

“Trolls have committed atrocities against humanity!” Bedivere argued.

“Gumm-Gumms have committed atrocities,” Jim corrected him, “as have humans. You cannot imagine the things you will do to each other in the next 900 years. And throughout history, no matter how bad things got, no matter what evils were committed, no leader has ever suggested that we wipe out humanity to eliminate that threat. We work to stop the evil, not the innocent. Out of all the trolls in your dungeon, not one was a Gumm-Gumm. They were just people.” 

For a moment, there was silence.

Douxie turned back to the knights. “Well? Where do you stand?”

Lancelot’s eyes landed on his squire, standing at the back of the group with his arms wrapped tight around himself and his eyes downcast, his mouth locked in a tight frown. 

Steve glanced up and their eyes locked. In that moment, the young squire’s troubled expression dissolved into unrestrained anguish. 

The look knocked the air from Lancelot’s lungs. He gulped down a shaky breath. “I –”

“Douxie!” Archie’s voice echoed from the hall behind them. 

Douxie turned just in time for the speeding dragon to crash into his chest. He reflexively closed his arms around the small, furry body. “Arch! What’s wrong?”

“We need to get back! Now!”

The panic on his familiar’s face eliminated all need for questions. Douxie turned to Claire, who was already throwing down a portal in front of them.

They rushed through and, in an instant, they were gone.

-

As soon as they emerged into the war room, they saw it. At the far end of the room, a large black sphere had swallowed the couch that had been serving as part of their meeting space.

Aaarrrgghh smashed his fists into the surface, while Zoe blasted it with pink lightning.

“Douxie is in there!”

Douxie’s eyes widened. “Fuzzbuckets!” He ran up, with his friends right behind him, and inspected the object. 

It was solid to the touch, and cold as the void. Nothing Zoe or Aaarrrgghh did seemed to be having any effect.

Douxie scrolled frantically through the runes on his bracelet as the others continued to wail on the sphere. Then, his eye caught a slight movement of the object receding. “Wait!” Douxie threw out his hands, freezing everyone in place.

The sphere shrunk to reveal Hisirdoux reaching desperately towards the floor. “Morgana!” 

---

Hisirdoux was dozing on the couch, safe and warm, surrounded by his closest friends.

Archie was curled against his chest, purring like a thundering team of horses. 

Zoe’s arms were wrapped tight around him. The gentle buzz of her magic hummed through his body, boosting his own.

He drifted on the edge of sleep, the sensations around him soft and faint …

Two short screams sounded in his ears before abruptly cutting off, and the warmth around him vanished. Hisirdoux frowned and tried to drag himself back to the waking world.

A cold hand gently brushed his cheek.

He forced his eyes open, and through the haze of sleep, he saw a warm, familiar face. “M’gana?” he asked groggily.

“Hello, Little Douxie,” she cooed as she stroked his hair.

“What’r you doin’ here?”

“I came to see you.”

“Oh … that’s nice.”

“What happened to you, dear?” Morgana whispered.

“Huh?”

“You’re hurt.” She gently placed her hand against the bandages wrapped around his chest.

Hisirdoux winced, and she instantly withdrew her hand. “Oh, right,” he mumbled.

“Who did this?” she whispered.

“Uh …” He flinched as a dull thud rumbled through the darkness. “Wha’ was that?”

“Don’t worry about them, dear. I know it hurts. Please, try to remember.” She placed her hand against his face. Long, metal fingernails rested against the side of his head. 

Hisirdoux’ body seized up as ice coursed through his veins. Terror closed its iron hand around his throat. His eyes flew open and he screamed, “No! No, please! No!”

Morgana recoiled from the outburst. “What is it? What’s wrong?” She pressed her other hand to the side of his face and stared into his eyes with a pleading gaze.

Hisirdoux shrieked and thrashed, tears springing to his eyes.

“Douxie, stop, you’ll hurt yourself!” 

A cold pressure wrapped around his wrists, twisted its way up his arms, over his body, and down his legs. Morgana’s hands remained on either side of his head, holding him still.

Hisirdoux whimpered and gasped, his struggles dying down to a low trembling while weak, broken cries spilled from his mouth.

“It’s alright, Douxie, it’s me. It’s Morgana. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Finally, his heartbeat slowed. Through his tears, he could see Morgana’s soft, kind face. He let out a last shuddering sigh.

“What happened?” she begged.

Hisirdoux took several deep breaths before he answered, his voice no more than a whisper. “... Lamorak.”

Morgana’s hands flew to her mouth as realization dawned on her face. She shook her clawed hand vigorously and the long nails disappeared into gold smoke. 

A faint buzzing shot through the infinite void. A distant roar echoed around them, followed by more heavy, rhythmic thumping.

“How?” she gasped.

The young wizard hesitated. “I – went to talk to Arthur. Lamorak came, and … and then he and Galahad … they wanted information, and they wanted to catch the other me, s-so …”

Morgana’s face twisted in fury. “Bastards,” she hissed. “They’ll die for what they’ve done. Them, and my brother.”

“What?” Hisirdoux cried, all vestiges of sleep replaced with adrenaline. He tried to sit up and winced as the action made his wounds flare.

Morgana put a hand on his shoulder, easily pushing him back down to the couch. “Worry not, Little Douxie. They won’t bother you again,” she promised. Her voice was soft, but her eyes burned with fury. She sank into the shadows and disappeared. 

“No, Morgana, wait!”

As she left, the darkness around him got tighter and closer, until it passed through him, shrunk to a tiny point, and vanished. 

“Morgana!” Hisirdoux reached out towards her and lost his balance, tipping off the couch towards the floor. He braced himself, but before he could crash to the ground, unmistakable blue magic wrapped around him and deposited him safely back on the cushions.

“What happened?” Douxie demanded.

Hisirdoux looked around and found himself surrounded by the king’s court. He panted and tried to put into words what had just happened. “Morgana, she … she was here!”

Douxie’s eyes widened. “Are you alright?” 

Hisirdoux shook his head. “ ‘M fine, but, she’s going to kill them! The knights, a-and Arthur! She’s going after them now!”

“Fuzzbuckets! Claire, send us to the dungeon, then go warn Merlin. Tell him to protect Arthur. Join us when you’re done.”

Claire nodded and threw a portal in front of them. 

Douxie, Jim, and Steve hopped through before it evaporated. 

Claire turned and created an identical portal for herself. She leapt through and vanished. 

Hisirdoux stared at the place where they had been, overwhelmed by a deep sense of hopelessness. The look in her eyes – there would be blood today. No matter what they would say, this was his fault. His ill-fated actions were the cause of Morgana’s murderous rage. And, once again, he couldn’t do anything …

Hisirdoux pushed himself to his feet.

Zoe grabbed him around the waist. “No!”

“Yes! Zoe, if she kills Arthur, all of this,” he insisted as he threw his arms open wide, “will have been for nothing!” 

“You can’t even walk!”

Hisirdoux scowled at her. “Watch me.” He grit his teeth and staggered forward a few painful steps before a wrong step sent fire shooting through his leg. He cried out as he lurched towards the floor. Rather than the unforgiving stones of the floor, he landed against a much gentler stone hand.

Hisirdoux took a moment to catch his breath, and to let his head stop spinning. When he finally looked up, he found himself looking into Aaarrrgghh’s kind, wide face. Hisirdoux smiled back. “Please, help me,” he entreated the giant.

Aaarrrgghh used one finger of his other hand to nudge the boy into his palm, cradling him with the utmost care.

Hisirdoux turned back to Zoe. “She’s on this rampage for my sake. I can stop her. I know I can.”

Zoe glared at him hard.

Hisirdoux met her with his own unyielding gaze.

Blinky and Callista moved up to observe the stand-off between the two equally stubborn humans.

The room held its breath as it awaited the verdict.

---

Far below, the dungeon rang with the furious hollering of an indignant knight.

Lamorak paced a short path from one end of the cell to the other, grumbling all the way. “Oi!” He kicked the barred door with all his might. “Someone fuckin’ let us out!”

“It’s useless,” Galahad insisted from his place on the floor, leaning against the back wall.

Lamorak rounded on the stout knight. “At least I’m trying, ‘stead of sitting there like a fuckin’ lump! Have you no dignity as a knight of the Round Table?”

“I could ask the same of you, raging like a petulant child.”

Lamorak grinned savagely. “Oh, they have not known rage yet. When I get my fuckin’ hands on that witch, I’ll string him up by his own innards! I’ll put his head on a pike in the town square! Him, and Lancelot, bloody traitor! Fuck the whole lot of you! At least Bedivere has some semblance of a spine!”

“Do you never get bloody tired of yourself, lad?” Galahad sighed.

“Oh, tired, are you? Have you not noticed?” Lamorak flung his arms out to the sides. “Arthur is not here. They done somethin’ to him, and you want to, what, have a nap?”

Galahad shook his head in exasperation.

Lamorak sneered. “You’re pathetic! Cowin’ the second you don’t got the upper hand, trying to pretend you was on their side all along! You can fuck off if you want, but I’m not going to abandon –”

“Aaaar-thuuuur?” a haunting voice sang.

Both knights froze, their eyes darting wildly around the chamber in search of the threat.

Morgana floated out of the darkness. As she looked around, a flash of disappointment crossed her face at the apparent absence of her quarry.

Then, she noticed Lamorak. Morgana narrowed her eyes. “You’ll do.” In an instant, she was outside the cell. The furious witch seized Lamorak with roiling gold energy and yanked him up to the bars. 

Lamorak grunted as he fought futilely against her iron grip.

She tilted his head up with the tip of one razor-sharp nail under his chin. “You hurt my boy,” she stated, low and dangerous. “What do you have to say for yourself before I destroy you?”

Lamorak glared at her. “Not afraid of you, witch!” he sneered.

Morgana pushed just a bit harder and her nail pierced the skin just under his chin. A slow trickle of blood ran down his neck. Her eyes followed the red trail down to his collar. “Such lovely armor …” she mused. “Lucky thing that it protects you from the retribution you are owed.”

A halo of golden knives appeared behind her head. The air around them shifted like a mirage as a wave of heat rushed forward, making it hard for Lamorak to breathe. 

Morgana reached back and selected one of the blades. For a moment, she stared at the knight with a disturbingly vacant gaze. Then, quick as a viper, she drove the knife into his shoulder. The heated dagger cut through his armor like butter, leaving a trail of melted steel in its wake. 

Lamorak screamed.

“How do you like it?” Morgana hissed as she pushed the blade deeper. She launched him back against the wall and bound him with thin cords of shadows. With a wave of her hand, the swarm of knives shot forward.

Lamorak barely had time to draw a final breath before –

A disk of blue light bloomed in front of him. The knives thunked into the shield, the burning tips frozen mere inches from his face. A moment later, the disk shattered, and they all fell harmlessly to the ground. 

“Hey, dead lady! Over here!” a cocky voice called from the other side of the room.

Morgana turned and locked her fiery gaze on the three teenagers who had suddenly appeared behind her. “You!” she roared. “You would defend them?”

Douxie glared back at her. “I’m not going to let you kill them!”

Jim and Steve lunged at the shadow witch while Douxie ran around to the other side of the room. He stopped in front of the knights’ cell and created another shield.

Morgana threw a volley of shadow bolts at him.

Douxie grit his teeth and pushed his magic to strengthen his defense. “You do realize you’re fighting me so you can get revenge for me?”

“You are not the same!”

A purple-ringed void opened beside Douxie. Claire leapt through and immediately fired a shadow bolt at Morgana.

The elder shadow witch dodged with ease. “Maybe I will steal him away,” she snarled as she easily deflected blows from the sword and axe surrounding her. “Care for him myself. Teach him. Nurture him. Make sure he doesn’t become you!” Morgana hurled a massive ball of darkness at Douxie.

Claire summoned a portal in front of him and turned the attack back towards its source.

Morgana ducked out of the way, and the ball struck the high ceiling, knocking down a massive piece of stone.

Claire’s eyes turned black as she called the shadows from the walls, pulling them to the center of the room. They formed thin tendrils that whipped around Morgana’s legs and dragged her to the ground.

Morgana grunted as she tried to free herself.

Steve held Toothache high above his head and let out a wild war cry as he ran towards her.

Morgana held her hand out and summoned a portal in front of her just as Steve got within striking distance, swallowing him whole.

Steve reappeared directly in front of Jim. It was too late for him to change course, but not too late for him to realize what was happening, and for his triumphant yelling to turn to panicked screaming just before he slammed into the trollhunter.

Claire hurled shards of magic at Morgana. Unable to dodge effectively, the elder shadow witch had to redirect the bolts through her own portals, leaving her open for Jim and Steve’s attacks.

Douxie threw up barriers in front of each of Morgana’s attempts to throw Claire’s magic back at them.

The teenage army wasn’t winning, per se, but they were succeeding in pissing Morgana off to no end. The furious witch growled as she deflected the barrage of blades and magic. With a final indignant scream, she summoned a portal above herself and threw it towards the floor, plunging the room into silence.

Lamorak clutched his shoulder and stumbled to the front of the cell. “Why have you done this?” he demanded. “What do you hope to gain?”

Douxie turned to him and scowled. “I don’t have time to explain to you what it means to be a decent person! She’s going after Arthur next, I am busy!”

Claire summoned a portal, and in a moment, they were gone.

---

Arthur stepped through the swirling darkness into his chambers. His stomach lurched at the experience, like the feeling of missing a step on a staircase. And then, it was over. The portal disappeared, and he was alone. 

He let out a long sigh as he looked around at the familiar, opulent room that now seemed foreign. The trophies that lined the walls stared down at him. He averted his eyes, unable to to meet their cold, dead gaze.

Arthur wandered aimlessly through the chamber until his eyes landed on his diary, laying open on his desk to the last pages. His breath caught in his throat. He stood rooted to the spot, staring at the book; he couldn’t bring himself to read the words …

-

The sound of the door slamming against the wall startled him out of his reverie. He turned to find Merlin rushing in, brandishing his staff. For a moment, Arthur feared that the wizard had finally come to deliver overdue justice.

Merlin looked around and dropped his stance. “She isn’t here yet. Thank the gods!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Morgana is coming!” Merlin hissed as he rushed to the former king’s side.

Arthur’s face darkened. “Why are you protecting me? I deserve her wrath.”

“Perhaps, but the world does not.”

The two automatically assumed a defensive stance, back to back, both scanning their surroundings for any sign of the shadow witch. The seconds ticked by like years of painful silence.

“... Something troubles you?” Merlin asked.

Arthur wasn’t sure whether to curse or cherish the wizard’s insight. His shoulders slumped. “I fear I have failed in my duties.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Merlin took a long breath, in and out. “Oh?” he asked in a low, melancholy tone. His voice was heavy as if weighted by his own remorse.

“I saw myself as a champion of good, a crusader against the darkness. But, it seems I have become the evil I claimed to fight. I delighted in the cruelty and called it justice, blinded by my own grief. In my eyes, I was the hero – it was so simple.”

Merlin shook his head. “You say that you thought it was simple as if you are now enlightened, but you are still reducing the world to absolutes. Nothing in life is simple. Everything is complicated.”

 Arthur sighed.“Yes. I am beginning to see that.”

“No one is wholly right or wrong, good or evil; not you, not me, not Morgana, not even Gunmar.”

“I know what I did,” Arthur said bitterly. “Do not try to excuse it.” 

“I have no intention to,” Merlin murmured, “and, it is complicated.”

Arthur huffed in indignation. The old man was either daft or he was being deliberately difficult. “Why –” Arthur started before his words caught in his throat. He took a deep breath and tried again. “Why have you followed me all these years?”

Merlin hesitated. He furrowed his brow in the deep reflection one would reserve for meditating on existence itself. “Because: you are a good leader. You abhor greed and corruption. When given the choice to benefit yourself at the cost of the kingdom, you are virtuous. You seek truth and justice for even the least of your citizens, and expect nothing in return. England has flourished under your rule. You have become a hateful person, but you are a good king. You care for your people.”

“Not all of my people.” Arthur turned slowly to face the wizard. “Merlin, I am so sorry. I know how much the boy –" 

Merlin wordlessly raised a hand to silence him.

The former king bowed his head in shame. “I do not deserve or expect your forgiveness, but I offer my apology all the same.”

Merlin gave the slightest nod.

Arthur let out a long sigh. “Well then, what now?”

“Now, we wait for the inevitable.” Merlin assumed the grave face of a battle-hardened soldier.

Arthur’s eyes darted around the room. “I don’t suppose an apology will satisfy her and we can just – talk this out.”

Merlin shot him an incredulous look. “You tell me. She’s your sister.”

“She’s your apprentice,” Arthur countered.

The two men stared at each other and, without a word spoken, confirmed the truth they both knew. There was nothing either of them could say or do to prevent the coming storm.

---

They did not wait long. Soon, the air grew cold around them. 

“Oh, brother,” an echoey voice called. 

Merlin tapped his staff on the ground. A fountain of green energy sprung from the crystal, enclosing them in a shifting dome.

The candles all snuffed out at once. Shadows bled from every corner of the room, dripping over the windows and covering the floor in a thick, tar-like substance. The only light was the glow of Merlin’s magic.

Morgana floated down through a tear in space with the presence of a dark queen. 

In all their years of arguing, Arthur had thought he had seen every weapon in Morgana's arsenal; stubbornness, rage, reason, sympathy, disapproval, righteousness. He was wrong. Morgana descended into the room armed with the fury of pure, undeniable hatred. The look on her face was one he had seen countless times, in mirrors and the faces of his men. He had taken pride in it. Now, that weapon was turned on him, and he was rightfully terrified. 

It wasn't terror, though, that struck his heart, knocking the breath from his lungs; it was despair.  Arthur looked with agony upon the face of the sister he’d killed. He had done this, transformed her into a gleaming champion of corruption. 

A violent wind kicked up, forming a vortex that ripped up tables, chairs, suits of armor, and threw them around the room.

Just then, a purple portal appeared beside Merlin’s shield and the band of young misfits leapt through.

“Morgana, if you would just listen!” Douxie pleaded. “Things have changed!” 

“He’ll never change!” Morgana declared as she began spraying a barrage of dark magic at the green shield.

Merlin absorbed the attack, seemingly unphased, though it was hard to tell through his stony mask of defiance.

Steve ran up behind Morgana. “Not gonna get me this time, shadow bitch!”

She grabbed Steve and threw him against the wall.

He landed in a heap on the floor. As he lay there groaning, thin black tendrils rose up and wound around his body. 

As soon as Steve realized what was happening, he screamed. He began kicking and grabbing at the tentacles, trying to push them off his body, but as he worked to dislodge the shadows, more appeared to replace them. 

Claire pulled out Carnwennan.

Morgana’s eyes landed on the dagger and she smiled. “You think you can use my own creation against me?” She held out her hand towards it.

Jagged gold lines raced up the blade, from the hilt to the tip, producing a dull glow.

Claire stared at the dagger. A brief look of horror flashed across her face before the weapon swallowed her whole.

“Claire!” Jim shouted. He growled and lunged at Morgana with Galatine. “Bring her back!”

Morgana laughed. “Foolish boy! I am the mistress of the shadows. I control where they are –” she gestured below Jim, who fell through the floor and landed on the other side of the room, “and where they are not.” She extended her hand towards him. The shadows on the wall before him melted away, letting in the full force of the sunlight. 

-

The world was only black. Claire tried to blink the darkness away to no avail. She couldn’t tell if her eyes were open, or if she even had eyes.

She was about to call out when she heard them: the hushed chorus of a million tiny voices. They were far off, but drawing ever closer. And they were angry.  

Claire twisted around, frantically searching for a way out, but it was no use. She was weightless, floating in the dark. She didn’t know which way was up, and even if she did, that information would have been useless. All she could do was wait as the whispers grew ever louder like the frantic horn of an oncoming train. Her heart pounded as they drew closer … closer …

The shadows swarmed her. She couldn’t see anything in the void, but she could feel them grabbing her, scratching her, latching on with jagged teeth. Their hissing voices filled her head until she could no longer hear herself think.

She tried to fight back, shooting blind into the darkness. She could feel her attacks making contact; the cold, creeping presence lessening in the wake of each blast before immediately being replaced by more. It wasn’t a contest of strength or skill; she was simply outnumbered. 

The vicious whispers clung to her legs and arms, dragging her beneath an imperceptible surface.

Claire wept as her straining against the assault weakened. Numbness spread from her fingertips and toes, slow, then getting faster as it traveled towards her heart. Jim, she sobbed.

Jim’s agonized scream cut through the endless, all-encompassing noise.

“Jim!” Claire cried. In the dark, her eyes flashed purple. “NO!”

-

The dagger shook as lines of purple spread from the hilt to the tip. It glowed with a brilliant light and flew at its old master. 

Morgana raised her arm at the last minute to deflect the blade, but wasn’t quick enough to prevent the shallow slash across her cheek.

Douxie grabbed Jim’s arm and yanked him away from the window.

Jim collapsed, twitching and gasping.

She brought a hand to her cheek and stared at the blood on her fingers. “WHAT?”

The dagger skittered to a stop on the other side of the room. Solid shadows spilled from the blade, forming into a small, purple-clad sorceress. Claire appeared on her hands and knees, coughing weakly.

“How dare you take what is mine?” Morgana roared as she aimed a blast at her rival. 

Claire looked up and her eyes widened. She raised a hand in a feeble attempt to block the blow.

Just before the spell hit, a blue sphere erupted around her, shielding her from the blast.

Morgana turned to Douxie and glared.

Douxie glared back just as hard. “Don’t touch my student!” he snarled as he pulled Excalibur from his back. 

Her face twisted in rage. “You dare to raise that sword against me?” She raised her hands over her head and gathered a mass of shadows before hurling a dark beam at him.

 Douxie braced himself against the incredible force of Morgana’s fury. He held Excalibur in front of him like a shield, his left hand strangling the hilt while his right pushed back against the flat of the blade. Blue magic flared from the gem in the crossguard. He was holding off her attack, but he was also losing ground. Douxie growled as his feet slid back along the stone floor. He struggled to maintain his footing as she pushed him back, little by little. It was only a matter of time before she broke through, and that time would not be long.

The doors burst open, admitting blue light from the corridor. The shadows frayed where they had broken.

“Morgana, stop!” 

Aaarrrgghh bounded into the room with Hisirdoux and Zoe sitting on his broad shoulders. Blinky and Callista ran in behind them.

Morgana turned to Hisirdoux, speechless. Her attack on Douxie ceased.

Douxie collapsed with a low groan.

Hisirdoux slid off of Aaarrrgghh’s back and limped forward, leaning on Zoe for support. “Please don’t do this!”

Morgana recoiled as if burned by the boy’s pleading. Her eyes flicked rapidly around the room. Then, in a flash of golden darkness, she was gone. 

The shadows coating the room evaporated. For a moment, there was silence as the party lay scattered around the room in various states of shocked, stunned, or dazed.

Claire was the first to stagger to her feet. Immediately, she ran to the trollhunter, Callista falling in step behind her. “Jim!” She fell to her knees at his side. “Jim, are you okay?”

Jim groaned, cracking his eyes open. “Claire?” he croaked. A moment later, his eyes snapped open. “Claire!” He surged forward and seized her in a tight hug. “I thought I lost you!”

“I’m fine!” she insisted. “What about you?”

“I’ll live.” Jim smiled and pulled her in for a tender kiss.

Blinky ran up to Douxie and helped the king to his feet.

“Steve’s okay,” the blond assured them from across the room as he stumbled to his feet.

After several long seconds of calm, Merlin finally dropped his shield and turned to face his apprentice. “Is everyone alright?”

Douxie looked up at him and opened his mouth to answer before stopping and looking away. Finally, he gave a weak nod. “… All things considered.” 

He cast his tired gaze around the destroyed room before settling on Arthur. “What do we do with him now? Put him with the knights in the barracks?”

“Actually, I … I would stay,” Arthur responded.

Douxie stared at him wearily for several long moments, his eyes void of comprehension. Eventually, he shook his head with a hollow laugh. “... Sure.” 

He turned to his friends. “We need to regroup and … recover.”

Claire winced as she raised her hands in front of her.

Douxie put a hand on her arm. “Let’s walk. We could all use a break.”

Claire didn’t argue. Her hands dropped heavily to her sides.

One by one, they trudged out the door with Merlin bringing up the rear.

“Merlin,” Arthur called.

The wizard stopped.

Arthur let out a shaky breath. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her.”

Merlin gave a slight nod. “I know.” 

As the door closed behind him, the slight green tint faded from the portrait hanging over the fireplace and the red curtains opposite it, both completely undamaged by Morgana’s rage.

Arthur turned to the shrine, pushing the curtains aside. He stared up at his angel and prayed.

---

It was nearly an hour later when the wizard and his knights returned to the barracks.

Lancelot jumped to his feet. He could feel four sets of cautious eyes on him. More slowly, he stepped up to stand in front of them. He hesitated for a moment before sinking to a knee, his head bowed in deference. “I wish to speak with my … with Arthur.”

Douxie stared at him for a moment before nodding. “Alright.” He gestured for Lancelot to stand.

Claire created a portal and Douxie ushered him through.

They emerged into a room he barely recognized. Wood and stone rubble lay in piles on the floor. Torn fabric and bits of pottery were strewn in every corner. It seemed nothing had been spared from the destruction. Standing in the middle of it, thankfully unharmed, was Arthur. 

“What happened here?” Lancelot asked.

Arthur gave a hollow laugh. “Morgana’s righteous fury.”

Lancelot looked down in shame. “She was right.”

“Aye, she was,” Arthur nodded.

The two men shared a look, and Lancelot saw in Arthur’s eyes the same conflict stirring in his own soul. He turned back to Douxie and sighed. “Your … Majesty, please, send our brothers. We will talk to them.” 

Douxie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Very well.”

Notes:

Looking to create world peace? Just deployo the boyo.

Also, shadow magic is overpowered and I hate it, please nerf.

I’m really not happy with that Arthur/Merlin talk or the fight in Arthur’s room, but I figured sitting around hating them forever isn’t constructive, so they are what they are. Reading them just makes me want to bang my head into a wall. I dunno, maybe that’s just the depression.

I apologize for the two L-knights and three G-knights. I chose them based on descriptions here (also see here the dragon symbol). Gawain is Lancelot’s best friend. Gareth is Maximum Chivalry Man and also Gawain’s bio brother. Bedivere is Arthur’s most staunch supporter.

No angst summary of the first two page breaks:
Jim and Callista wait while everyone else deals with the roof situation. Claire, Archie, and Zoe come back. Steve comes back carrying Moppet, who is very injured. They go back to the war room and Doctor Jim and Nurse Steve do first aid while Claire and Zoe go get Madame Amabel.

Chapter 14

Notes:

Sup yall. I am alive, despite all evidence to the contrary. Been deep down in that burnout. Just doing work and basic things to take care of myself has been near impossible, to say nothing of extra activities.

I know better than to make promises, but I have the next chapter fully drafted and mostly edited so hopefully it will be out soon.

Thank you to nezio for betaing!

Jim was restless as the party stepped through the portal outside Dwoza. They had to get the trolls on their side, and his last two visits hadn’t exactly been promising.

This time, the door was guarded by an orange troll armed with a simple spear and an impressively bored expression.

“King Hisirdoux humbly requests to speak with Elder Vendel,” Douxie called in a firm, clear voice.

The troll sighed and rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He turned and trudged into the cave, not even looking back to make sure they were following.

They made their way down the main drag. The trolls on the edges of the avenue ducked down alleys or behind boxes. Those who couldn’t make a swift exit immediately busied themselves with whatever menial task was at hand, throwing the occasional cautious glance at the outsiders before snapping back to their occupations.

One troll, however, broke the pattern. He waddled out as fast as his stubby legs could carry him and threw his arms around Blinky. “Brother! You’re alive!”

“I told you!” Blinky snapped as he swatted Dictatious away. 

Dictatious cheerily pulled at Blinky’s arm. “Come, there is much to prepare if we are to wait out the coming apocalypse.”

“Stop that!” Blinky shouted as he yanked his arm free. “There is not going to be an apocalypse!”

Jim followed Douxie as he continued past the interaction and approached the old troll standing with his back to the main avenue. “Elder Vendel, we need to talk.”

Vendel turned to face Douxie with a supremely annoyed expression. “Oh good, you’re back. I’m impressed the brute hasn’t eaten you yet.”

Douxie took a deep breath and ignored the comment. “We must work together if any of us are to survive against Gunmar.”

A cautious crowd began to form around them, still keeping a conservative distance.

Vendel rolled his eyes. “You really expect us to believe that your knights will fight with us, not against us?” Vendel asked.

“Yes! We’ve made progress with Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.”

“Oh good, the chief hunters. I feel so relieved.”

Douxie fisted his hands at his sides. “Don’t forget that I’m just as hunted as you are. There has already been an attempt on my life, as well as much other treachery.”

Vendel smiled. “Ah, yes. Progress.”

Jim stepped forward and crossed his arms. “Gunmar is coming.” 

The crowd gasped at the terrifying reality they’d all been ignoring.

“When Aaarrrgghh attacked, you all ran and hid and waited to be slaughtered. What’s your plan for when The Skullcrusher comes for real?”

Vendel scowled and turned away. “Fine. Kanjigar, come with me. Let us see what the king and his ambassador have to say.”

“Oh, right. ‘Ambassador’,” Claire laughed nervously.

The two sour trolls led Claire and Douxie deeper into Dwoza, leaving the rest behind.

Jim stared after them and let out a shaky breath. 

The trolls around them dispersed back to their business, still eyeing the outsiders warily.

Out of the crowd, Draal stepped up to Jim. He glanced after his father, then crossed his arms. “Never gonna work, humans and trolls working together,” he grumbled.

“Yes, it will!” Jim insisted. “I’ve seen it!”

Draal rolled his eyes. “If you say so.” He paused and gave Jim a thoughtful look. “You should join us. We could use more warriors.”

Jim smiled. “You could. You have them right here.”

“Heh. Sure,” Draal scoffed. “These worthless lumps would sooner grow moss than put up a fight.”

“You should give them a chance. They might surprise you.”

“Jim?” Merlin called as he approached. “Might I have a word? Alone.”

Draal sneered at the wizard before turning and lumbering away.

Merlin placed a hand on Jim’s shoulder and guided him to an isolated corner of the cave. When he was satisfied with their privacy, he turned to the trollhunter and sighed.“I am sorry to say that the shard in your chest cannot be removed. Its magic is beyond even my capabilities. When you return to your time, it will finish its work.”

Jim was silent as he absorbed that information. Finally, he swallowed hard and met the wizard’s gaze. “... So, that’s it? I’m dead?”

Merlin lowered his gaze. “Unfortunately, yes. I am sorry.”

Jim took a deep breath. “Right. Thanks for trying.”

Merlin gave him a final look of pity before turning and walking away.

Jim sat heavily against the wall. He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the base of his horns, and tried to reckon with his thoughts.

As soon as they got back to their time, he was dead. He wouldn’t graduate high school. He wouldn’t go to college, get a job, move out, get married, have kids. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted any of that, but, now … now he didn’t have a choice. 

Even as that reality set in, the worst of his grief wasn’t about himself. It was his friends, his family, everyone he cared about. Mom, Toby, Aaarrrgghh … he hadn’t seen them in months. They thought he was coming back. He’d promised he’d be back. When he’d left, it hadn’t been a final farewell before the deadly battle. It had been ‘See you soon’, and ‘We’re still on, right?’

He didn’t get to say ‘I love you’ for the last time. He didn’t get to say goodbye. His mom, the trolls, his friends, Claire; he was going to leave them all, just like that, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

… Well, there was one thing he could do. 

Jim rose on shaky legs and wiped the tears from his face as he started off across the square. With each step, he grew more determined, until his imminent death was entirely out of his mind. Now, he had a mission. He had one day, and he wasn’t going to waste it crying.

The door to the Galadrigal residence stood open, with the brothers inside, bickering incessantly.

Jim waited respectfully for the two to acknowledge him, but when it became apparent that they had no intentions of stopping, he cleared his throat. “Hey, Blinky – er – Blinkous, can I talk to you?”

Dictatious turned to him, aghast. “Blink-HEE? What is this blasphemy?!”

“It is easier for some trolls to say,” Blinky explained.

“Which trolls would they be? The Imbecilus tribe?”

Blinky scowled. “Perhaps, you should be less judgemental, brother.”

“Less judgemental?” Dictatious gasped and rounded on Jim. “What have you done to him?” 

“Oh, go be melodramatic somewhere else! Out, out!” Blinky cried as he shooed Dictatious into the streets of Dwoza. He shut the door firmly before turning back to Jim. “I’m so sorry about him. What were you saying?”

“I know I’m not your favorite person –”

“You are beginning to grow on me,” Blinky quipped as he trundled around the room, setting things right in the wake of Dictatious’ apparent ‘disaster preparedness’.

Jim smiled. “I have a favor to ask. Do you have any spare gemstones that I could have?”

Blinky looked up at him quizzically. “Whatever for?”

“Um –” Jim sputtered. He looked pointedly away and rubbed the back of his neck.

Blinky’s face softened. “Ah, I see.”

Jim ducked his head.

“What were you looking for?”

“Uh, sapphire and amethyst.”

“Hah, easy.” Blinky left the room and returned moments later carrying a large clay pot. He tipped it out onto the table and glittering gemstones poured out. Picking through them, he produced an impressive sapphire and amethyst. He flipped Jim’s hand over and dropped the gems into his open palm.

Jim’s breath caught in his throat. “Thank you.”

Blinky curled Jim’s fingers over them. “I wish you luck, youngling. Go get her.”

Tears pricked at Jim’s eyes. It didn’t mean anything – this wasn’t his Blinky. But still, the words of encouragement from the troll he considered a father pulled at his heart.

Jim jumped at the unmistakable sound of reality tearing behind him and the sweetest voice saying, “There you are.”

 He spun around to face Claire, hiding his hands behind his back as he plastered a huge smile on his face. “Yeah, mhm, here I am!”

“They’re ready for us.”

Jim’s face fell into the familiar mask of a soldier. “Right. Let’s go.”

---

The gathering sat around a stone table cut into a rough circle. Douxie was opposite the trolls, flanked by Jim and Merlin to one side, Claire and Blinky to the other. There were far more of them than the troll contingent, but Vendel and Kanjigar’s glares still seemed to dwarf their party.

Vendel glowered across the table at Merlin. “Your king and his ambassador have convinced me to hear you out. What do you have to say, wizard?”

Merlin stood to address the room with his signature stoicness. “We cannot kill Gunmar; his army is too powerful for us to face in battle. Even with the combined might of Camelot and Dwoza, the best we could hope for is a pyrrhic victory.”

“Not even!” Claire insisted. “Morgana gave Gunmar the power to create infinite soldiers! As long as he’s alive, it doesn’t matter how many we kill; he can make more!”

“While our numbers dwindle,” Douxie added.

“And how do you propose we defeat Gunmar without killing him?” Kanjigar taunted. 

Merlin waved his hand, summoning a glowing image of the bridge. “My amulet will activate Killahead bridge, opening a portal to the Darklands and sucking Gunmar and his army in. Once the bridge is sealed, they will be trapped.”

Vendel narrowed his eyes. “What is this ‘am-you-let’?”

“An artifact imbued with the power of the light; the ultimate weapon against Gunmar’s forces. It will lend the bearer the strongest armor and a legendary sword, both made of daylight itself.”

“Armor made of daylight?” Kanjigar demanded. “Are you trying to kill us?”

“No!” Jim jumped to his feet. “This is the armor. Or, it will be.” He turned in a slow circle to show off the eclipse armor.

Kanjigar scoffed. “Doesn’t look like daylight to me.”

Merlin launched into a lengthy explanation of how the amulet worked.

Jim tuned it out as he sat back in his chair and fumed. Here was Kanjigar the Courageous, his predecessor as trollhunter, rivaling Vendel for the title of pettiest bastard. It was just like when he first became the trollhunter. They wouldn’t listen if their lives depended on it, which they did.

Kanjigar crossed his arms. “So, you need a warrior to wield this amulet?”

“Maybe not,” Claire mused. “Jim wasn’t a warrior when the amulet chose him. He was just a kid!”

Jim perked up as he turned to Claire. “You’re right. The amulet didn’t choose me for who I was. It chose me for who I could become.”

Vendel rolled his eyes. “How poetic. Unfortunately, we don’t need poetry, we need a solution. ”

“We need Deya,” Claire insisted.

“Who?”

“Deya. She was, well, I guess is the first trollhunter.”

“And where do we find this ‘Deya’?” Vendel asked.

Douxie stiffened in his chair. “She’s not here?”

“There is no troll by that name.”

“Are there any other settlements?” Douxie demanded.

Vendel narrowed his eyes. “No. Every troll worth knowing is within Dwoza’s walls.”

Douxie wrapped his arms around himself and stared intently down at the table. His body shook with the force of his harsh breaths.

Jim leaned over and whispered, “Hey, it’s okay. Maybe it’s just different this time.”

“I don’t like how much we’re changing history,” Douxie hissed. “We know Deya seals Gunmar away. If she isn’t the trollhunter, we have no guarantees.”

Claire placed a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, we do. The Lady said that as long as you trust yourself, it will all work out.”

Merlin cleared his throat. “The amulet will find her master,” he looked pointedly at Douxie, “wherever they may be.” 

Douxie closed his eyes and sighed. Then, he turned back to Vendel. “Well?”

Vendel made a sound of the purest exasperation. “Fine. We will participate in your magical farce.”

The king nodded and stood up. ”Ready the rest of your number for battle,” he instructed. “Tomorrow, we make our stand.”

“And what if Camelot does not muster her forces?”

Douxie met Vendel’s mocking gaze with grim earnestness. “Then we’re all doomed.”

---

The delegates of Camelot returned to the war room.

“What now?” Claire asked.

Merlin stepped away from the group. “Now, we must finish the amulet. Hisirdoux, I will need your help.”

“Wait, really?” Douxie marveled.

“Indeed.”

Douxie’s heart swelled at the thought. Merlin wanted his help with the amulet. The amulet. He gulped down a deep breath. “Yes, master!”

Merlin turned and walked through the door to the throne room, his apprentice trotting at his heels. 

Douxie’s head was spinning with grand ideas of spectacular magic as he passed Merlin and began to cross the wide chamber.

“Not so fast.”

Douxie stopped at the edge of the beautiful etching in the floor and turned to look at his master.

Merlin’s staff glowed as he moved Excalibur’s stone to the side of the room. Then, he stepped behind the throne and pulled a hidden lever.

Douxie jumped back as the floor started to shake. 

The magnificent, jeweled relief began to rise out of the surrounding stone to the sound of creaking and clicking, slowly rotating as it went. It settled into place with a low boom.

Douxie stared in awe at the legendary Round Table.

Merlin walked back around to join him and gestured to the beautiful design embossed on its surface. “These stones have the exact light resonance we need. Which one calls to you?”

Douxie blinked at his mentor. “You want me to choose?”

“Yes.”

He closed his eyes and held out his hand. All the stones hummed in his mind, but one sang a light note that beat in time with his heart. He moved his hand over that crystal and opened his eyes. “This one.”

Merlin popped the gem out of its setting and offered it to his apprentice.

Douxie stared into the depths of the glittering jewel. It was a deep, pure blue, like the surface of a crystal-clear lake. He looked up as Merlin placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Now, we are ready. Come.”

-

As they entered the study, Merlin was already explaining in his signature drawl. “That stone of yours will focus the beam. It needs a setting that will allow fine adjustments. A lever, about five feet long, with a handle near the gem at the end should do.” 

“Lever for what?” Douxie asked.

“For this.” Merlin went to the closet and dragged out a large metal contraption. 

Douxie wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or confused. It looked like a big gold hoop, perhaps something a performing dolphin would jump through.

Merlin waved his hand and it separated into thin rings, revealing a tapestry of runes etched onto each layer.

Douxie’s eyes widened. In an instant, he was upon the device, inspecting the metal, deciphering the runes.

“This will inscribe the sacred sigils that will unlock the daylight stone’s power, but only if we can focus the beam exactly.” The master wizard stepped away to the wide oak table. With a wave of his hand, he summoned the pieces of amulet from the workshop and began examining them.

Douxie moved to join him, but Merlin held up a hand, then gestured back towards the workshop as if the rest was obvious.

Douxie looked between his master and the stone clutched in his hand. “You want … me to make it?”

“Obviously,” Merlin sighed. 

Douxie tried to mask his disappointment at not being allowed to work on the amulet itself. He looked over his shoulder at the workshop, then turned back to his master. “How? What do I make it out of?”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “I haven’t the time for such triviality! Surely you don’t need instructions on creating basic tools after nine hundred years. Any of the materials in the workshop will do.”

Douxie hesitantly stepped into the side room and surveyed his options. There were all manner of metals, alloys, stone, leather, wood, all waiting to be crafted into some magnificent artifact. 

He selected a length of midnight-black metal and several matching ingots, then tossed the ingots into a cauldron and summoned a blue fire underneath it. As they melted, he set to work carving molds for the setting and handle out of soft clay.

The two wizards worked in silence with the music of tinkering filling the room.

Douxie poured the molten metal into the molds, then used tongs to lower them into a vat of water. Steam billowed up around him, accompanied by the sharp hiss of hot meeting cold.

Despite whatever tensions were currently between them, and there were a lot, going through the motions of helping Merlin with a project was calming. For a moment, he could imagine that the world wasn’t falling apart, and he was back in simpler times.

The quiet, mechanical rhythm was paradise until –

“Do you really believe those things about yourself?” Merlin asked, cutting through the silence.

“What?”

“What you said to the knights.”

“… I wasn’t talking about myself,” Douxie mumbled.

Merlin gave him a dubious look. “Weren’t you?”

Douxie sighed. “Does it matter?”

“It matters a great deal.”

Douxie frowned.

“How, in nine hundred years, have you not learned to be confident? To be proud of who you are?”

The young wizard cracked the molds open with perhaps more force than necessary. “Well, I’m sorry I’m not a confident, proud wanker who never doubts myself! I’m sorry I’m not you!” he snapped.

Merlin raised his eyebrows. “You think I do not doubt myself?”

Douxie fixed him with an incredulous glare.

The master wizard laughed and shook his head. “Hisirdoux, I doubt myself neigh constantly.”

Douxie rolled his eyes.

Merlin sighed and stepped away from his work. “A wizard must make the –”

“The hard decisions mortals cannot,” Douxie finished in a bored tone. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Why can’t they make those decisions?”

Douxie stopped and thought about that. “Um … because, they don’t have enough experience? They haven’t lived long enough?”

Merlin shook his head. “It is not age that makes a wizard. Morgana earned her staff at a mere twenty-eight years old.”

Douxie winced at the comparison to Merlin’s other apprentice.

“And what was the chief difference between you and Morgana?” Merlin asked as he carefully removed the green crystal from his staff and set it floating behind the farthest ring.

“Everything!” Douxie shouted. “She was stronger, smarter, better than me in every way!”

“All incorrect.”

“Then what?” Douxie snapped.

Merlin slowly crossed the room to stand before his apprentice. “Morgana did not hesitate. She never asked anyone else if a decision was the right one, never considered what others would think. She acted.” 

Douxie slotted the gem setting onto the top of the rod and secured the handle. He kept his eyes firmly on his work as he braided strips of leather around the grip.

“Mortals cannot make those hard decisions because they are paralyzed by doubt. They go around and around in their minds, dithering endlessly until it is too late. But, to change the world, to change fate, a decision must be made. Perhaps it will be the wrong one. Perhaps it will make the situation worse. But, once it is made, you can move forward. You can try again. That is why a wizard does not make mistakes: because he chooses to turn them into unexpected opportunities instead. That is what mastery over life means.”

Douxie’s hands stilled as he reached the end of the braid.

Merlin placed a gentle hand on Douxie’s shoulder. “Magic is in all creatures, yet, most live their lives unable to call even a spark. It only allows itself to be wielded by those of equal measure – by those it deems worthy. So, why did magic choose you?”

Douxie stared silently at his hands wrapped tight around the grip. For a long time, silence stretched between them.

“Are you finished with that?” Merlin finally asked.

Douxie looked at what he had made and his eyes widened. It looked like Merlin’s staff. He’d unconsciously made a poor mimicry of the grand weapon. He felt the urge to crush it back into molten metal and reshape it into something less desperate, but they didn’t have time. With a heavy sigh, he handed it over. 

Merlin made no comment, seemingly indifferent to the shape of the lever. 

The blue gem pulsed on the table, catching Douxie’s eye.

Douxie picked it up; it was warm and alive in his hand. He looked at it, then back to Merlin. “Don’t you – I need to put this in?”

Merlin smiled. “All in due time.” He secured the lever to the device and made a few minor adjustments before summoning the daylight stone from the table and placing it at the very end.

Douxie stared at the radiant opal. It looked like a captured fragment of a nebula. Smoky plumes of green, purple, and blue danced on a dark blue background, and tiny white flecks dotted its surface, seeming to glow from inside. It was impossible to stand in its presence and not be awed.

Merlin turned away and started across the room, beckoning Douxie to follow. “Place it between the Avalon crystal and your creation,” Merlin instructed.

Douxie nodded and released the gem to float among the rings. 

Merlin tapped the Avalon crystal and six thin beams of light sprung from its glowing center. They shot to the edges of the rings and bounced off tiny mirrors, criss-crossing each other before finally converging on the focusing stone. 

“Now, follow me,” Merlin instructed as he extended his hands.

Douxie nodded and mimicked the motion.

A green glyph bloomed over the stone. A moment later, an identical blue glyph emerged from the first. It traveled forward, slow and steady, until it reached the gem setting.

With a burst of light, the weight of a mountain dropped into Douxie’s arms. He felt like he would be crushed under the might of it, but he could also feel Merlin with him, helping to support the enormous force.

Ribbons of runes expanded from the gem’s burning center, and it started to move forward. The force pushing back was immense, like trying to shove the positive ends of two magnets together. It tried to escape in any direction, but the twin glyphs held it steady. The closer it got, the more the pressure increased. 

Then, the stone spat a particularly furious refusal, spraying sparks across the workshop.

Douxie leapt back and shrunk from the explosion. 

Merlin grunted as the full force of the gem’s power fell on him.

Douxie swallowed his nerves and rejoined his master in the ritual. Focus. Beneath the violent resistance, the gem seemed to hum, resonating with his very soul. The crystal began to shudder, pushing back against the wizards’ combined strength. 

Douxie grit his teeth and pushed his magic as hard as he could. 

With a final shove, the stone slotted into place and a strong, solid beam of blue energy shot through it, quiet and stable.

Douxie collapsed, gasping like he’d just run a marathon.

Merlin adjusted the rings to focus the beam before turning it on the daylight stone. He moved the lever with precision, etching powerful glyphs onto the stone's surface.

Much sooner than seemed reasonable, it was finished.

Merlin plucked the daylight stone from the end of the contraption and blew on it.

Douxie marveled at what he’d just witnessed.

Merlin turned to him. “The last step requires two master wizards.”

Douxie blinked back to reality. As he processed the statement, confusion and panic seeped into his heart. “What? But, how did that work the first time?”

“I suspect Morgana helped me, and defected after the amulet’s construction.”

Douxie’s heart sank. Morgana certainly wasn’t going to help now. He took a deep breath and focused on the problem at hand. “So, that’s it then? We’re buggered? Why did we just do all of this if we can’t complete it?” he demanded. “No, I’m sure you can do it. You’re Merlin! You have to be able to do it! I-If we don’t finish the amulet –”

“Hisirdoux!”

Douxie immediately shut up and stared at his master.

Merlin smiled. “We will.”

“But, how? You said it requires two master wizards.”

“Indeed.” He detached Douxie’s lever from the device and presented it to him. 

Douxie’s eyes widened. 

It was no longer the rough tool he had cobbled together. Now, it was sleek and sharp, the metal flowing seamlessly into one magnificent shape. The shaft had been carved out down the center, revealing a shining gold core. Lines like those of a mystical circuit board were etched into its surface, and small, decorative pieces framed the brilliant blue gem at the top.

It was a staff. Merlin was giving him a staff.

Douxie’s mouth fell open. “You – you can’t be serious!”

“And why not?”

“Because … b-because –” He gulped down a shaky breath, then another, trying desperately to get his frantic thoughts in order. Finally, he looked back up at his mentor. “You said I don’t make the hard decisions!”

Merlin raised his eyebrows. “I said nothing of the sort. Weren’t you listening?”

Douxie sputtered.

“I said you didn’t. When you were my apprentice, you asked permission to breathe. Nine hundred years later, you came back, still terrified of being wrong – until you took that sword.”

Douxie’s pulse hammered through his body.

“Since then, you have made the hard decisions. Some of them were arguably wrong. Some of them were things I would have never let you do. And you have made unexpected possibilities out of each one.” He offered the staff again, more insistently.

Douxie took it with shaking hands. It was heavy and warm, humming with power. His heart pounded as he stared at his staff — his staff. It was unbelievable; nine hundred years of wanting, now held in his hands. 

Merlin placed a hand on his shoulder. “Now then, let us finish this, master wizard.”

---

Douxie couldn’t stop staring at his staff as he and Merlin walked back to the throne room with the amulet in tow. 

As they entered the chamber, they found Jim leaning against the Round Table, his head bowed as if deep in thought. He looked up as they walked in. “You finished it?”

Douxie grinned as Merlin held out the amulet for the trollhunter to see. 

“Wow,” Jim marveled. Then, his eyes fell on the staff in Douxie’s hands. “Woah. That’s … new.”

“Hisirdoux is now a master wizard,” Merlin announced proudly.

Jim looked at Douxie and smiled warmly. “That’s great, Doux.” 

Douxie smiled back, vibrating with joy.

Jim dropped his gaze, his smile fading. “Hey, um, Douxie? Could I talk to you … alone?”

Merlin nodded and continued to the war room, shutting the door behind him.

“What’s up?” Douxie asked as he dismissed his staff back into his bracelet.

Jim looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh … I know you’ve got a lot to deal with right now, and you probably don’t have time for silly little things –”

Douxie gave him a soft smile. “Jim, I have time. What can I do for you?”

“Can you … shape stone?”

Douxie laughed. “ ‘Course! That’s simple.”

“I was hoping you could make something for me,” Jim said as he held out a tightly wrapped piece of paper. 

Douxie unfolded the page. Inside were an amethyst and sapphire, along with a detailed drawing. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the design. “Jim … I’d be honored, but,” he looked up at the trollhunter, “why now?”

Jim dropped his gaze and shuffled his feet. “I just … I don’t want to – die – without doing it.”

Douxie frowned. “You’re not going to die. I promised I’d get you all home, and I intend to keep that promise.”

“Right, of course,” Jim laughed nervously. 

Some unseen force crushed the air from Douxie’s lungs. His heart stumbled in his chest – something was wrong. He grabbed Jim’s hand and yanked him into an empty side room where he fixed the half-troll with a stern glare. “What do you know that I don’t?”

“Nothing!” Jim cried, raising his hands in surrender. “Just, we’re going into a really dangerous situation and, ya know, there’s always the possibility –” 

“Jim!” Douxie snarled, “Tell me the truth!

Jim sighed. “Merlin told me that when we get back to our time, the shard will … finish the job.”

Douxie’s eyes widened. “No. No! I won’t accept that!”

“Douxie, there’s no cure. There’s nothing anyone can do.”

“I don’t care!” Douxie raked his hands through his hair and started pacing in the small space.

Jim reached out a placating hand towards Douxie. “It’s okay. I made peace with this a long time ago.” He chuckled. “This job has a 100% mortality rate. Honestly, I’m shocked I survived this long.”

Douxie stopped and spun around to face Jim. “I’ll trade you.”

“What?”

“I’ll make this,” he said, holding up the fist containing the gems and drawing, “in exchange for a piece of the onyx shard.”

Jim shook his head. “Douxie –”

“Those are my terms. Take it or leave it.”

“Merlin said –”

“Merlin’s wrong!”  Douxie shouted. “Magic is mastery over life. I am a master wizard, and I swear on my staff I will save you!”

For a long moment, Jim held his ground against Douxie’s fierce glare. Finally, he dropped his shoulders and sighed. “Okay.”

Douxie summoned his staff back into existence. The gem flared a brilliant blue, and, a moment later, the shard in Jim’s chest glowed with the same aura. He searched for a crack, any fault that he could use to shear a piece off. 

There was nothing; the shard was flawless.

Of course it is, Douxie thought bitterly. He hesitated, considering his options. What would happen to Jim if it just shattered? Would he be saved, or dead …?

To change fate, a decision must be made. 

Douxie scowled at the source of the advice, but it was true. Jim’s fate was sealed; he would die, unless something changed. The wizard took a deep breath. “This might hurt.”

Jim nodded and braced himself.

Lines of runes flowed from Douxie’s staff and wrapped firmly around the shard. Then, very slowly, he began to twist. 

Jim snarled and bared his teeth as his eyes flashed red.

“Sorry,” Douxie swore, but kept the pressure on, pushing harder and harder. He could see Jim’s body tense, even under his armor. 

The look on the half-troll’s face was murderous, just a hair away from tearing the offending wizard apart. His eyes glowed brighter, and a trickle of fear ran down Douxie’s spine as they raced towards the breaking point. It was not a question of if, only of which would break first; the shard, or Jim’s grasp on the feral rage boiling under his stone skin.

All at once, the tension broke as the very tip of the crystal snapped off. 

Jim yelled and collapsed to the floor.

Douxie snatched the fragment out of the air and stared at it in his palm, dark and festering. Just touching it made him feel nauseous. He forced down his discomfort and shoved the shard into his pocket before turning his eyes to Jim. Watching the trollhunter gasp and clutch his chest, he felt a bit sorry for the distress he had caused, but not nearly enough to regret it. 

The wizard reached down and clasped Jim’s hand, hauling him to his feet. He locked eyes with the other boy, his gaze firm enough to bore through stone. “Tell them I’ll be along soon.” 

He turned and left before Jim could say anything else.

-

Dozens of books hovered around Douxie like impatient hummingbirds as he finished copying a spell onto a piece of parchment. Once the page was safely tucked into his pocket, he let out a long sigh. At least one thing was simple. 

But now, he had a problem. 

Douxie turned his attention to the dark fragment laying on the table beside him and grimaced. He could feel the corruption pouring off of it.

The wizard began flipping through the crowd of books, searching for anything that might help. His eyes scanned the pages, reading and rereading, but he couldn’t process the words through the static in his brain. 

He sighed. As he looked around at the walls lined with books, his heart sank like a stone. It would be impossible to search them all. Nothing short of a miracle would allow him to find the information he needed, if it existed at all. 

Douxie pushed the feelings of dread aside and forced the words through his mind, one at a time. It was slow, but at least it was progress.

He froze at the sound of footsteps echoing from the hall. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Merlin step into the room. He swiped the shard off the table and shoved it back into his pocket.

“Hisirdoux, it is time,” the old wizard drawled.

Douxie scowled down at the book in front of him.

“What are you doing now?” Merlin sighed.

“What’s it to you?” Douxie snapped.

Merlin rolled his eyes. He clasped his hands behind his back as he wandered over to where his protégé stood. “And what are you so upset about?”

“You’ve written him off!” Douxie shouted at his master as the books all snapped shut around him.

“Hisirdoux, there is nothing we can do!” Merlin pleaded.

“Bullshit!” Douxie snarled. “What do you really know about this magic?”

“Nothing! It is strange, corrupted magic! It does not obey the rules of nature, it is cursed! These are the hard decisions that mortals cannot make. Even if there was a solution, we have nowhere near enough time to find it!”

“We have nine hundred years!”

“No!” Merlin slammed his hand down on the table. “You have one day to set the world right and prevent the complete unraveling of the timeline! You must prioritize! You cannot save everyone!”

“Yes I can!” Douxie growled. “It’s all a game to you, isn’t it? You like playing god? Deciding who lives and who dies?”

Merlin narrowed his eyes. “Do you really think I enjoy the fact that the boy will die? Or are you simply looking for someone to play the villain in your hero’s story?”

Douxie’s fists shook at his sides. The rage inside him burned up his tears before they could fall.

Merlin shook his head. “This is war, Hisirdoux! Jim knows this, and it is high time you set aside your childish fantasies of happy endings! Sometimes, not everyone makes it out alive! Sometimes, there is no hope!”

“Merlin in the future put Jim in a stasis crystal. Why would you do that if there was no hope?”

“To give his friends a chance to say a proper goodbye? To keep him from falling into enemy hands?”

“Is that all he is to you? An asset?” Douxie hissed. He glared daggers at his mentor, blue lightning crackling up his arms. “Leave.”

Merlin recoiled with a look of utter indignation. “This is my study!”

“As your king, I command you to leave!”

Merlin stared at his furious, shaking apprentice and sighed. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He turned and left the study, closing the door quietly behind him.

Douxie stumbled back from the table and collapsed against one of the bookshelves. He hugged his knees to his chest and took deep, shuddering breaths as tears poured down his face. 

Merlin was right. He had laid bare all the truths that Douxie had been steadfastly ignoring. Now, they burned in his chest. It was hopeless, and he was kidding himself if he chose to think otherwise. He dropped his head against his knees and drew a deep, shuddering breath.

Across the room, the hinges squeaked as the door swung open.

“I SAID GET OUT!” Douxie screamed.

“… Oh,” his own voice responded.

Douxie’s head shot up and he found his younger self staring back at him. “No, I’m sorry! I-I thought you were … someone else.”

“Merlin?”

Douxie didn’t answer.

Hisirdoux walked across the room and sat next to him. “I know you aren’t on the best terms. I’m not blind. You don’t have to hide it.”

“And you don’t need your perceptions of your hero spoiled,” Douxie grumbled.

Hisirdoux frowned and fiddled with the leather bracelet on his wrist. They sat in silence for a minute before he turned to face Douxie. “What’s wrong?”

Douxie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the damned fragment. “The shard in Jim’s chest – it’s sinking into his heart. When we fell through the rift, it stopped. But, as soon as we get back to our time, it’s going to catch up with him. He’ll die if I don’t figure out some way to stop it. Merlin thinks it’s hopeless, that there’s nothing we can do.” He closed his fist tight and the shard bit into his skin.  “I know I can save him, but … I just don’t have enough time.”

Hisirdoux looked between Douxie and the fist containing the onyx fragment. Then, he narrowed his eyes and set his mouth in a firm line. “I’ll do it.” 

Douxie sighed and shook his head. “You need to recover.”

Hisirdoux rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah, reading books. What an arduous task, how will I manage?” he snarked. Then, his face turned serious. “This is something I can do. Please.”

Douxie stared at his younger self. He could feel the determination radiating off the moppet, and, maybe, just a bit of hope from himself. He sighed and wiped at the tears on his face. “Okay.”

“Good!” Hisirdoux grinned like the rising sun. He jumped to his feet and held out his hand to Douxie. “Now, you need to go.”

Douxie gave him a small smile and clasped his hand, letting him believe he was really pulling the older boy to his feet. “One more thing to do first,” he said as he walked over to Merlin’s workbench.

He placed the gems on the table and laid out the paper beside them before summoning his staff. One at a time, he used his magic to twist and shape the stones according to the design. The sapphire stretched and elongated like taffy as he curled it into a perfect circle with a small indent. The amethyst, he cut into a beveled diamond. With the pieces ready, he slotted the amethyst into the mark in the sapphire and fused them together. 

Douxie looked at the finished piece. It was exactly what the design showed, but it was missing something. He looked around the workshop and his eyes fell on a small chunk of silver buried among the other materials. He summoned it to float just above his hand and focused, producing a ball of blue energy that swallowed it. Slowly, the metal began to tremble inside the orb, until it finally fell out of its lumpy shape and melted into a ball of liquid silver. 

The molten metal dripped onto the amethyst, curling into an elegant filigree that crept up around the center stone and down the sides of the band. 

Hisirdoux watched in awe. “That’s beautiful,” he breathed. “What’s it for?”

Douxie lowered his creation onto the table and smiled fondly. “For Jim.”

Hisirdoux blanched. “Oh …”

“What?”

Hisirdoux’ face burned with an impressive blush. “N-Nothing, just, I uh … I wouldn’t have guessed, but … s’ppose a lot can happen in 900 years … I-I mean, he is really nice, ‘n all …” 

Douxie gaped at him. “Wh- no! For Jim to give to Claire!”

“Oh! Okay.”

The dubious expression fell from the master wizard’s face. He braced his hands against the workbench and dropped his head. “Jim thinks he won’t have time.”

Hisirdoux looked between the shard in his hand and the beautiful trinket resting on the table. He looked up at his counterpart with steely determination. “Yes, he will.”

Douxie smiled and pocketed Jim’s request. He placed a hand on his younger self’s shoulder as they walked out.

As they entered the hallway, they found Zoe and Archie loitering outside, doing their best to look like they hadn’t been listening the whole time.

Hisirdoux jerked his head towards Douxie. “Go with him, Arch.”

“Are you sure?” the dragon asked.

Hisirdoux nodded. “I’ve got Zoe. She’ll look out for me.”

Archie leapt into the air and hovered before his young familiar. He pressed his forehead to Hisirdoux’ for a long moment before landing on Douxie’s shoulder. 

With a parting smile, Douxie turned and walked away.

 

Douxie and Archie entered the war room, where they found the rest of their allies preparing to leave. His eyes immediately found Merlin, who was standing with Blinky beside the massive table. Douxie scowled and looked pointedly away. He searched the rest of the room and found both Claire and Jim wrapped up in their own conversations.

“Distract Claire for me, would you?” he whispered.

Archie nodded and hopped off Douxie’s shoulder to claim Claire’s attention.

Douxie caught Jim’s eye and made a slight jerk of his head before continuing casually – he hoped it looked casual – towards the far end of the room.

Jim extracted himself from his conversation and hopefully-casually followed.

When Douxie was satisfied that no one would see or hear, he reached into his pocket and stealthily deposited the item in Jim’s hand. “I uh – editorialized a bit. I can remove that, if you want.”

Jim checked to make sure Claire was occupied before examining it. A giddy smile bloomed on his face as he turned it over in his hands, surveying Douxie’s handiwork. “It’s perfect,” he whispered reverently. He threw his arms around Douxie in a crushing hug. “Thank you.”

Douxie returned the hug heartily. When they parted, he fixed the trollhunter with a solemn gaze. “Jim, I am going to save you.”

“I know you will,” Jim assured him with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Douxie gave Jim a hard look before brushing past him to join the others. As he approached Claire, Archie leapt back onto his shoulder.

Claire turned to follow the movement and looked up at Douxie. “Ready to go?”

Douxie nodded gravely. “We’d better be.”

 

Chapter 15

Notes:

This one might be a bit cerebral and preachy and purple but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ bear with me it's not for long.

Everything else I have to say is apologies for the way I wrote things/trying to punch myself before anyone else can so I'm just gonna shove that all in the garbage where it belongs. (Honestly the first thing I said is also that but it's very mild and not apologetic and there is a noticeably different tone in this chapter and look I'm trying and I've been doing a damn good job of not minimizing myself so far, I get this one as a treat.)

Thank you to Nezio for betaing

The party arrived outside Dwoza. This time, everyone was there – the trolls, the time travelers, Archie … Merlin.

Douxie took a deep breath and led the group forward.

No one greeted them as they approached the entrance, and they walked unimpeded down the deserted street. Lamps burned through windows, but no shadows disturbed their light. There was no scuffing of feet, no eyes peering out of doorways.

As the visitors neared the center of the settlement, they saw why. 

The entire population of Dwoza was gathered before a great outcropping upon which Vendel and Kanjigar stood. The troll leaders turned matching reproachful glares towards Douxie. The crowd followed their gaze until hundreds of untrusting eyeballs were fixed on the approaching group.

The visitors from Camelot stopped at the back of the pack – a respectable distance, but still too close for the trolls’ comfort. 

With Merlin on one side and Archie on the other, Douxie broke away from his friends and continued up the hill to stand beside the imposing trolls. Walking beside his mentor, the thorns of his anger still prickled in the back of his mind. But, now wasn’t the time for resentment. They had a job to do.

As they reached the top, Vendel stepped up to the edge and began speaking to his people.

Douxie was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to hear the words. This was it: the trollhunter, the key to the bridge, the one who would send Gunmar to the Darklands for 900 years. He looked down at the amulet, clenched hard enough in his hand for the cold metal edges to dig into his fingers. As he stared at it, he swore it stared back with its ethereal blue eye.

Merlin shook him out of his trance with a firm nudge. 

Douxie looked up. 

Vendel was staring at him. Everyone was staring at him. 

Douxie took a deep breath and shoved down his nerves. Summoning up all the feigned confidence he could muster, he stepped forward and declared, “For the glory of Merlin, awake!”

The amulet burned like a supernova and leapt into the air. It went to Vendel first, hovering in front of him for just a moment. Then, it turned and flew to Kanjigar, then Draal, zipping through the crowd faster and faster, stopping at each troll for barely a moment before darting away.

Finally, it reached the Camelot delegation. The amulet faced each of them in turn; Jim, Steve, Aaarrrgghh, Claire, Blinky, before it stopped short in front of Callista.

The artifact hung motionless in the air as they stared at each other, the silence between them growing with each second.

Then, the amulet started to spin. Slowly at first, it turned faster and faster until it was a spherical silver blur. It bobbed and began orbiting her head, bouncing up and down like an elated puppy.

She turned in frantic circles, trying to keep sight of it.

Suddenly, the amulet came to a full stop behind her and a cloud of blue smoke burst around her head like a halo. 

Callista turns to it as Merlin’s voice boomed from the small pocket watch. 

“Rise, trollhunter, and become!” With that, the glow faded and the amulet dropped neatly into her hands.

She stared down at the artifact, then turned and looked up at the crowd of trolls all mirroring her shocked expression.

Douxie wore that expression, too, as the gears in his brain turned and clunked, desperately trying to process the revelation. Finally, a brilliant smile broke over his face like the dawn. Callista, or course! She might not be Deya, but she would give Gunmar hell! 

Merlin stepped down from the ledge and started towards Callista. His armored footsteps echoed and squeaked in the dead silence of the cavern as the crowd parted around him like the Red Sea. 

Douxie snapped back to the present and hurried after the old wizard.

As they arrived before her, Callista looked at them sheepishly. “Um, I think your amulet got the wrong troll.”

Merlin shook his head. “No, the amulet does not make mistakes. For whatever reason, it chose you.”

“It chose right!” Douxie insisted. “Callista, you are strong and brave and capable. And you are passionate. You have the contempt to fight Gunmar, and the stubbornness to win!”

She stared at him in shock, then looked down bashfully. Her eyes fell to the amulet in her hands, and she squinted at the writing around the edge. “For the glory of –”

“Bushigal!” Draal shouted. “It chose Callista?”

“We’re doomed!” cried another voice.

“Don’t listen to them!” Merlin urged. “Speak the incantation!”

Calliata looked back to the amulet and seemed, for a moment, to consider it. Then, she closed her eyes and grimaced. “No, they’re right. I’m not a hero, I’m not even a proper troll!” She chucked the amulet into the crowd and ran.

The amulet swung wide and shot after her.

“No, Callista! Wait!” Douxie’s heart plummeted. He stood dumbstruck, watching his hope retreat as chaos erupted around him.

Trolls were screaming, running, accusing, and glaring at the humans with pure hatred.

As the reality of the situation caught up to him, Douxie’s shock turned to anger. He turned and marched up to Vendel. “Why do you all doubt her so much?”

Kanjigar tensed and readied his spear, but Vendel just glared down at the wizard with malicious apathy. “You wouldn’t understand, gumm-gumm-loving fleshbag.”

“Wouldn’t understand what?” Douxie snarled as his allies gathered behind him.

“She is not a true troll. She doesn’t belong.”

Douxie’s eyes blazed with magic, rage boiling in his veins. 

“Douxie –” Claire tried to calm him, but he was beyond pacification.

Douxie shook his head and growled, “You’re just like them, you’re just like all of them!”  

Merlin stepped forward. “Hisirdoux –”

“WHAT?” Douxie roared, turning his fury on his master. 

Merlin raised his hand in surrender. “This will not help,” he said quietly. “Let us regroup. We will find a solution. Please.”

Douxie stood there seething, but, as the seconds ticked on, he realized the futility of his rage. Screaming at Vendel wouldn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t change anything. His shoulders sagged under the weight of failure.

“Come on, Douxie,” Claire murmured. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and led him away from the trolls.

“Hmph. Good riddance,” Vendel sneered.

It took everything Douxie had to not turn back and curse the old troll; verbally or magically, he wasn’t sure. The fire inside him burned, just barely contained by his gritted teeth and his heaving chest. As they neared the door, he shook Claire’s hand off. “I’ll meet you back at the castle,” he mumbled.

“But –”

“Don’t! I’ll meet you back at the castle.” With that, he turned and walked away.

Archie trotted after his familiar. The rest stood at the door and watched Douxie shuffle out into the night. 

“What now?” Claire pleaded.

Jim tore his eyes away from the darkness. After a moment’s consideration, he said, “We need to find Callista. I think I know where she went.”

 

---

 

The moon shone softly on the ruins of Tombro as Callista staggered out into the clearing.

The amulet had chased her the entire way through the woods. No matter how many times she hurled it into the dark, it kept coming back like the world’s most annoying boomerang.

As she collapsed against a large stone, the glowing piece of shit swung into the clearing and began orbiting her head. Vwoom. Vwoom.

“Fuck off!” She fell to her knees and started scooping up handfuls of soft ground. When she’d dug as deep as she could, she snatched the amulet out of the air and threw it down the hole. She shoved the loose dirt in after it and stomped the earth back into place. With an indignant huff, she turned and stalked away.

She had gone barely three steps before the ground exploded behind her. 

Vwoom.

Callista screamed and re-excavated the hole. This time, when she buried the amulet, she piled broken slabs of stone on top of its grave until the stack reached her waist. “Let’s see you get out of that!”

She backed away, not taking her eyes off the spot for a second. When her back hit a wall, she slid down and crossed her arms over her chest. 

After a few minutes of silence with no sign of the amulet, she let out a long breath and began to relax.

Vwoom.

Callista shrieked and fell over in her efforts to scramble away from the accursed object that had somehow appeared next to her head.

“Can’t you take a hint!” she demanded. She snatched the amulet out of the air and threw it on the ground before plopping herself down squarely on top of it.

The amulet buzzed indignantly, but stayed put.

Callista let out a long breath and retrieved the little stone doll from its place atop the low wall. She stared down at it and tried desperately to find comfort in its blank eyes.

In a way, it felt wrong to seek that comfort, like she was taking something that didn’t belong to her. She wasn’t a real troll, not like the little girl who used to love this doll. Not like Deya.

… Deya. She liked that name. She wondered if they could’ve been friends. If they would’ve played together, chased each other, shared their secrets and fears under the stars. If she hadn’t been taken by Arthur’s men and named Callista.

Callista – the human name Arthur’s men had given her. She hated that name … but it was all she had. Pain bloomed in her chest at the thought of all she had lost, all she didn’t even know she’d lost; the irreversible severance from her people, the identity Arthur stole from her.

She sighed. Maybe Deya could take the stupid amulet. Deya would be strong and brave, the kind of troll who could be a hero.

“Callista?” Jim’s voice called from the trees.

Callista startled at the sound and hid the doll behind a rock.

Jim tramped out from the darkness of the tree line. “What are you doing out here alone?”

Callista didn’t respond. 

The amulet, however, resumed its infernal buzzing.

Jim cocked his head as his eyes followed the sound to her plump behind.

“Hey!” she snapped. “My eyes are up here, scrawny!”

“Sorry!” He recoiled and raised his hands in surrender.

The amulet zipped out from under Callista and into Jim’s open hand. 

“Keep it,” she spat, glaring up at the artifact.

Jim shook his head. “It’s not for me. It chose you.”

 Callista sighed. “It’s wrong.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m not a hero,” she mumbled.

“Really? When we were running from the knights, you could’ve left me behind, but you didn’t. You took an arrow in the leg because you stayed with me.” 

Callista stared at the ground. “That’s not special. Anyone would've done that.”

“No, they wouldn’t have. They didn’t. And the fact that you think that risking your life for a total stranger is nothing proves that you are a hero!” Jim settled beside her against the wall. “When Aaarrrgghh attacked Dwoza, you were the only one who stood by my side. And as soon as he was down, you defended him against the other trolls.”

“I didn’t do that alone.”

Jim smiled. “Never said you did. Being a hero doesn’t mean doing things alone. The amulet is amazing and powerful, but I never would have succeeded as the trollhunter if not for my friends.”

“I don’t have any friends,” she muttered bitterly.

“You sure about that?” Jim asked as he raised his face to the dark woods.

Callista followed his gaze.

Slowly, familiar figures emerged from the gloom. Claire. Blinky. Merlin. Aaarrrgghh. Steve.

Callista grimaced and looked away.

For a moment, they were both silent.

Finally, Jim turned back to her. “It was different the first time. The trollhunter was … someone else.”

“See? Your dumb amulet needs glasses! This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“But, things are different this time. Excalibur chose Douxie, and the one who’s supposed to wield the amulet, she’s – she’s not here. But you are!”

“I can’t be the ‘trollhunter’. I’m not even a real troll!”

“Neither am I,” Jim laughed. “I wasn’t even a half-troll when I was chosen. I was the one with the baby hands.”

Callista snorted.

“And no one liked it then, either. It doesn’t matter. No one can tell you who you are, or who you can be.”

Aaarrrgghh trundled forward and grinned. “Self-dee-ter-min-ay-shun.”

Callista scoffed, but her heart wasn’t in it. “You’re not gonna convince me to use the stupid amulet.”

“Can I convince you to come back with your friends, instead of spending the night here alone?” Jim asked, offering her his hand.

Callista smiled. She retrieved the doll from its hiding place and held it tight to her chest before letting him pull her to her feet.

 

---

 

The Wild Wood was deathly silent. There was no hooting of owls, no chirping of insects, no crunching of hooves on leaves.

Archie walked beside Douxie as he trudged through the forest. The boy gave no indication of where they were going, but it became apparent as the trees began to thin. The sounds of the ocean crashing against rocks drifted on the wind, and to the left were the faint lights of Camelot. 

At the edge of the woods, Douxie stopped. He pulled Excalibur from his back and planted it in the soft ground.

“Stay here, Arch.” Douxie combed his hands through his hair, knocking his crown to the ground. This time, it didn’t try to follow him. 

He walked steadily towards the edge of the cliff. Where Morgana died. Where Excalibur shattered. 

A few feet from the edge, he stopped and closed his eyes. He breathed in the crisp, ocean air as it gently pushed and pulled around him. For a moment, all was still and calm.

And then, Douxie screamed. 

He screamed with all his might, shouting to the ocean and the wind. Arcs of magic whipped off of him, scorching the grass in jagged lines as pent-up rage, pain, and sorrow from the past few days discharged around him. 

Archie took half a step back into the woods, his ears pinned to his head.

Douxie dropped to his knees and fisted his hands in the grass. His head hung from his shaking shoulders as hot tears ran down his face. Clouds gathered in the clear sky around him, crackling with a hazy blue glow, and a fierce wind kicked up, tearing at his clothes and hair. With a deafening clap of thunder, they opened and unleashed a torrent of freezing rain. The wind whipped around him, picking up the downpour and throwing it at the tortured wizard from all angles as he sat in the center of the tempest.

Slowly, slowly, the storm subsided. Douxie’s screams faded to cries, then to whimpers, before finally disappearing into nothing. The atmosphere around him calmed to an eerie stillness, the waves crashing against the cliffs deafening in the silence. 

Archie carefully approached his familiar. 

Douxie’s eyes were closed, his breathing slow and quiet. 

Archie tentatively stepped up and rubbed his head against one of the hands still curled into the grass. “Are you ready to go?” he whispered.

For a long while, Douxie sat there, unresponsive. Finally, he drew a deep, shuddering breath, and let it out slowly. “Yeah.”

He stood and dragged himself back to the trees, away from the bluff where it had all gone wrong. He leaned down to pick up the crown and wrapped his other hand around Excalibur’s hilt. As he trudged into the forest, he replaced neither, simply clutching them tightly at his sides, the sword drawing a faint line in the dirt.

 

---

 

Back at the castle, all of them could see Douxie’s meltdown from the windows of the war room. In the flashes, they could just make out a tiny figure at the storm’s center.

“Is that my fault, too?” Callista asked.

“No,” Merlin said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “That is what happens when you subject someone like him to something like this. Hisirdoux cannot be a king.”

“Excuse me?” Claire demanded.

“He cares too much. The job – it’s not for those with large hearts. The reality is that nobody can save everyone. That is a truth that Hisirdoux cannot accept.”

Claire placed her hands on her hips. “I thought kings were supposed to care about their people.” 

“Yes. A king will give all he has for his people. But, in the end, the king will remain. Hisirdoux will give all that he is, even if that means that there will be nothing left. He will tear himself to pieces, even to save just one life.” 

Jim grimaced and turned away.

“Will he be alright?” Blinky asked.

Merlin sighed. “He … will return to the castle.”

“Why’d he get so worked up over me?” Callista mumbled.

“Not you. It is everything. I suspect Vendel’s intolerance was the final straw.”

Blinky stepped forward hesitantly. “‘Just like all of them’? What did he mean by ‘all’?”

“Ask the time travelers. That Hisirdoux has experienced 900 years of human history. I don’t need foresight to tell you that it is not pretty.”

“Oh …” Claire whispered.

“Yes, ‘Oh’ indeed.”

“What can we do?” she asked.

“Nothing. Such is the burden of immortality. You cannot change the past, nor can you change human nature.”

“We can change human nature! We have!”

“Oh?” Merlin snapped. “And how much have humans changed in your time? I expect there is no war, no inequality, no hatred.”

Claire fell silent.

Finally, the storm subsided, and the clear moonlight shone down on the cliff. Eventually, the figure huddled at the edge stood and drifted back towards the forest. 

Claire raised her hands and began to conjure a shadow portal. 

Merlin gently blocked her with his staff. “No, Claire. We must respect his wishes.”

“But –"

“He told you he would meet us here. That is what we must let him do.”

Claire deflated as the shadows dissipated in her hands.

“Douxie sad?” Aaarrrgghh rumbled.

Merlin nodded solemnly. “Among other things, yes.”

Aaarrrgghh hummed as the figure disappeared into the trees.

 

---

 

Archie walked with Douxie through the forest in perfect silence, save for their soft footsteps and the low drag of Excalibur behind them. 

The woods all looked the same; in the dark, it was impossible to tell how far or how long one had traveled. Archie only realized the comfort in that as they as they emerged from the trees to faced the stark expanse of empty field, and the long, lonely bridge beyond it. Now, he could tell exactly how slow Douxie was moving, could see the emptiness in his downcast eyes.

As Douxie trudged across the bridge, Excalibur scraped harshly over the stones, singing out in a high, rasping voice that echoed off the cliffs below. 

When they finally reached the other side, the ruined gate welcomed them. Laborers had been working hard to clear the way, but a few jagged stones still remained, leaned precariously against the city walls. 

They picked their way through the rubble and started up the main road. Around them, doors and windows cracked open, letting cautious slivers of light out onto the cobblestones. The crisscrossing shards followed them like a halo, appearing in front of them, and, eventually, disappearing behind. 

As Douxie neered the keep, two guards stationed at the doors snapped to attention. They brandished their swords and made ready to confront the ghostly figure approaching them. 

One opened his mouth to shout, but whatever threat or demand was on his tongue died as the moonlight glinted off the unmistakable shape of Excalibur.

The two exchanged panicked glances, silently imploring each other to address the situation. Finally, one of them swallowed his nerves and called, “O-Open the gates!” 

The heavy wooden doors creaked open, splitting the oppressive atmosphere that surrounded the king.

As Douxie started up the stairs, the long, steady note of Excalibur’s journey transformed into a haunting tempo that echoed up the tower. When he reached the landing, the refrain continued, a low, mournful tone stretching on. It repeated with each set of stairs that wound their way up the tower, until he reached the little nook he had called home 900 years ago, when his optimism, his will to help others had been a strength rather than a stumbling block. 

Douxie stepped into the room and dropped both objects of his misery just inside the door. He drifted across the small space and crumpled against the far wall. The lute he’d found so much joy in was leaning against the stones beside him. He settled it on his lap and ran his fingers over the strings, plucking out a few disjointed chords … but his heart wasn’t in it. He set it aside and hugged his knees to his chest, resting his forehead against his arms. 

Archie placed a tentative paw on his familiar’s arm. “I’m here,” he said quietly. 

Douxie made no indication that he’d heard. 

Archie’s heart ached for his companion; not a master wizard, not a king, but a boy, broken and defeated. He looked so small, his gangly limbs pulled tight around himself like a scared child. Douxie had never looked like that, even when he had been a scared child. 

Without his friend’s boisterous enthusiasm, a deep winter settled around Archie’s heart. He had never noticed how much he needed Douxie’s light until it was gone. Now, it was like they had snuffed out the sun. A preview of what was to come, for all of them.

Archie bowed his head in mourning …

The door slammed back against the stone wall, startling both the room’s occupants nearly out of their skins.

“Oops,” a deep voice rumbled from the hall. Aaarrrgghh shuffled sideways into the room. Once inside, he gently nudged the door shut with one enormous finger. He approached with a big smile on his face. “Game?” he asked, holding up a collection of mismatched mugs and glasses.

Douxie gave a lifeless chuckle. “Thank you, Aaarrrgghh,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, “but I’m not really feeling up to it.”

Aaarrrgghh hummed. He set the assorted cups on the table with a chorus of light clinking and settled gingerly beside them. 

For a moment, they all sat in silence.

Douxie gasped as he was plucked from his misery and deposited against the giant’s chest, cradled like a child. He stared up at Aaarrrgghh in shock, while Aaarrrgghh stared back with a soft smile. Douxie’s face crumpled, and he turned to bury it in Aaarrrgghh’s shaggy mane.

Archie hopped up and settled on his familiar’s stomach. He turned to Aaarrrgghh with a stern glare. “Eat me, and I will burn you from the inside out.”

Aaarrrgghh’s eyes widened and he nodded.

Archie nodded back and curled up on Douxie’s stomach, his purring lulling his boy gently to sleep.

 

---

 

“Jim,” Claire’s voice drifted through his mind.

Jim grumbled and tried to go back to sleep.

“Jim,” Claire hissed.

Jim groaned and opened his eyes to find Claire staring down at him. “Claire? What time is it?” He looked around at the rest of the room still sound asleep, then back to Claire. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” she assured him. “Nothing’s wrong, I just … come with me.”

“Where?” he asked as he pulled himself to his feet.

“You’ll see,” Claire teased. She opened a portal and pulled him through.

-

The first thing Jim saw as they emerged was the sky stretched out before them. With no light pollution, the entire Milky Way was laid bare.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it. They’d been in the Middle Ages for days, and the benefits of that had occurred to him long ago. Still, it didn’t get any less dazzling.

He finally dragged his eyes down to the ground. They stood in a grassy field surrounded by trees, where a picnic with food and wine was set out on a blanket. “Where are we?”

“Figure it out,” Claire challenged, crossing her arms with an adorable smirk.

Jim sighed and looked around. Figure what out? He looked around at the forest, the gentle hills and the distant cliffs. Then, his eyes fell on a large rock off to the side. There was something strange about it, something familiar … “Wait, is this –?” He turned to Claire in amazement. “This is Arcadia!”

“Yup!”

Jim seized her in his arms and spun her around. “Claire, this is incredible! You’re,” he sighed, placing her back on her feet, “incredible.”

Claire boosted herself up on her toes and pecked him on the lips. Then, she smiled and leaned away. “C’mon,” she said, pulling him towards the blanket.

-

Being with Claire was so natural, Jim couldn’t help getting swept away. But, somewhere between the laughter and the banter, it hit him: this was it. This was the last date they would ever have. His heart pounded at the thought, and he fought to keep the grief from his face.

For her, it was normal, and it had to stay that way. She wouldn’t worry, or cry, or mourn – not if he could help it. She would be able to look back on this as a happy memory. 

Claire jumped to her feet. “Wanna see a trick I learned?”

“Huh?”

Claire held out her hands. Two ravens made of sparkling shadows burst from her fingertips and flew around them.

Jim stared up at her in wonder. “When did you get to be such an awesome wizard?” he asked as he stood and took her hands.

Claire shrugged. “Douxie’s a pretty solid teacher.”

Jim looked up at the spectral birds swooping through the brilliant night sky, then back to the brilliant girl before him. He steeled his nerves and took a deep breath. “You know, this whole thing got me thinking. About how no one knows how much time they have left.”

Claire’s smile fell. “Jim –"

“It got me thinking about the things I’ve done, and the things I haven’t done yet, and the … the things I would regret not getting to do. I mean, I could’ve died so many times. I’ve thought I was dead so many times. So, what am I waiting for? I don’t want to risk not doing something – or saying something important.”

“What are you saying?” Claire pleaded, her voice cracking at the end.

He took her hands and stared deep into her eyes. “Claire, you are the most amazing person I’ve ever met. I couldn’t do any of this without you. I wouldn’t want to do any of this without you. You are my guiding light, and, through everything, you’ve always found a way to save me.”

“You’ve saved me too,” she croaked.

Jim knelt before her. “Claire Nuñez, will you marry me?” 

Claire screamed. Her hands flew to her mouth, tears immediately streaming down her face.

Jim flinched. “So … is that a–"

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes yes yes, Jim!” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard.

When they finally parted, he took her hand and produced a solid band of sapphire. Set into it was a beautifully cut diamond-shaped amethyst with thin, silver tendrils wrapping around it and extending down onto the band.

Claire gasped. “How did you –"

“Douxie helped,” Jim admitted with a blush as he slid the ring onto her finger. 

As he pulled her into a tight embrace under the stars, Jim relaxed. Now, all he could do was done. A solemn peace came over him; he could die content. 

With one hand on her back, he cupped her cheek with the other and wiped one of the shimmering tracks under her eyes. “I love you, fiancée.” 

Claire giggled, a few stray tears trailing over her vivid blush. “Love you too, Jim.”

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there. In her arms, time had no meaning. Finally, he reluctantly pulled away. “We should go back. We still have a world to save.”

Claire smiled and lay her head against his chest, just beside the onyx shard. “One last time,” she promised.

Jim swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “One last time …”

 

---

 

Steve was still lounging, half-asleep in his plushy chair while the others were stomping around the room making way too much noise. He buried his head deeper into his pillow. Why couldn’t they just chill?

The sound of reality tearing shook him more into the waking world. Steve groaned and turned to look through bleary eyes as Jim and Claire stepped out of the darkness.

Their hands were clasped as they made gogo eyes at each other like the obnoxiously perfect couple they were, but there was something … off about them. Someone that dangerous shouldn’t be able to make a face like a kid on Christmas morning.

And Jim was doing it, too! He was smiling wide enough to show off aaaaall his very sharp teeth … okay, there weren’t that many sharp teeth, but there were enough.

As they walked farther into the room, the candlelight glinted off something sparkly on Claire's hand …

Steve shot up in his chair as the realization hit him. “Woah, Lake put a ring on it?”

Claire and Jim blushed in unison, both finding interesting things on the walls and floor to stare at.

Blinky approached and placed a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Well done, youngling.”

Claire tugged Jim back the other way. “Let’s go get breakfast.” With a wave of her hand, she summoned a new portal.

“I want waffles!” Steve shouted as they disappeared.

 

---

 

Claire brought them back to the war room a few minutes later with typical Medieval English food, a fresh round of rubbish, and no waffles, to Steve’s great disappointment.

Then, they returned to the kitchen to make their second delivery; to Arthur and the Round Table.

Jim and Claire stepped through the shadows into Arthur’s destroyed chamber. 

As soon as they entered, the fallen king stood and stepped foward. “You. Troll and sorceress.”

Both time-travelers tensed at the address.

Arthur raised his hands. “Peace. I mean you no harm.” He relaxed his stance and sighed. “I have a request …”

 

---

 

Douxie awoke to the tantalizing smell of meat pies. His face was pressed into something soft that smelled of dirt and moss. The ground beneath him was hard, but somehow not uncomfortable. He opened his eyes and found himself looking up into Aaarrrgghh’s gentle, toothy face.

Archie jumped on his chest with one of the delicious pastries in his mouth. He placed it on Douxie’s chest and fixed him with an intense stare. “How do you feel?”

Douxie thought about that for a moment. Memories of the previous night’s disaster filtered back in. The battle was in less than 24 hours. The Dwoza trolls weren’t on their side, and Callista had rejected the amulet. Everything was fucked. 

Despite that, he felt –

“Fine,” Douxie answered. He felt light. He felt calm and peaceful. 

The world was still teetering on the edge of a knife. By all accounts, Douxie should be freaking out, but all of his boiling emotions had bled out of him last night, and now, he was fine.

Archie stared at him dubiously. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Arch.” Douxie assured him with a faint smile. He climbed out of Aaarrrgghh’s arms and peaked around one of the heavy curtain.

The sun was just breaking over the horizon, clearly illuminating their last day. When it set … 

Douxie turned and let the curtain fall back into place. He grabbed the plate of meat pies and started towards the door. “No time to waste. Let’s go.”

-

Douxie stepped into the war room, Archie and Aaarrrgghh right behind him, to find the rest of his friends having breakfast.

As soon as she saw him, Claire ran up and threw her arms around Douxie’s neck, pulling him into a tight hug. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“What?”

Claire pulled back and held up her hand with the ring shining proudly.

A soft smile graced Douxie’s face. “Congratulations.” He pulled her in for a less-frantic hug. 

She squeezed him back hard.

As he stood in Claire’s embrace, he locked eyes with Jim over her shoulder. “You’re going to have a long, happy life together. I promise.”

Jim crossed his arms and looked pointedly away.

When Claire pulled back, her face was serious. “Um, Douxie … there’s, uh –” She looked away and sighed before turning back to him with firm resolve in her eyes. “Arthur asked for an audience with the king.”

Douxie stiffened and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Right. Okay.”

Notes:

The ring is princess-cut, for clarification. Like a square but turned 45 degrees.

Chapter 16

Notes:

So I'm not fully happy with this but I need to just move on as it's holding everything else up. Worried that various parts are incredibly stupid, poorly paced, nonsensical, ooc, but we're just gonna shove that self-deprecating shit under the rug where it belongs. Maybe I'll edit it more later, I dunno, but for now it's done being a diva.

The things happening inside the castle don’t match up time-wise with the things happening outside the castle, and after much deliberation I’ve made the executive decision to not give a fuck.

Thank you to nezio for betaing!

Douxie was spiraling. He paced frantically on the dais in the throne room, dreading what was about to happen. 

He’d sent Archie to help Zoe and his younger self analyze the onyx shard; time was running out, and they needed all the help they could get. Jim’s life was certainly worth it, but God he wished Archie was here. 

“Master Douxie, you really must calm down,” Blinky pleaded.

Calm down? How could he calm down when Arthur bloody Pendragon wanted to talk? 

Blinky opened his mouth again, but Arg stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder and a slow shake of his head. Blinky stepped back, worrying both sets of hands.

The others present – Steve, Callista, and Merlin – stood in a loose clump to the side, all doing their best not to stare at Douxie’s freakout – at least, not obviously.

They all froze and watched as a purple void split the air in the middle of the room.

Jim and Claire stepped through, followed by an imposing man in gleaming white armor. 

The portal closed behind him and Arthur stood there regarding Douxie with an unreadable face.

Douxie held his breath. Time seemed to stand still as he looked down on the former king, waiting for whatever would happen next. He felt the weight of Excalibur on his back and the crown on his head, dragging him down. 

Then, Arthur sank to a knee and bowed his head in deference. “Your Majesty.”

Douxie couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Here was Arthur, the great king of legend, bowing to him.  

He had to say something. What should he say? What should –

“W-Why are you here?” Douxie asked, cursing the waver in his voice.

Arthur rose and brought his gaze again to Douxie’s face. “I am here because Camelot needs a king, and I am ready to serve her. I am ready to make you a king.”

“Wh–” Douxie stumbled over the absurd statement. “… I am king,” he asserted, but even he couldn’t pretend that the words weren’t hollow. 

“No, you’re not,” Arthur said with a poorly suppressed grin.

Claire crossed her arms. “Did you seriously come here to question his right to rule? Did you forget that he has Excalibur and you don’t?”

“Not his right. His conviction.”

“What does that mean?” Claire asked.

Arthur turned to her. “Does a banner make one a knight? Does a staff make one a wizard?” he asked before turning back to Douxie. “A boy wearing a crown is not a king. Until you accept your title, that is all you will be.”

Douxie grimaced. “I don’t want to be a … a king king.”

“You must.” Arthur insisted.

“No!” Douxie shouted. “Nimue said I don’t need to be like you! She said that if she wanted someone who would get their way by fear and abuse, she would’ve given the sword back to you!”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you think it means to be a king?”

Douxie stared at him, incredulous. “I – what?”

“I have done as you say, but the things I have done were not because I was king, they were in spite of it.” He sighed. “I created the Knights of the Round Table to cleanse the land of evil, to right the wrongs that afflicted my subjects. But when Gwen died … I let my grief corrupt my intentions, twist them into the very thing I claimed to fight. I see now that, in doing so, I forfeited my right to lead.” 

Arthur took a deep breath. “A good king is kind and humble. One who mistreats his people as you have described will not find himself king for long.”

“Then what about all this?” Douxie demanded, gesturing to the throne room. “Why the gold and jewels and thrones? Why the grand banquets and balls? I’m not going to look down on people, pretend I’m better than all of them because of a title.”

Arthur laughed. “You misunderstand. That throne is just a chair. A crown is just a fancy trinket. There is nothing about them that makes them inherently special. The finery, the banquets, the fanfare; it is all for show. The people want a hero to protect them. They do not want to believe that their king is just a man. That he can falter, that he can fail and die. So, he plays that part; he presents himself as almighty. None of this,” he said, gesturing to the grand throne room, “is for him. It is for them.”

“Then … then why does it matter how I present myself when no one’s watching? I’m not holding court.”

Arthur nodded. “Therein lies the problem. The people have not seen their leader.”

“I’m not a leader,” Douxie mumbled bitterly.

“What are you, then?”

“I’m –” Douxie huffed and turned away.

“You are a leader,” Claire said. “You showed us what to do, you pushed through every obstacle and refused to give up. You have faced every problem thrown at you, no matter what others said.”

Douxie frowned and glared at the floor. He had them all fooled. They thought he was strong and confident and capable. They trusted him. And they shouldn’t. 

Jim spoke up. “You fight for everyone, no matter the risk. You fight for the ones others have given up on, even the ones who … have given up on themselves.” 

Douxie curled his hands into tight fists at his side. They didn’t know. They didn’t see that he was barely hanging on by a frayed thread. They couldn’t feel his heart racing, the immense effort it took to keep his breathing steady. 

“You have managed all of this,” Blinky said, “sought solutions for impossible problems. You have made peace wherever possible, and have stood firm where it was not.”

Douxie trembled with the effort of holding himself together. How stupid could they be? How could they not see that every decision he made was a roll of the dice, and it was only a matter of time before his luck ran out. 

Arthur’s voice came, firm and confident. “Was it not a leader who pulled Excalibur from that stone, who challenged me and declared himself king?”

“IT WAS AN ACT!” Douxie roared, his voice echoing through the chamber. His frantic, furious breaths pierced the following silence.

Finally, Arthur laughed. “Yes, I know,” he said, seemingly unphased by Douxie’s outburst. “Quite a good one, at that. That is all any of this is. Just an act. But the people haven’t seen that.”

Douxie tried to breathe around the lump in his throat. “The – the nobles saw me take Excalibur. A-and I spoke to the people.”

Arthur nodded. “Yes, I heard of your speech. Apologetic, self-deprecating, reassuring them that they must only stomach you for a short while. Not the voice of a king.”

“Well, I think that’s a bit harsh,” Blinky objected.

“If you came to insult me I’m not interested!” Douxie spat. As soon as the words left his mouth, his face fell in horror. “I-I didn’t mean that.”

Arthur chuckled. “Hisirdoux, I do not know you well, but as a king one must be a good judge of character. You are someone who means every word he says.”

Douxie averted his eyes and offered no response.

“You asked me why I am here,” Arthur said. “Why are you here?”

“... To stop Gunmar,” Douxie answered quietly.

“And is this your fighting force?” Arthur asked, gesturing to the court. “Do you think they can stand against Gunmar alone?”

Douxie looked at his friends. They were certainly a force to be reckoned with, but this was Gunmar. He grit his teeth and averted his gaze.

Jim sighed. “He’s right, Doux. We need an army.”

“We need a lot of things …” Douxie mumbled.

“You need to be king!” Arthur insisted. “A single man cannot mobilize an army, much less in one day. But a king can, with the help of his people.”

Douxie glared at Arthur. “Do you actually expect me to believe that they’re going to help me? They hate me! I overthrew their king, I brought their enemies inside Camelot’s walls, and on top of it all, apparently, I made an absolute fool of myself!”

Arthur shook his head. “It matters not what happened in the past. The people are terrified. They look to their king for guidance. Regardless of what they think of you, they need leadership. Better to have a king who is unscrupulous and competent than a well-meaning fool.”

One word made all Douxie’s frustration evaporate. “Terrified?”

“See for yourself,” Arthur said, inclining his head towards the heavy wooden door across the room.

Douxie walked stiffly down the steps and past his friends. He cautiously opened the door and stepped out onto the balcony where they had seen Arthur speak after the tournament. A brisk breeze rustled his hair as he looked out over Camelot. Everything seemed normal. People and wagons moved through the streets. Merchants were setting out tables of wares for the day, but … there was something wrong. 

An aire of anxiety hung over the town. No music filled the air. No children played in the streets. Those who were out moved quickly, sticking close to the walls, looking over their shoulders at the slightest sound.

Far below, a villager looked up and caught sight of him staring.

Douxie jumped away from the railing and ducked back inside.

Arthur stepped up beside him and gently closed the door. “If you are afraid, they will follow suit. Show them confidence, even if it is just an act, and they will rally.” Arthur gestured to the throne. “You must take your place if we are to stand a chance in this fight.” 

Douxie turned and stared at the throne. He drew a deep breath and took a step forward. 

Then another. 

Then another. 

Each footfall was a momentous effort, like walking through molasses. He plodded slowly up the stone steps and stopped in front of the imposing chair.

Douxie brushed his fingers over the cold arm of the throne. He hesitated before finally sitting with a heavy sigh. “There. Happy now?”

Arthur shook his head. “Sitting on a throne makes you as much of a king as does placing a crown on your head. A king must present confidence and strength. You look like a child expecting a scolding.”

Jim snickered. “Like a little boy sitting in the driver’s seat of his parents’ car.”

“Jim,” Claire scolded.

“Oh, oh!” Steve shouted. “Like a kid who wants his picture taken without Santa.”

“Aw, come on!” Douxie shouted, throwing his hands out. “I’m over 900 years old!”

Arthur shook his head. “That is not what I see. That is not what the people will see.”

Douxie yelled as lightning crackled from his fists. He raked his hands through his hair, knocking the crown to the ground with a metallic ting.  

The crown rolled and settled at Arthur’s feet. 

Arthur picked it up. “A leader does not lead because the people follow.”

Douxie watched in awe as Arthur slowly ascended the shallow stairs and stood before the throne.

“The people follow because he leads.” Arthur placed the crown back on Douxie’s head. 

Somewhere deep in Douxie's soul, his last frail nerve snapped.

Douxie jumped up from the throne and bolted for the doors. He tore down the stairs lining the tower walls, past startled servants and terrified nobles going about their morning business. 

As he burst out the front doors into the castle courtyard, the crisp morning air filling his lungs only spurred him on faster. 

Across the yard, a young boy was leading a fully tacked horse out of the stable. 

Without a word, Douxie lunged towards them. He snatched the reins out of the boy’s hand and swung his leg up over the saddle. “Yah!” he cried.

The horse whinnied indignantly before leaping forward towards the town.

Douxie barely registered the screams of the townspeople as they scrambled out of his way. His only thoughts were of out, away, escape. Through the chaos in his mind, the bones of a plan began to form.

His steed galloped down the avenue, iron horseshoes kicking up sparks on the cobblestones. As they approached the gate, Douxie summoned his staff and threw the remaining rubble against the wall, clearing the way. 

Douxie urged the horse faster across the bridge while he manipulated the runes on his bracelet. They clicked and slotted into place. 

As he approached the forest, he spotted his mark: a large boulder just beyond the shade. Douxie pulled Excalibur from his back, his hands crackling with blue lightning. He grit his teeth as he tore the crown from his head and flung it towards the rock. Then, he pulled back the arm holding Excalibur …

“Verum sagitta!”

… and threw her as hard as he could. 

The sword shot through the air, following the crown’s trajectory towards the forest. As the crown passed in front of the stone, Excalibur abruptly sped up, shooting forward to embed herself in the rock, right through the gold circlet. 

Douxie kicked the horse on and disappeared into the woods.

---

“A leader does not lead because the people follow.” 

Callista stood to the side, watching the interaction with a look of utter contempt.

But, underneath her simmering animosity, she was more confused than anything else. One way or another, this wasn’t the same man who had stolen her from her home. He was still an asshole, but the words he spoke were sincere and encouraging. She hated it.

“The people follow because he leads.”

Somewhere deep in her mind, everything clicked into place. She was suddenly keenly aware of the amulet sitting in the pouch at her hip. She stared at Arthur in shock and more than a little bit of anger. How dare he make her have a life-changing revelation? Honestly, the gall of some people.

Across the room, his words seemed to be having the opposite effect. The crown had barely settled on Douxie’s head before he jumped up from the throne and bolted out of the room.

“Hey!” The defiant troll charged after him without a second thought. She ran out into the tower and grabbed the railing. Looking down, she saw Douxie already clearing the last steps to land on the ground floor. How was he so fast?

She sprinted down the stairs, earning several gasps and shrieks from humans she passed. “ ‘Scuse me!” she called as she barreled past them.

She stumbled out the front door, breathless, and braced her hands on her thighs.

The courtyard was deserted except for a stable boy standing in the middle of the muddy grass.

The boy stared at her agape. “Ar’ you a troll?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, I’m a princess! Where’d he go?”

The boy pointed towards the archway leading to the town.

She lurched back into her chase and sprinted for the arch. 

She stopped short when she saw the sun. 

It was just after dawn, and the shadows were still long, but knives of deadly sunlight were beginning to cut across the road between houses. 

She looked around for a solution. 

Nearby, a merchant was unloading meticulously painted ceramics from a small wagon hitched to two horses.

She snatched a cloak from a neighboring stall and leapt into the driver's seat. “HeycanIborrowthisthanks!” she yelled as she snapped the reins and pulled the cloak tight around her, wary of any gap that might let the sunlight through.

Douxie was far ahead of her, but it wasn’t hard to tell where he’d gone. The streets were lined with overturned tables and villagers already huddled against the walls. 

The wagon hurtled over the cobblestones. Every lurch and bump was accompanied by the screech of smashed pottery.

The path of destruction lead down into the main square and … and through the busted gate. Of course it did.

She clutched the cloak tighter and held her breath as the horses galloped out onto the bright, sunlit bridge. Her skin prickled with the knowledge that the killing light was right there, ready to dig its claws into her soul and rip it out of the crumbling stone.

She forcibly shoved the thought from her mind. No high and mighty ball of fire was going to kill her – she had an ass to kick!

Under the sun’s awful glare, something glinted at the edge of the woods.

“Woah!” she called when they reached the shade of the trees. 

The horses objected and swished their tails, but obediently slowed to a stop at the edge of the forest. 

She dismounted the wagon and approached a large rock. 

Stabbed into it was that sword, and trapped between the stone and the crossguard was Douxie’s crown.

She rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

The crown was buzzing like a hive, clattering against the sword in a vain attempt to free itself.

She knew that buzzing. It had haunted her last night in her many attempts to rid herself of the amulet. 

At that moment, a horse in royal barding came running out of the forest, riderless, and galloped back across the bridge.

She looked into the shade of the woods, then back to the desperate crown, and sighed. 

---

Claire watched Arthur approach the throne. 

Douxie was tense like a tightly wound spring. It was evident in every fiber of his body; his hands gripping the arms of the throne, his shallow breathing, his unblinking eyes focused straight forward. 

It was like watching someone diffuse a bomb. A single wrong move, and he would explode. 

“The people follow because he leads.”

Arthur placed the crown back on Douxie’s head, and the bomb detonated.

Douxie jumped up and ran for the door.

“Hey!” Callista shouted before running after him. 

For a moment, no one else moved. They all wore expressions of shock, dread, or hopelessness. All except Arthur. 

Claire rounded on him. “This is your fault!” she shouted, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You pushed him!”

“Yes,” Arthur admitted calmly.

Claire growled, gathering shadows in her hands. 

“Claire, stop!” Jim threw his arms securely around her.

“Why? This was a trick! It was sabotage! He said he wanted to talk but it was all a lie! He just wanted to get rid of Douxie. He pushed him over the edge, and … and so did you!” She twisted out of Jim’s arms and turned to face him. “Why? Steve’s an idiot, but why did you pile on?”

“Because he knows the same thing I do, don’t you?” Arthur said, inclining his head towards Jim. 

Jim gave a solemn nod. There was maybe remorse in his eyes, but not regret.

“You may not believe my repentance, but believe that I am not stupid. I cannot deny that this conflict is in his hands. If he fails, Camelot will fall. Sabotaging him would doom my people and myself. I am many things, but I have never been that petty.”

“Then why?” Claire asked.

“At this point, no one will convince him but himself. He needs to run, to revolt. He needs to face himself and find his own reason to accept his role.” Arthur stepped out onto the balcony and looked down at the town.

Claire followed him. From there, she saw Douxie charging through the streets on horseback, leaving chaos in his wake. She watched him gallop across the bridge and into the forest. 

Arthur shook his head. “I ran into those same woods when I was faced with this responsibility.” He turned and stepped back inside.

Claire closed the door behind her, careful of any sunlight getting in, and turned back to the group. “We have to go after him!”

“No. Leave him,” Arthur said.

“You think we should just let him run away?” Claire demanded.

“Let him? What are you going to do? Drag him back here? Force him? To do what?”

“Reason with him!”

“Reason is not the problem. He knows what he has to do. Knowing and doing are very different. He must come to it himself.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

Jim sighed. “Yeah, it does.”

“What?” 

“When I first became the trollhunter, I ran away too.”

Claire stared at him in shock.

“At first, I thought it was cool; the armor, the sword, being a hero. Then Draal kicked my ass. I was humiliated. I felt so weak and powerless and I just … left.”

Claire was speechless. She couldn’t imagine Jim weak and powerless. “What – what changed?”

Jim chuckled. “Steve.”

Steve perked up. “Yeah?”

“Remember when you were gonna break my face?”

Steve laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uuuh, maybe? I mean that kinda describes … a lot of times.”

“When I knocked your tooth out.”

Steve gasped. His hands flew to protect his mouth.

“Steve challenged me, and I decided to not stand by anymore. I chose to believe Blinky and the amulet.” Jim turned and approached Steve.

Steve flinched as Jim’s hand came down on his shoulder.

“I never got to thank you for that,” Jim said with a smile.

Steve cautiously dropped his hands. “Y-yeah man, sure, ya know … anytime.”

Jim laughed before turning back to Claire.

“Did you know he was going to run the whole time?” Claire asked.

“No. Like Arthur said, he’s a good actor. But, listening to him just now, it was … familiar.”

“He will be back,” Arthur promised. “Give him time.”

Merlin sighed. “Unfortunately, time is a luxury we do not have.”

Arthur turned to the wizard. “Give him time.”

---

Douxie shouted as a boulder exploded into tiny fragments.

He stood panting in the middle of a rocky clearing deep in the woods. A sheer cliff face rose up before him. Scattered around him were the smoking remains of stray boulders and shattered trees.

He snarled as he tore another chunk of raw magic from his soul and flung it at the cliff, leaving a sizeable crater in its surface. He fired blast after blast into the cliff wall, carving out his frustration in stone.

When his energy was spent, he dropped his arms at his sides and trudged over to the wall. He slumped against it, easing himself to the ground, and sat with his back to the cliff. Panting, he tilted his head back against the cool stone. 

All was quiet in the wake of his violence. Slowly, distant wings and unseen paws returned to their gentle scampering in the brush. It was nice, calm … 

“You got a lot of nerve, making me chase you through sun like that,” a familiar, sassy voice announced.

Douxie scowled at the cloaked figure emerging from the treeline. “Leave me alone!”

“Nah.” Callista pulled down her hood and sat beside him. “What now? You gonna become a weird hermit living deep in the woods who all the kids tell spooky stories about?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care.”

“About what?”

“Anything!” he shouted to the forest. He dropped his head onto his folded arms. For a moment, he sat in relative peace.

Then, Callista poked his arm. 

Douxie grit his teeth and ignored it. 

She poked him a few more times, harder, before he snapped.

“Would you stop doing that?” he demanded, jerking his head up to face her.

“Huh, seems like you care about that,” she teased with a mischievous expression. 

Douxie groaned and slumped back against the wall.

She dropped her hand and stared out into the forest with him. “Listen, I don’t do sentimental talks about the power of love and friendship and all that garbage, so let’s make this snappy. Why did you run away?”

Douxie sighed. “... It’s too much.”

“So, you’re gonna give up? Leave the humans to their doom or whatever?”

Douxie scoffed. “You’re one to talk. You rejected the amulet.”

“Yeah, so I know how you feel, dummy,” she laughed and punched him lightly on the arm. 

They settled into a comfortable silence among the chatter of the forest. 

“But … I don’t feel that way anymore.” Her voice was startlingly soft and solemn, and it made Douxie pay attention. 

“Why not?” he asked.

“Funny, it was Mr. ‘Death to All Trolls’ who convinced me back there.” Callista sighed. “All my life, everyone’s told me I’m nothing. I’m worthless. A gutter troll.”

“Street rat,” Douxie mumbled.

“Outsider.”

“Demon.”

“I believed them. Thought I needed their approval, that if none of them would listen to me, nothing I did mattered. When the amulet chose me, I thought it was a mistake. Stupid hunk of metal doesn’t know me like they do. But I was wrong. They’re the ones who don’t know.” Callista straightened up with hard determination in her eyes. “Doesn’t matter if they want me, they need me. I’ll lead their sorry asses into battle kicking and screaming if that’s what it takes.”

Douxie gave a hollow laugh. “Who am I to lead an army?”

“Good question. Who are you?” 

“I don’t know.”

“Merlin’s lackey?” she sneered.

Douxie bristled at the jab.

“Seriously, why do you put up with that cranky old man?”

Douxie drew a long, deep breath. “When I was young, Archie and I were always on the road. Everywhere we went, we heard tales of ‘The Magnanimous Merlin Ambrosius’ – a mythical hero standing against the darkness; all-knowing, wise, powerful, compassionate – practically a god. I wasn’t even sure I believed he was real, ‘till he saved my life in Camelot. From then on, Merlin was everything to me. I wanted to impress him, wanted to be just like him. I studied and practiced and did every menial task he asked of me, hoping that, one day, I could be a master wizard like him.” He summoned his staff and stared at it in disgust. “And then, just when I finally earn his respect, I find out he isn’t the great hero I thought he was.” He cast his staff to the side. “I won’t use people as pawns. I won’t sacrifice them for some ethereal ‘Greater Good’. Screw being a master wizard. If that’s what it is, I want no part in it.”

“Really?” Callista snorted. “You’re gonna let him ruin it for you because he’s a tool? What’s a ‘master wizard’ supposed to do?”

Douxie sighed. “A master wizard protects the material realm,” he recited. “He makes the hard decisions that mortals cannot …”

Douxie’s eyes widened as realization settled like a stone in his stomach. 

What hard decisions did Merlin make? 

Merlin was an oracle – a puppet of fate. He saw coming disasters before they were born, all the horrible possibilities that could be. 

Douxie thought back on Merlin’s attempts to justify his actions. 

His voice … he wasn’t proud. He chose the path that had the greatest benefit for the most people, and carried the guilt of those he had damned for the Greater Good. Merlin didn’t make mistakes or unexpected possibilities, he simply obeyed, unwilling to risk everything for the sake of the few. 

And Douxie … well, risking everything was all he did. He was idealistic and stubborn, and unwilling to sacrifice one for the good of many. 

… Just like Morgana.

He thought back on the two of them arguing; Merlin’s order versus Morgana’s chaos. They would come to blows near daily about one thing or another. 

One who didn’t know better would think they were bitter enemies. But, despite all of that, together they were incredible.

Merlin would reign in Morgana’s wildest notions, while Morgana would force Merlin to not look away from the injustice in the world. And when Morgana died … that’s when everything fell apart. Order and chaos. Maybe the world needed both.

Douxie didn’t agree with the things Merlin had done — some were downright abhorrent — but he could recognize that they were not done out of malice. He couldn’t forgive, but … perhaps he could understand. 

“Hey, you there?” Callista called to him through his reverie. 

Douxie blinked back to the present. He took deep breaths as he tried to refocus his thoughts.

The question remained: who was he going to be?

A wizard? A hero? A king?

He thought back on Arthur’s words. A boy wearing a crown is not a king.

It was true. He wasn’t a king. Not a hero, just a boy.

… Just a boy who had to sing this song.

A sly smile snuck across Douxie’s face. “I will be the savior of the broken, the beaten, and the damned.”

“Huh?”

Douxie drew himself to his feet and stepped forward. “I will defeat my demons, and all the non-believers, the plans that they have made.”

He curled his hands into fists and shouted to the sky. “The world will never take my heart! Though broken and defeated, I will carry on through my fears, defiant to the end!”

He stood in the middle of the clearing, silent but for the heavy panting of his wild grin.

“So … does that mean you’re good?”

He turned back to see Callista slowly pull herself to her feet. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

“Good, ‘cause I don’t know what to do with that poetry nonsense.” She reached into her cloak and pulled out Excalibur, offering him the hilt.

Douxie’s eyes widened. “How did you …”

Callista raised an eyebrow. “What? Not like you hid it very well.”

Douxie shook his head and laughed. “Never mind.” Douxie smiled at her and accepted the sword. He placed Excalibur on his back, then surged forward and hugged her tight. 

Callista laughed uncomfortably and patted his head. “Whoa, hey, you sure are doing that.”

“Thank you, Callista.”

“It’s Deya, actually. It always was.”

Douxie pulled back and stared at her, mouth agape. Deya, the Deliverer. A giddy laugh bubbled up inside him and spilled from his mouth. 

“You sure you’re alright?”

“I’m great,” he sighed, wiping away tears. 

Deya pulled out his crown and plopped it on his head at an odd angle. “There, now you’re a pretty princess,” she smirked.

“That’s ‘queen’ to you, trollhunter.” Douxie adjusted the crown before he turned and started back towards the castle.

A firm stone hand on his arm pulled him back.

He looked back at Deya. Her body was rigid and her eyes narrowed. 

“Something’s wrong,” she whispered.

Douxie held his breath and listened. She was right. There were no bird songs, no rustling in the bushes or skittering along branches. The forest was deathly quiet.

They peered out into the darkness of the woods.

At first, he thought he was imagining it – an ominous rhythm, like the ticking of a metronome far off in the distance. But, as the sound rose around them, he couldn’t deny the unmistakable sound of an army marching. The regimented clinking of armor encroached from all sides, growing louder and louder. 

Douxie looked around wildly for somewhere to run, hide, but it was useless. They were surrounded.

Suddenly, the shadows were full of glowing eyes peering out of vicious helmets. 

And then, from behind a low outcropping, a massive, menacing form rose up. The beast jumped forward, shaking the ground, and drew one cruel blade from his back.

“Oh, fuzzbuckets!”

Bular glared down at them with the unsettling gaze of a deadly predator. “I thought I would have to wait until sunset to slaughter you. Gunmar will be pleased.”

Callista scoffed. “You think killing two people is gonna finally make daddy proud of you?”

Bular recoiled as if he’d been struck. “Who do you think you are?” he roared.

Deya stepped forward defiantly. “I am Deya, the trollhunter. The savior of trollkind.”

“And I am Hisirdoux Casperan,” Douxie declared, curling his hands into tight fists, “master wizard and king of Camelot.”

“Get them!” Bular shouted.

The army marched forward, backing them up against the cliff.

Deya pulled out the amulet. “For the glory of Merlin, daylight is mine to command!” 

Blue light exploded out from the amulet, sending a shock wave through the forest and pushing the army back as Deya rose into the air. 

Bular growled as the force staggered him. 

A moment later, the energy collapsed back into its source like a dying star. As the light approached Deya, it grew brighter and solidified into gleaming armor plates. She laughed with unrestrained glee as they snapped to her body, black chain mail forming between them. 

Douxie stared in awe at the magic before him; magic he had helped shape, becoming for the first time.

Deya dropped to the ground with a definitive crash. A sturdy broadsword formed from bright blue smoke in her hand. Immediately, she pulled back her sword hand and threw Daylight like a dart just past Douxie’s head. 

Douxie screamed and ducked. A dull thud sounded behind him. He turned to see the sword buried in a gumm-gumm’s chest as it reeled back and turned to stone. 

A strong hand closed around his and yanked him out of the way as the soldier crumbled into rubble. “Look alive, kid, or do I have to save you too?”

Douxie snapped to attention. He summoned his staff as he assessed the battlefield. 

Gumm-Gumms were encroaching from all sides. 

Douxie raised his staff and the gem burned bright. “Magna torna tuess!” 

A barrage of blue bolts shot from his staff. Each one pierced through a gumm-gumm, shattering them instantly. 

Deya’s sword flashed like lightning, cutting down waves of enemies but making no progress against the flood. Whenever one fell, another appeared to take its place. 

This, Douxie realized, was the power Morgana had given Gunmar – the Decimaar Blade.

Deya grunted as a sickening thunk echoed off her armor.

“Deya! Are you alright?” Douxie glanced over his shoulder, just long enough for an unseen spear to crash against his shield. The magic flared around him, driving a spike of pain into his head. He stumbled back and ducked out of the way of another swing.

“I’m fine!” she snarled.

Douxie dodged several more hits, firing off spells whenever he could, but it was clear that they were losing. It wouldn’t be long before they were overwhelmed.

“We can’t keep this up!” Douxie shouted.

“You got a suggestion?”

Douxie’s eyes flicked desperately between the encroaching hoard, the cliff at their back, the faint bits of sunlight filtering through the trees high up the rock wall. “I do, but you need to go. Take cover!”

“What?”

“Trust me, please!”

“If you get yourself killed, I’m gonna be pissed!” Deya leapt forward, bouncing off the soldiers’ heads like stepping stones, and disappeared into the forest.

Douxie swung his staff in a wide arc, pushing the hoard back. Then, he banished his staff and drew Excalibur from his back. He wrapped both hands around the hilt and held her with the tip pointing down. Focusing on the blade, he pushed as much magic as he could muster into the sword.

Excalibur began to glow with a pure, white light, growing brighter by the second.

As the swarm closed in, Douxie watched closely, waiting until the last possible moment.

Just before they reached him, he hoisted Excalibur into the air …

“AD LUCEM GLORIA MEA!”  

… and plunged the blade into the stone beneath his feet. 

The light disappeared into the ground and a shockwave shot out from the point of impact. Rock fractured and light blasted up through the cracks in the ground, permeating every inch of the clearing. 

He squeezed his eyes shut against the blinding light and held tight to the sword as wind rushed up. All around him was a deafening cacophony of screeching and shattering stone, and under it, the wail of a primal fury.

All at once, the wind ceased, leaving an oppressive silence. Douxie collapsed to his knees, his hands still clenched around Excalibur’s hilt. As he opened his eyes, he saw the last of the light fading back into the blade, leaving only the gleaming metal, with no indication of the wrath it had held moments ago. 

He gasped and panted as he surveyed the rubble. 

Nothing moved – the woods were still again …

Until they weren’t. 

A thunderous impact rattled the stone graveyard, and would have knocked Douxie to the ground had he not already been there. 

He looked up, dread pooling in his stomach as Bular stalked towards him.

“You think your tricks will best me?” Bular demanded.

Douxie used the sword to haul himself to his feet before ripping her out of the ground. He tried to summon his staff, but it was no use – he was spent.

He stumbled back over the broken remains of the gumm-gumm army. “If I were you,” he gasped through the best cocky smirk he could muster, “I wouldn’t stick around to find out.” 

Come on, come on, come on, he urged himself as he kept trying to summon a spark of magic, but each attempt only left a stinging pain in his fingers. 

“Ah!” Douxie shouted as he tripped over a bit of rubble. He did his best to scramble back away from the monster, no longer trying to hide his fear.

Bular loomed over him and smiled. Then, he brought the massive butcher’s knife crashing down.

Douxie raised Excalibur before him in a last, feeble attempt to defend himself. 

As the blades met, a blast of force erupted between them, flinging the two combatants away from each other.

Douxie went flying back into the cliff wall. Pain exploded across his body, and the world went dark.

-

The Gumm-Gumm prince managed to withstand the backlash, but it had ripped his knife from his hands, sending it flying back into the woods. He roared as he pulled his second blade from its sheath and resumed stalking towards his prey.

A shining silver sword flew inches in front of his face and embedded in the cliff wall. 

Bular growled and turned towards the source. 

Deya stepped out of the woods and smirked. “Make my day, ugly.”

---

Back at the castle, a deep tremor rattled the castle walls, knocking those in the throne room to the floor.

A faint, ghastly scream rang through Merlin’s head. Magic crackled through the air, the energy of a lightning strike setting his nerves on fire.

A chorus of groans went up from the stunned assemblage.

“What was that?” Arthur demanded.

“Powerful magic,” Merlin replied as he used his staff to push himself to his feet. He staggered to the window and pushed the heavy curtain aside to find a massive pillar of light reaching into the heavens from deep in the Wild Wood.

“Excalibur!” Merlin gasped. He dropped the curtain and turned to the shadow witch. “Claire, take me to Hisirdoux immediately!” he commanded.

Claire didn’t object, only nodding mutely with wide eyes. She gestured in the air, and as soon as the void opened, Merlin lunged into the darkness.

-

Merlin emerged into the shade of ancient trees and the sound of battle. What he saw turned him to stone as effectively as sunlight to a troll.

As the others appeared into the Wild Wood, they immediately leapt to action.

Jim pulled Galatine from his back and jumped at Bular.

“Aw nuts, Dumbledork!” Steve squeaked. He and Claire ran to the figure crumpled against the cliff wall.

Merlin was the greatest sorcerer alive. He had faced gods, abominations, saved the world from destruction countless times. Now, he stood captive in the shadow of true fear he had not known for centuries.

He saw his two trollhunters clashing with the Gumm-Gumm prince as flashes of silver-blue and black-red. He saw Excalibur laying discarded among a field of shattered stone. And he saw his apprentice, unresponsive on the ground, attended by his friends. His shocked gaze rested on Hisirdoux a moment longer before his face hardened and he turned to the monster responsible. 

“Trollhunters, get back!” Merlin bellowed before turning to Claire. “Claire, I require your magicks.”

Claire nodded. She stood and summoned shadows into her hands.

Jim and Callista leapt away and held their swords in a defensive stance.

Bular roared and charged at the wizard.

“Tenebris Exilium!” Merlin’s voice echoed through the forest. His eyes burned green as he drove the end of his staff into the ground. The green crystal glowed blindingly bright before unleashing a massive beam of magic straight into the Gumm-Gumm’s chest. 

Bular was blown back like a leaf in a hurricane through a portal Claire conjured behind him. As he passed into the shadows, his furious roar abruptly cut off, leaving an eerie stillness in the forest.

Merlin’s fire faded, and he clutched his staff for support. He took a few shaky breaths before turning and hurrying to Hisirdoux’ side. 

He pushed past the others and fell to his knees to inspect his apprentice. 

The boy was scraped and bruised, but alive.

Merlin turned his frantic gaze to his allies. “What happened?”  

---

Douxie awoke to a dull pounding in his head. His whole body stung. 

A hard surface solidified against his back as indistinct voices echoed faintly in his head. Claire, Jim … Merlin. 

Merlin’s raspy voice was right in his ear. 

Douxie twitched and a low groan came from his throat.

The scrambling of boots against rock sounded beside him.

Douxie opened his eyes to find Claire and Steve kneeling on either side of him.

He pushed himself up on shaky arms and looked around. 

Deya and Jim stood a few steps away, both their swords drawn. Merlin was standing several steps back from the group with his eyes conspicuously averted. Excalibur lay on the ground at the edge of a field of rubble. It was all coming back to him. 

“Bular?” Douxie croaked.

“He’s gone,” Claire assured him. “You alright?” 

Douxie took a deep breath. “I think so.”

Jim stepped forward and pulled Douxie to his feet.

Claire stood up and placed a hand on his arm. “Look, Douxie, I know this is hard, but –”

Douxie gently shrugged them off without a word, heading straight towards Excalibur. He scooped the sword up and secured it on his back before turning to them with a triumphant smile.

“Claire, send us back to Camelot. Then, you and Jim go with Deya to rally the trolls.”

Jim and Claire turned to each other. “Deya?” they asked, their voices brimming with excitement.

“When you’re done, return to me. I’ll need you.”

Claire beamed. “Yes, Your Majesty.” She raised her hands and summoned a portal.

“Steve and Merlin, you’re with me,” Douxie said, and stepped through without waiting for a response. 

“Arthur,” he called as he emerged into the throne room.

The former king looked up.

Douxie stood tall before him. “I’m ready.”

Notes:

Lyrics from "The Black Parade" by My Chemical Romance

Spells:
Verum sagitta - True arrow
Y’all know the rest

Chapter 17

Notes:

I'm so god damn tired.

Thank you to Nezio for betaing.

Jim followed Deya, shining in her armor, as she walked into Dwoza.

Claire walked beside him, her hand clasped tight in his.

Jim tried to keep a straight face, but he couldn’t help the smug smile that peeked through. He’d taken this walk before. Some of the trolls here were the same ones who’d doubted him – who would doubt him. There was a deep satisfaction in the gasps that followed them, the clatter of tools and possessions falling from their owners’ hands as a crowd formed in their wake. 

Deya climbed up onto the stone stage where Douxie had stood last night. She faced the crowd and held her sword high. “My brothers and sisters–”

“Callista?” an incredulous voice called from the crowd.

“The name’s Deya,” she shot back.

“You’re no sister of ours!” another voice shouted.

“Oh, would you prefer ‘Listen up, dirtbags’?”

“Just what do you think you are doing?” Vendel demanded as he emerged from a hall behind her with Kanjigar at his side. 

The team turned to the cantankerous troll trudging their way with his signature frown.

“You got some shiny armor and a fancy sword, and now you think you can give orders? You are not welcome within these walls, outsider!”

Deya pulled back her sword arm and hurled Daylight like a dart. It embedded in the stone wall barely an inch from Vendel’s head. “Yeah, I do. You think you can stop me?”

“How dare you?” Kanjigar roared, and charged her with his spear.

Jim and Claire leapt to action. 

Jim pulled Galatine from his back and clashed with Kanjigar. 

Claire dropped through a portal onto his shoulders, using his shock to rip the weapon from his hand. She jumped down beside Jim and brandished the spear. “Listen!” she ordered.

Kanjigar growled but held his ground at the end of the two blades.

Deya turned back to her suddenly-very-quiet-and-respectful audience. “My brothers and sisters, tonight will decide whether Gunmar rules the Earth in eternal night, or we take back our freedom! I am Deya, the trollhunter. Join me in putting an end to Gunmar’s tyranny!”

“Bushigal!” Draal stomped to the front of the crowd. “It should be ME wielding the amulet!”

Deya pulled the amulet off her chest. The armor faded to blue smoke around her. She pulled her arm back and pitched the amulet at Draal’s head. It bounced off his massive horns and clattered to the ground. “Go for it, hothead!”

Draal glared at her, then picked up the amulet. He squinted at the writing around the edge. “For the GLORY of Merlin, daylight is mine to command!” His mighty roar echoed throughout the cavern, followed by a heavy silence.

After several uncomfortable seconds, Deya jumped down from her perch and marched up to Draal. She snatched the amulet from his hand and stared him dead in the eyes as she said, “For the glory of Merlin, daylight is mine to command,” and the armor reformed around her. 

Draal took a step back, his eyes wide. 

“We can’t fight,” a troll argued, “we’re just miners.”

Deya turned to that troll with passion burning in her eyes. “But you can be more. I know you’re afraid, but never forget that fear is the precursor to valor, and to strive and triumph in the face of fear is what it means to be a hero! Together, we will push back the darkness and those who would see our end!”

Her fervor spread through the crowd, lighting that same fire in each troll it touched. In a matter of seconds, the once-timid masses erupted in one unifying battle cry. 

Jim and Claire hopped down beside her.

“Nice job,” Jim whispered.

Deya turned to him and smiled. “ ‘Course it is, I did it.”

Jim chuckled.

“Can we do anything to help?” Claire asked.

Deya shook her head. “Nah. Go on, I’ll see you later.”

Jim shot her a parting smile before he and Claire jumped into the shadows.

---

Douxie stepped through the portal with Steve and Merlin close behind him.

Blinky and Aaarrrgghh stood across the room talking in hushed whispers, while Arthur leaned against a pillar nearby.

Douxie stood tall before the former king. “I’m ready.”

Arthur smiled. “Those are the words of a king.”

Douxie smiled back before turning to the matter at hand. “We need an army, starting with the elite warriors at our disposal. Arthur, you can talk to the Knights of the Round Table, convince them to join us.”

“No.”

“What?”

Arthur placed a hand on Douxie’s shoulder. “You must be the one to command them.”

“But–”

“If they follow you in my name, they do not follow you at all.”

“Why does it matter?” Douxie argued.

Arthur’s eyes darkened. “A disloyal ally is but an enemy in waiting. You have seen what will happen if the knights turn against you.” 

 Douxie sighed. “Will they listen to me?”

“If they are loyal to Camelot, and to Excalibur, they will.”

-

Douxie took a deep breath before stepping through the door to Arthur’s chambers.

Immediately, all four knights turned their attention to him. Lancelot stood at respectful attention. Gawain and Gareth watched him with cautious apprehension. Bedivere stood with his arms crossed, glaring in an open challenge.

“Tonight is the battle for humanity’s freedom. I need all of you to fight.”

“Where is Arthur?” Bedivere demanded.

Douxie stood his ground. “Arthur has made his choice. You must make your own. Do you value your allegiance to one man over the lives of everyone in Camelot, in England, in the world? This is not a war between nations. Gunmar is a threat to everyone – human and troll, magic and mundane.”

Lancelot crossed the room with long, slow steps. He stopped in front of Douxie and bowed. “I am at your command, My Liege.”

Gawain and Gareth looked at each other, then followed suit. “We fight for Camelot, Sire.”

Douxie motioned for them to stand.

Bedivere stood firm across the room with his cutting glare trained on Douxie.

“Bedivere–” Lancelot started, but Douxie held up a hand to silence him.

“I have no use for disloyalty. If you have any doubts, you may stay here while your brothers fight.”

The two men stared at each other, neither giving an inch.

Finally, Bedivere sighed. “Aye,” he stepped forward and knelt before Douxie, “for Camelot.”

-

Douxie entered the throne room followed by four of the most vaunted knights in the realm.

A smile pulled at Arthur’s lips as he watched the procession. “Well done,” he said with a nod.

Gawain took a step forward. “Arthur! You’re here!”

“Indeed. As are you. A happy sight to see that Camelot’s finest value her over their own pride.”

“Of course, Sire.”

“Arthur,” the former king corrected him. “If you must call me something other than my name, call me brother. That is what I am: a knight in service to Camelot and her king.”

Gawain’s eyes slid over to Douxie and he sighed. “Right …”

Just then, a swirling void appeared beside them.

“Good God!” Gareth yelled and jumped back as Jim and Claire stepped through the portal.

Douxie smiled. “Perfect timing.”

Claire looked at the army behind him. “Looks like you’ve been making progress.”

“How about Deya?” Douxie asked.

Jim smirked. “She put the fear of Daylight in them.”

“Good.” Douxie looked around the room, taking a quick head count. “Right, everyone’s here.” He turned and walked around behind the throne. “Stand back,” he called as he pulled the hidden lever.

The relief in the center of the room lurched and began to raise up out of the floor. After several seconds of churning machinery, the gears shuddered to a halt, forming the eponymous table.

Douxie moved to take his place before the throne.

His allies approached the eleven remaining stations. To his right were Claire, Jim, Blinky, Aaarrrgghh, and Steve. To his left stood Arthur, Lancelot, Gawain, Gareth, and Bedivere. Merlin was directly across from him.

Douxie planted both his hands on the table. “This will be the most important battle any of us have ever faced. If we lose, the world as we know it will end. I will need all of you if we are to succeed, and all the strength both camps can muster. Blinky, how many trolls can we expect to fight?”

Blinky placed one set of hands on his hips and gestured with the other. “Well, to be perfectly honest, zero. But, if Callista–”

“Deya,” Douxie, Jim, and Claire corrected him as one.

“Deya … I see. Well, if she can convince every troll to fight, we will have 81. However, very few among our number are warriors.” 

“Then they’ll need weapons and training.” Douxie turned to the other side of the table. “Lancelot, what is Camelot’s force?”

Lancelot cleared his throat. “After Morgana’s attack, Camelot has 104 able knights, not counting ourselves.”

“Do we have the means to transport that many?”

“Not individually, but using wagons and all of our available horses, it should be possible.”

“Why don’t I just make a portal?” Claire suggested. “I can get everyone from the castle straight to the battlefield.”

Jim turned to her. “Claire, are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“The last time you made a portal that big–”

“That was a long time ago!”

“I appreciate the offer,” Douxie said, “but I agree with Jim. Even if you can transport that many people, I need you at your best tonight. Save your strength.”

Claire crossed her arms but didn’t argue.

“We’ll ride to Dwoza, meet the trolls, and proceed on foot.” Douxie paused and took a deep breath. “So, nearly 200 of us against Gunmar’s forces.”

“How large is Gunmar’s army?” Lancelot asked.

“We don’t know. Gunmar has the Decimaar Blade. With it, he can create infinite warriors. They’re machines, unable to think for themselves, but they have numbers.”

“And they have Morgana,” Claire added.

Douxie nodded. “Having her on the battlefield will be a problem. Our best hope is to separate her from the rest of Gunmar’s army. Merlin and I will fight her.”

At the sound of his name, Merlin looked up and stared at Douxie.

“Just the two of you?” Claire asked.

“We’ll need everyone we can get in the main battle. Morgana is volatile and impulsive, and she begrudges both Merlin and myself. If we challenge her, I think we can bait her away.” He turned to Merlin. “Master, what can we do to prepare?”

Merlin stumbled over his words. “I believe – we are as prepared as we will ever be.”

“Right then. Jim, I want you to devise our battle plan. Blinky, Aaarrrgghh, Claire, Lancelot, and Bedivere will assist.”

Jim nodded.

“When you’re done, you’ll go to Dwoza to ready the trolls for battle.” He turned to Steve. “Steve, you’re in charge of readying the knights.”

“Aw yeah!”

“Sirs Gawain and Gareth will join you. Arthur and Merlin, I want you to organize the civilians. We need to gather spare weapons for the trolls and ensure that Camelot’s army is as well-prepared as possible.”

“As you wish,” Arthur said.

“Is that everything?” Jim asked.

“No. There are two more knights I need to recruit.”

“Who?”

Douxie’s mouth formed a grim line. “Galahad and Lamorak.”

“What?!” Steve squawked.

“We need every fighter we can get. They are both skilled warriors.”

“Did you forget what they did?” Claire demanded.

“No, I haven’t. I don’t like it, but we don’t have a choice. I have to at least try. Claire, make a portal to the dungeon.”

Claire crossed her arms. “Absolutely not!”

Douxie narrowed his eyes. “Then I’ll walk.”

“Someone talk some sense into him! Arthur!” She turned desperately to the former king.

Arthur frowned, hand to his chin as he was deep in thought. “It is wise not to eschew your resources, but be careful. They have both proven themselves to value their own goals over honor. You cannot trust them, and soldiers who you cannot trust must be handled carefully.”

Douxie nodded. “I will.” He turned back to Claire.

She glared at him before finally dropping her shoulders. “Fine.”

-

Douxie stepped through a portal into the darkness of the dungeon. Arthur appeared behind him, followed by the Knights of the Round Table.

From the shadows of his cell, Galahad gasped. “My king!”

Arthur crossed his arms. “I am not your king. He is.”

Douxie stopped in front of the bars. “Camelot is about to fight for her life. You can help under my command, or you can stay here.”

Galahad’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

Lamorak barked a sharp laugh. “Why would you want our help?”

Lancelot stepped up to Douxie’s side. “Lamorak, what you did to that child is unforgivable. And you, Galahad, allowed it. You have shown an untenable lack of honor, but you would both be great boons in the battle to come. Redeem yourselves.”

“How can you forgive us?” Galahad asked.

Douxie narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t forgiveness. This is necessity. Camelot needs you. I am putting aside my own feelings to protect her. Will you do the same, or wallow in your hatred while the battle rages without you?”

Galahad gave a heavy sigh. “Aye, you’re right. I’ve been a fool.” He rose to his feet. “I will fight by your side if you’ll have me … My Lord.” He sank to a knee.

Douxie opened the cell door. “Rise, Galahad. Join your brothers.”

Galahad walked past him, his eyes glued to the floor.

Douxie tracked him until he reached the cluster of knights. “Lancelot, you’ll watch him.”

“Of course, My Liege,” Lancelot said, clapping his hand a bit too hard on Galahad’s shoulder.

Douxie nodded before turning back to the cell. “What say you, Lamorak?”

Lamorak gave a dark chuckle. “Piss off. I’d rather die than help a witch destroy Camelot. Cowards and traitors, the lot of you.”

Arthur glared at him. “The only cowardly traitor I see is you.”

Lamorak bared his teeth and scowled up at his king, his poisonous green eyes burning with hatred. 

Douxie recoiled as the memory of an unwelcome evil flashed in his head, and thoughts that had been lingering in the recesses of his mind rose to the surface. He narrowed his eyes at the wicked knight and pushed the door closed with a definitive crash. “We’re done here. Those who remain loyal to Camelot: we have work to do.” He turned on his heel and marched back through the portal. 

---

Jim narrowed his eyes as Douxie stepped back through the portal. 

He was followed by Gawain, Gareth, Bedivere … and Galahad. 

Jim scowled at the stout knight. 

Lancelot and Arthur appeared behind him, and then no one else. At least it wasn’t worse.

The portal closed behind them.

Douxie looked around at the rest of the room. “Alright. Divide and conquer. Battle planning team: use the war room. Everyone else: with me.”

The planning team filed into the war room. Lancelot and Bedivere stood at one end of the table with Galahad stuck sheepishly between them. The others gathered around the opposite end.

Arranged on the table was an … interesting charcuterie board.

Blinky stepped up and planted all four hands on the polished wood. “As you can see, I have taken the liberty of constructing a rudimentary model of the battlefield.

He gestured to an apple heading a mass of bread chunks.“Here we have the wizards – Douxie, Merlin, and Claire – leading the rest of Camelot’s army. And here is the trollhunter and troll army,” he said, pointing to an egg leading a crowd of cheese.

“On the other side: Gunmar, Bular, and Morgana,” he listed as he pointed to a meat pie, a potato, and a bread roll, all set before a mess of grapes, “and their gumm-gumm hoard.”

Lancelot stroked his beard. “Why are all of the combatants food?”

Bilnky sighed. “Aaarrrgghh ate all the figurines.”

Aaarrrgghh licked his lips and smiled.

“So, how do we kill Gunmar?” Lancelot asked.

“We’re not killing Gunmar,” Jim clarified.

Bedivere drew his sword and leveled it at Jim. “What treason do you speak, troll?”

Aaarrrgghh’s eyes flashed green and he growled.

Jim calmed Aaarrrgghh with a hand on his massive arm, then turned to the knight. “Our job isn’t to kill Gunmar. Our job is to buy Deya enough time to get to the bridge.”

Claire stepped up beside him. “When she opens the bridge, Gunmar and his army will be pulled in and banished to the Darklands.”

Bedivere slammed his fist on the table. “Banishment? That’s it? After all he has done, you would let him live in exile?”

Lancelot crossed his arms. “I agree with Bedivere. Why do we not kill the monster now?”

Jim patiently explained, “Gunmar can’t be killed without the Eclipse Blade, and we don’t have time to find the Triumbric Stones to create it.”

“How do you know this ‘Eclipse Blade’ will work if you are so sure Gunmar is invincible?”

“Because in the future, my friends and I will find the stones, create the Eclipse Blade, and kill Gunmar.” Jim leaned over the table and looked around. “Any other questions?”

He was met with silence, his gathered allies in various states of awe, curiosity, and brooding.

Lancelot gestured to Jim. “What do you suggest?”

Jim began moving the food around the board. “Our strategy needs to be adaptable. Gunmar is smart and creative.”

“Such high praise,” Bedivere drawled with a sour expression.

“Do you mind?” Blinky snapped.

Jim smirked. “Not praise, experience. Have you fought Gunmar?”

Bedivere stammered for a moment before falling silent, his eyes firmly on the ground.

“If he sees Deya make a beeline for the bridge, he’ll know something’s up. It will be her job to make it across the battlefield without drawing attention. The rest of us need to engage him, and make a convincing enough show that he doesn’t look away.”

“A spectacle,” Lancelot concluded.

“Exactly. So,” Jim spread his hands to address the room, “what do we have to work with?”

---

Douxie led the remainder of the group towards the armory with Arthur at his side.

“What do I say to them?” Douxie hissed.

Arthur smiled. “You don’t need my help. You’ve been doing exemplary since returning from your outing.” 

Douxie flushed and nodded.

As they approached the room, Douxie motioned for Arthur and Merlin to hang back. Then, he stepped out onto the landing at the top of the stairs with Steve, Gawain, and Gareth behind him. 

Silence immediately fell over the crowd, all eyes trained on Douxie.

“If you count yourself a knight of Camelot, hear my words. War with Gunmar is upon us. Tonight, at sunset, the fate of humanity will be decided. By the divine grace of Excalibur, I will do everything in my power to banish this evil and prevent the Eternal Night. I charge each of you to do the same. Any questions?”

No one in the cavernous room dared even to breathe.

“Ready yourselves for battle. Sir Steve will facilitate your preparations. You answer to him.”

With that, he turned and left.

-

As the rest of them walked towards the main door, Douxie glanced back at the men following him. “Merlin,” he called softly.

The sound of the elder wizard’s staff tapping the floor echoed through the hall until he settled into step at Douxie’s side. He cleared his throat and kept his eyes conspicuously elsewhere. “Yes, Your Grace?” 

Douxie glanced sideways at his master. “You needed each other, didn't you? You and Morgana.”

Merlin took a deep breath before answering in a strained whisper, “Yes.”

“I always thought you wanted me to be like you, but I was wrong, wasn’t I? You pushed your values, the greater good, so that I wouldn’t.”

Merlin sighed. “That is not completely accurate. Your path was always your own. But a mere glance would tell anyone that you were never going to be like me.”

Douxie took a long pause before continuing. “I have learned more about you in the past few days than in all our time together and apart, and much of it I find unforgivable.” 

Merlin fixed his eyes on the ground. “I am sorry, Hisirdoux.” 

“No, you’re not.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’d do it again. You cannot put the good of one above many, just as she could not put the good of many above one. You aren’t sorry. But you aren’t proud of your actions, either.”

Merlin shook his head. “When did you get so wise?”

Douxie smirked. “While you were sleeping.”

They fell into a tenuous silence as Douxie opened the great doors and stepped out into the castle courtyard.

“I need you, too. By my side.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows. “What exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying: we’re good.”

“What?”

“It means I don’t hold your past deeds against you. That I consider us to be at peace. What differences we had are in the past, even if they are not forgiven.” 

Merlin nodded. “I see. Well, that is … good.”

Douxie smiled as they stepped out into Camelot proper with his head held high, this time not having to fake his composure.

Dead silence gave way to a constant, harsh whisper full of “Arthur” and “Merlin” and “king”. Doors creaked open and muffled footsteps rang through the alleys.

By the time they reached the town square, the crowds were already assembled, huddling against walls in an effort to go unnoticed.

Douxie stepped up on the lip of the fountain and faced the town.

“I am Hisirdoux Casperan, chosen of Excalibur and rightful king of Camelot. The threat of Gunmar and his army ends tonight. I need all of you to help. We need weapons, horses, and provisions. With the full strength of Camelot behind us, we will prevail. Are you with me?”

There were murmurs from the crowd, but no response.

“I said, ‘Are you with me?’”

Slowly, a chorus built until the town as one answered, “Yes!”

“There’s no time to waste. Gather your supplies here in the town square. Merlin and Arthur will direct you.”

The bewildered masses parted as he started back towards the keep.

-

Douxie climbed the stairs to Merlin’s study alone.

He stepped through the door into a disaster of books, phials, and the remnants of failed experiments. In the middle of it were Hisirdoux and Zoe with their heads bowed over a particularly dusty book. Archie flitted around the highest bookshelves, occasionally grabbing a tome and depositing it on the table.

“How’s it going?” Douxie called as he searched the shelves for his own objective.

“We’re close,” Hisirdoux assured him.

“Good. You only have until the end of the battle to find a cure.”

Archie jumped up on the table in front of Douxie. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” 

Douxie stopped and looked fondly at his familiar. “Of course I want you with me, but I need you here. Join me once you’ve figured out how to save Jim.” 

Finally, his eyes settled on the small white box he was looking for. He snatched up the time map and headed for the door.

“Good luck!” Hisirdoux called after him.

Douxie smiled. “You too.” 

As he descended the stairs, he ran down the checklist in his mind. It seemed everything was set, but there was one more order of business to take care of. 

How, though? He couldn’t test his theory himself. He couldn’t lie to the time map … but he could lie to someone else.

---

Jim looked over the mock battlefield with an approving nod. They had plans for every situation, and then some.

All eyes turned to the door as it opened and Douxie stepped into the war room. 

“How’s it going?” he asked.

Jim stepped forward. “We’re ready.”

“Alright then. Lancelot and Bedivere, go help ready the horses in the courtyard. The rest of you: gather up the weapons we’ve amassed and take them to Dwoza. Then, do whatever you can to assist Deya there.” He turned to Jim and gave a subtle jerk of his head. “Jim, could I talk to you for a moment?”

Jim nodded and followed Douxie out into the hall. “What’s up?”

Douxie hesitated. “If it was up to you … what would you have done? Would you have killed him?”

Jim grimaced. “I want to say no, but – I don’t know.”

Douxie nodded. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes?”

“Follow me.”

Douxie led him down to the ground floor, then through the halls to the armory where there was a flurry of activity as the knights prepared for battle. 

As soon as they entered, the entire room froze and stared at them.

Douxie kept walking straight through the crowd, unphased by the attention.

Jim looked around at the knights’ faces; some scared, some shocked, curious, wary. He gave a half-hearted smile and wave as they passed.

They descended the stairs at the other end of the room. A long, dark hall stretched before them, terminating in the heavy door leading to the dungeon. It creaked ominously as Douxie opened it.

Inside, Douxie approached the only occupied cell and glared down at the prisoner.

Jim stopped at Douxie’s side. His gaze was also inevitably drawn to the knight lounging in the corner. He tore his eyes away and turned to the wizard to ask why they were here. 

Before he could make a sound, Douxie bluntly answered, “Kill him.”

Jim balked at the command. “What? Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Douxie turned and looked him straight in the eyes. “He’s the Green Knight.”

Time seemed to stop around him. He heard the words, but he couldn’t believe them.

Douxie clasped his hands behind his back. “The Green Knight bore the mark of Camelot, but he was no ordinary knight. He was a master swordsman and a trained strategist. He was one of the Knights of the Round, once.” Douxie turned his burning gaze back to the prisoner, his voice turning cold and sharp. “But the Round Table is founded on virtue. Regardless of Arthur’s personal descent into hatred, his knights are chivalrous and honorable. Only one is famed for his brutality.”

Jim stared down at Lamorak, more aware of the shard than he’d ever been. 

He remembered that last fight where he’d been struck down.

He remembered the frail boy he’d carried away, bloody and broken.

And he saw it. He saw the Green Knight before him, with his poisonous eyes and vicious scowl. 

“I thought you deserved the honor,” Douxie said as he manipulated his bracelet and held out his hand. Glowing blue chains whipped around Lamorak as he was lifted into the air. 

Rage burned through Jim’s chest and escaped his throat as a feral growl. He threw the door open hard enough to crash against the stones and drew his blade.

---

As soon as Jim’s back was turned, Douxie pulled out the time map. He focused with all his might on Jim and the Green Knight, and the sphere began to tick. 

Around and around, the pulse went at a tauntingly slow pace.

Come on, hurry up! Douxie silently begged. His eyes darted between the map and the murderous trollhunter stalking closer to his prey.

Jim swung his sword high above his head. 

As his blade began to descend, the time map settled on an image: Jim being struck by the onyx shard.

Douxie threw his hand out and a blue disk materialized in front of Lamorak just as Jim's sword crashed against it. “Jim, stop! It’s not him!”

Jim spun to face him. “What? But you said-”

“I know! I was wrong. Look!” Douxie insisted as he held out the time map.

Jim stared at the image of his fall. His body trembled, and when he spoke, his voice was low and dangerous. “What did you do?”

Douxie took a deep breath and spoke slowly, “I was wrong.” He lowered his hand and both the shield and chains vanished, dropping Lamorak unceremoniously to the floor. “He’s no one special. Just a normal, hateful man who deserves to spend the rest of his miserable life rotting in a cell.”

Jim slowly turned back to the knight, his chest heaving as he glared death down upon him. 

Douxie snapped the time map shut with a definitive click. “Let’s go, Jim,” he ordered with a jerk of his head. 

Jim didn’t move, the tension in his body so evident it seemed to pull on the space around him.

“Jim,” Douxie repeated.

Lamorak bared his teeth in a diabolical smile. “Your master gave you an order, dog.”

Jim strangled the hilt of his sword. The metal protested under the strain. Finally, he lowered his blade and walked stiffly out of the cell. He didn’t stop on his way to the door.

Douxie closed the cell door and hurried after Jim. 

The trollhunter was already halfway down the hall when Douxie caught up with him and grabbed his arm. “Jim, let me explain.”

Jim rounded on him and wrenched his arm away. “Anyone else you want me to kill, Your Highness?”  

“Jim, please! I’m sorry. I thought it was him, but I couldn’t test it myself. The time map – it doesn’t take requests. Someone had to make the decision to kill him if the predictions were to change. I wish there had been another way–”

“At least you didn’t do it to anyone else,” Jim hissed as he turned and continued down the hall.

Douxie watched him retreat. Every stomp of the trollhunter’s boots against the floor drove another spike of pain into Douxie’s heart until they faded away into nothing.

In the silence left behind, doubt began to creep into his mind. Had it really been necessary? Did he do the right thing?

He thought about his options: gambling on Jim’s trust or his life. There was no contest.

That didn’t make it hurt any less.

---

Jim stomped back into the throne room where Claire, Blinky, and Aaarrrgghh were waiting.

As he entered, Claire smiled brightly. “Oh, hey! You done with whatever Douxie needed your help with?”

“Let’s go,” Jim snapped.

Claire stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless. “Oh-kay …” She conjured a portal in front of them.

Aaarrrgghh picked up a large wooden box stacked high with weapons of all kinds, and, one by one, the group stepped through the portal.

On the other side was pandemonium.

Nearby, a troll was wielding a shovel against a stalagmite while another was attempting to affix a bucket to his head. One who was fortunate enough to receive an actual weapon was trying to figure out which end of the spear to stab with.

Draal and Kanjigar moved through the crowd trying to correct the bumbling idiots while Vendel stood to the side watching the circus with cold indifference.

Deya, no longer in her armor, stood atop a large rock, trying to direct the chaos.

“How’s it going?” Claire asked.

Deya sighed. “Not great.”

“Weapons,” Aaarrrgghh announced before dropping the crate at Deya’s feet.

She examined the contents with underwhelming enthusiasm. “Fat lot of good it’ll do them.”

Claire winced at the scene. “Can we help?”

 Deya snorted. “We’d damn well better hope so.”

Blinky turned to the group. “I will discuss our plans with Deya. The rest of you: you have some trolls to train.”

-

Kanjigar gathered the trolls in the center of the cavern and called them to attention. 

“Friends, tonight we do battle with Gunmar himself. If you are to survive, you all must learn how to fight.”

About a third of them turned to listen, while another third talked and joked with their neighbors, and the rest stood picking their noses and counting the cracks in the walls.

Aaarrrgghh stepped forward and, suddenly, he had all of their attention. 

The Dwoza trolls backed up as far as they could, just shy of turning and running altogether.

Aaarrrgghh spoke to the terrified crowd. “Gumm-gumms hit hard. No mercy! Fight on their terms, you lose.” 

Kanjigar nodded. “To survive in a fight with them, you must use their bloodlust and viciousness against them. Observe.”

Jim stepped out into empty space and squared off against Aaarrrgghh.

“Show ‘em how it’s done, Jim!” Claire called.

Kanjigar struck the ground with his spear. “Begin!”

Immediately, Aaarrrgghh charged.

Jim rolled to the side and let Aaarrrgghh’s momentum carry him across the square. He settled into the familiar rhythm of training. It was comforting, but it also gave him space to think, and he did not want to think.

Aaarrrgghh dug his claws into the stone and turned around. He ran back, this time stopping right in front of Jim, and swung both fists down.

Jim jumped out of the way just before being crushed.

He’d thought he’d known Douxie. Upon reflection, it was a stupid idea; up until a few days ago, he’d barely known the guy’s name. But Jim knew better than anyone how strife forged friendships, how someone you just met could be as dear as a brother. That’s how it had been. 

Aaarrrgghh’s massive fists crashed into the ground, cracking the stone. He roared and stepped forward, swiping left and right.

As Aaarrrgghh advanced, Jim walked backwards, ducking and dodging around the blows, before finally diving under Aaarrrgghh’s fist to land behind him. He jumped on Aaarrrgghh’s back and grabbed his horns.

Aaarrrgghh shook his head violently and flung his attacker off.

Jim landed on the ground half-way across the square. He opened his eyes and found Aaarrrgghh bearing down on him. “Woah!” He barely rolled out of the way before Aaarrrgghh slammed into the place where he’d been a moment ago.

Douxie had called on him without a moment’s hesitation, deferred to his judgment and expertise. And Jim … Douxie fought so fiercely against the inevitable, swearing to save him even when he himself had already accepted his fate. That devotion to keep his promise resonated with Jim. It was the same determination that had led him into the Darklands to save Enrique. He’d felt a kinship with Douxie, and it made the betrayal hurt that much more.

Jim scrambled to his feet. He looked up just as Aaarrrgghh punched him square in the stomach. The force lifted him off the ground and sent him flying into the cavern wall. He dropped to the floor, his ears ringing from the hit.

The crowd gasped. Some turned away from the imminent carnage.

Aaarrrgghh lowered his head and charged.

Jim leapt high into the air just before Aaarrrgghh’s head slammed into the wall and shook the cavern. He landed behind the giant and ran.

He’d trusted Douxie with his life. He’d trusted him with his heart. Now, how could he trust him at all? How could he follow a liar into battle, not knowing when the next betrayal would come? Not knowing if an order was in good faith, or just another pull of the strings.

It took Aaarrrgghh several precious seconds to shake off that hit, but when he did, the roar he let out was wilder than ever. He bounded over Jim and landed on the other side, blocking his way. With a vicious snarl, he pulled back his fist.

Jim pulled Galatine from his back and brought her up to meet Aaarrrgghh’s punch, bracing the flat of the blade with his other hand. He slid back several feet, but kept his balance and his wits with his quick defense.

‘Merlin’s apprentice’. He hadn’t believed it at first; how could this bright-eyed idealist have come from Merlin’s training? But now, it was clear – they were exactly the same. Grand and benevolent one moment, and cold and calculating the next. Dealing in secrecy and deceit, treating people as allies until it was convenient to use them as tools.

Aaarrrgghh kept coming, throwing punch after punch into Jim’s defense. Finally, he snarled and changed tactics, reaching out to grab the much smaller troll.

Jim dove to the side and jumped onto Aaarrrgghh’s back. Or rather, he would have, had Aaarrrgghh not snatched him out of the air and hurled him across the cavern.

Jim hit the wall and fell to a high stone ledge. This time, he didn’t get up. As he lay there panting, a single, burning thought saturated his mind.

How dare he? How dare he?

He shook with rage. His nails dug into the ground as his fingers curled into tight fists. Through the haze of his anger, his eyes fell upon his enemy and a killer’s instinct took over. 

Jim rose with a feral snarl and leapt along the wall like a mountain goat, climbing higher and higher until he was clinging to the stalactites hanging from the ceiling.

Aaarrrgghh roared and smashed his fists into the ground. He stomped in slow circles, squinting up into the darkness.

As soon as Aaarrrgghh’s back was turned, Jim launched himself from his perch. He raised his sword in both hands, aiming for the weak point at the base of the troll’s skull. 

Just before finding his mark, a void opened before him and he slammed into the ground. His momentum carried him across the floor, his armor screeching against the stone until he hit the wall.

Jim lay there in a heap, gasping for breath.

“Jim!” Claire yelled.

He raised himself up on his hands and knees and looked around.

Claire was standing beside him with her hands over her mouth.

Everyone else was staring in horror. Once afraid of the gumm-gumm, now they were afraid of him.

As his mind caught up with his actions, the anger drained from Jim’s body, replaced by icy fear and regret. 

Kanjigar turned back to the civilian trolls. “Choose a weapon and pair off. Practice swinging, blocking, and dodging. Once you’ve had some time to get the hang of it, you will each spar with us in turn.”

Claire knelt at Jim’s side. “Are you okay?”

Jim hesitated before nodding slowly.

“Maybe … you should sit this one out.”

The pressure in his mind grew to a fever pitch, shaking his nerves until he felt he would crumble. Finally, he let out a long breath and curled his hands into tight fists. “Yeah.”

-

While the others trained the trolls, Jim leaned against a wall and stewed in his anger. He tried to let the music of clashing weapons clear his mind, but the rage simmered in his stomach.

Every so often, one of the trolls would cast a wary glance towards him. Jim would scowl, and the offender would quickly look away.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Claire started towards him. He jerked his gaze down to the floor and tried his best to turn invisible.

It didn’t work. Her armored feet stopped in front of him. “Jim, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he lied.

“Don’t give me that! Something’s clearly bothering you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Fine? You almost killed Aaarrrgghh!”

“I’M SORRY!” he shouted.

His voice rang out through the cave, drawing the attention of everyone present as Claire flinched away.

Jim’s heart sank. He took a deep breath and said softly, “I mean … I’m sorry.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” she pleaded.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Claire frowned. “We’re in this together, Jim.” She grabbed his hand and pulled their hands up between them. The ring shone prominently on her finger.

She was right, he should tell her. He wanted to tell her. But, he had a choice to make. He could sew discord in their group just before the most important battle of their lives. Or, he could take Douxie’s betrayal to his eminent grave.

“Not now. I’ll tell you later. Once we get home.”

Claire narrowed her eyes. “I’ll hold you to that.” She turned back to aid with the training.

Jim was paralyzed as he watched her walk away. This would be one of the last things she remembered: refusing to honor the promise he made, anger and viciousness with no explanation. 

He snarled and punched the wall, leaving a sizable crater, before stalking off deeper into the caves.

-

Jim sat in a wide cavern lit by glowing crystals. It was silent, save for the occasional drip of water and the clatter of the rocks he mindlessly threw at the wall.

The monotonous rhythm was soothing, gave him something to focus on besides the rage prickling under his skin.

He tensed as footsteps echoed down the hall. They were slow and heavy; a troll. 

At least it wasn’t Claire. He couldn’t bear to blow up at her again, especially when it was one of the last things he would say to her.

But, he didn’t want to talk to Blinky, either. Or Deya. Or Aaarrrgghh, for all the conversation he would provide. He glared at the entrance, ready to snap at whoever dared to disturb his brooding.

When the intruder came into view, Jim lost the fire on his tongue.

Draal stood in the entrance.

Jim’s spirits lifted just a bit at the sight of his friend.

“Youngling, spar with me.” It was an offer, but one that left no room to refuse.

He rose from his position and drew his sword, assuming a fighting stance opposite Draal.

“Are you ready?” Draal asked.

Jim smirked as he lunged.

Draal brought up his axe to block and returned with his own attack.

They traded blows back and forth. The air was filled with the sounds of battle; the clash of weapons, labored breathing, the slide of steel on steel.

Jim knew he could best Draal in combat. And yet, Draal managed to easily get around Jim’s defense. A wide swing gave him the opportunity to jump forward and knock Jim clear off his feet with the flat of his axe.

Jim dropped his sword and landed flat on his back. He opened his eyes to find Draal standing over him, offering a massive hand.

Jim took it and let Draal pull him to his feet.

“You are not yourself.”

“You don’t know me!” Jim sneered.

“Your balance is off.” Draal demonstrated by striking Jim’s shoulder, causing him to stumble back and crash into the wall. “Your swings are inefficient and sloppy. I have seen you fight. You’re better than this. You are distracted.”

“No, I’m not!”

In the next moment, he found himself again on his back, knocked off his feet by a swift blow to the back of the knees. Draal’s hand came down on Jim’s chest, pinning him to the ground.

Jim struggled, pushing with all his might, but Draal’s strength easily outmatched his own.

“Whatever troubles you, make peace with it now, or you will not come out of this battle alive.” Draal removed his hand and walked away.

Jim lay on the floor panting and squeezed his eyes shut against the truth in Draal’s words. If he didn’t sort himself out, it wouldn’t be the shard that killed him.

He wanted to say he was angry about Douxie’s methods, falsely accusing a man and sentencing him to death, but that was a lie. Jim had killed scores of enemies for much lesser crimes. He didn’t care about Lamorak’s guilt or innocence to one offense or another.

The ugly truth was that his rage was selfish. Douxie had asked Jim if he trusted him with the express intent of betraying that trust, of using him as an ignorant pawn. No, that wasn’t what Douxie wanted … but it sure felt like it.

Jim heaved a shaky breath.

What if it had been true? Would Douxie have admitted to his uncertainty? Would Jim have cared if he did? And, in his place, would Jim have done different? 

A life on the line, countless more in jeopardy. A chance to erase it all at the cost of a lie. If it had been Claire or Blinky who’d been struck, would he have passed up that chance?

… But it was Claire, and Blinky, and even Merlin. 

He remembered again the battle that struck him down. 

They all stood back to back, ready to face the unseen threat … except for Claire.

Why wasn’t Claire with him? She was exposed, vulnerable, and the Green Knight took full advantage of it. He jumped down in front of her, swinging his sword over his head for a crushing blow. 

A blast from Merlin’s staff knocked the knight off course at the last moment. The blade came down at her side with enough force to bury it deep in the ground. 

Blinky moved to help Claire while Jim and Merlin stood against the knight.

Jim ran straight on with a battle cry erupting from his throat. They clashed again and again, until a particularly savage blow knocked him back.

Jim ran back to reengage, but before he could get there, the Green Knight leveled his sword and fired a burst of magic.

And then, nothing but the faint sound of Claire screaming his name. 

The Green Knight was waiting for them in the future. They would fight him again … and Jim wouldn’t be there. He curled his hands into tight fists and grit his teeth. Pressure built around him, squeezing the air from his lungs, pulling tighter until, finally, it popped.

Jim sat up and screamed as he scratched desperately at his chest, trying to tear the shard out, but his fingers slipped off again and again. He drove his fists into the floor with a final defiant shout. 

Jim slowly settled back on the ground as a deathly calm settled over him – the hollow kind of release that comes from having your choice ripped away from you. Tears leaked from his eyes as he lay there, just breathing. It was all he could do. 

His fight was done, and there was nothing he could do about it. No more hero, no more Daylight. He took a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly.

If only he could have saved them, one last time …

---

The sun was high, marking the early afternoon as Douxie oversaw final preparations in the castle courtyard. A sea of horses, wagons, and knights in gleaming armor churned as the army made ready to depart.

Behind him, the rush of hooves and clink of plate armor drew his attention.

Two more mounted knights with their distinctive banners flying galloped up the avenue and stopped short when they saw the gathering.

“What is this?” the taller one demanded.

Douxie stepped up to them. “Well met, Sir Kay, Sir Geraint. You’re just in time. Ready yourselves for battle. We ride momentarily.”

“Who are you to give us orders?”

“Isn’t he Merlin's errand boy?” Sir Geraint asked.

Douxie pulled the sword from his back and planted the tip on the ground with his hands folded over the pommel. “I am Hisirdoux Casperan, king of Camelot by divine right of Excalibur.” 

“King?”

“Tonight, the combined forces of Camelot and Dwoza will fight Gunmar at Killahead Bridge.”

“Dwoza? Camelot would fight beside trolls?” Sir Kay scoffed. “You expect us to believe this blasphemy?” 

“I expect you to honor your oath to protect Camelot.”

“And I see no evidence to suggest that this is not an elaborate trick! Where is Arthur?”

Douxie met their hostility with a calm, stony gaze. “Arthur is preparing to serve Camelot and her king. Will you do the same, or turn against those you’ve sworn to protect?”

Sir Kay opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out.

“How can we trust that what you say is true?” Sir Geraint asked.

With a flourish, Douxie drove the sword into a large cobblestone.

“A fake!” Sir Kay cried, but the waver in his voice betrayed his uncertainty.

Sir Geraint dismounted his horse and approached Excalibur. He wrapped both hands around the hilt, and, with a steadying breath, pulled with all his might. 

He strained against the lady’s power for several long, awkward seconds. His armor creeked in the silence as he adjusted his grip and tried again.

Finally, he released the sword with a heavy gasp.

Douxie pulled the sword smoothly out of the ground and replaced it on his back. “I don’t have time for games. Join us, or stay out of the way.”

The two knights looked at each other.

Geraint sighed. “Very well.”

Douxie nodded. “Lancelot,” he called.

Sir Lancelot appeared a moment later, Galahad at his heels. “Yes, Sire?” 

“See that your brothers are ready to move.”

“Of course.” Lancelot grasped the reins of Sir Geraint’s horse and began walking them into the courtyard.

The new recruits followed – Kay on horseback and Geraint on foot – casting wary glances back at Douxie until they melded into the crowd.

Douxie startled at a firm hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Arthur standing beside him, smiling. “Well done.”

Pride swelled in Douxie’s chest and he smiled back.

He looked out at the assembly, then looked to the sun just beginning its descent. 

He swung up onto his horse and turned to the crowd. 

“Knights of Camelot: it is time! Move out!”

-

Douxie led his forces into the clearing surrounding the troll stronghold, outside of which their stone allies were assembled. 

The knights and trolls glared at each other in mutual distrust with the uneasy truce between them hanging by a thread.

Douxie swung down from his mount. “Secure the horses inside Dwoza; we go on foot from here.”

Behind him, he heard the low din of clanking metal as the knights dismounted and followed his command.

He scanned the troll army and spied Jim standing alone at the edge of the clearing. Douxie took a deep breath and started towards him.

As he walked, Jim’s sharp eyes tracked his movements, but the rest of the hunter’s body remained still as stone.

Douxie stopped in front of him. For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Finally, Douxie gathered his courage and spoke. “I’m not sorry for what I did,” he said slowly. “But, I am sorry that I hurt you.”

“I know,” Jim said.

Douxie hung his head. “You have every right to be angry.”

“I know.”

For a moment, they both stood in silence.

“Thank you,” Jim said softly.

“What?”

“For trying to protect them.” Jim looked up at him earnestly. “I need you to do it again, for me. You’ll be there the next time they fight him. I won’t.”

“You will.”

Jim shook his head with a sad smile. “Give it up, Doux.”

Douxie glared at him, his fists shaking at his sides. Finally, he sighed and his shoulders slumped. Jim wouldn’t believe him, no matter what he said.

Jim placed a hand on his shoulder with a faint smile. “Let’s go. We have a war to win.”

-

The two armies walked in silence, only the crunching of sticks and leaves under their feet telling of their presence.

Around them, the faint sounds of scampering in the brush told of the creatures fleeing the impending fight.

The trees thinned as they approached the ridge overlooking the former river.

In the shadows of the other side, glowing eyes and wicked swords guarded every available space.

As the sun set red on the horizon, its last embers scorched the battlefield, fading until the last barrier between the two forces vanished.

Chapter 18

Notes:

What’s up, I started a new job and as such have had the mental capacity of a potato.

Listen, the battle makes no goddamn sense in canon. The bridge is between the Good Guys Alliance and the gumm-gumms and Gunmar is not guarding it. Deya could just go. Or Claire could portal her with op shadow magic. This fight is purely about aesthetics, I cannot make it make logical sense, just live in the aesthetics (not that anyone is complaining about this, this is mostly aimed at myself because it bothers me when shit doesn’t make sense like that, but this one I cannot fix, my dudes).

I hate writing fight scenes so damn much.

I have also finally encountered a problem that cannot be twisted out of in than I should not have had Douxie use his staff effectively before. I could go back and fix this but I don’t wanna quietly gaslight people so I’ll do that later once this work is complete. Just imagine he didn’t use it yet. 

Around a small bridge in the woods, three commanders stood at the heads of their respective armies. Gunmar led his gumm-gumm hoard, a mix of bloodthirsty trolls and mindless golems. Deya, the trollhunter, was backed by a colorful band of trolls with makeshift weapons and jury-rigged armor. And then, there was Douxie.

The king of Camelot, chosen of Excalibur, stood in front of an army of barely more than a hundred knights.

To his right was the legendary Arthur Pendragon. To his left, the equally renowned Merlin Ambrosius. At his back stood half of the Round Table. 

His friends were there, too. Steve was beside Sir Lancelot. Jim and Claire stood side by side at the border between the human and troll camps, her left hand clasped in his right. Deya was flanked on one side by Arg and on the other by Blinky and Dictatious, with the latter edging as far away from the former gumm-gumm as possible.

Douxie scanned the opposite bank. A rough count told him there were at least three hundred gumm-gumms – much more than they’d hoped. The tension in the air was suffocating as the last of the setting sun bled out of the small valley between them.

He could do this, right? Sure. He had to …

Jim caught his eye, looking over at him with a warrior’s confidence, and nodded.

Douxie released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Not he; they. They could do this. They would do this. With a small smile, he nodded back and turned to face Gunmar’s army. 

Gunmar bared a vicious smile. “Where is your little sword, Arthur?” 

Arthur stood tall and called back, “With the king!” 

Squaring his shoulders, Douxie stepped forward to the edge of the rock opposite Gunmar’s forces and held Excalibur aloft.

“HA!” Gunmar cackled. “This is their king? I could crush him between my fingers.”

“Wizard king!” Douxie shouted with a cheeky grin, calling his staff into his free hand. “I’d be scared, if I were you.”

Gunmar narrowed his eyes and dragged his gaze across the bluff to the Dwoza trolls. “Aaarrrgghh,” he growled. “I thought you were dead. How disappointing. You dare turn against your warlord?”

Blinky shook his fist. “He dares to do far more than that, you contemptuous villain!” 

“Well said, brother,” Dictatious remarked.

Gunmar roared, and the Galadrigal brothers shrieked and grabbed each other. He laughed. “Is this what you traded for? These weak, pathetic cowards? What could they possibly offer you?”

Aaarrrgghh slammed his fists into the ground. “SELF-DEE-TUR-MI-NAY-SHUN!”

“How nice,” Gunmar sneered. He leveled his sword at them and yelled, “ATTACK!”

Deya held the amulet high above her head. “For the glory of Merlin, daylight is mine to command!” and the armor snapped to her body. She pointed Daylight straight at Gunmar. “Charge!”

Douxie raised Excalibur to the sky. “For Camelot!”

Behind him came the answering cry, “FOR CAMELOT!”

Both sides descended into the valley. The clash of steel cut the air, along with the shouts of those wielding it.

Douxie banished his staff and sheathed Excalibur on his back as he entered the fray. Putting nine hundred years of monster hunting to good use, his bracelet flashed and spun wildly as he fired off spell after spell, cutting down enemies as he waited. 

And waited. 

The battle raged on uninterrupted, and every second grated against his nerves. He stopped fighting and looked around.

Towards the bridge, Jim and Claire fought side by side, dispatching gumm-gumms in perfect synchronization. Towards the horizon, Steve and Lancelot were back to back, hacking and slashing any opponent stupid enough to approach. The rest of the battlefield was chaos, a roiling mass of black and silver mixed with the bright coloration of the Dwoza trolls.

A green shield flared in front of his face, blocking a sword swinging towards his head. As the gumm-gumm reared back to strike again, Arthur lunged at it from the side and cleaved its chest open, sending it stumbling back as it turned to stone.

“Focus, Hisirdoux!” Merlin snapped.

Douxie fired a spell at another gumm-gumm over Merlin’s shoulder, shattering it instantly. He turned to his master and shouted over the battle, “Where is Morgana?”

---

High above on a cliff, Morgana stared down at the battle with her brow furrowed. It … wasn’t right. The trolls and the knights fighting together, Arthur hailing Douxie as king – none of it made sense.

An icy wind crept up her back and a pale, unsettling face invaded the corner of her vision. “Your turn, Morgana,” Skrael sang in her ear. The wicked grin on his face made her skin crawl. 

She nodded and pushed her doubts aside. It didn’t matter. Whatever false treaty they’d signed wouldn’t last. There was only one way to end this. 

Morgana held out her hand. Arthur, she thought, and stepped off the edge of the cliff into the middle of the chaos. 

What was before a far-off din was now screeching in her ears. And there was Arthur, facing away from her, standing over the body of his latest victim.

“Arthur!” she roared. “You and I have unfinished business.”

Arthur turned and stared at her, and there was weakness in his eyes. 

“Morgana!” Douxie shouted from her left. He twirled his staff – that was new – and stared her down with a fierceness that on any other day would have been adorable on his baby face. Beside him, the old man held his staff at the ready. “You–”

With a flick of her fingers, Morgana tossed them through a portal.

She turned back to Arthur and reveled in the blank shock on his face. “No distractions. No pet wizards to shield you this time.”

“Sister –”

“I am no sister of yours!” She lunged at him with her staff.

Arthur brought his sword up to block. “Yes, you are! And I have not treated you as such.” He shoved her back and held his sword ready, but did not attack. “You were right. I never forgave you.” 

Morgana screamed and struck again. 

Once more, he held her back with his blade. 

She pushed with all her might, but he was stronger than her and kept her from making any progress.

“I blamed you for what you could not control. I made you into a monster, but I was the one with darkness in my heart. When she died … I lost myself. And then, I pushed away the one person who could have helped me, who could understand.”

Morgana unleashed a pulse of magic that blasted him back, his armored boots scraping against the smooth riverbed. He dropped to one knee, but otherwise kept his balance. 

When he looked back up at her, there was no fury in his eyes, only the same maddening, stinging desperation. “I thought of nothing but my own grief. I forgot that you were there, that you –” he grimaced and looked away, “– that you saw it happen.” 

Morgana stiffened as the memory washed over her. Gwen’s horrifying scream pierced her soul, continuing until her friend could scream no more. She heard that scream for years in her nightmares, and even now it would come back to haunt her. She remembered the fear that froze her body like ice, the guilt of her weakness crushing down on her. If only she’d been stronger, braver, she could have done something. Why didn’t you do something?

Morgana dropped her staff and stumbled back. She remembered the time spent alone in her room, months that felt like years. She would sit in a corner replaying Gwen’s death over and over in her mind, all the while assaulted by her pervasive thoughts. Coward. Weak. Worthless. Useless. It should have been me. It should have been me …

Arthur stepped forward slowly with his sword pointed at the ground. “I forgot … that you loved her, too.” He sighed and shook his head. “Oh, Morgana, I should have mourned with you.”

For a moment her resolve wavered. She’d never realized how badly she needed to hear those words, how desperately she wanted to believe them. 

And then, she remembered the one time she ventured out into the castle in search of Arthur, looking for comfort in her brother. When she found him, the pure hatred in his eyes stabbed through her soul. He brandished Excalibur and shouted at her to never let him see her again, with promises of violence if she failed.

But, she was a noble, the king's sister. After the appropriate amount of time given to grief, she was required to rejoin court life. Neither she nor Arthur could do anything about it without creating scandal, but she knew that he would if he could. She knew he would kill her given the chance. Eventually the fire of his rage cooled to smoldering embers, but it was never gone. He never looked at her the same way again.

She wrapped her arms tight around herself. “It’s too late,” she croaked.

Arthur’s face fell. “I know that I have hurt you in ways that cannot be healed. I will not ask for your forgiveness, but I humbly beg for your guidance.” He gestured to the war raging around them. “All of this must end. I should have listened to you then, but I am here now.” He reached out a hand towards her. “Help me build a future for all of us, of hope rather than division.” 

Morgana shook her head violently and glared at him with righteous fury. “No, it’s a lie! You will say whatever you must to save your wretched skin!” Despite the venom in her voice, she had never been less sure about anything in her life.

Arthur sighed. “I cannot blame you for not believing my words, but what of my actions? Would the man you knew, the man who hurt you so much, be standing here – fighting side by side with trolls, deferring to a wizard as king?”

Those words rang in her head like a tuning fork. Suddenly, it all made sense. “You did this,” Morgana whispered slowly. “You did all of this with your honeyed words.” She looked up with fire in her eyes. “You made Douxie king so you could use him as a pawn! You tricked him into convincing the trolls to fight your battle! You had them, peaceful creatures, throw themselves against Gunmar for false promises of acceptance and friendship! You made sure you were seen joining the battle on their side, creating the illusion of a changed man! And when they’re done with Gunmar, tired and wounded, you will turn and slaughter any who remain!”

Arthur paled. “No!”

“It was only days ago that you sentenced these same creatures to death and hunted them in the woods! You delighted in each one you turned to stone! Do you think I have forgotten how your knights cheered? People don’t change!”  

“Morgana –”

She rose up into the sky and summoned her staff into her hands. “Your reign ends here! We of magic will take what we are owed and rule the world in Eternal Night!” Morgana hurled a bolt down at him, and he barely dove out of the way. She cackled as she threw another, then another, chasing him around in a circle like the rat he was. One caught him in the leg and sent him tumbling to the ground. 

As Arthur scrambled to his feet, Morgana flew right up into his face and swung her staff at his head. 

He raised his mundane sword just in time to block.

She jumped back and blasted the sword out of his hands. It went flying off into the fray and disappeared.

Arthur gaped at his empty hand.

Morgana stalked towards him. “Pathetic little man! What are you without Excalibur?” She saw the fear in his eyes, true, rightful fear of the power magic held. 

In a final act of desperation, he fell to his knees. “Morgana, please! Do not fall to the same darkness I did.”

“Look how you beg for your worthless life! Even at your end you have no honor!” She struck him across the face with the end of her staff, snapping his head to the side. 

“I do not beg … for my life,” he gasped. “I beg for yours.”

“Liar!” Morgan pointed her staff directly between his eyes. “I do not want your pity or your patronizing. I only want you dead .” She charged her staff with all her rage and hatred and –

Something slammed into her, knocking her to the ground, and her spell shot off into the sky. Looking up, she found the young troll in dark armor. The two wizards were several feet away, staves at the ready with – of course – her delightful handmaiden, her own shadow magic swirling behind them. 

Morgana looked at the boy who Arthur had personally ordered to be executed, whose face he had burned in the sunlight. “You fool! Why do you of all people protect him?”

“Hero complex!” he shouted.

With a flick of her wrist, she fell through the ground and appeared high in the air behind him. She held out her arm and gathered magic in her hand as she spoke low and dangerous, “I warned you I would show no mercy.”

“Jim!” Claire shouted.

The troll looked up. His eyes widened, and she fired.

The beam slammed into Arthur’s chest.

Morgana gasped. She hadn’t seen him move, but there he was, standing in front of the boy. 

His chest heaved with ragged breaths as he fell to his knees.

Though the battle raged around her, it was as if a bubble of silence had descended over the scene. 

Morgana stared at Arthur as he stared back. “Brother?”

They held each other’s gaze until Arthur’s eyes unfocused and his eyelids slipped shut. His body fell to the ground with a definitive clank.

“No!” Douxie shouted.

Morgana’s hands hovered over her mouth. She drifted to the ground and knelt before him, reaching out a hand to touch his cheek. Tears fell unrestrained, no longer of anger, but of mourning.

Arthur could lie. He could trick and betray, and he had. She’d had every reason to disbelieve him. But this, here and now, was no trick. He’d given his life for a troll. Amidst the chaos and confusion in her mind, memories she’d long since forgotten floated to the surface. 

They grew up together, barely a year between them. As soon as she could run, they would chase each other through the castle halls, screaming and laughing loud enough for all of Camelot to hear. 

When Arthur was thrust into kingship as a child, he would be stuck in boring meetings with stuffy regents and advisors for hours. She would sneak in and make funny faces behind their backs, and Arthur would struggle not to laugh.

As they got older, he didn’t lose his playful spirit to the rigors of ruling. When his prized hunting dog had puppies, she watched him wrestle with the pups, letting them jump all over him and knock him down while he pretended to be mortally wounded. 

Another time, Arthur was in the courtyard with the knights, competing to see who was the best shot. Arthur’s arrow landed just left of the center, closer than any of his peers’. As they praised his archery prowess, she snuck up behind and fired an arrow past them, straight into the bullseye. When they recovered from their shock, Arthur berated her for interrupting their training, but she could see the pride shining in his eyes.

And even when they were grown, and Arthur had fully taken his place as king, he didn’t forget about her. Once, she was frolicking in the forest with Gwen and climbed a tree to get a particularly shiny apple. She lost her balance and fell, breaking her leg. Gwen raced back to the castle. When help arrived, it wasn’t a lowly squire, or even a Knight of the Round who came to her aid. Arthur personally rode out, responsibilities be damned, and brought her home.

That was the Arthur who lay dead on the ground, slain by her hand.

She threw back her head and screamed. Her agonized shriek cracked, then collapsed into a high whimper as she dropped her face into her hands. Her whole body shook with the force of her desperate gasps. 

Through the cracks in her fingers a pale green light began to glow. She looked up and took in the scene. The troll was still on the ground, raising himself up on his elbows. Nearby, her handmaiden stood with Douxie and Merlin, all of them frozen in shock, but their eyes weren’t on Arthur. A pale green glow emanated from the large jewel in Excalibur’s hilt. It grew steadily brighter until the light burst forth and engulfed Arthur’s body, burning like a second sun.

Morgana staggered to her feet and shielded her eyes.

Eventually, the light faded and all was still. 

Then, Arthur groaned and pushed himself up on his hands and knees. He looked up, and his dumbfounded expression matched that of everyone watching. 

“By the gods,” Merlin whispered.

Arthur slowly rose to his feet with no signs of injury.

Morgana could only stare in stunned silence. It was horrible, wonderful, impossible. Whatever it was, it was fragile. She didn’t dare speak for fear of the vision shattering. What would she even say?

“Arthur!” Douxie shouted. He grabbed Excalibur and flung her into the sky, using his magic to drive her down into a large rock at Arthur’s feet.

Arthur looked at him, then looked down at the sword. After a moment’s hesitation, he wrapped his hands around the hilt and pulled Excalibur smoothly out of the stone. 

He raised the sword above his head in a triumphant tableau. A beam of light shot from Excalibur and exploded across the sky.

The fighting stopped. Everyone, even the gumm-gumm warlord, turned and stared at the spectacle and the sword held firmly in Arthur’s hand.

Douxie grinned. He leapt up onto a fallen gumm-gumm and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hail King Arthur, the once and future king!”

“Hail King Arthur!” the knights shouted, and returned to their fight with renewed vigor. 

Arthur lowered the sword and the glow faded. He looked at the blade, then looked at her. “I will not wield this weapon against you, Morgana. Not again,” he said, and tossed it aside.

Morgana stumbled back. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breaths coming too fast and too shallow. In a haze of pure panic, she turned and fled into the shadows.

---

Fighting was definitely not as cool as Steve thought it’d be. It was chaotic and confusing. He could barely tell which way was up, and was mostly swinging blindly and hoping he hit one of the bad guys and didn’t hit Lancelot. 

At this point, he was fully freaking out. His legs were shaking and his nerves were frayed. “Oh man, I can’t do this. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die!” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. He turned too fast and tripped over his own feet. From the ground, he could only watch as an armored troll charged at him with its sword raised. 

Lancelot jumped in front of him and sliced the creature, turning it to stone. Then, he turned, offering his hand and a brilliant smile. “Courage, Sir Steve!” 

Steve stared up at him in awe. Something in the man’s bright eyes and jolly voice convinced him: he could do this. He took the hand and stood back to back with the knight. 

Lancelot shouted instructions over his shoulder. “Keep your footing. Wait for the right moment to strike.”

Steve took deep breaths as he followed the directions. He adjusted his stance and watched his enemy approach, holding back until the last second before smashing his axe into the creature’s chest and turning it to stone. 

For a moment, he was stunned. Then, he pumped his fists in the air. “Yeah! How you like me now, butt-brain?”

Lancelot laughed heartily.

The creepers kept coming, and Steve kept slaying them. He whooped and hollered, and now fighting was exactly as awesome as he thought it would be. 

Eventually, there were no more challengers. The rest of the evil trolls looked at them in their circle of crushed stone and turned the other way. 

Lancelot turned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Well done!”

Steve beamed at the praise. 

His smile fell as he saw a hulking black shape barreling towards them. “Lance, look out!”

Lancelot turned and brought his sword up just in time to meet the massive blade bearing down on him. He snarled at the sight of his enemy. “Bular! Come to meet your end?”

A wicked smile spread over Bular’s face. “I recognize you, knight,” he purred. “I will enjoy this.”

Steve was paralyzed. Every instinct told him to run for the hills. Where was a hero when you needed one?

Where is Lake?! 

He frantically searched the writhing crowd for that butt snack, with his stupid horns and stupid jacked, stone body and stupid bravery.

Every set of black armor he saw was red with splatters of human blood, not the glow of a magical whatcha-doozit.

No Lake. No badass portal girl. No mega-powerful wizard kid. 

No heroes.

He looked at Lancelot, his mentor, his friend struggling against this creature, and his fear hardened into determination. This was his moment. He raised his weapon and ran forward with a wild battle cry.

Without turning from his quarry, Bular backhanded him like he was a particularly annoying fly. 

The force sent him tumbling across the field until he hit the slope descending into the riverbed. Steve staggered to his feet, using his axe for support. Looking around wildly to regain his bearings, he found Lancelot on the ground, straining with all his might to just barely keep Bular’s blade from reaching him. 

Steve’s voice cracked as he shouted, “Lance!”

Even now, with his armor creaking and his face twisted in a grimace, Lancelot’s voice rang out clear as he offered his final encouragement. “Fight on … Sir Steve!”

Bular roared and pushed his blade down, and Steve looked away. 

He didn’t see what happened, but he heard the crunch of metal and a wet squelch he didn’t want to think about. 

Bular cackled, and it felt like jagged glass scraping over his mind.

His heart was racing. He looked at the monster out of the corner of his eye and tried not to see the bloody massacre on the ground. 

Bular grinned and took a step towards him.

“AH!” Steve screamed and sprinted into the forest. 

The twilight was fading fast, and under the canopy of the trees it was already dark as night. 

Steve ran forward blindly. He was fast – ‘course he was, he was MVP for crying out loud – but Bular was faster, and each thundering step was louder than the last. 

The world lurched as his foot caught on a root and he crashed to the ground. He rolled onto his back. The faint light falling through the leaves like dim stars provided just enough light to see the hulking shape leap into the air above him. 

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and braced for the end. 

Bular shouted, and the ground shook beneath them.

Steve opened his eyes and stared in amazement. Somehow, an incredibly convenient tree had fallen on the troll. Except, then, the tree moved. It curled around Bular, lifting him up and slamming him into the ground over and over, scraping his stone skin against a nearby boulder hard enough to produce sparks. Then, it pulled back and flung him into the night like Team Rocket blasting off again.

As he stared up at the sky through the patch of broken branches, a pale green glow illuminated the trees around him. He looked down to see what had saved his life, and his blood ran cold. 

It was a tentacle.

Steve looked over his shoulder and saw the enormous kraken the tentacle belonged to, whose tooth he had on a stick, looming over him. He shrieked and scrambled backwards.

His back hit something damp and squishy. He turned and found another tentacle behind him, blocking his escape. He squeaked and raised his arms in front of his face in a desperate attempt to protect himself. “Please don’t kill me! I’m too cool to die! You can have the tooth back, I’m sorry!”

“Calm, young knight. I will not hurt you,” she said, and no attack came. 

After several seconds of hyperventilating, Steve peeked through his defense.

There was no malice in the Lady’s expression, or what he could make of it. She looked … concerned. She tilted her head to the side and asked in the gentlest voice, “Why are you crying?”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat. He blinked and felt the tears he hadn’t noticed spill down his cheeks. 

All at once, his fear left him, and he was just tired. He dropped his arms and slumped back against the tentacle. “He … he killed Lancelot.”

The giant eye instantly narrowed to a slit. “I know,” she roared in a multi-layered screech that sounded like a wounded pterodactyl. The water around her roiled, and Steve trembled. 

Then, her shoulders sagged under her veil and her head drooped. She shut all three of her eyes tight, and he somehow got the feeling that she was crying, too.

For a long moment, there was silence between them with only the faint sounds of battle in the distance.

Finally, she straightened her back and opened her downcast eyes. “We … will mourn him later.” She raised her heavy head. “Now, you must carry on. Make him proud.” The tentacle behind him pushed him to his feet. “Go! Bring him justice, and send me my champion.”

Steve was tired and scared and confused as hell, but her words resonated with him. For Lancelot. He took a deep breath and dredged up every scrap of courage he had left, and ran back towards the battlefield. 

---

Douxie watched as the shadow door opened behind Morgana.

Arthur’s eyes widened. “Wait!” He ran towards the portal, but it disappeared just before he reached her and his hand caught empty air. The once and future king stood with his back to their small circle, his chest heaving.

Claire silently moved to help Jim to his feet.

Douxie was a few steps back, still trying to process what had just happened. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t … that. 

“My Lord –” Merlin started, but Arthur held up a hand to silence him. 

The king trudged over to where Excalibur lay. He picked her up and stared at the fractured blade, and said in a soft murmur, “… The battle continues.” Then, he shouted and threw himself at the nearest gumm-gumm with a violent fury he hadn’t shown before. 

Merlin stepped up beside Douxie, his eyes fixed on the king. “We must find her.”

“Do you … think she’ll come back?” Douxie asked.

Merlin shook his head. “I do not know what she will do, but we cannot wait to find out.”

“Hey, Magic Man!” called a voice from behind them.

Douxie turned to see Steve running towards him.

He slowed as he got closer, stumbling the last few steps and bracing his hands against his thighs. “I mean, Lord Magic Man.”

“What is it?”

Steve gasped and panted as he threw his thumb over his shoulder. “Your magic mom wants you.”

“My …” Douxie looked into the darkness and saw the glow of the Lady illuminating a beckoning tentacle. “Uh, right. Merlin I’ll –”

He looked back to see Merlin already at Arthur’s side. Jim and Claire were running back towards the bridge with Steve lagging far behind.

Douxie took a deep breath and ran to the edge of the battlefield.

When he reached the trees, he sank to a knee and bowed his head. “My Lady.”

Nimue placed a thick, black tentacle under his chin and lifted his head. “You need not bow to me, champion,” she spoke gently.

Douxie stood and sheepishly clutched one arm with the other. 

“You have served me well. I am in your debt.”

“You’re … welcome?”

His crown rose into the air. It floated in front of the Lady for a moment, then disappeared.

Douxie drew what felt like his first deep breath in a long time as a much heavier weight was lifted.

Nimue raised her head and looked past Douxie. “What you seek is not impossible.” 

He followed her gaze to where Jim was clashing with a hoard of gumm-gumms.

“Return to me in the future,” she said. “Reclaim what is yours, and you will have my blessing.”

A wild grin burst on Douxie’s face — he could save Jim. He turned back to her and bowed. “Thank you.”

When he raised his head, he found the Lady staring down at him with a troubling expression.

“You have one more battle to fight,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

An image appeared in a nearby puddle — Morgana’s horror stricken face stared back at him before disappearing into the void. The image stretched and twisted as it zoomed through the undergrowth, until it stopped at the edge of a cliff where a deep ravine cut the land. 

Douxie’s heart sank. “But, surely … if Arthur could change then Morgana—”

The Lady shook her head. “Darkness will consume her. It is inevitable. If you are to return to your home, two wizards must lock her away.”

Douxie swallowed thickly and tried to keep his voice from shaking. “I don’t understand. You told me it didn’t have to be this way. Morgana is stronger than her anger. I know she is!”

“AN ORACLE DOES NOT LIE, CHAMPION!” she roared. Another image appeared in the pool: Morgana blasting her way through the streets of Camelot. The fires burning around her shimmered off her golden armor. 

Screams and a twisted cackle filled his head. Douxie slammed his hands over his ears, but it did nothing to dampen the sickening sound. 

She reached out her hand and pulled a sniveling child out of a dead mother’s arms. They cried as Morgana drew them closer with a wild grin on her face and her eyes glowing a sickly green.

Douxie’s legs gave way and he crumpled to the ground. “Stop!” he screamed as he shut his eyes tight. He shook his head violently as a tiny shriek ripped through his mind. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!”

The sounds faded, leaving him shuddering and gasping on the forest floor.

“You are not wrong about your friend,” the Lady said, “but the fury that condemns her has already taken root. Her fall is decided by nature herself.”

“What does that mean?” Douxie croaked.

“All will be clear in time. Go to her and speak of redemption. It will not make a difference.”

Douxie pushed himself to his knees and glared up at her with fire in his eyes. “You’re wrong. I’ll prove you wrong.”

The lady shook her head. “I am sorry.” With that, she turned and disappeared.

Douxie glowered into the darkness. He stood on shaky legs and ran back into the chaos. Screw the Lady and her prophecies, he wouldn’t abandon Morgana. He skidded to a stop where Arthur and Merlin were cutting down scores of gumm-gumms with ease. “I know where to find Morgana.”

Arthur immediately turned and stepped towards him. “Take me to her,” he commanded.

Merlin placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “No, my Liege. You are needed here.”

Arthur hesitated. He looked around at the ongoing battle and sighed. “Bring her back to me, safe. I’ll not yet give up on her.”

“Neither will I,” Douxie swore.

Arthur gave him a firm nod, and the wizards took off into the woods.

---

The Lady’s directions led them to a scar on the face of the earth. A treacherous path led down towards a crack lit with a faint orange glow. 

The two master wizards picked their way carefully along the narrow ledge. On one side was a craggy wall. On the other, a sheer drop that seemed to go on forever.

All the while, Douxie’s mind was elsewhere. He turned Nimue’s words over and over in his head.

‘Darkness will consume her. It is inevitable.’

All along, she’d told him to follow his own path, to defy expectations, and now he was supposed to kill Morgana or forfeit his future? To damn one for the sake of the many? That couldn’t be right. It wouldn’t.  

Merlin held out his staff, blocking Douxie’s path, and glanced at him over his shoulder. “Prepare yourself,” he said gravely. “We have no idea what horrors await us.”

Douxie frowned. “But Arthur said —”

“I know what Arthur said. ‘Safe’ does not mean ‘unharmed’. Morgana is dangerous!”

Douxie quickened his pace and stepped in front of Merlin just before the mouth of the cave. “Stay here. Let me talk to her first.”

“For what purpose?” Merlin drawled.

“To try to reason with her.”

“Morgana made her intentions clear. Are you so naive that you deny what she did to Arthur? What she was going to do to James Lake?”

“Are you so blinded by your bullshit ideas of good and evil that you deny what happened after?”

“And what of the roll she is to play in your future?”

Douxie hesitated. If Morgana didn’t bring the Eternal Night, would their future change? No. If oracles don’t lie, then trusting himself was the right move. He had to try. “I’ll figure it out.”

Merlin rolled his eyes and sighed. “When your plan fails, I will be ready to step in and clean up your mess.”

“When my plan doesn’t fail, you can tell me how wrong you were.”

“Fine,” Merlin huffed.

Douxie let out a held breath. “Thank you,” he said as he turned back to the cave entrance.

Merlin caught his arm and pulled him back around, fixing him with a stern glare. “If you die and leave me to face her alone, I will never let you hear the end of it.”

Douxie stared at him. Then a warm smile broke over his face and he nodded. “Understood.”

-

Inside the cave was dimly lit. Chandeliers of twisted metal and glowing orange crystals hung above him. One side was open to the same chasm they’d seen from the outside. While the walls were rough and jagged, the ground was smooth, as if worn away by use. Natural pillars as big around as redwoods supported the high ceiling.

This was certainly … something. Something deliberate. A tomb or a home or –

Out of the darkness emerged a carved throne with a massive troll skull mounted above it and suddenly, he saw everything. 

Round iron grates were set into the floor. Piles of bones jumped out of the shadows, some human, some troll. What he had dismissed as a trick of the light above him revealed themselves to be rusted cages hanging from the ceiling, some still containing the skeletons of their captives. He gasped as he realized where he was: the hall of the gumm-gumm king.  

Fuzzbuckets! He jumped behind a pillar, his heart racing. 

It’s fine, he told himself. The cave was empty. Gunmar and all his troops were at Killahead. That fact did nothing to temper the deep feeling of dread crawling up his back. Cautiously, he peeked around the pillar. 

Even in the low light, Morgana wasn’t hard to find. She sat against the wall at the back of the cavernous room with her knees clutched to her chest and her long bangs hiding her face. 

Douxie stared at her and debated what to say. Despite his righteous objections to Merlin’s hostility, he knew this was a delicate situation. Morgana was cornered and scared. One wrong move, and she would lash out, regardless of his intentions, or hers. He had to –

“You got your staff, Little Douxie.” 

Douxie startled at her voice and stumbled out of his hiding spot. 

She coughed out a wet, hollow laugh. “The old man thought he needed another master wizard to take me down?”

Douxie took a deep breath and started slowly forward. “No. He gave me a staff because I finally started acting like you. Trusting in my own strength, arguing with him, not asking for permission to do what’s right.” 

Morgana didn’t respond, but Douxie could see her shoulders shaking. 

“What’s wrong?”

She was silent for a long time. Eventually, she turned her head and laid it on her knees. “He changed.”

Those two words slammed into him, knocking the air from his lungs. They were everything. Admission. Acceptance. The tremor in her voice spoke of regret and remorse.

He blinked back his own tears and failed to keep his voice from shaking as he said, “Yes.”

“Why?”

Douxie considered the question. “I … don’t know. That’s something you’d have to ask him. But I know I wouldn’t have wielded Excalibur if it weren’t for his encouragement.”

“I didn’t think it was possible,” she said, her voice thick with tears. 

“I know.” He took another hesitant step forward, then another. 

“I don’t understand. I hated him so much. I wanted him dead. But when my spell hit him, all I felt was the agony of losing my only brother.”

A melancholic smile pulled at Douxie’s lips. “Reminds me of Arthur’s reaction on the bluff. When you fell, he was inconsolable. As if … it takes disposing of what we took for granted to realize what we had.” He took another step towards her. “He wanted to come to you. He told us to bring you back safe.”

Morgana shook her head. “How can he forgive me?”

The question stopped him in his tracks. He struggled to find the words for something so enormous but so simple. “He … loves you.”

“He shouldn’t,” she snapped.

“Why not?”

Morgana jerked her head up, tear trails shining on her cheeks. “Look at me!” she screamed. “Look at the choices I’ve made! I’m a monster!” Her wild eyes matched the frantic breaths hissing through her teeth. Then, she blinked, and her face crumpled back to despair. “What have I done?” she croaked.

Douxie sighed. “You’ve done … some bad things. But I know you. You are not a bad person.” He started forwards again, slow but steady. “Bad people don’t worry about whether or not they’re bad people. They don’t cry over their mistakes. They don’t admit that they were wrong.” 

Morgana stared steadfast at the floor. 

“You’re not a bad person,” he repeated. “You’re just … hurt.”

She shook her head. “That’s no excuse.”

“No, it’s not. It’s an explanation.”

“Who cares?”

“I do. I love you, Morgana. And so does Arthur. And … and Merlin, in his own dysfunctional, emotionally-challenged way.”

She barked a sharp laugh. 

He reached out a hand towards her. “Come back with us. We can fix this.” 

Morgana shook her head. “How can I possibly redeem myself? They hate me.”

“They may hate the person you were, but they can learn to love the person you become. Show them who you can be.” Douxie knelt in front of her. “Take my hand. Please.”

She slowly lifted her head to look at him. 

He cracked a small smile.

She hesitated for a long moment before smiling weakly in response and placing her hand in his. 

Douxie yanked her up and pulled her into a tight hug. 

He felt the tension leave her body as she relaxed and tentatively wrapped her arms around him in return. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I know.” He pulled back to look at her.

Tears still shone in her eyes, but her smile was as bright as the sun.

Douxie felt his own tears welling up when –

“TRAITOR!” a horrifying chorus roared.

Morgana gasped, and they both whipped their heads around towards the discordant voice. 

There they were: all three members of the Arcane Order, glaring down from their perch on a ledge high above. 

“Naughty, naughty, Morgana,” Skrael taunted.

Before either of the wizards could move, Nari threw her hands out and vines burst through the ground beneath them, lifting them into the air and pinning their arms and legs.

Douxie struggled against the vines, but they only pulled tighter, squeezing the air from his lungs.

“Hisirdoux!” Merlin shouted from the mouth of the cave.

Nari snapped her head towards him and another vine erupted from the ground to seize the old wizard.

Morgana shrieked. Her eyes turned pure black and she disappeared with a whoomp.  

The vines fell limp to the ground. 

She appeared in the air above the Order and fired a barrage with her staff. 

Bellroc slammed their staff against the ground, producing a wall of flames that absorbed the shots.

Skrael pointed his staff at her and shot a hail of icy blades.

Morgana barely dodged each one and returned fire with her own magic knives. 

A shard of gold nicked Skrael’s ragged black cloak. He looked down at the damage and turned back to her, his eyes blazing. “How dare you?”

Bellroc lashed out with a molten whip that left charred lines on the wall and floor where it hit. 

Nari’s mouth twisted in a viscous snarl. She held up her hands and a root shot up out of the ground like a spear.

Morgana portaled out of the way a split second before it hit.

The battle continued like that, a chaotic ballet of fire, ice, roots, and gold. It was nearly impossible to track what was happening. All Douxie was sure of was that Morgana was holding her own against three deities, and it was incredible.

She portaled away just as fire and ice crashed together, producing a billowing cloud of steam.

For a moment, it seemed like the fight had ended. There was no buzzing of magic, no war cries as the steam washed over everything. 

A sickening crack pierced the silence, followed by a high scream from Morgana. Something clattered to the floor, and then, there was silence.

The steam cleared to reveal all three demigods winded from the fight and Morgana stabbed through the stomach by Nari’s root, pinned to the wall like a butterfly. 

“Morgana!” Douxie yelled.

Skrael was the first to recover. He dusted himself off and floated towards her.

Morgana struggled against the spear stabbed through her side.

“You have become quite the troublemaker,” he said as he slid his hand up her cheek. “So disobedient. And disobedience must be punished.” Fractured blue lines spread from his fingers, bringing with them an icy white sheen. 

Morgana shrieked as the frost spread across her face, her pain in stark contrast to his sadistic grin. 

“Enough, Skrael!” Bellroc commanded.

Skrael removed his hand and the ice retreated. 

Morgana gasped for breath.

He turned and frowned at his sibling. “You really are no fun.”

“We do not have time for your games.”

Nari slowly pulled the root back and Morgana dropped to the floor.

She pushed herself up on shaky arms and glared at them. “Kill me, then,” she spat through her labored breathing.

“You are not the one who will pay for your betrayal,” Bellroc growled.

Skrael and Bellroc pointed their staves at the ground and a flurry of fire and ice rose in a column. When it cleared, there was Arthur, looking around wildly with Excalibur clutched tight in his hands.

“Arthur!” Morgana screamed.

Arthur’s eyes immediately fell on her broken and bloody form. “Morgana!”

“Quiet!” Bellroc swung their staff and hit him solidly in the back of the head.

He fell to his knees and dropped the sword.

Douxie gasped. He strained against the vines, twisting his fingers between the coils.

Skrael circled around Morgana. “You were to be our champion. To end the tyranny of man.” 

“No, stop!” She scrambled forward despite the gaping wound in her side and reached out for Arthur. 

Vines lashed around her ankles and yanked her back. 

She yelped as her head hit the floor.

“Such a disappointment,” Skrael hissed.

Douxie’s fingers broke through the layers of vines. He beckoned the sword towards him. It shuddered and slid a few inches before falling silent again. 

Come on, come on!

Arthur groaned and struggled to his knees, panting heavily, his head drooping to the side .

“But, not to worry. We will rectify your incompetence.” Skrael grabbed her long braid and Morgana grunted as he jerked her head up.

“Let go of her!” Arthur roared as he lunged at Skrael.

Bellroc snatched him by the back of the neck and shoved him to his knees. 

He clawed at their hand and screamed curses. 

Skrael placed his staff under Morgana’s chin and lifted her head to watch as Bellroc raised their spear, the point centered over Arthur’s heart. 

Please, Nimue! Douxie prayed.

The sword shuddered, then flew at him and sliced through his binds. 

He dropped to the ground and snatched Excalibur out of the air, leveled it at the Order, and shouted, “Ad lucem-”

Skrael turned with a snarl and hurled a volley of ice shards at him. One struck his hand while several others hit Excalibur, sending her flying into the abyss.

“No!” Douxie threw up a shield as a torrent of ice rushed at him. The force of the blizzard was slowly pushing him towards the sheer drop into the ravine. His foot slid back and he felt nothing under his heel.

He grit his teeth and pushed back as hard as he could. Leaning into the assault, he managed to stop his movement and stand strong against the attack.

“Insolent pest!” Skrael hissed. He swung his staff and a sharp blast of wind slammed into the shield, knocking Douxie clear off his feet and over the edge.

“Hisirdoux!” Merlin cried.

As he fell, Douxie reached out and desperately grasped the cliff with his fingertips. The jagged rock bit into his hands. He winced, but held on while he caught his breath. Looking down, he saw only endless darkness. 

Douxie closed his eyes and grit his teeth, and pushed through the pain in his fingers to pull himself up. He got one arm on the floor, then the other. Finally, he pushed himself onto solid ground and looked up just in time to see Bellroc plunge their spear through Arthur’s chest. 

Morgana screamed, “NO!”

Bellroc ripped the spear out and dropped him to the ground with a gaping hole in his chest. 

Arthur fell forward and landed shakily on his hands and knees. Slowly, painfully, he raised his head and gasped in a faint, wheezing voice, “Morgana … I’m sorry. I love you, sister.” His eyes spilled shut and he collapsed into a growing pool of blood.

The vine holding Morgana’s leg withered and died, and she scrambled forward, clutching at Arthur’s face, his arms, whatever she could reach. Her wailing filled every corner of the room. She hugged Arthur’s body tight and bent her head over his. For a moment the only sound was her mourning. Then, she jerked her head up to face the Order. “I’ll kill you!” she shrieked through her tears. “I’ll kill you all!”

Nari stepped forward. Her stony face was somehow more terrifying than Skrael’s rage or the malice rolling off of Bellroc. “No, you won’t. I gave you life. You belong to us.” She raised her hand over Morgana’s head and her eyes glowed a solid, vibrant green. 

Morgana’s head snapped back and she screamed as a stream of gold flew out of her mouth and into the goddess’ hand. 

Nari closed her tiny fist. The light extinguished, and Morgana collapsed to the floor beside Arthur.

“Morgana!” Douxie cried.

Nari’s head whipped around and her buzzing eyes pierced through him.

His horrified gasp froze in his lungs. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even blink under her withering gaze.

A column of fire erupted around them. When it cleared, the Order and Arthur’s body were gone.

---

Deya was slicing her way across the battlefield, cackling all the way. Daylight danced in her hand, following her lead like a practiced partner. 

She spied Jim facing off against a particularly large brute, swinging his sword over his head to meet the gumm-gumm’s axe. He grunted as he pushed back against his enemy’s blow. Slowly, the axe pushed closer and closer to his face.

Deya stabbed her sword straight through the gumm-gumm’s back and pulled it out with a flourish. 

Jim jumped out of the way just before it fell and crashed to rubble at his feet. He gave her a look of pure exasperation and sighed. “Can you please take this seriously?” 

“Aw, you mad I’m showing you up?”

Jim rolled his eyes.

Deya was about to rub it in further when an explosion on the battlefield blasted human, troll, and gumm-gumm alike back from the point of impact. She braced against the wall of wind that swept out in all directions. When the dust cleared, the three figures she’d seen in pictures and projections were standing in the center of a shallow crater. 

The fiery one stepped forward, brandishing their spear. They shouted in a thousand horrible voices, “Your king is dead!” as they tossed Arthur’s bloody body to the ground.

“What?” Jim gasped.

Silence descended over the battlefield. No one even breathed. 

Then Gunmar’s booming laugh shattered the quiet, and panic took hold.

The knights turned to look at each other. Shrieks and sobs arose from the crowd.

                             “It can’t be!”

          “What do we do?”

Deya looked around at the human army quickly unraveling. She leapt up onto a nearby rock and held her sword high, catching the last of the fading light. “Humans of Camelot: do not let Arthur’s death be in vain! You must now shoulder the burden he carried.”

All eyes turned to her. Across the battlefield, Gunmar growled.

“Fight on, and his spirit will live through you! Make him proud to have been your king!”

The humans rallied, raising swords and fists into the air. They turned back to the battle, and now their strikes were faster, fiercer.

As the clash of steel rose around them again, Jim turned to Deya. “It's now or never!”

Deya nodded and sprinted towards the bridge. She ducked under axes and dodged around swords. Ahead of her, both the human and troll armies fought furiously to clear a path.

Just as she’d nearly reached the bridge, the fire demon appeared before her in a burst of flames, brandishing their spear.

“Step aside, sparky,” Deya said, spinning the sword in her hand.

“Pitiful creature,” the discordant voice spat. “You dare threaten a god?”

Deya shrugged. “Never was one for religion.” She swung the sword like lightning at their head. 

They leaned away, but not far enough, and Daylight shattered the stupid bird skull they wore as a mask and slashed across their eyes.

Lava poured from the wound. The creature let out a scream straight from the pits of hell before a column of fire erupted around them. When the flames cleared, they were gone.

“Coward,” Deya scoffed.

She turned at the sound of heavy footsteps behind her and found the hulking form of Gunmar approaching.

Deya smirked and readied her sword. “Surrender and I’ll let you run away like a little bitch.”

He glared down at her. “Surrender? To a troll who thinks she is a knight?”

Deya scowled and charged at him with a wild battle cry. 

Gunmar swung at her head.

She slid under his arm and jumped to her feet behind him.

He turned and swung again.

Deya brought her sword up to meet his with all her might, but he was stronger, and his blade came steadily closer to her face. She rolled to the side just before it slammed into the ground, then jumped and ran up the edge of his corrupted sword. With a mighty slash, she carved a deep wound across his chest. 

Gunmar’s blood-curdling roar shook the entire forest. 

Deya landed deftly on the other side. She turned and balanced her sword on her shoulder with a cocky grin. “Is that really the best ‘The Skullcrusher’ can –”

-

The next thing she remembered was lying in the dirt looking up at the bridge. Pain radiated through her body. A loud ringing in her ear drowned out all other sounds. She turned her head and found her sword hand empty. 

She also saw Gunmar stalking towards her. Each furious step shook the ground harder than the last. Slowly, the sounds of battle returned, and the cacophony was back to full volume by the time he reached her.

The Skullcrusher slammed his hand down on her helmet and pushed. 

She tried to fight back, but with her head still spinning and his unreasonable strength, she may as well have been punching titanium.

Gunmar sneered. “Pathetic! But not unexpected from a troll who would wear a knight’s armor.”

Deya snarled deep in her throat. “I am not a knight! I am the trollhunter!”

She pulled the amulet off her chest. The armor dissolved, releasing her from his hold. She ducked under his arm and bounded up the bridge to slam the amulet into place. 

A pulse of light threw her from the bridge. She landed with a grunt and sat up just in time to see the blue magic that had spread through each crack and engraving on the bridge fall back into the amulet, and a hungry void burst from the ground below. 

A furious wind whipped around her as the portal began to spin. Blue threads splayed out from the amulet and lashed around the arms, legs, and necks of the remaining gumm-gumms. Some tried to pull the binds off while others scrambled to cling to the remains of their fallen comrades. Eventually, they all lost their grip and were pulled into the portal.

“NO!” Gunmar shouted as he clung to the bridge. “That cannot be! How?” One of Gunmar’s hands was ripped from its position on the bridge’s railing. As he struggled to regain his grip, his other hand came loose and he was sucked into the portal. His screams and curses went on until the last gumm-gumm was swallowed and the portal closed, leaving a sudden silence.

The amulet fell into the creek bed with a ting that rang out across the battlefield.

Deya sat and stared dumbfounded at the quiet little bridge-over-nothing for what felt like an eternity.

Then, a resounding cheer erupted behind her, made up of voices both familiar and foreign.

A strong hand clapped her on the back. “Deya, you did it!” Jim cheered.

Deya just kept staring. It was … over. It was really over.

She pushed herself to her feet and walked towards the bridge in a trance. The amulet lay quietly at her feet, giving no indication of the devastation it had wrought moments ago. She bent down to pick up the small device, tiny in a troll’s hand, and stared at the clock face set against a starry blue background. 

Turning around, she found the battlefield alive with celebration. Trolls and humans were cheering and helping each other up.

It wasn’t possible. But … it was. Gunmar and his armies were gone, and the war – both wars – were over. 

Slowly, her face broke into a brilliant smile.

---

Douxie scrambled up from the edge of the cliff and ran to Morgana, falling to his knees at her side. He rolled her onto her back and violently shook her shoulders. “Morgana, wake up, please, Morgana, please!” he sobbed as he held her face in his hands. 

The slow footsteps approaching from behind him barely registered as he begged fate to be merciful. 

“Wake up! You have to wake up! Please, no!” He took her limp hand in his and brought it to his forehead. “Morgana … please …”

“Hisirdoux,” Merlin called gently, kneeling beside him and placing a hand on Douxie’s shoulder, “you did all you could.”

Douxie slowly folded her hand over her stomach and turned his face into Merlin’s shoulder. “She changed. She changed and then they, they …”

“I know,” Merlin said as he wrapped him in a tight hug.

“It’s not fair,” he sobbed.

“No, it isn’t.”

Douxie couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so much like a child, so helpless against the fierce cruelty of the world. He sniffed and looked back at the silent face of his friend. Beside her, her staff lay silent and cold. He hugged it to his chest and tried to take deep breaths as Merlin folded him back into his arms.

It’s not fair. Morgana chose hope and forgiveness. She reached out for love and trust to pull her out of the darkness. She changed … and it didn’t make a difference. 

Merlin’s warm embrace hardened into cold steel, and Douxie’s eyes snapped open to find his mentor staring past him with a look of unbridled horror.

Douxie turned around and instantly saw why. 

Morgana’s body was rising slowly into the air, her limbs dangling and her head hanging limp. 

“Morgana?” Douxie whispered.

Her eyes snapped open, glowing a solid, virulent green. She held out her hand and yanked her staff out of Douxie’s grip.

“Not anymore!” Merlin shouted. He pulled Douxie out of the way as she threw a ball of shadows that would have hit him square in the chest.

“No. No, no, no, no, no,” Douxie chanted, shaking his head and clutching himself tight.

Merlin struck the floor with his staff and a green dome settled over them. “She is too powerful to destroy. We must seal her away!” 

“No, we can bring her back, we have to–”

Merlin grabbed him by the shoulders. “Hisirdoux, Morgana is dead! Her soul is gone!” 

Another black bolt crashed against the shield.

“What would she want now that those she swore vengeance upon are using her empty husk to do their bidding?”

Douxie turned his head slowly and forced himself to look at his former friend. Her mouth was set in a cruel grimace as she hurled spells at them. And her eyes … they were the eyes from Nimue’s vision, the same eyes that had stared him down, cold and uncaring, after she tore Morgana’s soul from the body that was now her puppet. 

Douxie huffed a shaky breath and narrowed his eyes. A fire sparked in his gut. He sniffed and wiped his face on his sleeve before turning back to Merlin. “What do you need me to do?”

“Keep her busy while I prepare the spell.” Merlin dropped the shield and ran to the mouth of the cave. He drove his staff into a crack in the stone floor, closed his eyes, and began to chant. 

Morgana scowled and collected buzzing darkness in her hand, forming a void that seemed to pull on the light around it.

Douxie pulled back his arm and lashed a spectral chain around her, pinning her arms to her sides. 

She thrashed against it like a feral dog on a leash. 

He tried to pull her back, but she was frightfully strong. Just keeping her in place was impossible enough. 

Finally, she turned and flew at him instead. The chains went slack and shattered as they hit the ground. She raised her staff and shouted as she swung it down towards his head.

“Gah!” Douxie ducked under her swing and scrambled away.

“That’s right, run away like the pitiful worm you are, whelp!” She swung again. 

This time, Douxie summoned his staff and brought it up to block. “That’s ‘master wizard’ to you!”

The crack of her staff striking his rang out through the cavern as she drove him steadily back. 

Douxie pushed her off of him as hard as he could. He twisted his bracelet and threw a minefield of traps down on the ground between them. 

She nimbly dodged around them and swung again. “You’re no match for me, Little Douxie.”  

The name burned in his chest and he snarled, “Only Morgana gets to call me that!” 

“I am Morgana!”

“You are a demon.” He wrapped both hands around the bottom of his staff like Jim had shown him and settled into a low fighting stance. Swinging his staff like a broadsword, he hit her as hard as he could with all the force of his anger and frustration. 

She was right, though. His old tricks wouldn’t be enough against Nari’s pawn. It was time to teach her what happens when you mess with a master wizard.

He jumped back and struck the end of his staff against the floor. “Tenebris exilium!”  

The gem in his staff burned bright, sputtered, and fizzled to embers. 

“What?” he squawked.

Morgana fired a spell at him. 

Douxie dove to the side. He rolled to his feet and pointed his staff at her. “Magna torna tuess!”

Again, the gem glowed, then spat out a pitiful offering of sparks. 

Morgana cackled. “What kind of ‘master wizard’ can’t even wield his staff?” 

The words stung coming out in Morgana’s voice, and he didn’t block the next blast that sent him tumbling across the floor to his master’s feet.

Merlin’s eyes were still closed and his hands clasped tight around his staff while green sparks slowly carved a sigil into the floor.

Douxie coughed and pushed himself to his knees with his head hung low. “I can’t do it.”

“Yes, you can,” Merlin said. The magic froze in place as he stopped chanting.

“But–”

Merlin offered him a hand up. “You are trying to use your staff as I do. Your staff is a part of you. Make it your own.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Douxie flinched as a ball of darkness hurtled towards his head. 

Merlin’s hand shot out. A brief green barrier flared in front of him and blocked the blow.

“Magic is emotion. Use your emotions. What makes you happy? What makes your magic sing?”

Sing.

All the chaos in Douxie’s head fell away as the low plucking of strings on an electric guitar filled his mind. 

His next breath was slow and controlled, and the next. His scattered thoughts sharpened to a fine edge. 

He picked his staff up off the ground and pushed himself to his feet. 

A steady drumbeat joined, pounding in time with his heart. He pushed Merlin’s hand away and the shield faded. 

Douxie squared off opposite Morgana, narrowing his eyes and tightening his grip on his staff. “I'm gonna fight 'em all.”

Morgana scowled.

He glared right back at her. “A seven nation army couldn't hold me back.”

He gripped his staff with his other hand and held it ready before him. “They're gonna rip it off.” The crystal in his staff glowed bright. “Taking their time right behind my back.”

Morgana lunged.

Douxie jumped back, dodging and ducking under her attacks. He felt faster now, smoother as his footwork matched the beat. Step, step, block, step, block, spin, duck, clash. He fired a burst of magic from his staff. This time, it worked. 

As the spell flew at Morgana, she raised her arm and the bolt broke against her bladed bracer. She ran forward with a fierce battle cry and swung her staff at his head. 

Douxie brought his staff up to parry. 

Sparks sprayed each time the staves clashed. With each hit, Morgana drove him a little farther back. Yet, while her eyes burned with rage, Douxie smiled wider. 

He feigned from the right, then slipped his staff under hers to attack from the left. 

Morgana stumbled back, dropping her stance. 

Douxie let go with his right hand and used his full range of motion to swing wide. “And the message coming from my eyes says, ‘Leave it alone’!”

He felt taut wires form beneath his fingers, and as he brought his staff around, he saw a shiny, beautiful, fire-engine red Stratocaster clock Nari’s abomination in the fucking face. An explosive blue force sent her flying into the wall.

“Holy–” he swore as he examined the guitar in his hands. “This is nuclear!”

“What in the nine hells is that?” Merlin demanded.

“You said to make it my own,” Douxie said, strumming experimentally on the guitar.

“It’s a weapon, not a lute!”

Douxie wagged his finger at his master. “Ah, ah, not a lute. Spellcaster guitar.” 

Morgana’s head snapped up and she growled. 

“This is no time for music!” Merlin nagged.

Douxie rolled his eyes and dropped into a ready stance. “Don’t you have something you’re supposed to be doing?”

Merlin grumbled and resumed his chanting.

Her eyes fell on the green sparks carving out grooves in the floor. She rose into the air and pointed her staff at Merlin. 

“Hey!” Douxie barked as he jumped in front of his master. “You’re dancing with me!”

Morgana fired. 

Douxie’s hand slammed down against the strings and a wave of blue magic rushed out from him. It met Morgana’s spell in the middle and they exploded on contact. 

The look of shock and horror on her face put a cocky grin on his. “Hah!”

Morgana floated back to the ground and closed her eyes. Her voice echoed unnaturally through the room as she incanted, “Ortum obumbratio.”  

The shadows ran from the corners, collected around her, and now there were seven Morganas stalking towards him.

Douxie’s smile evaporated. “Oh no.” 

The clones moved to surround him, each summoning twin daggers into their hands.

Douxie’s eyes flitted from copy to copy as they surrounded him. He grit his teeth and held his hands ready over the strings. “I was really hoping you’d be more of a solo act.”

Six shadows lunged at him while Morgana lifted back into the air and fired spells from above.

Douxie dodged and blocked, throwing up frantic shields against his attackers with disjointed bars. It was all he could do to stay on his feet, and he still wasn’t coming out unscathed. 

A clone swiped at his neck. 

Douxie jumped back, but not far enough, and the blade sliced his cheek. He stumbled and struck a desperate chord. A dome of magic exploded from him, blasting his attackers away. 

He panted in the brief reprieve. 

When the light faded, the shadows fell right back on him. 

His heart was pounding. Fear was there, but also, inexplicably, a rush of excitement. It was the same feeling he got when he performed on stage. He leaned into that feeling and got faster, more accurate, moving on instinct and sensing the space around him. Incantations flowed through his fingers and came out as crashing riffs. 

The clones were fast, but predictable, and soon he knew the tempo of their attacks. He adjusted his song to match and fell in step with the music. Then, it was his turn. 

One clone lunged at him from the left. 

His fingers flew over the strings and a blast of magic shot from the head of his staff and drove that clone into the wall where it shattered into smoke. 

He flipped his guitar around, grabbing it by the neck, and brought it down on another's head.

The four remaining clones lunged at him.

Douxie jumped back and sprinted across the room. He dodged around a few bursts from the original, perfectly aimed for where he’d been just half a second before. As he ran, he ripped a giant grate out of the floor, then turned and hurled it at the clones like a discus. Two jumped out of the way, another ducked, but one wasn’t fast enough. The grate bisected it at the waist, and it disappeared.

He continued to shred on his guitar. Sparks leapt from the strings, collecting on his fingers. A lightning storm burst forth and lanced through two more clones. 

The last one pounced at him.

He slammed his hand down on the strings, and the resulting sound wave blasted the clone to scraps of shadow in mid-air. 

Morgana dove through the dissipating smoke and tackled him with her staff pressed against his throat, knocking the guitar out of his hands. 

He seized the staff and pushed back as hard as he could, but she was stronger, and was slowly forcing the bar closer, crushing his windpipe. 

Douxies hands shook as he gasped for air. 

Morgana’s twisted smile bore down on him as hard as the staff. 

Darkness was encroaching on the edge of his vision when – 

“Sigilia –” Merlin’s voice rang out clearly. The lines in the floor glowed green.

Morgana’s eyes widened.

“– Infractum –” 

With a swipe of her hand, she flung Douxie to the side. 

He hit the wall, and his vision went black. 

-

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was his guitar laying on the ground several feet in front of him. The next thing he saw was Merlin collapsed on the floor, and Morgana slowly floating towards him.

“No!” Douxie wheezed. He scrambled to his feet and snatched his staff, turning the dial up to eleven, and struck one massive power chord that hit Morgana square in the back. 

She shrieked and flew into the wall hard enough to leave a minor crater. Cracks raced through the stone from the impact, and as she crashed to the ground, pieces of the ceiling fell on top of her. 

The recoil launched him back into the wall. His staff vanished as he crumpled to the floor. Douxie winced and rubbed the back of his head. When his vision cleared, he remembered what had spurred him to such drastic action. “Merlin!” He scrambled to his feet and ran to his master's side. “Are you okay?”

Merlin groaned weakly and opened his eyes. He drew a wheezing breath, and when he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “I’m sorry … Hisirdoux. You must finish this alone.” His eyes slipped shut and his body went limp in Douxie’s arms.

“Merlin!” Douxie shrieked. No, he couldn’t be dead. He’s Merlin.

Through his hysteria, he noticed the steady rise and fall of his master’s chest. 

He’s alive. It’s okay. But then, why was he down? Wizards healed at alarming speeds due to their magic –

Douxie’s breath caught in his throat. He reached out with his own magic, looking for Merlin’s. It was there like the shuddering flame of a nearly-dead candle.

That’s right. History was realigning. Morgana would be sealed away at the cost of Merlin’s magic.

Douxie took a deep, shuddering breath. He’s alive, he kept telling himself. He’s alive – but he would need time to recover. Nine hundred years …

A feral scream pierced his ears. He turned and watched Morgana burst up out of the rubble.

Douxie jumped to his feet and summoned his guitar. “You want more? Well, how can I say ‘no’ to a fan?”

She shrieked and flew at him.

He shredded on his guitar harder than before, pouring all his pain and anger into the music. Flashes of blue and black ignited in the darkness. In the back of his mind was a whisper of pride that he was holding his own against such a powerful opponent.

But holding his own wasn’t good enough. He had to finish what Merlin started. He had to seal her away, but her constant attacks didn’t give him a moment to even consider it.

What’s more, he could feel himself waning. His muscles ached and his head was pounding. 

A bolt of darkness slipped past his defense and hit him in the shoulder.

He grit his teeth against the pain. His fingers tripped on the strings and a jarring screech came out. His shield faltered.

Morgana kept firing spells. 

One hit him in the leg, another in the stomach. He doubled over on the ground, gasping.

The shelling stopped, and he couldn’t imagine why. Had she granted him mercy?

He looked up and found that he was not nearly that lucky. 

Morgana’s hands were raised high above her head, charging a devastating spell. 

As soon as he saw it, Douxie knew it would hit him. He wouldn’t move fast enough to avoid it, and he couldn’t raise a shield strong enough to deflect it.

She hurled the magic down at him. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the blow.

“Get away from my teacher!”

The distinctive sound of a portal bloomed right in front of him and Morgana shrieked.

Douxie opened his eyes to find her reeling.

Footsteps echoed behind him, then Claire fell to her knees at his side. “Douxie, what’s happening?”

Relief flooded through him at the sight of his student. He panted a few deep breaths, then let her help him shakily to his feet. “I need to seal her away, but I can’t do that with her attacking me.”

Claire turned to her enemy and narrowed her eyes. “Do it. I’ve got Morgana.”

Morgana righted herself in the air and flung a dart at Douxie. 

Before it could hit, a tiny purple portal swallowed it. A matching portal appeared in front of Morgana and the dart grazed her cheek.

Douxie smiled at Claire with glowing pride. Then, he turned his guitar back into a staff and jammed the end into the floor, flooding the sigil with blue light. 

He knew the spell Merlin had been casting. It was big, complicated, and he paled at the prospect of having to cast it on his own. I can do this, he told himself. He took a deep breath and began.

“Sigilia –”

Morgana shrieked. She slashed the air with her staff, throwing bolt after bolt down at him, but Claire kept turning them right back on her.

“– Infractim –” 

Morgana fired a rapid barrage from her staff. Each shot came back at her from a different angle. One struck her hand and sent her staff flying. It clattered to the floor and tipped over the edge into the abyss.

“No!” Morgana yelled.  

“– Causera!” The light instantly collapsed into the center and blasted up around her. Stony skin covered in runes grew from her feet up her legs, seizing her hands, running up her neck, and locking her in an eternal scream.

With a cry of her own, Claire made one more portal and cast Morgana into the shadows.

Douxie collapsed to his knees with his hands still clasped white-knuckled around the handle of his staff. 

Claire ran over and put a hand on his shoulder. “Oh my God, Douxie, that was incredible!”

Douxie didn’t respond. He leaned his forehead against the cool metal as silent tears poured down his face.

“What’s wrong? You did it! And Merlin will be okay, right?”

“They killed her,” he whispered.

“What?”

“She wanted to change. To make things right. And that – thing. The forest spirit, Nari,” the name was like broken glass in his mouth, “she took Morgana’s soul. She killed her and turned her into that … that –”

Claire threw her arms tight around his shoulders. “Oh, Douxie! I’m so sorry!” 

He dropped his head against her chestplate, and when he spoke, all that came out was a strained whisper. “They killed Arthur right in front of her. They made her watch.”

She squeezed him tighter and nodded. “I know. They showed up on the battlefield to gloat.”

The battle. Right. Douxie dragged himself back to the present. “How did it go? The bridge –?”

“Deya opened the bridge. Gunmar and his armies are gone.”

“Good.” Douxie used his staff to pull himself to his feet and marched with heavy steps to where Merlin lay with the Staff of Avalon resting just past his fingertips. 

Douxie curled Merlin’s hands around the staff, leaving it securely clutched against his chest.  He gathered his fallen master in his arms and didn’t look back as he said, “Let’s go.”

---

Douxie and Claire appeared on the top of the gently swaying tower. 

Jim and Steve were already there. 

Steve was leaning over the side between two battlements, watching the ground drift away. “Woaaaaaaaaah!”

Jim gave him a playful shove and Steve shrieked before Jim grabbed him by the collar of his armor and pulled him back to semi-solid ground.

“Dude! I’ve already fallen off this tower once!”

Jim chuckled. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” He caught sight of them and stepped forward. His smile fell when he saw Merlin in Douxie’s arms. “Is he –”

“No!” Douxie assured him. “No, just … sleeping.”

“I’m sorry.”

Douxie only nodded in response. “I’ll be – right back.” He turned and walked towards the stairs. 

-

Douxie heard the chaos as soon as he entered the tight spiral staircase leading down from the roof. Screams of terror funneled up through the tower, collecting into a piercing caterwaul at the top. 

As he reached the main walkway, he peeked over the railing all the way down to formerly-ground level. The balconies were crowded with people fleeing, grabbing whatever weapons, armor, or wealth they thought would protect them. Decorum and pride were long gone. Servants trampled nobles in their panic with no regard for status. A few were running back through the crowd, announcing their horrifying discovery that what they felt was no mere tremor — they were trapped. 

The scene set his nerves on edge. He’d seen it before, run from the accusations and flames; a witch hunt was coming. Arthur may have changed, but Arthur was gone, and in the calamity, frenzied people would look for someone convenient to blame. Someone different …

They didn’t have much time. 

 Douxie opened the door to Merlin’s study with a flick of his wrist.

The room was a disaster. Books and papers were strewn across the floor and every available surface. On the table, a basket of forgotten meat pies had tipped over and was definitely staining the pages of an arcane tome with grease. He was briefly glad Merlin wasn’t awake to see it.

Young Hisirdoux was hunched over the table in an awful position Douxie was intimately familiar with, and that he knew would wreck his back before long. Zoe and Archie were on either side, shuffling through notes and scrolls.

Douxie rushed in and slammed the door behind him. “You need to go, now!” he commanded.

“I just need a little more time!” Hisirdoux shouted over the creaking of the castle.

“We don’t have any more time! You all need to leave. With Merlin gone, Camelot is no longer safe.”

Hisirdoux froze. “... Gone?” He turned and saw Merlin limp in Douxie’s arms. A high squeak escaped his throat as his hands flew to his mouth and tears started to fall. 

“No! No, not gone,” Douxie reassured him. He hurried over to the table and lay Merlin’s body down.

Hisirdoux reached out to touch his master's hand. A bit of color returned to his face as he found it to be warm.

“He’s alive, just … sleeping. For 900 years.” Douxie turned to his younger self and saw the pain and confusion on his face. He took a shaky breath and said, “You’re on your own.”

The dials on the vault spun and the door swung open. An ornate wooden box with a skiff-in-a-bottle resting on top floated out and settled on the table. 

A small green wisp emerged from the latch and spoke with an unmistakable voice. “Hisirdoux: if you are hearing this, then the worst has come to pass. I am not dead, but whatever evil I faced has left me drained of nearly all my power. I will need time to recover, somewhere safe. Everything you will need is in this box. Leave Camelot. Leave England. Without my influence, I cannot guarantee your safety … or mine. Go to the continent. You must build–”

“– my tomb,” Douxie said with the voice. “I remember this.”

Hisirdoux looked between the box and the empty safe. He took a deep, shuddering breath and turned back to Douxie with a look of steely determination. “Can you get to Camelot in your time?”

“Yes?” 

With a wave of his hand, Hisirdoux closed the door. The colored locks spun and settled into place. “I’ll leave my findings in the vault. I’m close. Please, I can do this!”

“The castle isn’t safe anymore,” Douxie argued.

A light sparked in Hisirdoux’ eyes. “I have something for that.” He walked up to the door, shifting the ring on his bracelet to collect several runes. Then, he placed his hand on the wood and a blue glow shimmered across its surface.

Douxie stared in awe. He approached the door and examined the spell. It wasn’t quite the same, not as powerful as his, but it was a selective lock that would keep out non-magical intruders. And, for his minimal skill level, it was very well crafted.

Hisirdoux turned back to him. “I figured it out! Well, mostly. I had to improvise, don’t know as many runes as you, but–”

Douxie seized him in a tight hug. “You brilliant moppet!” His heart swelled with pride for his younger self, and just a bit of guilt for doubting himself so much all those centuries.

When Douxie let go, Hisirdoux was smiling bright enough to light up all of England. “I can do this,” he repeated. “We can do this.” 

“Okay.” Douxie turned back to the safe and studied the combination. Red, blue, orange, green, yellow, blue. Red, blue, orange, green, yellow, blue. Then, he turned and shared a solemn look with his familiar. “Keep them safe.”

“Of course,” Archie promised.

With a final nod, Douxie ran back up to the roof.

-

When Douxie returned, he saw Jim and Claire standing at the edge of the tower with their hands clasped. They stared up at the last wisps of the twilight’s blue and purple display, fading into the night as the stars took their place.

As he ran up to the console, he kept repeating the combination that would save Jim’s life. Red, blue, orange, green, yellow, blue. Red, blue, orange, green, yellow, blue.

Douxie fitted the time map into the controls and calibrated it for the moment they left. It wasn’t hard to find. The Heart of Avalon gravitated towards the existing tear in reality. He checked his work one more time, then activated it.

The mechanism spun wildly and the rings all slotted into place. With a deafening roar, it fired a green beam into the night, cutting a ragged hole in the sky. 

He pulled a folded scrap of paper out of his pocket and studied the words carefully. It was a complicated spell, one he’d never done before. He’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. 

Douxie took a steadying breath, then turned and hopped down to join his friends. “Okay. The portal won’t stay open for long. Jim, here’s what I need you to do.”

Jim frowned. “No.”

Douxie balked at the word. “What do you mean, ‘No’?”

“I mean, it’s over. You’re not going to try to save me. I don’t want you to.”

“What are you talking about?” Claire asked.

Jim sighed. He turned to her and took her hands. “Claire … when we get back, I’m going to die.” 

“Wait, what?” Steve squeaked.

Claire gasped. Her small frame trembled, and Douxie could see tears welling up.

Jim offered her a bundle of letters wrapped in twine. The top one had her name on it. “Hand these out, would you?”

“No! No, no no no no!” She shoved the letters into his chest and stumbled back. “There has to be a way!”

“There is!” Douxie insisted. “There will be, in the future! Jim–”

Jim rounded on Douxie. “I won’t let you destroy yourself trying to save me! It’s over!”

Douxie narrowed his eyes. “Who said I was going to do that?”

Jim glared at him and didn’t answer.

“It was Merlin, wasn’t it?”

“I didn’t need him to tell me. We all saw last night!”

Douxie stepped forward. “Merlin is not infallible. He’s wrong. I have a plan–”

Jim shoved him back. “I said ‘No.’” 

It felt like a punch to the stomach. 

A burning rage rose up in him at Jim’s nerve, his audacity to say ‘no’. For him of all people to refuse to be saved. Jim knew. He knew how strong Douxie felt about this. He shook with the force of his anger, his fists clenched so tight his nails dug into his palms. 

Then, he closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His muscles relaxed. Douxie regarded Jim with stony resolve and said in a cold monotone, “Fine. Let’s go.”

“No, Jim–” Claire sobbed.

The trollhunter turned and started walking away. “I’m sorry, Claire.”

She ran forward and yanked his arm back with all her might. “What about your mother? What about Toby and Blinky and Aaarrrgghh?” 

He hung his head and sighed. “They’ll live. If we don’t all go back right now, the future won’t exist.” 

“But what about our future? What about me?”

Jim turned back to her with a sad smile on his lips. “Claire,” he took her hand and raised it between them with the ring shining to the sky, “I’m always with you.” He brushed her tears with his other hand and leaned in. 

Claire’s face twisted in wretched fury. “NO!” she shrieked as she shoved him away. She pulled the ring off her finger and threw it at him. It plinked off his horn and fell to the ground. With tears in her eyes and an audible wheezing from the frantic sobs wracking her chest, she glared death at him and spat, “Take it back!”

Then, she turned and ran onto the skiff, leaving the boys in stunned silence.

Jim’s eyes were wide. Douxie watched his heart break like a painfully slow train crash. The bastard deserved it, but still … he couldn’t help but to feel sorry for the trollhunter.

Steve turned to Jim and furrowed his brow. “Dude,” he scolded before following Claire up the steps.

“I –” Jim started, but he choked on his self-sacrificing justifications. He sighed, and with his eyes fixed on the floor, he trudged towards his doom.

Douxie watched the retreating martyr – saturated with Merlin’s ideas of the greater good, the many over the one. No. He wouldn’t lose another friend. Jim wasn’t going to sacrifice himself, not this time. 

With a twitch of his fingers, he summoned the ring to his hand and dropped it into his pocket. Then, he ascended the steps and assumed his position at the aft of the ship. He summoned his staff and jammed it into the controls, perhaps a little harder than necessary. 

As he unmoored the ship and started steering it slowly towards the portal, he took stock of the scene. 

Claire was curled up on the deck, crying into Steve’s shoulder while he rubbed gentle circles into her back. 

Jim was just standing there, staring down at them, looking utterly lost.

Douxie stepped forward and placed a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Jim didn’t look at him as he said in a strained whisper. “It’s okay. You did all you could.”

Douxie narrowed his eyes. “No, I haven’t.” His bracelet glowed and lightning shot through Jim’s body. 

Jim screamed and collapsed to the deck. 

Douxie glared down at him. “Not yet.”

His body shuddered for a moment, then went still.

“What the what?” Steve shrieked.

“Jim!” Claire clambered to his side. “What did you do?” she demanded, her voice breaking on the last word. She glared up at him with black tears running down her face and a feral snarl on her lips. 

Douxie paid her no mind as he started punching in a complex series of runes on his bracelet. “He’s just stunned,” he assured her. “All I need is for him not to fight me.”

“Why?”

He locked in the combination and lifted his eyes back to the murderous shadow witch. “Claire, please, trust me!”

Claire stood her ground for a moment. Then, her face fell and she backed away. 

Douxie let out a breath. “Thank you.” He crossed his arms in front of him and formed his hands into his signature devil horns. “Conquiescamus crystallis!”

Jim’s body lifted up into the air and a blue point appeared above his chest. It spun, faster and faster, until it burst into a wide halo of wispy light. 

Douxie held out his hands and began molding the spell. 

The light condensed and hardened into fractured panes poised around Jim’s body. 

But the more solid the pieces became, the more they repelled each other. They slipped past each other, squirming and twisting like magnets with the same charge. 

Douxie grit his teeth and pushed harder.

As he forced the magic tighter, his hair and clothes whipped around him in a maelstrom that affected only him.  

The panes were nearly touching, and the light had grown to a blinding intensity. 

Douxie felt the sides click together half a second before a shockwave threw him against the back wall of the ship and he fell to the deck. 

Faintly, he felt slim but strong arms pull him up off the ground. A tiny hand supported his head. 

He looked up to find Claire’s wide brown eyes staring down at him. Beyond her, Steve was holding Jim in a multi-faceted crystal coffin. “I don’t have a way to save him now,” he said slowly and carefully, “but I will. I swear.”

Claire’s bottom lip trembled. She didn’t say anything, only giving a curt nod and helping him to his feet. 

Douxie held tight to his staff. With a last, long sigh, he raised his head and looked towards the future. “Here we go.” He pushed his staff forward and guided them through the rift.

Notes:

Song is “Seven Nation Army” by The White Stripes. I’m generally not a fan of song lyrics in writing, but I couldn’t think of any different way to get the same effect.

I hate shadow magic so much, it’s too damn op, fucks up everything. The ability to just NOPE out of any situation. This should be illegal.

Also, did y’all know Nimue is Lancelot’s mom? In Arthurian legend, Nimue yoinked adopted Lancelot and raised him in her lake-that-isn’t-a-lake faerie city. Of course, in Arthurian legend, Galahad is also Lancelot’s son. Morgana should technically be the older sibling bc they have the same mom and Uther had Morgana’s father killed so she must have been born first but whatever.

Spells:

Conquiescamus crystallis – Nap crystal

Y’all know the rest

Chapter 19

Notes:

Guess who’s not dead.

I’ve been doing a lot of stuff for work and started grad school so when I get home I have the energy of a soggy potato but it’s been getting marginally better recently to the point where I have actually had a few brain powers left to work on this. God I hate academia.

In this house we do not acknowledge movies that shall not be named, nor any spells they may or may not have introduced.

Mild warning for Steve remembering his dad being an abusive piece of shit.

900 years passed in an instant.

The time travelers emerged to a present of chaos. Camelot was tumbling slowly through the air, tilted almost completely sideways. Shards of the Heart of Avalon were falling with it. Their magic seemed to still be working enough to stop the castle from plummeting at terminal velocity.

On the balcony of Merlin’s tower, Douxie saw his friends clinging to the battlements. He dove towards them and pulled the skiff up alongside.

“Douxie!” Archie flew up and nuzzled his face.

“Took you long enough,” Merlin griped as he climbed aboard.

“Take the wheel!” Douxie shouted.

“What?”

While the others were scrambling off of the falling castle, Douxie jumped onto the balcony and ran inside. 

“Hisirdoux!”

Archie flapped after him. “Douxie, what are you doing?”

Red, blue, orange, green, yellow, blue. Red, blue, orange, green, yellow, blue.

Douxie ran down the short hall into Merlin’s study. One door lay flat while the other hung from its hinges. He ducked under and stopped short, staring at the chaos. 

The study was almost unrecognizable. The large table that used to dominate the room was overturned against a wall, which was now the floor. Below it was a small mountain of priceless, ancient tomes, a sea of broken glass, and the ongoing reactions of potions that were never meant to be mixed.

The vault hung directly above him. He leapt onto the table and grabbed the thick trunk in the middle with Archie close at his back. Red, blue, orange, green, yellow, blue.

As it fell, the castle was slowly rotating, and the bookshelves were dumping their contents one after the other as they hit the critical angle where gravity ripped them from their home. 

Just as Douxie got his bearings, an avalanche of books rained down on them. He grabbed Archie and threw up a blue disk above their heads. The books crashed against it with a thunderous clap. 

When the shelling ceased, he dropped his shield and turned his attention to the vault. With a simple wave of his hand, he spun the dials to the proper sequence. Red, blue, orange, green, yellow, blue! 

He’d been expecting a scroll, maybe a book. When the door fell open, the chest that had contained Merlin’s message plummeted and hit him right in the stomach. 

“Oof!” He reflexively wrapped his arms around the box. Just what the hell had his younger self left him?

“Douxie!” Archie shouted.

Douxie followed Archie’s gaze up to where another bookshelf was about to fall. 

Right. He could figure it out later. They needed to go now. 

He hauled himself to his feet. Just as he turned to leave, a green blur shot across his vision. It was small, roughly human shaped, and he could’ve sworn there were antlers on its head. 

A cold pit opened in his stomach. It couldn’t be. There was no way. 

He turned to Archie. “Did you see that?”

“Douxie, we have to go!” Archie insisted.

“Hisirdoux!” Merlin called.

Another hail of books rained down on him. Douxie jumped out of the way and scrambled back to the balcony, looking around wildly for any sign of the creature, but all he saw was the ruins of the once-great castle and the menacing skull looming before them. 

He jumped back onto the skiff. “Go!”

“Go where?” Claire asked. 

“Anywhere that’s not here! Just make a portal, now!”

“But she doesn’t have her staff!” Toby shouted. 

Claire held out her hands and a portal appeared before them. 

Toby’s jaw dropped. “Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?”

“Punch it!” Douxie grabbed his staff and yanked it forward, sending them shooting into the darkness.

-

The skiff crashed and skidded down a dim street in Trollmarket, assaulting them with the horrible screech of metal meeting stone. It slowed until, finally, it came to a stop, and the only sound was their collective coughing and groaning.

Douxie stumbled down the battered wing, still clutching the chest. “Is everyone okay?”

A chorus of moaning answered. 

“Ooooh, everything hurts,” Toby groaned.

Archie launched himself from the railing and tackled Douxie, shoving the box into his stomach. “Douxie! You’re alright! You are alright, aren’t you?”

Douxie hugged him back and sighed. “I’m … alive.”

The others disembarked one by one. Claire staggered down on shaky legs. Steve jumped, his armor crashing against the stone. Blinky was hanging from the railing, reaching as far as he could with his stubby legs that were still three feet from the ground. Aaarrrgghh picked up both Jim and Blinky and jumped down with a dull thud.

Safely on the ground, Toby threw his arms around Claire. “Claire, that was amazing! When did you learn to do that?

Claire gave a nervous laugh. “It’s been an … eventful week.”

“A week?”

The cavern shook as a deafening crash came from above, dislodging rocks, dust, and several stalactites. 

Aaarrrgghh wrapped his massive arms around them all, protecting them from the worst of the fallout. When the debris had settled, the weary group separated into a ragged circle. 

“What now?” Claire asked. 

Douxie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He ran down the list of current emergencies. Jim was safe for now, but the Order would find them. They needed somewhere to hide. Somewhere warded …

Zoe.

He opened his eyes and immediately noticed the creature peeking out from behind Merlin's leg. The same creature that had stared at him while she tore Morgana’s soul from her body.

“Master, Look out!” Douxie summoned his staff and aimed it right at her accursed head. 

“Hisirdoux, stop!” Merlin stepped in front of her.

Blue sparks gathered in the gem in Douxie’s staff, growing steadily brighter. “She’s here!”  

“I know.”

“What?” The magic fizzled out in the wake of his shock.

“Nari is under my protection.” 

Douxie sputtered. All the questions in his mind collided into an unintelligible mess. How? Why? He snatched the clearest thought he could manage and blurted out, “She’s one of them!”

“Not anymore,” Merlin insisted. “Nari left the Order and turned to the side of good.”

“Good? She killed Morgana!”

“Morgana?!” Toby startled. “Wait, why would we be upset about someone killing Morgana?”

“Morgana’s choices were her own,” Merlin argued. 

Douxie shook his head, fighting back tears. “No! Not anymore. That thing took her, twisted her into something unnatural.”

Merlin narrowed his eyes. “What did you do in the past? Did you not listen when I warned you about meddling with time?”

“Shut it! You don’t know what you’re talking about! You don’t remember!” Douxie’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “But you will.”

The two wizards stared each other down, neither giving an inch. 

In the stalemate, Nari stepped out from behind Merlin. “I am so sorry if I hurt you.”

“You’re sorry?” Douxie hissed. His anger boiled under his skin as tears now poured unrelenting down his face. He grit his teeth, barely keeping himself from exploding, and that resilience was fading fast. 

He didn’t realize how bad he was shaking until an armored hand landed on his shoulder.

That hand was joined by a tight hug and a flapping of wings just before a familiar weight settled on his shoulder. Steve stepped around in front of him, blocking his view of Nari and Merlin. 

As soon as he lost line of sight, the red faded from his vision and suddenly he didn’t have the strength to clench his teeth or tense his muscles. 

Douxie slumped forward, gasping in desperation. His staff slipped from his fingers and clattered against the floor.

He clutched the wooden box tightly, the edges biting into his skin while his muted sobs echoed in the dead silence.

Claire squeezed him tighter. “Douxie, I know you’re hurting right now, but we have to keep moving.”

He forced himself to take deep breaths and pushed his feelings down. “You’re right.” His shaky whisper carried through the cavern. “We’re not safe here.”

“Relax, dude,” Toby leaned casually against Aaarrrgghh, his arms crossed with lazy ease. “Trollmarket’s got a cool magic wall.”

“I’m afraid not, Tobias,” Blinky corrected. “The heartstone was the source of all Trollmarket’s magic. Without it, there are no defenses.”

Toby blanched. “Hey guys we gotta get out of here like yesterday, chop chop!”

Douxie pulled out his phone and tried to unlock it, but all he got was a black screen.

Dead. Of course it was.

He sent a shock of magic through it and the screen lit up. After the infuriatingly long startup sequence, he called Zoe. 

The phone seemed to ring forever. Each empty drone increased his anxiety. Come on, Zoe, pick up!

When she finally answered, her greeting was entirely predictable. “What did you do, Casperan?”

“What?” Douxie squeaked indignantly. “It’s not my fault!” 

Distant screams and sirens came from the other end of the call. 

Douxie shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. We need safe haven!”

Zoe made a sound of disgust and Douxie could feel her rolling her eyes. “Fine . ”

Douxie didn’t waste any time. “Claire, we need to go to Hextech.”

“Where?”

Douxie dragged a hand down his face. “Blast! You don’t know Hextech, and you don’t know Zoe.”

“Why is it always the end of the world in Arcadia?” another voice demanded from the phone. “Can you not have an emergency for five mekrons?” 

The voice was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it. 

Toby, however, seemed to have no such problem. He grabbed the phone and pulled it down. “Wait, is that Krel?”

“You mean the shoplifter?” Zoe drawled.

“I do not lift shops!” 

Toby hurried over to Claire. “Claire, portal us to Krel!”

“Who?”

“Krel! Remember, the two kids from Cantaloupia?”

Claire’s eyes widened. “Him? I met him once!”

“Claire, focus!”

She closed her eyes and held out her hands. The air warped and shifted, but no portal formed.

“Do it already!” 

“I can’t get a solid grip! The emotional anchor isn’t strong enough.”

Douxie took a deep breath. With feigned calm, he placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke softly, “Claire, we need to get out of here. Do what you can.”

Claire looked at him, then turned her head back and closed her eyes. She grit her teeth and reached forward, grasping desperately at the air.

Scattered shadows stretched and curled, gathering into a knotted mess before her. Finally, the portal stuttered open. 

“Come on!” Douxie waved for the others to follow before grabbing her hand and pulling her through.

-

They emerged in the alley behind the Arcadia theater, just a block away from their target. From the street came the telltale sounds of calamity; screeching tires and slamming doors, people screaming in the dark.

Douxie peered around the corner, then slammed himself back against the wall as the menacing ship drifted towards them. “Get back,” he hissed. 

The party pressed themselves against the wall as tight as armor and stone skin would allow. With a tap of his staff, Merlin erected a dome of magic. 

Deep-red searchlights shone from the eye sockets, sweeping over the town. The beams wandered into their alley and drifted lazily along the walls, until, finally, the ship turned and headed away from their hiding spot. 

Douxie waited until it was completely out of sight before letting out a shaky breath and peering around the corner at the deserted street. “This way,” he whispered as he led them towards the brightly lit cube of Hextech. 

The lobby was sparsely populated. At the desk was a boy Douxie recognized from the Battle of the Bands as DJ Kleb, and from his surveillance of Arcadia as the Akiridion royal, Krel Tarron. The only other customer was an imposing man who seemed altogether mildly perturbed by the whole apocalypse situation. 

Zoe was standing behind the front desk, glowering with her arms crossed firmly over her chest and her mouth drawn in an impressive frown. Her expression grew darker with every additional refugee who piled in. She sneered, and Douxie didn’t have to look to know that Merlin had made his entrance. “Hisirdoux, what the fuck? Explain, now!”

“No time, Zoe. We need to hide or the Arcane Order will find us.”

Zoe’s jaw dropped and her face went white as a sheet. “The … the—“

Douxie grabbed her wrist and yanked her towards the employee-only door. He took the key card hanging from her neck and swiped it through the card reader. The door opened and he shoved her through.

“Everyone in!” He stayed at the door, watching through the large windows for any sign of the Order. When the last of his friends had made it through, he ducked in and closed the door behind him.

Douxie panted, then pushed to the front of the group and led them down a dimly-lit hall and into the enchanted room under the store. It was only once the door closed behind the last of their party that he braced himself against the wall and breathed. 

Toby plastered himself against the door. “Are we really safe here?”

“Hextech is warded,” Douxie assured him.

“Against gods?”

“We can only hope.”

“Seriously? More gods?” Krel demanded as he walked up and jabbed a finger at Toby and Steve. “I saw you two less than one horvath ago. What is happening? And why is Steve wearing a safety suit?”

“Uh …” Steve waffled.

Aaarrrgghh set Jim on the coffee table and Krel’s eyes immediately locked onto the frozen troll. “Seklos and Gaylen, what happened to him?”

Douxie sighed. “It’s a long story.”

Before he could say anything else, a firm hand landed on his shoulder and spun him around to face a very angry hedgewitch. 

Zoe grabbed him by the front of his shirt and yanked him down to her level. “The Arcane Order? What the fuck did you do?”

He flinched at the look of pure rage on her face before scrunching up his own in indignation. “Don’t look at me! Merlin’s the one harboring a fugitive!”

“Watch your tongue!” Merlin snapped. “This ‘fugitive’ is the only thing preventing the Arcane Order from wiping the world clean.”

Douxie shot his master a dirty look before turning back to face Zoe. “Look, Zoe, just please–”

She gave him a sharp shove. “Take the apocalypse to your own place!” 

Douxie froze as the memories rushed back from what felt like so long ago. The mephits. The knight. The smoke and flames choking his lungs and burning his eyes. “They already did,” he spoke haltingly. “The bookstore is … it’s gone.”

Zoe’s face went through a rainbow of emotions in an instant; concern, anger, fear, sadness, frustration. Finally, she sighed, crossed her arms, and muttered, “Fucking wizards.”

Douxie’s shoulders sagged as he let out a long sigh. “Thank you.”

“So, what do we do about Jim?” Toby asked. 

Douxie turned back to the strange collection of people.

“S’all good,” Steve said easily as he clapped Toby on the back. “Dumbledork is gonna bring Lake back.”

Merlin stiffened. “I don’t know what Hisirdoux has told you, but Jim Lake is doomed.”

“No he’s not,” Douxie insisted. 

“Oh? Just what do you plan to do?”

“I don’t know!” Douxie’s grip reflexively tightened on the wooden box. He hugged it tighter and let out a long breath. “... Yet.” He sat heavily on the couch and placed the chest on the table.

“What’s that?” Claire asked.

“This is how we’re going to save Jim.” 

Douxie flipped the latch and lifted the lid, only to immediately be assaulted by a putrid smell. He slammed the lid back down and gasped for air. Around him was a chorus of retching and groaning. 

“What is that? It smells like moldy feet!” Steve gagged.

Douxie held his breath and cautiously opened it again.

Whatever was in there was surely worthy of a gold medal at the state science fair — a lumpy gray mass flecked with pink spots. It was somehow slimy, furry, and dusty all at once. Spores fluttered in the air as he removed the only unspoiled item: an oiled leather tube, used for protecting documents. 

He broke the wax seal and carefully pulled out the rolled up scroll inside. As soon as it was free, he tossed the tube back into the chest and slammed the lid shut, holding it together as tight as he could to muffle the worst of the smell. 

After a moment to breathe, Douxie unrolled the parchment and started reading. 

Hi, me! I thought you might be hungry after your trip, so I sent you some meat pies because I know they’re your favorite.

Oh, gods. Douxie let out a long sigh.

Aaarrrgghh pointed to the chest. “Done with this?”

Douxie tried to keep his expression neutral. “Uh … help yourself.”

Aaarrrgghh picked up the comparatively tiny box and popped it into his mouth. Behind him, Steve wretched.

Unfortunately, that’s where my good news ends. We figured it out. 

There are two spells in the crystal. At first we only saw one: a simple hex, meant to cause debilitating pain, but that spell wouldn’t cause the corruption we could feel in the shard. There had to be something else, and we couldn’t see it for so long because we were looking for a powerful spell. But it isn’t a spell at all; it’s a blood curse. 

I’ve never seen one in person, but based on my research, this one seems exceptionally strong. Its strength was the only thing that allowed us to detect it at all without knowing what we were looking for. Going back in time to before the spell was cast seems to have halted its progress, but once you return to your time, nothing will stop it. I’d estimate Jim has no more than four minutes before the corruption overtakes him.

I regret that all I can offer you is this terrible diagnosis and a wish of good luck, but you are smart and strong. If anyone can find a way out of this impossible situation, it’s you. 

Say “Hi,” to everyone for me!

Hisirdoux Casperan, summer, 1119

Douxie slowly set down the scroll and placed his head in his hands. 

“So?” Claire asked, her voice tight.

“... I know what the spell is,” Douxie spoke slowly, “and I know how to break it. But I can’t save him. Jim has to save himself. The only way to stop the corruption is if Jim kills the Green Knight.”

“I told you,” Merlin said. “Jim Lake is doomed.”

Douxie glared at the floor. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Of course I knew!”

Toby summoned his hammer. “Why can’t we just do it for him? My hammer’s hungry for some evil-whackin’!”  

Douxie shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that. It’s a blood curse.” 

Blinky gasped.

Toby shrugged. “So what? We’ve dealt with curses before.”

Blinky turned to Toby. “Contrary to its name a blood curse has nothing to do with blood, nor is it a true curse. A curse is bound to an item, such as your hammer. They can be contained and transferred through the physical realm. A blood curse is bound to one’s very soul. It is an infernal contract that links the caster and the victim. Only one of them can sever the link cleanly.” 

“So what if we sever it un-cleanly?”

“No one knows. None who have been subject to that intervention have ever survived.”

“How long does he have?” 

“It’s impossible to know. Days. Hours.”

“Four minutes,” Douxie mumbled.

“Four?!” Toby squawked.

“Probably less.”

“Okay, how about I hold up Jim’s arms and we make him stab the Green Knight, Weekend at Burnie’s style? Then, technically, Jim did the stabbing.”

Blinky placed a hand on his shoulder. “No, Toby D. Magic is not bound to a physical form. The bodies we inhabit are simply vestments, a tool we use to navigate the material world.”

“Well then — I —” Toby trailed off with a hopeless whine.

“So, that’s it then?” Claire asked in a wavering voice. 

“I’m sorry.” Douxie thought back through all he knew, 900 years of study, searching for a flaw in Blinky’s logic. There was none. You can’t trick magic. Jim’s body was nothing if he wasn’t the one controlling it …

His eyes widened. “That’s it!”

Claire startled. “What’s it?” 

Douxie jumped up and turned to the group. “Jim has to kill the Green Knight, but what is Jim?”

Toby gave him a confused look. “Uh. A half-troll?” 

“No. Well, yes, but what is Jim really? When Jim became a half-troll, everything about his body fundamentally changed. He was nearly unrecognizable. But he was still the trollhunter, chosen by the amulet. He was still Jim.” 

“Yeah, so?”

“So, what makes a person that person?”

Toby scrunched up his face. “Is this that question about if you replace all the boards on a ship, is it the same ship? Cuz I don’t get that one”

Douxie forged on, ignoring the question. “Jim is his soul, not his body. It doesn’t matter what physical form fights the knight so long as Jim is controlling it.”

Toby’s face lit up. He placed his hands on his hips. “Right, okay. Anyone got an empty suit of armor? I’m using mine.”

“No. Artificially binding a soul to an object is dangerous. If the runes were marred in any way, the spell would break, and Jim’s soul would be lost to the astral plane forever.”

“Oh.”

“But, not if he switches. If he trades places into a living vessel capable of housing a soul … another body.”

Steve raised his hand. “Wait, wait, wait, are you saying you’re gonna body swap with Lake?”

“Can you do that?” Claire wondered. 

“No!” Merlin’s voice was like the threat of far off thunder. It rang through the room, leaving a heavy silence.

Douxie turned to face Merlin and found the lightning in his master's stare. It was violent and frigid, and focused entirely on him. He rose to his feet and glared back. “Yes.”

“I will not allow it!”

“That’s not your decision,” Claire shot back. 

Merlin turned to her and roared, “You deign to tell me what I can and cannot do? I am Merlin Ambrosious, and I will not let my apprentice risk his life on a suicide mission!”

There was silence in the wake of his rage. No one dared to speak. 

Douxie stepped forward, summoning his staff into his hand, and placed the tip against his master’s chest. In a calm voice, he said, “I’m not your apprentice anymore,” and gave him a small, sharp shove.  

It barely staggered the old wizard, but the look on his face was that of a man mortally wounded.

Douxie turned and walked away.

“It won’t work,” Merlin said, his voice wavering.

Douxie rolled his eyes. “Is that the best lie you can come up with?”

“Be reasonable, Hisirdoux! It’s too risky. Hiding Nari is the best option we have. There is nothing we can do.”

Douxie rounded on his master. “No, there is nothing you are willing to do.” 

“You cannot save everyone!”

“Yes I can! I promised them I’d bring Jim back. I’m keeping that promise, and you can’t stop me!”

Merlin narrowed his eyes. “I don’t have to. You do not have the power to cast such a spell, and I will not help you.”

The reality of those words brought Douxie’s mind screeching to a halt. Merlin’s library was in ruins, and searching the wreckage would no doubt attract the Order’s attention. Even with his staff and his new master wizard status, the magic he was proposing took decades, centuries of practice to perform properly. He couldn’t do this on his own, and Merlin wouldn’t teach him. 

“… But I know someone who will.“ Douxie whipped around to face his friends. “Claire, I need you to make a portal to the lake.”

“Wait, fish lady’s lake?” Steve asked. 

“Yes. Nimue said I’d have her blessing in the future.”

Claire didn’t move. Her eyes were locked on the ground and her lips were pulled into a thin line. 

“Come on, Claire, there’s no time to waste.”

“… No.”

Douxie stared at her in disbelief. “No? What do you mean, ‘No’?”

She looked up at him and pleaded, “Douxie, you can’t just keep going. You need to take a break. You’re exhausted.” She dropped her gaze, and her next words came out weak and strained. “We all are.”

Douxie looked around at the weary expressions on his friends’ faces. He could feel it lurking in himself too. Exhaustion pulled at his limbs and a dull ache resonated in his head. Adrenaline could only carry him so far. He knew Claire was right, but, “We can’t just leave Jim like this.” 

“He’ll keep. You said it’s safe here.”

Safe. Douxie turned and glared on the thing crouched behind Merlin’s legs. “I’m not leaving him with her.” He jabbed an accusatory finger in Nari’s direction and she shrunk behind her protector a little more. 

Blinky cleared his throat. “Aaarrrgghh and I will watch over Master Jim.”

 “As will I.” Merlin promised

Douxie raised his scornful look to his mentor. 

Merlin raised an eyebrow and responded with a cool, even gaze. “Do you really distrust me so much?”

“If you let her lay a finger on him–” Douxie snarled. 

Merlin held up a hand to silence him. “Understood.”

“But they’re looking for us right?” Toby asked. “Isn’t that why we’re hiding in a magic bunker?”

“They can only track Jim and,” Douxie shot a withering look at Nari, “their own . As long as the rest of us aren’t spotted, we’ll be okay.”

“I’ll use portals,” Claire said. “They’ll never see us.” 

Douxie sighed. “Alright. We’ll rest up, and tomorrow, we’ll regroup to see the Lady.”

---

Steve was the first to be taken home. He followed Claire through the weird portal into his living room. 

With everything that’d happened, he forgot about the whole ‘emotional anchor’ thing until he saw Coach reclining in the enormous La-Z-Boy with a bowl of popcorn perched on his stomach. He shouted at their appearance and the bowl jumped off his stomach, covering the floor with buttery confetti.

Steve answered with a shriek of his own. Damn it, how was he going to explain this? 

“Wh–“ Coach looked frantically between the two of them. “Steve? Nuñez?” 

“Oh,” Claire laughed nervously, “sorry, just dropping him off. I’ll just … go.” 

Steve whipped around to face her. “Wait, Claire,” he hissed, but the portal was already closing behind her. He drew a shaky breath and turned slowly back to face Coach.

They stared at each other while a WWE grudge match blared out of the tv, bathing the dark room in faint flashes of light.

Steve cleared his throat. “Look, I know it’s been a really long time, a-and I didn’t call or tell you where I was going–”

Coach gave him a quizzical look. “You’ve only been gone for two hours.” 

Steve stopped and looked at the calendar, still declaring the month of August. Freakin’ time travel. “O-oh, right. Um, what I meant was –”

Coach screwed up his face. “Why are you wearing armor?”

Memories flashed through Steve’s mind: being captured at sword point, his training, the tournament, overthrowing the king, preparing for war, and then –

Coach’s face softened. “Hey, you okay?” 

Steve tried to respond, but no words came out.  A dull metallic sound came from below him. He looked down to find a drop of water on his gauntlet. Another one landed beside it and his breathing hitched. It was only then that he realized he was crying. 

Coach turned off the TV and gently guided Steve to the couch. His voice was quiet and soothing, like he was calming a frightened animal. “What happened? Talk to me.”

And Steve did. He told Coach everything: evil knights and flying castles, crashing into the Middle Ages, being captured by knights with sharp swords and great hair. King freaking Arthur sentencing Jim to death right in front of him. Fighting giant trolls and freaky shapeshifters and a really mad sorceress lady and gods. Duels and assassination attempts, kidnapping and torture … 

And Lancelot. He tried not to think about that part, but it was no use. Lancelot's death played over and over in his mind, every detail of the memory crystal clear.

The whole time, Coach sat there rubbing his back, not saying anything, just offering him more tissues. It wasn’t the first time Steve was grateful Coach was there, but it was the first time it really hit home that he was safe. That he could tell Coach anything and get support and comfort rather than yelling and bruises. It was the first time he realized how much he’d needed that. He abandoned the tissues and cried directly into Coach’s chest, soaking his shirt with tears and snot, and Coach just hugged him tighter.

Eventually, his tears ran dry, and his body crumpled. 

He was vaguely aware of arms cradling him and a steady rocking motion before he was set down somewhere soft. He opened his eyes a crack to the moon shining through a familiar window.

The soft rhythm of retreating footsteps lulled him to sleep. His eyes fell shut and his heavy head sank down into the pillow. As sleep wrapped around him, he mumbled a faint, “Love you, dad.”

In his last moments of consciousness, he heard a tearful voice respond, “Love you too, son.”

---

Claire came for Douxie next with a stern look. “You’re going to sleep, or else.”

Douxie rolled his eyes. “Or else, what, you’re gonna drug me again?”

She crossed her arms. “Don’t tempt me. Now, where do you live?”

Douxie went quiet and dropped his eyes to the floor. The air seemed to go cold, and the heavy silence pushed down on her lungs.

Archie jumped up onto Douxie’s shoulder and cleared his throat. “I’m afraid his place isn’t available at the moment.”

Claire took a deep breath and said, “Okay, then … I guess we’ll take you somewhere else.”

Toby shrugged. “Take him to your house. You’ve got the space.”

She balked at him. “My parents would freak if I brought an older boy home! But I know somewhere else we can go. Besides,” her eyes drifted to Jim in his crystal tomb, “… I need to talk to her.” 

Toby’s eyes flicked rapidly between his two best friends, conflict plain on his face. Finally, he turned to Aaarrrgghh. “Wingman, you got this?”

Aaarrrgghh nodded and offered him a fist bump.

Toby returned the gesture before turning back to Claire. “I’ll go with you.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, almost too low to be heard. She held out her hands and summoned a portal. 

The four of them stepped through the void into a dark, silent house. 

“Barbara,” Claire called.

There was a thud from upstairs, then a door slammed open and Barbara appeared at the top of the stairs. Her red hair was frazzled and her glasses hung halfway off her face. She looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks. 

“Claire! You’re back!” She flew down the stairs and wrapped her arms around Claire in a tight hug. “Who’s this?” she asked when she finally pulled back. She peaked around behind them, standing on her tiptoes, searching. “Where’s … Jim?”

“This is Douxie. He’s a friend. Jim is — we need to talk.”

---

Douxie sat in the corner of the couch while Claire explained. He tried to keep his mind blank, but as she retold their tale, memories surfaced at every turn the story took. They had only just fallen through the rift when he abruptly stood and left the room with a faint, “Excuse me.” 

The nearest door led to the kitchen. Moonlight spilled in through the window, bathing the room in an eerie glow. He pulled a chair up to the counter dividing the room and rested his forehead against the cool tiles. 

Archie trotted in behind him just before the door closed, jumped up on the counter beside him, and nuzzled his head. He didn’t say anything – he didn’t need to. It was far from the first time Archie had silently comforted him.

Douxie didn’t lift his head at the sound of the door opening, hoping whoever it was would take the hint and go away. 

The approaching footsteps suggested otherwise. After a quiet moment, a bemused voice said, “I recognize you.” 

Douxie dragged his head up to look at the intruder. Barbara, Claire had called her. Jim’s mother. He mustered as much effort as he could to give her a faintly confused look.

She smiled. “You look like the kind of guy my parents warned me to stay away from.”

“What kind of guy is that?” Douxie mumbled.

“Black clothes, dyed hair, probably covered in tattoos. Looks like he rides a motorcycle and skips school.”

He couldn’t help but to smile. “I have ten Bachelor’s degrees, four Master’s, two PhDs, and tenure at Oxford, Cambridge, and Harvard.”

Barbara stared at him in shock.

“I’m older than I look.”

“Right …” She pulled up a stool and sat opposite him. “The Middle Ages, Claire said?”

Douxie nodded.

For a moment, there was thoughtful silence. “Well,” she finally said and held out her hand. “I’m Barbara. Jim’s mom, but, you probably got that already.”

“Hisirdoux,” he said, shaking her hand. When she let go, his eyes fell back to studying the pattern of the tiles. “You should be out there hearing about what happened.”

Her face fell. “I … got the gist.” Neither of them said anything for a long time. Then, she stood and put on a polite smile. “Walt will fill me in later. Can I get you something to eat? Some hot chocolate?”

Douxie scoffed. “Why? You’re not my mom.” As soon as the words left his mouth he desperately tried to stuff them back in. “No, sorry, I meant,” he sighed and hung his head. “That’s … not necessary.”

“I didn’t ask if it was necessary. I asked if I could.”

Her cutting tone caught his attention. He looked up at her, the fierce determination in her eyes framed by red hair, and he saw Morgana. For a moment, he was a boy again, studying until he collapsed in his eagerness to impress Merlin. 

“Come along now, Little Douxie,” Morgana sighed as she gathered his limp, gangly body in her arms. “You’ll never be a master wizard if you die of exhaustion. How about we get you a warm meat pie and I’ll tell you about the time I put slorr juice in Arthur’s wine at the midsummer summit.”

Douxie smiled and let his heavy head fall against her chest. “... That would be nice.”

“So, what’ll it be?”

Douxie opened his eyes and the memory was gone. He fought to hide his disappointment as he mumbled, “Surprise me.”

Archie turned his bespectacled face towards Barbara. “Do you have any salmon?”

“Oh!” Her hand flew to her chest and she stumbled back. “Um, I … think we have some canned tuna?”

“Hm. That’ll do.”

Barbara nodded slowly. She turned and rummaged in the pantry before pulling out two paper packets and a small silver can. She popped the lid and placed it in front of him. “Here you go …”

“Archie.”

“Right, okay.” She took a deep breath before turning the dial on the stove. It clicked several times before the low roar of fire erupted under the kettle. Then, she pulled two mugs down from a cabinet. One bore the Rod of Asclepius and the words ‘Arcadia General Clinic’. The other was shaped like a smiling snowman. 

Barbara rummaged through the silverware drawer. “I’m not your mom, but I am a doctor. I’ve seen enough young people come through the clinic looking like you do now.” She added a spoon to each mug, then ripped open the packets of sweet-smelling powder. “And from the sound of it, a lot of the grief you’re feeling is from protecting my son.”

Douxie averted his gaze. “Not really,” he mumbled. “Jim helped me more than anything. I owe him my life at least once over. He gave me invaluable support … that I didn’t deserve.”

“Well, I do know that you’re the reason he’s alive now. And that you have a plan to save him.”

Douxie grimaced as doubt began to creep in. What if Merlin was right? The kind of magic he was talking about, it was beyond major. He was barely a master wizard. What if he couldn’t do it? What if –

The scream of the kettle snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts.

Barbara turned it off and poured the water into the mugs. Then, she placed the snowman in front of him. 

Douxie wrapped his hands around the steaming mug, relishing in the warmth.

“Do you wanna talk about what’s bothering you?” she asked, stirring her hot chocolate. 

Douxie went back to staring at the counter. “No.”

She tapped her spoon on the edge of her mug, then turned back towards the stove and began chopping and mixing ingredients. For a while, the only sound was the rhythmic beat of the knife hitting the cutting board and the whisk scraping the bowl.

“So, Merlin’s apprentice, huh?” Barbara finally asked. “What’s that like?”

“What do you mean?”

She turned and gave him a knowing look. “I’ve met Merlin.”

Douxie chuckled. “It’s … complicated.”

Barbara swapped the kettle for a skillet, then cut a lump of butter into the pan where it slowly popped and sputtered. 

She didn’t press the issue, but something in the atmosphere compelled him. It was an itch he’d never realized he had. Something about the way she listened without demanding answers. She was warm and comforting, and the close space of the kitchen felt like his own little world where the chaos just beyond the door couldn’t enter. 

“I was a kid, just trying to feed Archie and myself. We had a parlor trick: a rigged game using real magic to con the locals out of a few coins.” He stopped and took a shaky breath. “We were discovered, surrounded. The penalty for practicing magic was death. Merlin … saved my life.” 

Barbara poured the mixture into the sizzling pan. Again, the heavy silence stretched through the room with the white noise of cooking in the background. 

Finally, she turned off the stove and reached up to grab two plates from the cabinet. “… I guess I’d better thank him, then.”

“What?”

“If he didn’t save you, you wouldn’t be around to save Jim.”

Douxie's breath caught in his throat. Something tipped inside him and suddenly the words came pouring out. “I idolized him! I worshiped the ground he walked upon! I wanted to be everything he was, and then –”

Barbara looked up at him. “Yes?”

Douxie sighed. “I found out that he’s not the man I thought he was. He doesn’t stand on the pedestal I put him on.” 

“I know what that’s like.” She put two plates on the counter, both containing a bright yellow omelet. “You invent a perfect version of who you want them to be; a hero, a wizard,” her eyes fell to her plate, “… a partner.” She picked at her eggs. “And then, they disappoint you.”

They both stared down at the counter in silence.

“It … took me a long time to realize. Longer than I’d like to admit,” Barbara said. 

“Realize what?”

“How to go on after it all falls apart. You can mourn the person you created in your head, or,” she squared her shoulders and cut a piece of her omelet with the side of her fork, “you can do it yourself.” She popped the first bite into her mouth and grimaced. “Sorry, I’m not much of a cook.” 

Douxie took a bite. It was definitely over-cooked and under-seasoned, and it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. He gave her a warm, genuine smile. “It’s wonderful.”

-

Douxie helped clear the dishes. As the last of the utensils clattered into the sink, Barbara spoke up. “Claire mentioned you needed a place to stay.” 

“Oh, yeah …”

“You can sleep in the guest room.” She turned and walked out of the kitchen before he could object. 

Douxie followed her into the hall. In the living room, he could hear Claire still describing their journey. 

Barbara opened a door just a few steps from the kitchen and flicked on the light. 

The room was stacked with boxes. To one side was a desk that didn’t match the decor and blocked the closet. The walls were blank except for a single poster: a diagram of a Vespa. 

She pushed boxes aside to make a narrow path to the bed. “Sorry about the mess. Since we turned Jim's room into a nursery, all his stuff went in here. We intended to make it his for when he got back, but with the baby and the hospital and Jim …”

“It’s fine,” Douxie assured her with a soft smile. ”Thank you,”

Barbara answered with a smile of her own. “Let me know if you need anything.” She flipped the light switch and pulled the door almost-closed, until only a sliver of yellow leaked in from the hall.

Douxie sighed heavily as he sat on the bed. With a half hearted wave, he shifted his clothes back to modern times. His Camelot clothes were nostalgic and well-made, but nowadays he was more comfortable in his tight skinny-jeans, worn t-shirt, and familiar hoodie. He barely managed to kick off his shoes and crawl under the covers before the darkness of sleep claimed him. 

---

Toby sat next to Claire, listening to her description of everything he’d missed. He was hanging on every word — excited, jealous, and worried all at once.

Claire was a good actress but she was not good at hiding her emotions. As she talked, she pulled the elastic out of her hair. She wrapped it around her hand and kept twisting it with the other, over and over. 

Strick- Walter ’s expression revealed nothing. He may have been a different guy from their teacher, or their enemy, or even Jim’s secret tutor, but some things were hard-wired. If he was worried he didn’t show it. 

Dr. L, on the other hand …

Dr. L stared at the floor. Her lips were pressed into a tight line. Toby could feel the pressure in the room increasing as Claire talked. 

It was when Jim was sentenced to sunlight that she abruptly stood and, without a word, turned and walked away.  

Toby wasn’t surprised. He remembered the first time he’d seen that expression.

They were eight years old, and Jim had gotten fully obsessed with cooking shows. In particular, there was a teppanyaki chef he was enamored with. He watched with stars in his eyes as the man poured fire across the metal slab and sliced vegetables with lightning speed and precision. Then he flipped his knife into the air like a ballerina, and Jim’s jaw hit the floor.

From then on, Jim wouldn’t shut up about it. He got in trouble more than once for talking about knives at school.

And then came the performance. They were standing in Nana's kitchen. Jim had been living with them three days a week for the past two years while Dr.-in-training L was in residency at the hospital. 

Jim pulled a knife out of the drawer with a flourish. He started with simple tosses from hand to hand, but then he got more bold. He started flipping it, first once, then twice, continuing until the knife spun like a bandmaster's baton. In the blur of steel, Toby couldn’t make out which end was the blade and which was the handle. 

They both found out when Jim screamed. The knife clattered to the ground just before he joined it. Blood was running thick and fast from a deep wound stretching from the middle of his palm up between his fingers.

Toby freaked out. He grabbed the nearest kitchen towel and held it against the cut as tight as he could. Nana rushed them to the hospital using some very illegal maneuvers, not to mention the fact that her license had been revoked a week earlier when she’d been declared legally blind. They ran into the emergency room where Resident L happened to be observing a doctor. As soon as she saw Jim, she dropped her clipboard and raced to his side.

As an almost-doctor, she wasn’t allowed to go with him — ethics and all that — so the three of them sat in the waiting room. Nana talked, as old people do, about anything and everything to try to take her mind off it. Mrs. L gave the appropriate polite responses, but her face never changed.

Several hours and many vending machine purchases later, Jim came out with his hand wrapped in a thick layer of bandages. 

The wound healed over time, leaving only a faint scar, but that didn’t mean it was over. The knives were hidden except when Mrs. L was there to supervise. She dropped out of residency, even though it would add another year to her degree. Jim tried to argue, but she wouldn’t hear it. 

But months passed and, eventually, she trusted him enough to leave them alone in the kitchen for just a moment. 

As soon as she was out of sight, Jim’s face broke into a wicked smile. “Tobes, check this out.” He picked up the knife she’d been using to chop vegetables and began tossing it from hand to hand.

“Dude, what are you doing?”

“I’ve been practicing. Found where she hid the knives a few months ago. Wrapped the blade in tape.”

He twirled the knife between his fingers, passed it behind his back, spun and caught it, and soon enough Toby was entranced. 

The knife flashed in the light, flipping end over end. The handle had barely brushed Jim’s fingers before it jumped into the air again, tumbling like an aerial dancer. 

Jim laughed as he moved faster and faster. For the grand finale, he tossed the knife high into the air.

Their eyes were glued to the spinning blade. Time seemed to slow down. The knife had just hit the top of its arc and started its descent when —

“JIM!” The shrill scream shattered the moment, snapping them both back to reality. 

“Mom,” Jim gasped. With wide eyes, he stared at her and, more importantly, away from the knife. 

“Dude, look out!” Toby yelled. 

Jim broke from her horrified expression just in time to catch the it perfectly. He hurriedly shoved it onto the counter and hid his hands behind his back with a sheepish grin. “Tada?”

No one moved. Mrs. L’s face was blank as she stared at Jim, her lips pressed into a tight line. 

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with the knife responsible for it all. With every second of silence, Jim seemed to shrink more and more.

Finally, she knelt down to his level and the corners of her mouth bent up into a faint smile. “I’m so proud of you,” she said slowly. 

Jim broke into an ecstatic grin and threw his arms around her neck.

Behind his back, her smile crumpled into a wretched grimace and she squeezed him tighter. She opened her eyes full of the tears she was wrestling back and was visibly shocked to find herself face to face with Toby. Her eyes pleaded with him, and he nodded. A silent agreement was struck: he would never tell Jim what he saw.

-

Claire finished her retelling and went on to explain the grim situation they now faced. 

That was when Walter finally reacted: a slight widening of his eyes and tensing of his jaw. “A blood curse?”

She nodded. “That’s what Douxie called it.”

“But he has a plan!” Toby added. “He’s going to switch places with Jim so he can fight the Green Knight.”

Walter frowned. “That is … extremely risky.”

Silence settled into the room, the kind that feels like a bomb that could go off at any moment. 

Finally, Walter pushed himself up out of his chair. “I should go check on the baby,” he spoke slowly. “I trust you can see yourselves out.”

Without another word, he trudged up the stairs and disappeared from sight. 

Claire let out a heavy sigh as she stood up. 

“Hey, you okay?” Toby asked. 

“Yeah, just … let’s go talk to Douxie.” She headed towards the kitchen door and poked her head in. “Douxie?”

From the silence that followed, Toby gathered that the wizard wasn’t in there, but he noticed the door to the guest room slightly ajar. 

The hinges squeaked as he pushed the door open just enough to peek inside. “You in here dude?” The tiny shaft of light intruding from the hall wasn’t enough to see by, but it was plenty to illuminate two yellow eyes. They narrowed and a low growl rolled through the room. 

Toby blanched. “Never mind, we’ll just come back later!” He turned and hissed, “Come on Claire,” grabbing her hand and yanking her down the hall to safety.

Claire pulled her hand free, “Woah! Toby, what’s gotten into you?”

“I know cats, and that’s cat for, ‘Try me.’”

She placed her hands on her hips. “Archie can talk.”

“Yeah. And he chose not to. That’s a threat. Now make with the portals already!”

Claire rolled her eyes, but held out her hands to summon the swirling darkness, and they stepped into Toby’s room. 

As soon as they were through, her shoulders slumped, and she suddenly seemed much smaller than before. She wrapped her arms around herself and took slow steps around the room. 

Toby’s chest tightened and he reached out a hand to comfort her. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. Douxie can save him, right?”

“… Yeah. Sure.” Her voice was cold and sharp as ice, and Toby immediately understood that she was not upset about Jim’s condition. 

He sighed and put his hands on his hips with a cheeky smile. “Okay, what did he do?”

“Nothing!” She turned and walked across the room to lean over his desk, her head hanging limp from her shoulders.  

“Claire,” he pressed.

She didn’t respond, but the tension rolling off her seemed to suck the oxygen out of the room. 

The silence stretched on so long, Toby was sure she wouldn’t answer. He was about to take it back when –

“Jim proposed.”

Toby gasped. “Whaaaaat! Congratulations!”

Claire rounded on him with daggers in her eyes. “He only did it because he thought he was going to die!”

Toby’s smile evaporated. “Oh.”

She let out a shuddering sigh. “Merlin told Jim there was no cure. So he proposed. He didn’t tell me the truth until we were about to leave. He wouldn’t have told me if Douxie hadn’t tried to save him.” Her hands curled into shaking fists. “And he acted like it was fine. Like I was just going to be okay with trading him for a stupid ring!”

Toby took a deep breath. “Okay, I admit that’s a bad look, but are you sure that was the only reason?”

“He practically said so right before we came back, when I found out that …” her voice cracked and she swallowed the rest of her words. She took a shuddering breath and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. He lied. He never intended to spend his life with me. It makes it feel like none of it was true.”

Toby didn’t respond. What could he say? His instinct was to defend his best friend. He knew how much Jim loved Claire and would never want to hurt her. 

But the reality was that Claire was hurt, and she was his friend, too.

He sighed. “Okay, I don't deny that’s a pretty dumb move, but Jim is stupid in love with you.”

“Stupid is right.” She sighed. “Whatever. It wouldn’t have happened, anyways.”

“What do you mean?”

“Toby, we’re teenagers.”

Toby gave her an exasperated look and started counting on his fingers. “You’ve fought trolls, goblins, gruesomes, weird magic salamanders, and a spooky sorceress lady. You’ve been to the Darklands, the Middle Ages, and the Battle of freaking Killahead, and that’s the thing you think you’re too young for?”

“I don’t know.” She wrapped her arms tight around herself. “All of that, that’s trollhunting stuff. This is … life stuff. It’s different. Or, it’s supposed to be.”

Toby forced a weak smile. “Look, we’ll get Jim back, and then we can worry about the rest.”

She gave a stiff, silent nod. 

Toby twiddled his thumbs and shifted his weight, desperately trying to keep his excitement from showing. “Sooooo, does that mean you said yes?”

Claire threw him a sharp look.

Toby raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, not a good time.” He held his somber expression for an admirable second and a half before a grin broke through. “You totally did, though, didn’t you?”

She made a noise of disgust and summoned a portal. “Good night, Toby,” she called over her shoulder before jumping through. 

Toby flopped back on his bed and let out a long, melodious groan. He couldn’t deal with this. He needed food.

He went downstairs and raided the fridge for leftover pizza, baby carrots, and an entire box of frozen Nougat Nummies.

“Tobypie! Is that you?” Nana called from down the hall. 

He sighed. “Hey, Nana.”

She waddled around the corner with a sympathetic frown. “Oh, what’s wrong, dear?” Since finding out about his “extracurriculars”, Nana had been extremely supportive. She listened when he wanted to talk, and didn’t push him when he didn’t. 

“Oh, ya know. The usual.” It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her, but he had no idea where to even start. He had barely begun to process it all himself.

Nana nodded. “I was just about to watch Dateline with Mr. Meow Meow P.I. Do you want to join us?”

He sighed and gave her a fond smile. “Sure. Yes.”

“Ooh good! I’ll get the popcorn!”

Toby made his way to the couch and  listened to the familiar sounds of her puttering around the kitchen. The banging of pots and utensils and needy cats scratching at cabinets was comforting. Even at the end of the world, there was always Nana and her cats.

They sat on the couch and watched the carnage unfold. He’d seen enough of Nana’s shows over the years that he didn’t even bat an eye at the blood and violence. The story was always basically the same, but that never mattered to Nana, so it didn’t matter to him, either. He let the narrator's voice drown out the chaos in his head, and eventually drifted off to sleep. 

---

Aaarrrgghh was watching Jim. Before the time travel, he’d looked like he was sleeping. Now, he looked like he was in pain. Aaarrrgghh hoped he wasn’t in pain. 

Aaarrrgghh looked at Blinky. Blinky looked worried. Blinky usually looked worried. Aaarrrgghh put a hand on Blinky’s shoulder. “Why are you worried?”

Blinky looked at him. “Frankly, I don’t see how you can not be worried. Master Jim is mortally wounded and we have a runaway demigod in our custody with two others looking for her. Did you see their flying fortress? It was a skull! Full of goblins and mephits and that accursed Green Knight! And this, what — apprentice is supposed to fix it all? We’re doomed!” 

Aaarrrgghh hummed. That was a lot to worry about.

“Oh, to see the defeat of Gunmar, Morgana, the Eternal Night, and now this?” Blinky looked at the ceiling and shook his fist. “Damn you, Fate, you cruel trickster! Is your appetite never sated?” 

Then the green girl started crying. 

Merlin knelt down next to her. “Nari, what’s wrong.” 

It took a long time for her to speak. “I remember … I remember what I did to Morgana.” 

“What?”

“They changed the past and now I remember. You'll remember soon, too.”

The green girl crawled into a corner and got small. 

Merlin followed her and patted her head

Then his eyes went wide and he looked sad. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” The green girl cried louder. 

Merlin didn’t say anything to her. He looked … gone.

He stayed that way for a long time. Then, he closed his eyes and took a big breath. “That is in the past, Nari. You are here now. You are not that person anymore.”

He kept talking to her but, Aaarrrgghh didn’t know what he said. Aaarrrgghh was distracted. He was starting to remember things from a long time ago. From Killahead. 

It was strange, like there were two worlds in his head. One that he knew, one that was different. In one world, Aaarrrgghh attacked Dwoza. He was put in a cage and stayed there until the battle. Blinky visited, but it was long and lonely. Other trolls said mean things to Aaarrrgghh. Not meaner than what Aaarrrgghh said to himself. He looked at the wall and was sad for – he didn’t know how long. It felt very long.

In the other world, a skinny human boy came into the cage. He talked to Aaarrrgghh and played games and made Aaarrrgghh just a little happy. Then, he got Vendel to let Aaarrrgghh go to the castle. He made Aaarrrgghh feel warm. Aaarrrgghh never felt that way with Gunmar. The human cared about Aaarrrgghh. Others, too. Blinky was there. Taught Aaarrrgghh about self-dee-tur-mi-nay-shun and gave him a new name. They made Aaarrrgghh feel even happier, so happy he didn’t know what to do with it all. He knew what that feeling was called, now. Love. 

He remembered how angry he’d been when one of the knights had tried to kill the boy. He remembered the meetings. The human made him feel important, like what he thought mattered. It did matter. He remembered the big storm after Deya ran away, remembered finding him and having the little wizard sleep in his arms. 

He remembered Douxie. 

Aaarrrgghh looked at Blinky. 

Blinky was looking at Aaarrrgghh. His eyes were wide. 

Aaarrrgghh knew Blinky remembered the same thing.

“By Deya’s grace,” Blinky said. “How could we have forgotten?”

“You didn’t forget,” Merlin said, “you are only just now remembering. Changing the past is like throwing a stone into a pond. The ripples make their way to the edge slowly.”

Aaarrrgghh nodded. He thought about earlier that night. When they met outside the bookstore, Douxie was happy. When he came back through time, he was sad and tired and hurt. Then, in Trollmarket, he was angry. More than angry. Fyoo-ree-us. And scared. Aaarrrgghh was pretty sure that was too many feelings for someone to feel at the same time. 

Claire took Douxie away to sleep. Aaarrrgghh hoped he slept well, but he also knew sleep wouldn’t fix this. After the storm, Douxie slept. When he woke up, he acted fine. But then Arthur talked to him, and he broke like shale. He ran away into the woods. Bular found him, and he got hurt. If Douxie ran away now, the Arcane Order would find him, and he would get hurt again. Aaarrrgghh couldn’t let that happen. 

But Aaarrrgghh couldn’t fix Douxie, either. None of them could. Aaarrrgghh knew that kind of sad and tired and hurt and angry and scared. He knew it took time. They didn’t have time. 

He had to do something. 

Aaarrrgghh thought. Then he remembered and smiled. He needed cups. 

---

Douxie awoke to the sound of a hard rock guitar solo blasting out of his phone. He clumsily pulled out the annoying device and poked at the screen until it finally stopped.

“Wuh?” he mumbled.

“Hisirdoux Casperan, what the fuck did you do?” Zoe demanded. 

“What?”

“Time travel? King? Are you fucking kidding me?”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Didn’t you already chew me out for this nine hundred years ago?”

And then, the screaming began.

Zoe’s tirade contained an Impressive variety of swears in at least six living and two dead languages. In his half-awake state, he could only understand pieces of her ranting, but the message came through clear enough. 

Douxie threw in a response now and then, just to make it seem like he was listening. “Yes,” … “I know,” … “You’re right,” …

Zoe finally ran out of steam. Her heavy breathing crackled out of the speaker.

He sat up and ran his empty hand through his hair. “Yes, I admit that it was a very bad idea and dangerous, but … everything worked out okay?” 

A heavy silence seeped through from the other end of the call. Damn it.

Another round of shouting followed, somehow even louder and laced with more expletives. 

Douxie muted himself and flopped back on the bed with a weak groan.

“Did you really think that would work?” Archie asked. 

“I don’t wanna think, Arch. That nine hundred year nap sounds pretty good right now.”

-

Douxie emerged into the Lake household to the sound of clinking ceramic and the hiss of something sizzling in a pan. He came around the corner to see the changeling from last night cooking breakfast, complete with horns, stony green skin, and an apron.

On the floor nearby was a baby in a play pen, diligently chewing on his toes.

“Good morning, Hisirdoux,” the man said. 

“Hi, um …”

“Walter.”

Douxie looked away sheepishly. “Right. Sorry. I wasn’t really all there last night.”

“Understandably so from what Miss Nuñez recounted.” Walter turned to face him. “May I offer you some breakfast?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Coffee? Tea?” he asked as he turned and opened a cabinet.

“Definitely coffee.”

Walter nodded and poured another cup from the steaming pot. 

Douxie took the mug to the table which already contained a tray with sugar and cream next to a jar of baby food. 

Archie jumped up next to him. He sniffed at the baby food and recoiled. 

“Do you mind?” Walter asked, gesturing to the window between the kitchen and dining room, crowded with various plates of food. 

“Oh, no, not at all.” Douxie smiled as he fell into the familiar rhythm of the cafe, where the worst that would happen if he fucked up was a broken mug and an angry customer.

The counter was laden with eggs, toast, roasted potatoes, juice, jam, butter, and a plate of tuna, while Walter still tended the bacon crackled on the stove.

Douxie first placed the tuna in front of Archie, who wasted no time diving in. He delivered the rest of the food, then went to the kitchen to get plates, glasses, and silverware. 

When he returned, Archie was washing his face with a clean plate before him. 

Douxie sighed. “Seriously, Arch?”

Archie looked up at him with matching disdain. “What? Don’t pretend you wouldn’t do it too if you could.” 

Walter turned off the stove and removed the apron. A few moments later he emerged with a plate of steaming bacon. After setting it on the table, he picked up the baby and placed him in a high-chair. 

The child reached out desperately for Archie, who flattened his ears and backed away with a warning growl. 

Walter smirked and poured cream onto Archie's empty plate.

Archie gave the child a parting glare before lapping up the cream.

Douxie helped himself to breakfast. He’d meant what he’d said about Barbara’s food last night, but he also had to admit that Walter was a much better cook.

They ate in comfortable silence for a time, only interrupted by the baby’s happy gurgles. 

As he ate, Douxie tried not to stare. He wasn’t prejudiced by any means, but he couldn’t get over how weird it was to see Walter just taking part in mundane human life. After so many years of secrecy and deception, paving the way for Gunmar’s return, here he was, with his spindly limbs and slit pupils, coaxing a baby into letting the puréed pea stalkling fly into the cave. He was wearing a sweater. With a pun on it.

Finally, Walter spoke up. “I am eternally grateful for your doing this — for Jim’s sake, but more so for Barbara’s.”

Douxie looked up at the man, who in turn was staring down into his coffee. 

“She would put on a good act whenever Jim called, but as soon as he hung up …”

Douxie gripped his fork tighter. “I promise I’ll bring him back.” 

“I have the utmost confidence that you will succeed.”

“Why? You don’t know me.”

“True, but I know Jim, and I see him in you.”

Douxie stared at him in stunned silence.

Walter chuckled. “It’s a compliment.”

“I know.” He looked away. “I’m not sure I deserve it.”

“And why not?”

Douxie didn’t respond. 

Walter set down his fork and folded his hands under his chin. “One thing I am sure of is that Jim is an excellent judge of character. Miss Nunez told us a good many stories last night. No matter what perceived sins you may be holding against yourself, if even half the tales she told of Jim’s loyalty are true, I have no doubt it was earned.”

Douxie stared down at his plate at a loss for what to say. Luckily, at that moment, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to find a message from Steve. 

U READY BUTT SNACK???

Douxie chuckled and sent back a thumbs up.

A moment later, a portal appeared beside him and Claire and Steve stepped through.

Steve was in full armor, pumping his axe above his head. “Wooo, let’s do this!” he shouted.

Claire shook her head and smiled.

Douxie stood up and started to help clear the table, but Walter held up a hand to stop him. “Thank you, but I am quite content in my role as house-husband, and you have more important things to do.”

“Right.” Douxie stepped up beside Claire and Steve, and Archie jumped onto his shoulder.

Claire opened a new portal and they all stepped into the darkness.

 

Notes:

-I know what Vendel said about curses and I’ve elected to ignore it. I tried for an inordinate amount of time to make it work and it just wasn’t working out. I thought up all kinds of ways to explain it and while there were some valid options, for them to work I would have to add a massive detour. Everything I came up with felt like an ass-pull. The honest reason only Jim can kill the Green Knight is because it fucks.

-Toby is referencing the Ship of Theseus.

-Truefax: I watched so much Dateline and all manner of other true crime as a kid because my mom loves crime shows and it has never occurred to me until recently that probably most people would think that’s somewhere between extremely weird and distressing.

-I have no idea how a dozen meat pies would decompose in a sealed box over 900 years.

-Magically-fixing bookshops are bullshit. Give us consequences, cowards.

-I rewatched wizards recently and good god I forgot how Zoe makes no fucking sense. There’s the end of the world outside and she just cannot be bothered. The strongest thing she says to him is “don’t break anything” and other than that acts like a plastic tour guide. So we’re going with fanon/Teny’s Zoe who is a fucking badass and takes no shit.