Through all of history, our stories have been passed down over the years, poisoned by opinions and time. You know us well. Evil Morgana. Lustful Guinevere. Strong Lancelot. The brave knights of the round table. Noble King Arthur. And wise Merlin. This is a story I’m sure you’ve heard, but please listen because I know you haven’t heard my side. There is so much no one has said, so I want to set the record straight.

    My name is Merlin and this is the story of Arthur, his knights, and the great war for Camelot. I was not the wise old mage who coordinated Arthur’s conception. That was my father and I do not have all the details of what transpired, so I will not retell that here. I met Arthur for the first time when he was six and I was seven. Father had decided the isolation of the cave wasn’t good for him and he would come to live with us. My mother was frantically cleaning every surface of our two bedroom one common room farm house. I had snuck off when she wasn’t paying attention.

    I ran out to the wheat field my family farmed behind our small, three roomed house. Hidden within the tall grass near the woods, I promptly took a nap.

    I woke up to a blond haired, blue-eyed boy who was several inches shorter than me, looking at me with curiosity.

    “Can I help you?” I asked,

    “Who are you?” he demanded.

    “I believe I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking that question?” I replied, irritated to be awoke from my sleep.

    “Arthur.”

    Shit. I thought. I just scowled the future king.

    “Merlin,” I replied, climbing to my feet. “You are the boy my Father’s been telling me about.”

    “Your Mother sent me to tell you that dinner is ready.” He said with a tone I can only describe as blank

    We returned to the cottage in silence. Before we went inside my Father pulled me aside.

    “Remember, you can not tell Arthur,” he warned. “You must take care that he never finds out. As you grow older, I will teach you spell to help you hide better. For now, take care to always use the ones I taught you.”

    “But why?”

    “Because the way the world is changing, he will never take your counsel otherwise,” he said gently. “Despite your Mother’s advice, I had always known it would come to this, so I always took care never to tell anyone and raise you accordingly.”

    “I understand, Father.” I nodded gravely

    And, despite my young age, in my own way I did.

    As we sat down to dinner, Arthur seemed almost scared, but he did his best to hide it under an heir of entitlement. In retrospect it makes sense. From the time he was a baby, he had been raised in a cave, speaking to no one but my aging Father, as he studied the ways of the old world through books and his stories, but those books can never truly teach someone how to understand people. Perhaps that had been the mistake all along. Unlike me he did not study majyk he had been taught all the rules and traditions of our people, the Druids, but in a limited capacity.He had more important things to study. As we tried to make small talk, he remained mostly silent, offering only one or two word responses.

    Until father set down his glass, the wine staining his gray beard and said“Tell us about your progress in the training yard.”

    It was as though someone had flipped a switch in his brain. The unknowing King’s face suddenly lit up as he gushed about his prowess over the training dummies.

    At the end of our meal, it was announced that we would be sharing a room and part of me groaned in annoyance. I don’t know where I thought he was going to go. We only had two bedrooms: mine and my parents’.

    “Your room is very nice,” he said surprisingly genuine as he looked about at the dresser and small bed.

    “It is nothing fancy, but the bed should be big enough for both of us. You will be glad for the extra heat, especially during the winter.”

    “I’ve always wanted a brother,” Arthur smiled. “Are you training to be a knight too?”

    “No. I’m training to be a sorcerer, like my Father.”

    “You can do majyk? Will you show me?”

    “Promise you won’t tell on me?”

    “I swear.”

    I shut my door and turned my attention to the pillow on my bed. Slowly it rose up and hit Arthur in the side of the head.

    “I like you,” he laughed. “I’m glad you’re my brother.”

    “You’re not so bad yourself,” I replied. “A little quiet, but nothing a few weeks with me won’t fix.”

    That night as we lay in bed, I thought about how odd it all was. Here I was, beside my new friend, the future king of Britain, lying fundamentally about who I was, laughing at simple parlor tricks.

 

2: Chapter 2

    The next day, Arthur and I began training together. He in the yard hacking at wooden soldiers with his sword, me at the desk with my books, herbs and crystals. There was no question of our brotherhood. In less than a day we were thick as thieves, and time quickly fell into a rhythm. Study out back, lunch in the field, chores, dinner with the family, secret majyk shows before bed. Wake up. Repeat.

    Unfortunately, things rarely remain so simple.

    I was only seven when my father took me away for a day to learn how to use a Glammer. He told Arthur I was going to learn a very powerful spell. And so he took me to the isolated cave where he first took Arthur all those years ago. I understood why Arthur was so defensive around people. There was nothing here but gray rock and in the distance a lake, but I knew that just beyond the forest was the capital city of Camelot. My father told me he took no pleasure in this, but the way things were going, it was a necessary evil. And from that moment, not a day went by that I had not hid my face.

    “What did you learn?” Arthur hounded me the following night. “If the spell was so powerful you had to leave home to learn it, it must be amazing. So what is it? A fire storm? summoning the dead? What?”

    “Nothing. Its time for bed.”

    “Nothing is enough for you to have to leave home and go all the way to the cave? Show me!”

    “No. Come on I’m tired.”

    “It really upsets you that I’m asking about this?” he pursed his lips. “Fine I suppose you can keep this one secret from me, for now, but I expect to be told at some point. Goodnight I guess.”

    A few weeks later, Arthur and I became brothers. The morning began like any other. Wake up, apply Glamour, eat breakfast, sneak off before we are asked to do any chores. We never went far, just the field behind the house. It wasn’t until we were older that we began venturing into the forest. The spot in the field we often lay in was actually the same one we had met in, actually. We were laying side by side when he spoke.

That’s where we were when we became brothers: laying on some moss, our heads against a fallen tree, watching the sun dance through the green leaves.

    “Merlin, I wish we were brothers,” he mumbled, kicking at some grass.

    “I am your brother,” I said.

    “But you aren’t really. We’re not related.”

    “But we’re brothers where it counts. In here,” I tapped my hand against my chest.

    He shrugged.

    I pursed my lips and thought for a minute.

    “Give me your knife,” I instructed.

    He looked confused, but did as I said.

    “Repeat after me and do what I do.” I unsheathed the small dagger. “On this day we become blood brothers.” I slid the blade across my palm and offered it to him.

    Arthur mimed me, the we shook hands.

    Sealing our bond and our fates.

    It was a vow that was supposed to last for all eternity.

 

3: Chapter 3

    It was around this time, I started changing. I had to take special care to wake up before him and fall asleep after him.  While I grew precautionary, Arthur grew embolden and anxious to prove his merit, began pushing boundaries. Most days, he convinced me to wander off during lunch to go exploring deeper and deeper into the forests where we always got lost and usually missed our chores, and, at times, dinner. As I was worried refusing to do so would cause him to think me not less than a man, but perhaps not a man at all. Of course we never got in any trouble though. My father would never have the backbone to chastise the future king.

My midnight majyk shows also became more complex. Contained fire balls, indoor snow storms, at times, endangering my glamour, even causing it to flicker at times, but I didn’t think Arthur noticed.

    At some point, we found a big, and, based on what we could throw into it, deep river deep in the middle of the woods.

    “Can you swim?” Arthur asked.

    “Of course I can swim. Can you?”

    “Let’s find out!” he began undressing.

    “No!” I exclaimed. “Maybe we should come back tomorrow. After all, dinner’s probably going to be soon.”

    “I knew you couldn’t really swim! You’re just a chicken!” he began to do a very unkingly gloating dance.

    “No way! I’m just hungry. Next time we find the river, I swear.”

    “Make it a blood promise,” he said, holding out his knife.

    Ever since he saw my father make one with a business associate of his, everything he asks he takes one on the end.

    I drew the blade across my palm and when he did the same, we pressed them together.

“Happy?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest, hoping he wouldn’t call my bluff.

    “No, but I suppose we can go.”

    The next time we found the lake I would have to swim.

    If he could find it.

    And so I began keeping up two glamours. One for myself, the other for the forest, but I was only twelve and glamorous were demanding spells. I could barely focus on anything else half the time and I was always exhausted.

    I knew it wouldn’t be long before one of them slipped, and he found the dreaded lake.

Next thing I knew, we were undressing by the river, while I pleaded to the goddess that I could keep my glamour was strong enough to hide everything. It took a lot of energy, but it seemed to be holding up fairly well.

    Until that damned fish bit my leg. I let out a shriek and my glamour slipped, just for a second, but a second was long enough.

    “What are you-” Arthur froze for a moment. Then a grin broke across his face. “I knew it!” he exclaimed after a second and once again, he began doing his unkingly gloating dance.

    “Wha-”

    “I knew you were a girl! I knew it!” he sang as he went. Goddess he was a sore winner, but he was still a better winner than a loser.

    “How?”

    “I woke up in the middle of the night once, and I could have sworn it.  At first I thought it was just a really, really strange dream, but then I noticed the same thing when you were showing me some of the spells you had learned.”

    “It takes a lot of majyk to keep it up all of the time,” I said, solidifying the illusion more firmly.

    “Then don’t,” he said splashing around, his dance finally done river. “Now I know, so around me you don’t need to keep it up. You can just be yourself, and use your majyk for more entertaining purposes.”

    “My Father wouldn’t like it,” I said, pulling on my clothes.

    “Well, Merlin, who says he needs to know. I won't say anything if you don't.” he replied his eyes wide.

    “You going to get dressed?” I asked.

    “Relax. You’re nothing to look at.” he shrugged, making a grab for his own clothes.

    “And you are more of a brother than anything.”

    “I guess you are really my sister.”

    “Everything is going to change now.” I said glumly pulling on my shirt and trousers.

    “No it won’t,” Arthur insisted. “You are still my blood brother. Everything's the same, with one exception.”

    I tensed.

    “Now you don’t need to waste all your energy on a spell to fool me,” he smiled his goofy smile at me. “Energy better spent on spells to entertain me I might add.”

    I put my glamour back on as we neared the house, explaining it was Father’s idea to begin with, and his reasoning behind it.

    That’s when things began to spiral.

    I could feel it before I could hear it. Terror. Deep bone clenching terror trying to seize over me. The sound and smell was worse.

Screams of  men, women, and children. Horrible, ear shattering, frightened screams.

The smell of the blood of the fallen was bitter on the wind.

Smoke hung thick in the air, filling, burning my lungs.

Before we were even fully out of the forest, Mother was upon us, pulling Arthur and I into a bone crushing embrace, tears streaming down her face.

    “Killed him! They have killed your Father,” she cried.

    “They could return for us, unless we depart,” a boy only a few years older than I with cinnamon brown hair and eyes to match said. “We are not safe here and must leave while we can. My Aunt lives in a small village not far from here. You should be safe there.”

    “Who are you? What’s going on?” I asked, confused and vulnerable, but I couldn’t let him see. I couldn’t let Arthur know I’m weak. One of us had to be strong and the future king was still nothing more than a little boy.

    “My name is Lancelot. My father was a friend of yours and now I to you, but now is not the time. We must go, and quickly. They’re raiding the town.”

 

4: Chapter 4

    We were loaded onto horses with no belongings to speak of, our faces hidden by the hoods of dark, thick cloaks. Arthur kept shooting me fearful glances. I don’t think anyone realized just how much the once great and future king depend on me, decaying old man, warrior mage, and fragile young girl all wrapped up in one.

    The ride was long and silent. We road through the woods in an attempt to avoid the bandits, but that did not protect us from the horrific sounds. I can still hear them echo in the still of the night when I can’t sleep.

    Lancelot’s Aunt and Uncle, Ygreine  and Breri, had a snug little cottage for a house, but due to their lack of children, there was plenty of room for my family. The boys and I were kicked outside as the next course of action was decided upon. Arthur asked Lancelot and I question after question. I repeatedly said I had no idea what had happened, despite my near certainty this had everything to do with Arthur’s birthright. Lancelot was a little more specific saying his father had been a knight of Camelot by the name of Ban and his mother had been a Lady of the Lake.

    Lancelot and I were called in and told the truth of the matter.  It was worse than I would have expected.

    “Those men were crusaders,” Lancelot’s Uncle, Breri explained. “chasing after Arthur, and you Merlin.”

    “Me? Why would they be after me?” I was more than a little surprised. In all the time I had known the truth about Arthur I had never thought my own role would be large enough to  endanger anyone’s safety.

    “Because they aim to drive out our way of life. It is your destiny to keep the faith. I can only imagine how enraged they would be if they knew one of the men they fear most is a woman, someone they would consider less than human,” Ygreine said with bitterness and resentment creeping in,

    “How did you-”

    “Your father, mother, my husband, and I discussed what to do regarding your gender. Arthur will have questions. Don’t tell him anything. We said robbers on the way here, so as far as he needs to know, it was robbers.”

    “Can we take a walk?” I asked, pushing my despair down further and further, where it would stay until late tonight when everyone was asleep. Then I would let myself break.

    “Take Lancelot with you so you don't get lost.”

    Deep inside the forest I felt better at home, surrounded by the trees. They were like friends that would never judge never mock. The three of us sat on a cliff, overlooking the moore.

    “Lance,can you keep a secret?” I asked.

    “As long as It does not endanger anyone, and don't call me Lance,” he replied pointedly.

    I dropped my glamour and he shook his head.

I ignored him and turned to the fragile Arthur, I put a hand on his shoulder. “Mother said bandits killed Father.”

    He looked down. “Maybe if I had been there-”

    Lancelot’s face hardened. “I can promise you there is nothing you could have done.” he said with much veracity for a child.

    “He is right. You only would have gotten yourself hurt.” I insisted, crossing my arms.

    “I just feel like this is somehow my fault.”

    Lancelot and I exchanged quick glances. “How could this be your fault?” I asked him putting a hand on his shoulder. “You did nothing to cause that.” You can't choose your birthright. None of us can.

    Looking back on that now, I feel like I may have seen just how doomed everyone of us was. Arthur young, pure, uncorrupted. Lancelot, loyal, loving, his heart still entirely his own. And I, unaware of what I was, unaware how that would help put in action the chain of events that lead us to here.

    Lancelot called me over to talk and though I was reluctant to leave Arthur, I relented.

    “Why does he know you are a-”

    “It is a long and comparatively unimportant story. The real question is: how did they find us?”

    “Most likely someone sold your father out,” He said glaring.

    “Sold him out? To who?”

    “Supporters of Lady Morgana, the Queen Ingria, King before Uther’s  wife’s daughter by her first marriage.”

    “But how did they know where to look for him? His birth was a secret.”

    “If you are any indication, secrets are no longer very well kept.” he pursed his lips, a lecture waiting just behind them as he debated whether the fight would be worth it I think he would have given it to me too.

    “What are you guys talking about?” Arthur asked, clomping over, saving me from Lancelot’s reprimand.

    “He was just asking me a few questions about father.”

    “Like what?”

    “Just how great of a man he was,” I reassured. “Do not fear. Lancelot here is our friend.”

    “Who said I’m afraid? I’m going to be a knight soon and knights are never afraid of anything.”

    “If they are smart they are,” Lancelot chimed, his brow knit at his newfound brother’s ignorance.

    “How would you know?”

    “Because both my Father serves king Uther and my uncle retired recently from service to train me. I’ve been learning since I was old enough to hold a sword,” he gave the dumb blond a satisfied smirk.

    “So have I! I could totally take you!”

    “Lets go back and you put that to the test.

    And so we returned to the home of Lancelot's family, grief momentarily forgotten as the boys bruised each other. Arthur was disappointed to learn how much better Lancelot was.

    At dinner my mother smiled and went on and on about how we would get through this as a family, but I could see her eyes were red from crying and contained a hollowness like I had never seen before. After supper she immediately went to her room, while the rest of us remained at the table to play a few hands of cards. Something had felt off to me when she had excused herself, so before we went to bed, I stopped in my mother’s  room to say goodnight.

    The sight when I opened the door is one I will never forget. My mother lay motionless on the bed, eyes open and unblinking, the blade still clutched in her hand everything stained red with blood. Her brown work dress, her pale lily skin, the bed she lay upon, even the dirt floor was made mud by the blood.

    “Mother! Mother!” I shrieked.”

    What happened next passed in a slow motion blur. Everyone rushed over Arthur was crying as Lancelot’s Aunt pulled me away. She huddled all three of us into Lancelot’s room which we would all be sharing until better arrangements could be made.

"What happened?" Lancelot asked turning to me. "It must be bad. Arthur's crying."

"No I'm not!" the blond protested.

"She's dead," I whispered, in far too much shock to worry about Arthur. "Oh, Goddess she's dead."

"Merlin, slow down What happened?"

"Mother, the knife. Her wrist. Oh, goddess she's dead!" I exclaimed.

Lancelot put a hand on my shoulder. "Its going to be alright."

"How?" Arthur demanded. "How can you saw that? Both of them are dead. We have no one!”

“Because I watched the murder of my parents during Rome’s raid on Avalon. I am not saying it is easy, I’m saying it is endurable.”

“Your Mother was trained in the old way?” I asked, deciding the best course of action was to defer the topic of conversation, distracting both Arthur and my own pain at the loss of both my parents in only hours.

    “Yes. She was the Lady of the Lake, before Avalon was burned to the ground with most still within its shores.”

    “Merlin’s Father use to say we should befriend Rome,” Arthur squeaked, defending a notion I never did understand even in my naive youth.

    “My point is, you will never forget about them, and no one is asking to, but life keeps moving as will you. As you must. They would not want you to sit here and wallow in self pity over their loss.”

    “I think we all just need some sleep,” I volunteered, climbing into bed.

    With me between the two of them we drifted off to restless sleep.