Return of the (Pint-Sized) King

Merlynn Emrys watched from the deep shadows, unnoticed by even Professor McGonagall’s sharp feline eyes, as the three Hogwarts staff members just left little Rheane Lily Potter on the doorstep of her aunt. And the wards placed over the doorstep were proving difficult even for her to crack. She couldn’t disable them without waking the entire suburb with the resulting backlash. So she stood watch, blue eyes shot through with gold. Dark curls cascaded loosely across her pale skin, her thin frame not even shaking in the cold due to copious usage of warming charms. Hours later, she frowned as Petunia (always had been a spiteful child, her love for her sister not being enough to overcome her jealousy) shrieked in horror. But she never returned outside with her niece.

Merlynn kept coming back. Month after month. There was no appearance for a year and a half, of either Rheane or her cousin. Still, she kept watch. Then, in mid-July 1983, it happened. Petunia walked the two to the park. Merlynn set up at picnic table, books surrounding her as she played the part of a studious university student (she was working toward her computer engineering degree, anyway, despite already having several degrees - a side effect of keeping watch over the balance of magic for roughly fifteen hundred years meant having copious amounts of spare time, since problems usually solved themselves), and watched as the already overweight boy started waddling around, bullying every child he came across. Rheane, on the other hand, stood by Petunia, head down, not uttering a peep, despite many glances towards the children playing. She was rail thin, as bad as Merlynn had been at that age - and she had only been that way due to poverty. Her hair behaved just like her father’s, that is to say, not at all, and her naturally tanned skin had a pallor to it that did not belong to anyone of Indian descent. She knew, though she couldn’t see it, that the child’s eyes were as brilliantly green as her mother’s eyes had been. Other mothers were glancing suspiciously at the child, and Merlynn’s heart sank. Just what had she missed by only stopping by once a month?

They boy, bored of the other children, who were currently being consoled by their parental figures, approached Rheane… and started to hit her repeatedly. Rheane flinched, but still didn’t utter a sound. Merlynn growled. 

“Hey, kid! That’s enough now!” She purposely didn’t look at Petunia as she approached, voice raised. She didn't even notice all the inhabitants of the park halting and watching. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to hit girls?” The boy gave an attempt at a sneer.

“This is a freak. A freak is not a girl. A freak deserves everything it gets.” Merlynn stopped short, and saw that the suspicion that had been directed at Rheane shifted into glares at Petunia, who was glaring harshly at her - quite oblivious - son. 

“And just what makes a freak, huh? I suppose I’m also a freak, due to my genius level IQ, leading to having graduated secondary at 12. I’m working on my third degree. I suppose I deserved every beating I got from the bullies in secondary, just because I knew more than them?” She was being rhetorical when she asked those questions, but she should have realized this kid was some kind of special something, because his response was not helping his parents’ reputation.

“Yeah, you did. Freaks are stupid, dumb, retarded,” and seriously, hearing three different words for the same meaning was not helping, “and are liars!” He stopped short before he could continue due to Petunia slapping the back of his head. He stared at his mother in shock, and Merlynn finally turned to her. 

“His mother, I presume?” She spoke in a manner she learned long ago, in court, from her beloved King, softly, but still projecting to command and hold the attention of everyone around. Surprisingly, no one had wandered off or interrupted. She barely gave her time to nod before pushing on. “Obviously, you have failed both children, quite miserably. My husband and I were looking to adopt anyway. Why don’t I take her off your hands since you obviously don’t care enough to feed her or care for her in any way, shape, or form. I don’t want any support - we make more than enough on our own. Let me take her, and I won’t file a police report on suspicion of abuse.” Petunia looked taken aback, before relief swept over her bony features. Merlynn nearly chuckled. She figured that the people in the park with them would take care of that for her - and she would have to modify their memories. It wouldn’t do for them to remember her taking Rheane. In fact, she’d make them remember watching her get snatched, and no one doing anything.

“Take th- take her. Her name is Rheane Lily Potter. Take her, and never darken this neighborhood again!” Petunia’s shrill voice rose exponentially in the short time she spoke, and Merlynn nodded decisively, and turned to the child who still hadn’t gotten back up. She folded her tall frame down, kneeling on the ground. 

“What do you think? You want to take a chance on me?” She held out her hand, and slowly, hesitantly, Rheane reached back and grasped it, clouded green eyes wide with wonder, allowing Merlynn to slowly scoop her up. “My name is Merlynn. Merlynn Emrys. I’m not going to insist you call me mum or aunt or anything. You can call me Em, Merls, or Merlynn. Any of them will work for me, okay?” Rheane nodded slowly, and Merlynn slowly padded back to her table. “Let me just pack up my books - I’m just finishing the edits on my thesis for my degree - and we can go see about getting you some clothes that fit, yeah?” And supplies. She would need plenty of supplies. She set Rheane on the table, still rambling softly, and as she packed, she slowly modified the memories of those around her. Task completed, she looked up, only to see Rheane with glowing golden eyes. No wonder Magic insisted she find this child and take her in. Did this mean her family would be returning, like it had been foretold by the Druids so long ago? But what spell was being cast? Merlynn couldn't sense any effects, so she brushed it off, vowing to keep a close eye on any future occurrences.

~~

Several whirlwind hours later, a still silent, but much happier Rheane was settled in her new bed, sound asleep, in Merlynn’s home. Well, home was a bit of an understatement. After living forty years in Camelot, she had grown accustomed to the castle, and couldn’t bear to leave it behind. She had spent decades buying up plots of land and building the castle herself, just as she remembered it. While she was the only one who lived here full time, she had been prepared for the arrival of her family for decades… centuries, actually. And her family members would each eventually have families of their own - she hoped. She smiled sadly down at Rheane, snuggled up to her new stuffie (a dragon that looked quite like Kilgarrah, to her eternal amusement); there was a matching stuffie that reminded her of Aithusa as well, and she had been placed on the shelf over Rheane’s head, guarding the child’s sleep. With a gentle kiss to her forehead, and a soothing finger running down the faded lightning strike shaped scar marring the left side of her face, Merlynn set a monitoring charm, and walked through the servant passages to the kitchen. She stood in front of the cold cabinet, head against the open door, staring blankly as she quietly panicked. She knew nothing about caring for a young child! What was Magic thinking?!

“Oh look, Camelot’s Most Useless Servant is proving her worth once more.” She barely startled at the soft voice behind her, accustomed to imagining hearing his voice once more. 

“Oh shut up, clot-pole! I just essentially kidnapped a child today. Let me…” she trailed off, spine stiffening as realization swept through her. There was no imagining the shift of air around her, a shift that should not have been there in the first place - the house elves were all asleep, and far too short, and Leon and George were headed North for a few years. Slowly, she pivoted on her heel, letting the cabinet swing shut behind her. There, all around the (her) kitchen, were fourteen familiar and one somewhat familiar face, but she only had eyes for one, currently. There, arms crossed across an impressive chest, feet planted in a strong, shoulder width stance, ice blue eyes a light with joy and yearning, golden blond hair hanging down in thick locks, attempting to obscure his vision, and a crooked grin pulling his tanned face into a crinkled visage, stood Arthur, Once and Future King, the other side of her coin, her love. She flew across the mere five feet separating them, throwing herself into his now open arms, sobbing. She felt one hand come up to card through her tangled curls, the other clutching her shirt at the base of her spine, before she stopped thinking, and just let herself collapse. 

She didn’t know how long they stood there like that, but when she pulled back, everyone was seated in various perches, and food had been made. She recognized the handiwork of Windy and Poppy, her two head elves, shook her head with a smile.

“Alright, this is not the place for a long talk. There is a parlor we can go to. Windy, Poppy, move the food there, please, and I think some Whisky or Scotch is needed. Something strong, for certain. Thank you.” She dealt with the odd looks with ease, turning to lead the way, all while categorizing everyone who had appeared. Arthur and Gwenhyfer. Lancelot, Percival, Elyan, and Gwaine. Morgana and Mordred. Gaius and her parents. Uther and a woman she was beginning to suspect was Ygraine. Leon gave her a gimlet eyed stare, with George pushing him along before they could start up another fight. And everyone appeared to be getting along! That was the most mind boggling part. As everyone filed in, she made her rounds, greeting her friends and family warmly, before turning to the remaining four figures. She opted to ignore the older two, in favor of greeting the younger two first. Hesitantly, she smiled. “Morgana, Mordred. It’s been a while.” Morgana snorted harshly, and she flinched. 

“You lied. Luckily for you, while we were all waiting for this moment, Gaius explained things. So. You’re forgiven.” Morgana stepped forward, just as hesitant as Merlynn’s words had been and opened her arms a little, a hopeful look on her face. Merlynn melted, remembering the friendship she had shared with Morgana and Gwenhyfer before everything turned south, and stepped forward, steps sure, and pulled Morgana into a strong embrace. She then turned to Mordred, and knew no words were needed. The Druid threw himself at her, and she could barely make out the jumble of mind speak before she soothed him, promising she didn’t blame him, and asking for forgivness in turn. That left-

“Sire.” Opting for respect, for once, Merlynn bowed, her trousers not really lending themselves for a curtsy. She held the position, nerves stilling her body as she tensed, fully prepared for flight or fight. She was therefore shocked at the gentle, self-depreciating laugh that echoed in front of her.

“No. I am no longer your king, Merlynn. I suspect I never was. Your devotion towards Arthur ran too deep for that. No. I also have learned in the interim that I was nowhere near a good king. I was blinded. And please, though I know it will be difficult to accept swiftly, know that I have changed. I now understand that Magic is not inherently evil.” Merlynn slowly rose, eyes wide as she took in the not-quite-there apology. You can take the man from the king, but you can’t take the king from the man, she thought dazedly. She nodded her acceptance of the words, and Uther continued on. “This is my wife, Ygraine.” From there, the night evolved from quiet reunions and introductions into plans. When you put two kings, a queen, two queen-material women, six knights, a mother, a man on the run, and a head physician in one room when plans are needed, plans are made. But the one they chose was not one Merlynn would’ve ordinarily entertained.

~~

“You want us to consider what?” Merlynn kept her voice soft, employing the same tactics she had in the park so many hours ago without even realizing it.

“Merlynn, dear, it will give us all a chance to right some wrongs done long ago. And it would put everyone on the same playing field. Gaius, Balinor, Uther, Ygraine, and I are merely support. That's why we came back, actually. The real fight lays with the rest of you. If Magic and Destiny are right in what Fate has planned, we have as many as fifteen or sixteen years. You can’t deny that Rheane would likely train better if she had people her age training with her. And, well…” Merlynn saw what her mother wasn’t saying. Without the bonds of royalty/nobility versus servant/peasant, they were free to try again with their friendships and relationships.

"I will not be joining you in being de-aged," George spoke up suddenly from where he was lurking by the fireplace. "I will remain as I am, keeping you and Leon from finding a way to permanently kill each other." He glared at them, and they just blinked slowly in reply. Merlynn slowly grinned, a toothy menace, as Leon turned and scowled at her.

"I am certain we'll get better about that, now that everyone is back. Plus, even though we don't lose our memories when de-aged, they'll become more distant, letting us actually learn how to get along." With that, she sat back, swirling her glass of Scotch, staring at the resulting whirl without actually seeing anything. She glanced back up, focusing solely on her mother.

“Do you really think you can handle me at three again? I know I was a right terror, and what you’re suggesting would strip away my control. We’d almost literally be children again.” Glancing around, she could see that everyone else had already talked about this possibility in-depth. They were just waiting for her to catch up. They seemed to really like the thought of this, anyway, so she decided to give just a token protest, already pulling some parchment and ink towards her. Notes were needed.

“My little falcon, I won’t be alone this time. I have your father and my brother, and Uther and Ygraine will be with us as well. We were thinking of an even split of the ten of you.” Hunith hesitated, and Merlynn rolled her eyes. Honestly, as they spoke, Merlynn was growing to like the idea. A second chance at a true childhood, and perhaps this time she could actually fill out properly, since she wouldn't be starving. Hunith smiled in relief, a small thing that relaxed her entire face, and continued. “Leon Knight, Morgana Pendragon-LeFay, Arthur Pendragon, Lance DuLac, and Percival Strong were going to be under Uther and Ygraine’s household. You, Gwaine Greene, Gwenhyfer and Elyan Smith, and Mordred Forest would be under mine and Balinor’s household. We were thinking, actually, that Rheane could be under Gaius’ household so that, in the beginning especially, she could still get that one on one attention she needs. We were thinking of finding houses next door to each other so that we could all easily visit, but we see you’ve basically given us Camelot.” Uther smirked, and Arthur dragged her close - not that she had been far from him in the first place. A glance kept the teasing comments at bay. Now was not the time. Her merlin feather quill hovered as she paused in reaching for it, mind already whirling with the details.

“One," she shot Arthur a faux-glare, "Camelot was my home for forty years. I found I could not easily leave the place behind when I realized I wasn’t aging. Two, our ages. They’re all so close together. Six of us will be three. Seven when you add Rheane. I suppose, considering the last names you gave, you’re going to say adoption or fostering?” At the five nods, she gave one in return. “Okay. Give me about a month. I want to make sure we have a paper trail, as well as proper identification and all. All in all, it should be easy, especially with the number of identities I’ve assumed in the last fourteen hundred years. We’ll also need to make sure there are enough supplies. Rheane is already mostly toilet trained, due to her deplorable aunt. I can’t guarantee the rest of us six year olds. Although… sizes." Poppy interrupted her with a harsh cough and glare, and she rolled her eyes. “Or not. I do believe I have just been told off by a house elf.” She grinned, taking the sting out of her words, and Poppy gave a defiant nod, before whisking away the empty platters and tumblers, leaving behind glasses and pitchers of water. “We are also being told to drink at least one full glass of water each. I'm also going to need time to research that potion, see how it would effect me and Leon, what with the immortality, and If it would get rid of the scars. If not, that's going to be a separate process.” The sound of shifting permeated the room as her words sunk in, and Merlynn got started on making the notes for the paperwork. That really wouldn’t take her long - the hardest part was planting the paper trail, and perhaps writing out the necessary stories, so that all the “adults” would know the correct story. She paused, Looking at the information in front of her. "Gaius, mum, are y'all planning on presenting yourselves as distant cousins to the Evans line that produced Lily, Rheane's mum?" Hunith looked over at her brother, who tilted his head, having not said much through the evening.

"We will be returning to the subject of scars later, Merlynn. But yes, I do believe that would work splendidly. Also, while Hunith, Balinor, Uther, and Ygraine are staying in proportional age to each other, I do believe I would like to go even further, give myself more years and the heightened ability to keep up with eleven young children." Merlynn snickered as the "dreaded eyebrow" came into play. By now, she knew her uncle well, and could see the amusement lurking behind his eyes. "I do believe thirty is a good age, yes?" She hummed and turned back to the parchment.

"Okay, three hundred it is. Evans. Seven year difference... Do any of you have magic, either Old or New?" She glanced back up, studiously ignoring the laughter brought on by her jab at her uncle. Uther shifted.

"First, what's the difference between Old and New?" Merlynn tilted her head in thought.

"Well, the base difference is this." She glanced at a balled up piece of parchment, and her eyes flared gold as the parchment burst into flames. She then withdrew her rarely used wand of English Oak and Powdered Great Dragon Scale bound by her blood (from both Kilgarrah and Aithusa) and pointed it at the inkwell. With a gentle swish-and-flick, it steadily lifted from the table, and she lifted her clear blue eyes to the faces around her. "Old Magic comes from the connection between you and your environment. New Magic comes directly from the wand, activated only by its connection to you. I have grown to be able to sense the Magic in people, if it is New Magic, or the ability for someone to wield Old Magic, but I cannot tell the difference yet..." she trailed off as everyone shifted. Arthur spoke up for the first time in an hour.

"We all have access to the Magic of the Old Religion. I think, honestly, that only Dad and your mum do not have the New Magic. I know that those of us who will be de-aged will have both, like you." Her mum nodded, silently confirming everything that Arthur said. Merlynn hummed once more, idly flicking an ice cube at Leon, dodging his retaliation and ignoring George's huff. Her notes were beginning to form a proper list:

Gaius Evans - 3 April 1953, 30

Balinor Emrys - 28 February 1958, 25
Uther Pendragon - 22 December 1958, 25

Ygraine LeFay - 14 January 1959, 24

Hunith Evans - 28 October 1960, 23

George Evans - 25 August 1965, 18

Leon Knight - 13 February 1979, 4
Morgana Pendragon-LeFay - 21 June 1979, 4

Arthur Pendragon - 21 September 1979, 3
Lance DuLac - 31 October 1979, 3
Percival Strong - 24 November 1979, 3
Merlynn Emrys - 21 December 1979, 3
Gwaine Greene - 31 January 1980, 3
Gwenhyfer Smith - 21 March 1980, 3
Rheane Potter - 31 July 1980, 3

Elyan Smith - 24 May 1982, 1
Mordred Forest - 31 August 1982,1

She noticed had automatically grouped everyone by age, and the "children" according to school years and snorted.

"Hey, Mordred, you just barely hit the deadline for being in the same year as Elyan. Otherwise, you would have been four years behind Leon and Morgana." Mordred looked somewhat embarrassed, well aware of just how much she knew. But she didn't hear any response from him, however, as she found herself gripped by a jaw-cracking yawn.

“Alright, it has gotten way too late. Rooms are marked, and if you’ve any questions, ask for Windy. She takes care of the servant assignments, Poppy takes care of the kitchen. I will introduce you to everyone in the next few days. I’m certain that, by the end of the week, Windy will make sure everyone has a house elf suited to their personalities taking care of them. Please do not mistreat them. They will retaliate. They are not owned, but they are not payed in a traditional manner either. I have scrolls detailing the whole issue somewhere in the library. Ask Alexandria - she's in charge there. George, I have a favor to ask in the morning, please don't let me forget.” She cut herself off with another yawn, and stood, draining her third glass of water, before gathering her parchments and heading to her personal office. It was nearly dawn, and hopefully the light sleeping draught she had slipped into Rheane’s food last night would last long enough for her to grab a few hours before she had to try to explain everything to a real three year old. She was unaware of her silent shadow until she reached her room. 

“My room, Mer-lynn? This really is Camelot. I would have thought you would take up your old room in Gauis’ quarters.” Luckily, she had managed not to shout or strike at Arthur when he spoke, likely because she had placed Rheane’s bed in here as well. She sighed in mild frustration. 

“Arthur, I made it abundantly clear just how I felt for you. You were the only one who didn’t see it. You were set on Gwen, and I stepped aside for your happiness. I will move tomor-“ she was cut off as Arthur gave a gusty sigh and surged forward to steal a chaste kiss, hands gently cradling her angular face.

“No, you will not. Not while we are adults. Yes, I was blind, but so were you. I gave up and turned to Gwen when it seemed like you did not return my feelings. Gwen did not know I still loved you until after her own death, otherwise, she would have set me straight, and you would have been queen, not her. She loves both Morgana and Lancelot, anyway, and is having trouble trying to figure that out.” Arthur rested his forehead against hers and smiled gently. “Keep the room. I will go and find somewhere else to stay tonight.” His thumbs brushed over her cheekbones, swiping at the tears beginning to run from her eyes as she stared at Arthur, as if seeing him clearly for the first time. Her hands came up to hold his wrists, and she tilted her head pressing her lips against his insistently for a longer, if still chaste, kiss. When they pulled back, she gave her own gentle smile. 

“Stay. It has been too long. Tonight, we sleep. Tomorrow, we introduce you lot to Rheane and explain things. We go from there. Also, I have a book to share with Gwen if that's her problem.” Arthur’s eyes lit up, and they prepared for bed, Merlynn choosing to enlarge some of her clothes for him. They lay there, Arthur on his back, arm under her shoulders, as she curled into his side and placed her ear over his heart. Her sleep was peaceful that night. 

~~

True light came with the sound of terrified whimpers, and Merlynn pulled herself up with a curse. Two hours was not enough after last night’s revelations. But Rheane came first. 

“Good morning Rhea,” she murmured sleepily, crouching down by the low slung bed. Immediately, she saw the problem, and reached out to run a hand over the messy hair. “Don’t you worry about a thing. Accidents happen, even when we take precautions. Come here love. There you go. Let’s go get you cleaned up. No need to be afraid.” She softly soothed the three year old as her eyes flared gold, sending the sheets to the laundry even as the mattress dried out. “Are you still sleepy, or are you hungry, Rhea?” Green eyes, still worryingly clouded, stared into crystalline blue, before they slowly closed and Rheane’s small head tucked itself into the crook of Merlynn’s neck. “Okay sweetheart. Come on, you can sleep up here with me. Arthur,” she prodded the still sleeping man, who grumbled and shifted, but still didn’t wake, “won’t mind sharing his heat with one more person.” A soft snuffling snore was her answer, and she chuckled, tucking Rheane into the space between her and Arthur, curling around her as best she could, and followed her back to sleep. 

When she woke again, it was to a hushed voice and quiet giggles, and she was smiling even before she opened her eyes. There beside her sat Arthur, chest bared and sleep trousers slung low across his hips, with Rheane sitting on his lap. Arthur was telling a highly edited version of how they had met, and Rheane was enraptured. A glance at the window showed it was nearly noon, if not past that, and she pulled herself to a seated position as the story came to a close. 

“Well now, I see you two are getting along nicely.” She caught Rheane as the golden eyed child launched herself at her with an elated squeal. Merlynn blinked dazedly at Arthur, who laughed. 

“I woke up about an hour ago to her sitting on my chest, and fire dancing in the air. It was quite a beautiful light show. But she refused to leave you to go get food, so we’ve been sitting here, waiting for you to wake up. She likes stories of Camelot.” Arthur attempted an innocent smile, and Merlynn gazed at him dispassionately for the the attempt.

“You mean she likes the stories you tell, making me look like an idiot.”

“You are an idiot Mer-lynn. But you’re my idiot.” Merlynn rolled her eyes, before leaning in to buss a kiss over Arthur’s cheek. 

“Just as you are my cabbage headed clot-pole. Put on a shirt of and grab a pair of slippers. Ready for some food Rhea?” She swung the giggling child around as she slipped into her own slippers. “You have a whole lot of people waiting to meet you. There’s Arthur’s sister, Morgana, and his parents, Uther and Ygraine. Then there’s my parents, Hunith and Balinor. And that’s not all. Our friends are also waiting…” she trailed off as Arthur attempted to walk the main passage ways, tugging her along. “Arthur, lemme show you how we servants traversed this castle. It’s much quicker, honestly!” Rhea giggled even harder as they fell on their age old habit of pointless arguments. They were almost to the kitchen when Poppy appeared down the hall.

“To the dining room with yous! Everyone is there! Go on now!” Poppy was the first house elf Merlynn had taken in, almost one thousand years ago, and somehow had expanded the dear being’s life span by nearly triple at this point. Poppy wore a deep purple sari native to her home country of India, golden bangles sitting along her arms, some tight, some loose, all clinking together in a haphazard melody. Currently, a playful scowl pulled at her face, and her hands flapped like flags in a breeze. Rheane stopped giggling, head tilted at the sight before her. Merlynn was about to say something when Rheane raised a hand and shyly waved. “Good afternoon little Miss Rhea! Yous should have come down earlier, can’t bes missing breakfast nows! Poppy made plenty of food, though. Eat as much as you can, little Miss! Poppy insists!” Rheane’s eyes lit up, and she turned a pleading face towards Merlynn, who laughed, relieved that there didn’t seem to be much permanent damage done to the child by Petunia.

Everyone was in the dining room, and Merlynn grinned at the various states of consciousness she could see. Gaius had always had to be up in an instant, and was enjoying a pot of tea as he spoke with his sister, who had worked many years on a farm, necessitating an early rise. Balinor, after spending two decades on the run, was mostly upright, but still catching some sleep, despite his open eyes. Mordred and Morgana, despite being awake, were glaring balefully out the window in a most disgruntled fashion, leading Merlynn to believe they had been awake since the sun. Gwaine wasn’t even pretending - he was passed out on the table, at the mercy of a grinning Percival, who had found the colored ink. It looked like Percival wasn’t the only one having fun, just the current one. While the large man was fond of jokes, Merlynn didn’t think he was the type to draw dicks on people’s faces… no, that was Elyan, who wiggled his fingers at a shy Rheane. Gwenhyfer was propped up on her brother’s shoulder, giving Percival new ideas for Gwaine’s face. Lancelot and Leon were facing off, a couple of cups between them, and a bowl of grapes each. As she watched, Leon took a turn to bounce a grape into the cup closest to him, despite Lancelot jarring the table with a very fake sneezing fit. Uther had found her morning papers, by the looks of it, and had already made his way through the Daily Prophet as well as several of her muggle news subscriptions. Ygraine, likewise, had found her magazines, from both worlds, and was doing the same. Their remains of their breakfast was just being cleared away, with Uther enjoying a cup of coffee, and Ygraine sipping a cup of tea.

“Uther, Ygraine, I would like those when your done, mainly the newspapers. The magazines are usually monthly, but some, particularly the Wizarding publications, can be weekly as well, Ygraine. I can set up subscriptions of the ones you like before we all de-age ourselves.” She turned without waiting for a response as Lancelot managed his own shot… into Leon’s cup. “Are the two of you playing Quarters? With grapes?” They looked at her sheepishly, and she rolled her eyes, turning to the next group. “Percival, Elyan, I hope the two of you are prepared for Gwaine’s retribution. Gwen, please quit encouraging that. Ink is not fun to wash off, though I think he’ll be glad that’s all you lot found. Mordred, Morgana, come get some coffee. It’s stronger than tea, will help perk you both right up.” She rounded the table, easily placed the golden eyed Rheane into a boosted chair, and started making a plate for her as Poppy materialized with a sippy cup with milk. “Thank you Poppy, dear. How’s your Hindu, by the way? I want Rhea to know something of her father’s culture.” Poppy gave a wide smile and reached over to tap Rheane’s nose.

“Poppy bes teaching Little Miss Rhea, Great Emrys. And Poppy knows Brynhildr would be more than happy to teach Little Miss Rhea her mother’s culture, too! Little Miss Rhea will know everything there is to know, yes!” Merlynn dropped to her knees beside the tiny elf and gathered her into a hug.

“Thank you so much, Poppy. I really think the title of Great belongs with you all.” Poppy tapped her cheek gently, and disappeared without a word. Merlynn stood back up, and ran a hand down Rhea’s back as the girl slowly ate, watching the room around her. “Rhea,” she waited until their eyes met before continuing, “I’m going to move around the room, okay? I’m not leaving. Just sit tight and eat.” Rhea nodded slowly, and Merlynn began to move away, just as slowly. Before long, she’d made it to Gwaine’s side in time to confiscate the brush and inks before the trio of currently scattering devils started to ink his hair. She sent them flying to the mantle on the other side of the room, placed under wards to keep wandering hands from just grabbing them up again, and shook Gwaine’s shoulder. He slowly sat up, and she pushed a plate of fish on rice pilaf under his nose without a word. It may be rude to paint on someone’s face as they slept, but it was funny as hell, too.

A glance at the side table Leon and Lancelot were playing at showed the game had devolved to just throwing grapes at each other, trying to snap the food out of midair with their mouths. She rolled her eyes and turned her backs on them, instead focusing on glaring Percival back to the table, one hand grabbing Gwenhyfer’s wrist while the other grabbed Elyan’s ear. The three slowly sat back down to their meals, and she gave them one final glare before moving on. Mordred and Morgana were sharing the coffee pot, and she sighed before moving a platter of fruit closer to them, as well as some cheeses and cold cut meats. Easy to eat, considering they were still fumbling around. Gaius and her mother tried to wave her off, a newly awoken Balinor joining them for a meal after pausing to wrap her in a slightly awkward, but love filled hug, but she approached anyway, crouching down beside Gaius.

"Uncle, later, could you help me determine Rhea's health? I'm beginning to think she's blind. I remember when she was born, her parents were some of my favorites, so they invited me over soon after her birth. She had vibrant green eyes, as bright as gemstones. Kinda like mine, but, well, green. Now, they're clouded when they're green. I suspect she's using magic to actively see." Gaius slowly nodded, eyes turned towards Rheane, who was watching them with her golden stare. "I do plan to ask the Goblin Nation to spare me a healer - her scar is bleeding Black Magic, and they know more about the two potions I mentioned last night - but I want to know if she's blind or not. And don't worry, they aren't the same type of Goblin like what got loose in Camelot."

"Of course, dear child. We'll talk more after the meal - and bring Leon with you. I need to know just how bad the scars are if they cannot be healed, understood?" Merlynn nodded sheepishly, tugging gently on her high, stiff collared sleep shirt, cuffs buttoned tightly on her wrists. Even the ankle cuffs of her trousers were tight, and she knew without looking that Leon was also buttoned up tight. They had been through a lot, most of it done to each other. She stood and started to make her way to Leon, who was over at the fireplace talking to George, when Arthur grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his lap where he was sitting next to Rheane.

“Stop and eat, Merls. Anything else can wait. You’re making me dizzy.” She turned sideways on his lap, tucking her shoulder under his, head on top of his shoulder, and watched as Rheane's eyes turned back to a cloudy green and she stopped accurately tracking the sounds in favor of yawning and  settling in to nap. She frowned. just how much magic was she using to see with? Or was she taking advantage of the freedom to actually use magic without fear, and therefore overtaxing herself. One thing was certain, if Rheane stayed asleep long enough, it would make it easier to cast a multitude of diagnostic charms.

"Arthur, when you were telling Rhea stories this morning, what color were her eyes?" The noise level dropped to dead silent, and Arthur hummed quietly, one hand reaching out to card through Rheane's choppy curls.

"They flickered between green and gold, but I could not tell what she was casting. There were no effects, and I couldn't find a pattern to the casting. Why?" She sat up, staring at Arthur quietly.

"One more question. When they were green, were they clear, or cloudy?" Arthur frowned.

"Cloudy. Is she blind?" Merlynn shrugged, gaze returning to Rheane.

"I don't know, though I'm beginning to suspect so. I know her scar is bleeding Black Magic. And this brings me to my favor, George." She reached into her dressing gown pocket and withdrew a golden medal. On one side was the Pendragon Crest. On the other was a Merlin in flight. It was her personal medal, and she held it out to the stunned Druid. "If you are indeed serious about not joining us through child hood again, I would like you to be my spokesperson while I'm growing up. This will allow the magical races to recognize you as being sent by me, and therefore to treat you like they would me. This would be especially useful when dealing with the Goblin Nation." George moved to sit across from her, but didn't take the medal yet.

"And I take it you want me to go to Gringotts soon?" His question was simple, and rhetorical, but she answered anyway.

"Yes. Ask for Ragnok. And from Ragnok, ask for Healer Griswald, and a trustworthy Curse Breaker, preferably of their race, not ours, to accompany you back to me. I will also have a letter for him, so give me time to get that together?" George stared at her, before turning his gaze to the medal.

"But... Ragnok is the King of the United Goblin Nations. He is the very top of the proverbial food chain." Merlynn raised an eyebrow, waiting for a question or response to her request. None came.

"Yes, he is. He is also a dear friend of mine. Are you willing? Or will you and Mordred be switching places?" George glanced over to his fellow Druid, who gave him a droll look.

"Okay. Fine. I'll do it." He cautiously took the medal, slipping the ribbon over his head and tucking it beneath his shirt.

"Thank you, George. Leon," she turned to the knight now sitting on the other side of Mordred, arm slung across the back of his chair, "you're joining that conversation with Gaius and Healer Griswald. I'm also forced to be there. Wear something loose." Leon grimaced, and Balinor sat forward.

"I can sense that this is an unpleasant conversation, but what happened to the two of you?" She stared at her father, before turning to look at Leon, who lowered his gaze briefly.

"They should probably know. You said it yourself - we won't lose those memories. So it goes without saying that they would still be able to affect us. And if we can't get the scars to fully disappear, they should also know how bad they are." She sighed. As always, Leon had sound advice.

"Well, I suppose eating will have to wait for me. I don't want to do this with food in my stomach. I'm not proud of some of these memories." Leon pulled a face, visibly regretting the food he had eaten, before standing to lead the way to what Merlynn liked to call the viewing room. It was a large room, with a smooth white surface on one wall, closed cabinets containing little crystal vials of a silvery-blue substance along the other three, and a shallow bowl carved with runes in the center.