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Bran turned sharply toward Arthur, and as he watched the two stare at one another, Will saw again the tawny eyes of Herne the Hunter in Bran’s face, and yet a look of Arthur too, as if all three were one and the same. He blinked, wondering.
Even years later, Will would remember him like this, always. And sometimes, that look would once more come across Bran’s face in a moment when it seemed like he himself might be remembering.
Each time, Will held his breath- hoping that bran would remember…and hoping he would not. And it would flicker away just as quickly as it had crossed his face, almost as though a trick of the light- and maybe it was but Will knew better, knew that buried deep somewhere in the recesses of Bran’s mind, the memory was dormant but it must have stirred every now and then because Bran would speak of a curious dream of a story that he’d heard once.
And how Will longed to tell him those weren’t dreams, or stories. They were real, moments they’d lived through, things they’d done.
We saved the whole world once, Bran. Do you remember?
He could only let the words form silently in his mind. Merriman said, when he had the choice, that Bran would be the Pendragon no longer, ever.
And even given that knowledge, in the end, Bran had returned to the world they’d just saved, even knowing that he would remember none of it that had happened.
So much was lost that day, and so much it would serve little to remember.- what good would it do for Bean to remember the father that he had never had the chance to know? To learn that he was the Pendragon once- and was no more? Secretly, Will grieved Bran’s unknown loss in his behalf. No more than that was in his power though he couldn’t say what he would do were his hands not bound by the magic, the old laws and simply not wanting to hurt the boy who was his friend and the man he loved.
Surely it would serve Will for Bran to know these things- but only in the most selfish of ways, they could talk about what had happened. But it would be of no use. In Merriman’s words, You will live and die as all men do.
They both lived, now- and likely for quite sone time yet. But not forever, one day Bran would die. He would be in the world with Will no more.
Bad enough he had to live knowing this inevitably looks somewhere in the unmeasured future. There was no good in placing this burden in Bran as well.
You will be the Pendragon no longer, ever.
But in the deepest corners of Will’s memory, Bran would be the Pendragon, always. In the old ways, it was thought that one never truly dies so long as he is remembered. And as Will was an immortal one, through him, Bran would still be.
***
“Was it the right thing to do?”
…
“Yes, Bran. It was the right thing, for you and for the world.”
And then Bran turned to face him.
“Am I going to forget you Will?”
Will bit his lip. He couldn’t answer- it didn’t even matter that he was prohibited from answering, he didn’t know. Not all answers were known to him even as an old one.
He looked toward Merriman, but the old man’s face was unreadable. He had to answer on his own.
He smiled brightly and gave the best he could. “Don’t worry, you won’t forget me. Just…” he gestured around them, “all of this, the things that happened outside of time.”
If he was wrong, Bran would never know.
“All right then. Want to go back to the cemetery and make rubbings of the stones?”
“Yeah, we can do that tomorrow.”