Work Text:
Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everyone I've ever known.
-- Chuck Palahniuk
Our story begins with a young boy of five,
who had an accident one wouldn't expect to survive.
He's always been special, that much was true;
he could make objects float by the time he was two.
With eyes deep sea blue and hair inky black,
many whispered he should be sent back-
back, that is, to the world of the fay,
from whence he obviously came,
and there he should stay.
His mother, being quite right in the head,
simply ignored all these things that were said.
She loved him, despite all the gossip a'swirling,
she loved him, her precious and wonderful darling
named Merlin.
Still, five year old Merlin, like boys everywhere
oft made his mother want to tear out her hair.
Crawling through mud puddles, climbing up trees,
somehow getting into places he just shouldn't be.
Like, for example, guest bedroom nineteen
bejeweled and bedazzled and fit for a queen.
Down the hall, past the bathroom and then not too far, a
room in the mansion of great-uncle Killian O'Gara.
It sparkled! It shimmered! It shone like the sun.
Breakable objects: one thousand and one.
However, the most spectacular item of all
was a small mirror that hung on the wall.
The glass itself seemed quite ordinary (but then, isn't it true:
all the most powerfully magic things do).
What caught Merlin's eye, I'm sure, was the frame:
Ancient wood carved with runes that seemed to be aflame.
Merlin, quite captivated, jumped up on the bed,
then climbed to a nightstand painted deep firebrick red.
From there, he leaped to a dresser made of black beech
which put the magnificent mirror within reach.
He touched the frame carefully, but to his surprise,
the wood was quite cool. The fire was only a trick of the eyes!
Yet something about his reflection seemed weird.
Merlin thought perhaps the glass needed to be cleared.
So he took a strong grip and pulled the mirror off its nail-
and two seconds later let out a loud wail.
For as soon he'd lifted, the frame
which had once seemed quite pleasant to hold,
in the space of a second turned bone-cracking cold.
Poor little Merlin thought only of stopping the pain,
and let go of the mirror he'd worked so hard to obtain.
The frame stayed intact; it didn't even splinter.
The glass, on the other hand, shattered like ice
in late winter.
Merlin didn't move a muscle- he was struck still with fear;
there at his feet lay the remains of the mirror.
Seven pieces, no less and no more,
each one-
oh dear.
Was that a sound at the door?
Yes, yes it was. Great-uncle Killian stood
in the doorway, and the look on his face was not good.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" his voice boomed,
and Merlin shrank back,
terrified he was going to be in for a smack.
A tear made its way down the side of his cheek.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice small and meek.
For a moment, it seemed to have no effect,
but then Killian sighed, and came to inspect
the broken pieces of glass. On Merlin's shoulder
he laid a hand, wrinkled and older
than anyone Merlin had ever yet met.
He spoke again quieter, voice filled with regret.
"I'm sorry, Merlin, but you must understand:
a time of great danger for you is at hand.
That which you broke was no ordinary mirror;
the pieces, in fact, will soon disappear.
You were the last to gaze into that glass,
and your soul is now trapped inside, likewise smashed."
Merlin just stared; could this be true?
Was it a joke? What should he do?
If it was true, why was there no pain?
He thought there should be, if your soul had been slain.
Killian shook him a little and said, "Pay attention!
Your fate, if you don't, is too horrible to mention.
Quickly now, before they all pass from sight,
pick a piece of the mirror and hold on to it tight."
Merlin reached out and grabbed a big piece,
desperately hoping that more was better, at least.
As soon as he did, the others faded away,
causing him to let out a cry of dismay.
Killian placed his hands over Merlin's, still clutching the glass,
and said, "Don't worry, that isn't the last
that you'll see of them- at least, that is the story,
which states that each will come back. Don't you worry."
"Come back how?" Merlin despairingly asked,
For it seemed quite an impossible task.
"Each piece will be brought to you by a kindred spirit, a friend
(now, how they get them we don't quite comprehend).
It's possibly going to be a very long wait,
I wish I could give a more definitive date.
Don't lose hope, though, young Merlin, whatever you do.
and don't die, of course, that's rule number two."
At this, Merlin could take no more: he just had to cry;
his mother was baffled when he could not explain why.
Kisses and hugs, though, soothed the little guy
and she put him to bed with a soft lullaby.
~
Twenty years later, Merlin had acquired
six of the seven soul pieces he desired.
He kept them all in a fireproof box on a shelf:
First was the piece that he'd taken himself,
shaped like a small bird, wings taking flight,
Merlin always thought that for him that seemed right.
Second, heart-shaped, had been a gift from his mother,
from she with one like simply none other.
Third was a lion from Will, his first friend,
so shaped by the courage he showed 'til to the end.
Fourth, from Dr. Gaius and shaped like a bone,
as he'd inspired Merlin's medical path of his own.
Fifth was a rose from his first love- Freya, by name
(her sweetness, by any other, would still be the same).
Sixth, from Gwaine, his best mate, was a sword,
a symbol of how he never let Merlin get bored.
The seventh and final was yet to be found
and so Merlin's spiritual fate was unsound.
Having six was superb, but without that last one,
Merlin might as well have had none.
~
Now at this point, dear reader, we have to turn back
to that same terrible day when Merlin's soul split with a crack.
This time we must turn our attention
to another little boy very worthy of mention.
Arthur Pendragon was only just eight,
hiding low in the grass, lying in wait.
Waiting for who? Morgana, of course.
His older sister, and usually the source
of all of his problems, and so Arthur tried
to be an annoyance, and did well (said with pride).
However, waiting was boring, so Arthur started looking around,
to see if any interesting bugs could be found.
Whilst doing so, he pulled up a flowery vine
and spotted something with unnatural shine.
He pushed aside ferns and some overgrown grass
to find a small, perfect, dragon-shaped piece of glass.
It was lovely and smooth, a thing to admire;
turn it the right way and it seemed to breathe fire.
Arthur decided to keep it, on a whim
for it felt like it had been made especially for him.
~
For twenty years, Arthur held on to that wonderful thing;
kept it safe in a velvet bag tied with silk string.
In a contest of beauty, he thought it always would win;
that was before he saw Merlin's bright grin.
The details of their courtship are a separate tale
(you should ask them sometime, though you may want some ale);
suffice it to say they were happy as, well, happy things
and Arthur had started to think about rings.
He had trouble finding one that seemed good enough;
something about them always seemed just too rough.
So finally he decided, Oh what the hell, fuck it.
Who says a ring's the only way to commit?
Arthur made Merlin dinner, and then brought out his present.
Giving it away actually didn't feel too unpleasant-
after all, if to forever it got Merlin to agree,
then it was pretty and more useful than he'd ever thought it would be.
~
When Arthur brought out his gift and explained what it meant,
Merlin could only stare and wonder where his breath went.
How could these things be happening at the same time?
It was amazing, incredible, awesome, sublime.
His soul was now whole, and Arthur wanted him forever;
clearly this was the best the world could be, and no better.
And then, about to say yes, a thought came into his head:
Were those things really so different? Or more the same, instead?
When Merlin said no, Arthur's face was aghast,
until Merlin spilled out his story for the first time at last.
When Merlin finished, Arthur held up the dragon, looking perplexed.
"If you need this so badly, why won't you say yes?"
Merlin smiled and said, "I want you to keep this."
Then he leaned over and stole a quick kiss.
"After all, you have my heart and it seems quite secure;
there is no one I'd trust more to look after my soul, I am sure.
Besides, it's pretty clear that this piece is meant for you-"
And Arthur smiled softly and agreed it was true.
Happily Ever After is just something we say;
no one's ever always happy, okay?
But they love each other, and on that they do depend,
and so that brings this story of theirs to
THE END.