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Chapter Text

Freak’s lungs burned, his legs pumping as fast as he could as he sprinted across the school yard. He was not going to make it, he could hear the shouts of Dudley’s gang close behind him, almost feel the pass of air as their hands reach out to grab him. If he could only get around the front of the school were the he had seen the teacher on duty… Freak knew this won’t stop the boys from getting him, but it will mean the beating will end quickly. That is if the teacher was like Petunia, who hated it when Freak bleed everywhere, making a mess. So there was chance the teacher would stop the beating quickly. But to do so he had to get around to the end of the yard, and that was so far away, and the gang was too close.

He’s not going to make it.

Then, the sun glinted off the bins outside the school kitchen. Maybe, he realised, he can hide behind the bins. This is a bad idea, the other part of his brain argues. If he’s found the beating will be so much worse. But he needs to get away! And the edge of the building was just too far away.

So Freak did another lap of the play equipment and bushes and darted left instead of right, jumping quickly behind the bins. Hopefully, the equipment and the kids on it will be enough to hid his direction for the seconds needed to get into place. And then Freak was tucked as close to the wall and and as small as possible. He slapped his hand over his month in an effort to silence his gasping breaths. Freak had been so happy when Petunia had pushed him out the door that morning telling him he got to finally go to school because ‘Number 17 had stuck her nose in where it didn’t belong and asked why he wasn’t going to school yet.’ Dudley had been going to school for 2 years already, and Freak had really hoped that maybe he could make a friend. The morning had started horribly, with the teacher insisting his name was Harry, and calling him a liar when he said it was Freak. Then everyone had laughed at him. Still, Freak had hoped some of the other kids, not in his class might be his friend. Now, at recess, with Dudley looking for him after shouting that anyone who talked to the Freak would also taste his fists, those hopes had been dashed. The shouts of the boys seem to echo loudly, but he was beyond hopeful when they seem to get further away. It made the horror of Dudleys next shout even worse, “The Freak couldn’t have gotten so far! The little rat must have tried to hide! Look around!”

No no no no no please no, Freak pleaded to any god listening. Why did Dudley have to think for once right now?

Freak pushed himself as far back into the wall as possible.

“There! The bins!” Piers shouted.

Freak whimpered, and kept pushing back. The stone of the wall behind him seemed to give, or his bones are turning to mush in fear, he couldn’t tell. All he could think was no no no let me get away! I have to get away! And to Freak’s amazement, the wall gave, and he fall backwards into darkness.

Dudley's gang ripped the bins away, to find absolutely nothing. The small boy whose name was actually Harry Potter, was gone.

Chapter Text

Freak awakened cold, and aching in the way his body ached after lying still and cramped too long, but not the ache that normally comes after Dudley’s catches him, so he knew that he actually, somehow, got away. There was a breeze playing across his face, fresh and clean, almost sweet in scent. He could feel the harsh grit of dirt under him. The sun warmed his face. Slowly, he managed to force his eyes open, against the crumbed muck sticking them together. The sky above him was deep blue, with wisps of grey clouds stretching from edge to edge. His legs were in shadow from a large stone building in front him. Freak blinked a few times and listened to the cluck of chickens, somewhere above his head. Slowly, he managed to push himself up on to his elbows. The house (castle?) at his feet was a light grey stone, all carefully fitted together in giant blocks, like a jigsaw, lacking any real pattern. It was at least 2 floors, with large arched windows regularly along the wall full of delicate lattice of grey lead and tiny glass panels so thick they were wavy and distorted. A single tower jutted commandingly in one corner above what he could just make out was a deep blue tiled roof. The ground around him was desolately bare brown dirt.

It must be so muddy when it rains, was the only thing Freak’s fuzzy mind could think.

Suddenly, the front door opened and out stalked a tall thin old man, older than old. His long, white beard straggled thinly past his waist, his skin resembled old parchment paper, and his hands were gnarled and twisted. He was wearing robes of blackest black and bloody red trimming. He was big blocks of colour, harsh and unrelenting. On top his head sat a tall pointed hat, like a storybook witch.

“Gwydion! What are you doing, boy?” The old man’s voice was cutting and angry, which had Freak automatically cringing away. When Vernon used that tone it meant days locked in the cupboard.

“I’m sorry sir, but I think you have the wrong…”

“Shut up boy! I bought you, Slave! I own you, so I can name you! Another word of cheek and cane you until you bleed!”

“You bought me?” Freak whispered, “From who? Uncle? He sold me? Why? I didn’t do anything wrong! You’re wrong!”

The man stilled like a snake spotting prey. His voice was soft and all the more terrifying for it. "You're awfully thick-headed, aren't you? It seems you need to be taught a lesson or two about OBEYING!" And before Freak could act on the instincts screaming for him to run, the man's hand darted out and Freak found himself hanging upside down in mid air. He gave a startled yell, which turned into a howl when a slash of burning pain sliced across his back. The hits, if that what they were, for the man hasn’t moved from the doorway a good ten paces from him, go on and on, until Freak could see a small but steady growing pool of blood and tears form beneath him. Soon, forever later, it stopped and Freak’s whimpers eventually dimmed, and whatever was holding him up let go so he fell into his own blood which had turned the dirt into mud.

“I am Manannan, and you will address me as Master. You are Gwydion, a slave. You will cook and clean and tend the Keep. If you fail to do you chores I will punish you. If you show me any disrespect I will punish you. You try and run away I will beat you until you can’t walk. If I find you stealing or lying I will kill you. Are we clear, boy?”

“Yes.” And because Freak had lived with Vernon for as long as he can remember and knows he adds, “Master.”

“Good. Clean up and go to your room on the second floor. I don’t want to see you until breakfast.” The door slammed close. Freak slowly pulled himself upright. His back was one painful throb, and his shirt stuck and pulled at the wounds. His arms and legs felt like jelly. Later, he couldn’t tell how he got inside, nor how he found what is clearly ‘his room’, it being one of only two rooms on the second floor, the other being lavishly decorated in purple, red and pink while his was much smaller and grey. Freak managed to peel off his shirt and used the small basin of water beside the bed and his own shirt to wash the semi dried blood off his shoulders. He didn’t wash his back, the shirt had come away in one piece, and he knew from encounters with Dudley that the best thing to do with open welts was to not get fabric or dirt stuck in them. To his not great surprise there was bandages in the bottom draw, and he wrapped them around his slender torso with the ease of long practice of tending his own wounds. Once done Freak collapsed on the bed (and later he would acknowledge that wasn’t that a kicker that a sadistic evil wizard gave him a bed, in his own room, while his family gave him a rickety old camping cot in a cupboard) and fell blissfully into deep sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~That Night~~~~~~~~~~~

In his dreams Freak flew through the sky on a motorbike, the wind rushed against his face, and night sky twinkled above. The man holding him leaned over, old and white and bright blue eyes, and the stars fall down and become trapped in those hard endless eyes. And he smiled with too many teeth and say, “You’ll be great my boy,” and something echoes, “…terrible, but great.” And Freak shrunk, smaller and smaller, as the old man loomed over head, until he fall through the old mans hands, down down into darkness, only to land in his cupboard. Outside he heard loud voices which mean nothing. He peeked though the grate to see a police man standing in the lounge room, face stark and impassive. “I’m very sorry Mrs Dursley, both the school and the police are doing all they can, but without any witnesses it is slow going.”

Vernon was red in the face, “That little troublemaker! He’s run away! Always causing grief for good folk!”

The policeman face didn’t change, but something like anger flickered in his eyes, “Well, if that is the case no doubt when he gets hungry or cold he will hopefully report to a police station or return here. But until we have some evidence that Harry is ok, we will continue to search for him. Now Mrs Dursley, I believe you were going to find some photos of Harry for the police to…” And his voice dimmed until Freak couldn’t hear it. A knock sounded on the back of the cupboard and Freak turned to see a door in the back wall. He opened the door and a large brown snake, as big as he is, reared up and hissed at him, but Freak wasn’t afraid. Instead Freak leapt forward and grabbed the snake and tied it into a giant knot, and his voice was strange, deeper and as thin as smoke when he said, “Some knots can never be untied, but need to be cut to free them.” And black crept in, and Freak’s mind fall into deeper dreamless sleep, undisturbed by further thoughts.

Chapter Text

The next day Freak was awoken by a rooster crowing. For a long indrawn breath Freak’s confused brain tried to figure out how a rooster got into Privet Drive. Then, unfortunately, he turned over on to his back, and the stabbing agony woke him up fully.

So, Freak thought, not a dream then.

In the new days light, and no longer with the fuzzy head, Freak looked around his room. It wasn’t much, a small single bed, with a surprisingly thick mattress and bright red blanket and navy pillow, and a plain wooden chest with two draws and a shelf in-between them. A broken tarnished silver mirror sat on the grey stone wall over the small basin on the chest, and the old style window completed the room. There was no overhead light, and Freak vaguely recalled candles lighting the dim interior when he stumbled upstairs. So probably no electricity. Freak checked each of the draws. There was a collection of clean long sleeve loose shirts, approximate sizes ranging from for a child Freak’s age to grown man, and matching sized trousers with string drawn waists. There was also a range of sleeveless long leather vests. Nothing had button, everything was laced. Freak found a range of leather boots and matching black belts on the shelf, all well worn. Clearly, he is not the first to wear these clothes. But unlike at the Dursleys, the second hand clothes were not as wide as they are long. The rest of the bottom draw is what Freak thought might be pants, which, lacking stretch, were like small shorts. Freak spent time slowly, careful of the still painful welts on his back, changing the bandages, rising down with the last of the water, re-bandageing with clean white fabric and picking clothes to put on a outfit. He felt a little like he was playing make-believe, but at the same time the clothes were soft and fit better then anything he could remember wearing before. As there was no where else to look, and Freak wasn’t quiet ready yet to face outside the room, Freak looked under the bed. There was a small wooden box, which he removed and opened.

Inside was a black journal, a needle and a length of cotton thread, a small hand mirror, two half broken quills and a bottle of deep green ink. Freak sat back and opened the book. Only the first quarter of the pages or so had writing in them. Although he felt a little bit like he shouldn’t, like it might be private, Freak opened the cover. The first few pages were ripped out, only a few bits of cream paper sticking from the bidding. The first full page was covered in small careful lettering. The middle of the pages was a slightly off brown colour.

Day 12
I found this book in Manannan’s trash this morning. From the smell I can guess he spilt roast dripping on it. He is careless and wasteful. I hate him so much. Perhaps even more then my drunk of a father. When he sent me to Manannan to pay his debts had dreamed a first of freedom form out of his fists. But I have traded one prison for another. Once I was Rowan Marshal, second son of William Marshal, Earl of Land's End. Now I am Gwydion, slave to the dark wizard Manannan. I am fearful that it is all I only ever amount to. I’ve also tried to learn to mark my location by the stars, in the hope I may be able to make my way home, but the learning of my youth are sadly dim now.
Manannan will return soon, and I must hide this. If he catches anything on me the price will be my life. However, this book shall be my record of my discoveries, for as I spend more time here I feel an ever growing dread. This wizard has ill plans for me.

Day 15
Today I stepped off Manannan’s mountain for the first time since my arrival. Though he would kill me without hesitation if he knew, my only regret is that I waited so long. What I have learned this day alone! The townspeople are not the wretched creatures I’ve been led to believe; only the outcast ruffians are to be avoided. They all fear my master and have spent their lives in the coldness of his shadow. I went to visit Francis at the Tavern, but cowardice and uncertainty stopped me from announcing my presences. I fear he will report my sins to Manannan, if only to maintain his contract with the wizard. As he is the only one who has seen me, I’m not worried about the rest of the townsfolk. One could be mistaken for an angel, for the lovely Rose can be not other being, with hair of spun…

As Freak was about to turn the page, a loud slam sounded close by, and and voice screamed, “Boy! Get my breakfast ready!” Freak pushed the book and box quickly back under the bed and scrambled out the room. He didn’t know where the kitchen was, but the grumbling was coming from downstairs so he raced there. He moved into he doorway of a large dinning hall. It was a large barely furnished room, with a single large long table and matching bench seats, and a sideboard over which a large stags head was mounted. A square iron with 4 brightly glowing lamps hung from the ceiling. The wizard, Freak’s new Master, sat impenitently drumming his long boney fingers on the table. Spotting Freak he shouted again, “Why are you not WORKING, boy?” the wizard sneered. Freak mumbled a faint reply.

“Get me my breakfast! NOW!! And the kitchen floor is FLITHY!” Manannan grumbled. Manannan’s hand sweep in the direction of the doorway behind him. Freak hurried past and into what was clearly a kitchen, but not like any he had ever seen before. Quickly, he grabbed the bread and cheese from the long bench and took them out to Manannan.
“Here, Master, forgive me for being slow.”

Manannan snatched the offerings and sneered at Freak while greedily shoving them in his mouth. Freak had a moment of surreal humour, he was in a strange world and his master was a wizard, and nothing had really changed at all! In only moments the food was gone, and Manannan stood back up.

“I’ll be in my tower Gwydion. I expect the kitchen cleaned, the study dusted and my chamber pot empty and dinner made. Do not disturb me.”

“Yes Master.” Freak watched the wizard storm out of the room and trembled, remembering the punishment from last night. But was that really the full extent of the chores? Petunia would expect that amount done before breakfast! And here he had all day! And he could do anything else with his time.

Maybe, maybe this place wasn’t as bad as he feared.

Freak completed his chores before lunch. It had taken him some time to realises there was a almost hidden door at the back of the kitchen which lead to a small wash room, and from there out into the back court yard. It was here that Freak found a small spout, which constantly ran. There was no tap to turn it off, but its metallic taste hinted that it might be natural spring of some kind. The water was very cold, but it, with a small amount of soap he found in the wash room, was enough to wash the kitchen floor with. Although he hadn’t been told to, Freak also did the dinner halls floor, and wiped down the table. He had then found the study, and dusted with a small damp rag. The study was full of old leather bound books, and Freak wondered if he was allowed to read them. He didn’t linger, until he was sure either way he wouldn’t take the chance. On the second floor, the room that wasn’t his was clearly Master’s. It was a large room, dominated by a large four posted bed. The bed was draped in purple velvet curtains and spread. On the floor a large purple red and navy woolen rug softened the wooden floor. There was also a small table with a polished silver mirror, a large closet fashioned of ornately carved mahogany, and a side board made in a similar carved style with bright golden knobs and a basin and water jug. A tabard of navy, red and purple vertical strips hung on the wall. The chamber pot turned out to be a grey ceramic pot, from which a foul smell emanated. Once Freak realised what it was, emptying it was as humiliating as anything the Dursley’s had ever asked of him. He missed fiercely the convenience of the bathroom at number 4 (it was the only thing he missed) and emptying the chamber pot made him almost vomit. And he was used to cleaning Dudley’s room! Freak had no doubts that outside of the wizard himself, his chamber pots are the worse thing he had to deal with.

Freak had stood awkwardly in the wash room after washing his hands three times, and realised he had finished all the chores, and it wasn’t even lunch. Master hadn’t asked for any lunch, but also hadn’t said Freak couldn’t have any. Just in case, Freak explored the kitchen.

So far, Freak liked the kitchen the best. It was homely, and Freak was already on the way to considered it his as few things were. The far wall was dominated by a giant stone fireplace, big enough for Freak to walk into if he needed. The fire place had been empty on the day he arrived, but Freak could image that it would warm the room pleasantly. When it got too hot, Freak could open the large windows down most of northern side, but at night the fire would mean he wasn’t shivering in his thin shirt and leggings. Pots and pans were stacked high on shelves next to the fire, and on the window side, a long preparation bench sat bathed in sunlight. It may be one of the reasons he liked this room so much, unlike much of the rest of the Keep, and his cupboard from Before, the kitchen was full of bright light. For water he had to use the spring in the small courtyard outside, but he found a bucket he could fill and sit it under the bench for quick cleaning as needed. The opposite wall was covered in large shelves full of staples like bags of flour and rice, bricks of butter, cabbage, beets, onions, garlic and carrots, bags of chickpeas, fava beans and peas. A small box of apples, pears, plums, and strawberries were hidden behind a large bag of barley. Freak also found small jars of preserved figs and dates, and an even smaller pot of cloudy honey. There were tiny pots and glass vials with cork stoppers full of spices like pepper and turmic and even sugar (which Freak had thought wasn’t a spice, but then there was so little and it was very dirty and rough). On the shelves were also sparkly white plates and bowls of fine porcelain and a few in rough brown clay. Large barrels of wine, vinegar and oil were stacked by the door. From the high ceiling hung bunches of herbs, giving the room an earthy mix of fragrance.

Freak had sliced 4 pieces of bread and cheese, and put together two simple sandwiches. By then the sun had moved far enough that it had to be far past lunch, and as Master hadn’t asked for it yet, Freak figured he was safe to eat both. The cheese was bitingly sharp, and bread slightly hard. To Freak, it was delicious.

After that he read the journal he had found that that morning in the safety of his room. Freak had never liked to read much before. He much rather being outside and doing, then sitting and reading. But here there was very little to do outside, except watch the chicken peck at the ground. His dislike of reading could have partially been due to the fact he hated being confined, just like when he was locked in his cupboard, and partially due to the fact he had had to teach himself to read from the overheard lessons while Petunia tried again and again to teach Dudley. He could read enough to make it passable, but the journal was handwritten in a loopy script and Rowan liked to use big words. So at the start it was hard work, every tenth word or so he had to sound out (and he was extremely thankful when he found a dictionary on the shelves in the study). The writer, Rowan, had refused to call himself a slave, instead called himself a ‘Gwydion’. Rowan had come to Master Manannan somewhat willingly, having been sent out by his family, after his father, the Earl of Lands End had fallen into debt. But he wasn’t use to being a slave, and so from the start was rebellious. He had made numerous trips into town, and there had fallen deeply in love with the shop keepers daughter (although, from what Freak could tell, he never actually spoke to her), and dreamed about running away with her. A few times he had been caught outside the Keep, and was immediately transported back and punished, but such insistences became less and less once he realised that the old wizard was extremely predictable.

Rowan had reported of that a the man who delivered the weekly food ratio was called Francis, and from him learned that Rowan learned he was the third Gwydion. The others had been killed by the wizard for rule breaking, such as stealing. Not daunted at all, Rowan had managed to steal and then sell some of the silverware to bandits in town.

On that note, Freak had closed the journal and headed downstairs to make dinner. He still hadn’t figured out the fire, so he handed over a simple sandwich of bread, cheese, and salted ham. Master grunted, but hadn’t complained, so Freak took that as an acceptable.

It had gotten dark quickly, but Freak had watched in amazement when the candles around the Keep had light themselves when he walked up to his room again. His room didn’t have any candles, and the starlight that filtered in the window was too dim to read by, so he had gone to bed early. He would wake with the sun the next day.

Chapter Text

The next day Freak had awoken with the sun shining brightly on his face. He had been up before Master, and so had made his way to the kitchen. The kitchen was still clean from the day before, but he wondered if like Petunia, Master would demand he clean it again. He found a pile of wood in the courtyard, and had stacked it in the fire place. He had no idea how to light a fire, but had he thought it might be a good idea to start small and build it up. So he had piled the smallest branches in the middle, but then had no idea.

Freak sighed. He hadn’t wanted to ask Master for anything, asking was never a good idea, but he did want a fire going. So when Master had stumbled down for breakfast Freak had handed over the sandwich he had made before Master could even yell. He waited silently until Master was finished before gathering his courage. “Master, I don’t know how to light a fire in the fireplace. Could you show me how?”

Manannan had grunted and stood, “If I must lessen your absolute ignorance, then so be it.”

“Thank you Master, you are truly kind.”

“Fate has favoured you. Few orphaned youths can know of such fortune. You are lucky to be here, to serve me.”

“I am very lucky.”

“Indeed!” With that Manannan had pointed at the fire place, at Freaks small pile of branches. “I see you have at least started with the smallest pieces. There is a flint and stone in the draws which you can strike to light the tinder. For now, I will do it for you.” And he had then gestured to the fireplace and the branches had burst in flames. Despite having read the man was a wizard, despite having seen the candles light themselves, despite everything, Freak was still amazed at the clear use of magic. “Now get to work! I want the hallways swept, the banisters polished and remember to feed the chickens!”

“Yes, Master. Thank you Master.”

Freak hadn’t known he had to feed the chickens. He felt bad that the poor things had gone hungry yesterday, as he couldn’t see the wizard feeding them. Before he left the kitchen, he carefully stacked some of the larger wood pieces around the fire so it didn’t go out.

Outside, behind the chook hut, was a large wooden box filled with feed. Freak made multiple trips spreading 10 large handfuls in the pen, one for each of the chickens who immediately descended. He found a latch on the side of the hut, which opened to expose small nest boxes. He removed the 3 eggs inside.

Over the new fire, he had boiled a pot of water and boiled the eggs, which he had with toast and then grilled ham. It was almost like being back Before, but this time he ate it all himself, with no Dudley winning and stealing his food, no disapproving Petunia, grossly purple Vernon muttering at the paper.

After breakfast he cleaned, washing the plates and wiping down everything. Then he checked the fire, and added more wood. He found the flints, and practiced striking them. It was fascinating to watch the sparks form. Confident he could, if needed, light a new fire, he was happier to go do his other chores, with the possibility the fire might die out.

So he swept the hallways, and then washed them down with a rag, even if he hadn’t been asked to. He found some beeswax in the wash room, and used it to polish the banisters.

By then it was lunch, which again he had by himself. Now, with the fire burning, he made a simple stew which could cook slowly until dinner, and he could give some to Master.

With time now, he went back to the journal. It was somewhat comforting to Freak that someone else had bee here before, while at the same time he worried about the fact that it showed he was very much replaceable.

Things had been looking up for Rowan, money in hand from the silverware. But unfortunately, on one of his trips into town he had then been robbed by the same bandits he had sold to in the first place, and had been heartbroken and badly beaten. While recovering Rowan found a secret trapdoor in the study, but had been unable to open the door. Manannan had caught Rowan talking to Francis and turned the poor delivery man into a snail and after that all the deliveries were all made by an old woman, who refused to talk to him. Rowans next plan of escape had involved trying to rob the bandits (possibly by poisoning them) back, but had been unable to find there headquarters. His last entry talked about using the money to buy a ticket with the visiting sailors (pirates, he had qualified), for a fare on their ship away from here (it seemed that there was no longer any daydreams about the shop keepers daughter). It was his last entry. Freak could only hope he had made it.

Chapter Text

After finishing the journal, Freak had decided to start calling himself Gwydion. Not because it was really any better then ‘Freak’, after all, it really meant slave, and there was no way around that. But it sounded so much nicer, and he knew he had to get used to it, as Master Manannan only ever called him that. The simple fact was, for all purposes, he was Gwydion now. And although he was young in age, only just 7, he had never really had a childhood. So Gwydion didn’t cry or rage at his life, he adapted and learnt and did what he could to make it better.

On day four of being in the strange world he found himself in, Gwydion got up with the sun and filled a large pot of water from the spring. He stacked the wood and after a number of tries, managed to light the fire with the flint. Slowly, the kitchen warmed up, the early morning chill letting go to the rising sun and growing fire. The large pot of water slowly heated, and Gwydion spent the time feeding the chickens 10 handfuls of feed. By then the water was warm, and he used it to wash. At first he had considered taking it upstairs, rather then stripping in the wash room, but Manannan wasn’t awake yet, and if yesterday was normal wouldn’t be awake for hours yet. So Gwydion washed and put on yesterdays cloths which he had washed and hung up to dry the night before.

Then he made breakfast for himself, with eggs and toast a slice of jam and butter spread. The burnt toast and extra egg he put aside for Master once he appeared. By that time it would be cold, a crime which at the Dursley’s would get him thrown in the cupboard without food. But here he had already eaten, and he wanted to see what would happen. How would Manannan punish him? Would he be beaten again? In the mean time, he snuck some bread and salted meat up into his room, hiding it with the journal as a just in case. Master woke up and demanded his breakfast, which Gwydion gave him and braced himself for what was to come. Master grunted and said, “Empty my chamber pot, dust the painting in the hall and mop the kitchen.”

“Yes Master.” Then Gwydion watched in amazement as the wizard stood and with a swish for his robes, strode from the room. Wasn’t the wizard going to punish him for serving so little, and cold and burnt? Did he not punish, or did he not notice the food? Gwydion thought it was the second option. The simple fact was Master had beat him for cheek that first day.

Gwydion quickly did his chores. The kitchen really didn’t need mopping, not after he washed it down yesterday as well. Once done, he stood awkwardly in the kitchen. He had finished reading the journal, so what did he do now? Gwydion made his way up to the top of the Keep, and watched as Manannan looked around the surrounding countryside with the polished brass telescope directed out a window. It was clear that from here, Manannan spied upon the poor occupants of the area. Gwydion stood listening on the stairs to the wizard. Master had grunted, clicked his tongue, and muttered to himself. He was spying so intensely, he hadn’t even noticed Gwydion, even when the boy jumped after Master exclaimed, "Those little devils! What are they doing? I can't believe they would do this! They know my rules!"

The wizard grumbled, "They are going to regret this!” before he turned and scribbled a note down on a piece of paper. He held the paper up and a look of intense concentration crossed his face, before the paper erupted into purple flames. Gwydion almost jumped forward to help, but Master had a tiny happy smirk when the paper disappeared. It was clear that he had wanted that to happen. Master went back to the telescope and a few minutes later chuckled and said, “Very good, my little pets. Lets see how a little correction helps.”

Gwydion shuddered. There was something in Masters tone which spent fear spiralling down his spine. Gwydion backed down the stairs, and turned and fled. Having nothing else to do, he went into the study. On one wall was a large map. Gwydion traced the lines of the coast, the rivers and mountains. It took a moment to realise this was the world he found himself in, a world called Sierra, which had one large land mass and dozens of tiny islands. The land mass was divided in three, the north called Tanalore, and south called Serenia while the centre was called Mordavia. He couldn’t quiet understand why they had these three divisions, as there was no obvious areas described to each. It didn’t make much of a difference, as each city was basically its own country, for example, he might be in Tanalore, but he was really a part of the Land of Llewdor, whose capital was the small town he could see from the mountain top called Port Bruce. Trading routes tracked back and forth. Port Bruce looked like an important hub of trade, a place to replenish supplies when sailing between the north and south. It was also one of the easier routes into the centre, which was called appropriately the Endless Desert. Almost directly north of Llewdor, past a large swamp called the Bog of Eternal Stench was a city called Elstree in the Kingdom of Évreux. Elstree was right against the mountain range with a small notation of (outer) under it. Looking around the room Gwydion spied a book with ‘Kingdom of Évreux’ on the spine. He flipped through the pages, taking in the carefully handwritten script, and blinked a few times. The book talked about goblins. At first Gwydion had thought that calling them Goblins was the same way that Vernon used to called Mrs Suzuki at number 9 a Jap. But then he found a drawing of a Goblin. The small grey-green creature with beady little eyes and large noses. The drawing was sneering, and the description said that they could be vicious when crossed. He went back to the start of the book and started to read. According to the book, the Kingdom of Évreux was also known as the Goblin Kingdom. Elstree was actual the ‘outer city’ to the Goblin Kingdom (most of which was hidden deep in the north mountain range) ruled by King Jareth. The book had a long boring history of the region, and sections on crops, resources and trade. One chapter was on architecture, with a special note that the goblins had built a large labyrinth to protect one of their old cities, before moving to Elstree for better fortification. The goblins were well known for their ability as warriors and about half the book was just various wars their had waged, mostly against the fairies which lived in the forests and swamp in their lands. According to the Goblins, the fairies were an invading force, while the fairies claimed the plains around Elstree were an independent kingdom of theirs. Some of the book talked about the laws of each group, which were in opposition, like if celebrations must include yellow flowers (fairy laws) or must not include perfumed plants (goblins).

After that Gwydion found a book called ‘Laws of Sierra’, which he mostly didn’t understand at all, but the chapter titles and short introduction gave the idea that each land, kingdom , republic or sovereignty had its own laws, normally enforced but the ruler or rulers from their capital city. Before Manannan had arrived some time in the last 100 years, Port Bruce (and therefore Llewdor) had been ruled by a Council of Elders, which Manannan must have replaced. Most other places had Kings and Queens, whose words were absolute. The book also had a section on ‘fundamental’ laws, but by that stage Gwydion was hungry and decided to go make lunch. Manannan stomped down the stairs, and for a moment Gwydion though he might demand lunch, only of the wizard to go into the study and close the door. Gwydion headed up in the tower and peaked through the telescope. When Gwydion put his eye to the glass, it amazed him how near everything seemed. He could even see squirrels climbing faraway trees. It was no wonder that the wizard knew all. He spent the rest of the afternoon peering at things, watching in amazement.

For dinner he made roast pork and potatoes with relative success, before crawling into bed, his mind playing back on the goblins. He wondered what other magical beings existed in this world.

Chapter Text

The next day Manannan was awake before sunrise, which was unusual, but thankfully Gwydion was already awake, and about to leave his room. The wizard yelled from the stairs, “Gwydion! Get up you lazy boy! I have decided to take a journey. Have dinner ready for me when I return. And the tower better be spotless when I return!”

“Yes, Master.” Gwydion called back. And with that, the wizard, just as the sun crept above the horizon, made a loud CRACK as he disappeared. According to Rowan’s notes, the wizard should be gone all day, coming back at sunset exactly. Rowan noted that on trips when the wizard left at dawn he would always return at dusk, and had supposed that wherever he was traveling required that timing for the magic to work. Other trips, when Manannan left after dawn, would take exactly 8 hours.

Gwydion quickly heated water to wash, feed the chickens, made himself breakfast and hauled a bucket and soap up to the tower. He swept the room first, then with a damp cloth wiping everything down before mopping the floor. Gwydion wasn’t sure how to clean a telescope, so just left it at a wipe down. He even scrubbed the windows. Once he was finished, Gwydion checked how high the sun was, and was surprised how low it hung in the sky. It was too early to have lunch, so he went into the study. After finding out that Goblins were real yesterday, he wanted to see what other magical beings where in this new world. Gwydion ran a finger tip along the spines of the books, glancing at a few of the titles, ‘Ancient Arabic Mythology’, ‘One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi’, ‘A Study of the Heavens’ and ‘The Philosophies of Socrates’ on the fattest books caught his eye. There were books in other languages, such as ‘Hélas, Je me suis Transfiguré Les Pieds’, ‘Магичен Теория’, ‘Skrifter af Knos’, ‘Þrymskviða’, ’Ars moriendi’, ‘القانون في الطب’ and ‘Trk'hsk’’. Some he wasn’t sure of, such as ‘Xylomancy’, ‘Spellman's Syllabary’, and ‘Cyrillic Model’.

On one shelf, where he had found the book on Évreux, there were a number of other books on other Kingdoms. Gwydion tried the first in the shelf, a slender book bound in a deep green. The title was ‘The Sultanate of Shapeir.’ Gwydion flipped through the preface pages and looked for an index. The book didn’t have one, instead just starting with, ‘A history of the region.’ Gwydion kept flipping through the pages. He wasn’t really interested in a history yet. Maybe if the place had weird talking plants or something. The next chapter was more on the right path, with the title, ‘The people of Shapeir’, Gwydion laughed when he flipped the page to look a picture of a cat, standing on it’s hind legs, wearing clothes. He read the first paragraph of the page, skipping the words he didn’t know.

The Katta are (something) to the region of Shapeir. The (something) kin of the Liontaurs, as both (something) from from cats, the Katta have ruled the region for at least 1000 years. The Katta’s fur is known to come in a (something) of colours, however browns and tan are the the most (something). Black Katta are more common in the southern regions. The ruling family are known to have (something) white coats with darker faces, and members of the royal warrior guard tan coats with sharply banded black and white ears. Most Katta have bright green eyes, but yellow is also common. Blue eyes are sometimes seen in the more (something) tribes.

Cat people! Gwydion couldn’t believe it! He had brief thought about how the Dursley’s would have reacted by now, how Vernon would have jumped up and down, yelling that ‘Magic doesn’t exist!’ and ‘No Freakiness here!’ How Petunia would have screeched and probably sneered at Master, no doubt quickly earning even more punishment. Dudley would have thrown a tantrum, and Gwydion didn’t doubt the wizard would have killed him. After all Gwydion had never seen Dudley do a single chore, and the fat boy probably would have attacked the wizard at first time he was told to clean. Gwydion put the book back and looked at the next one. ’The Troll Kingdom of Vulcanix under Kyöpelinvuori Peak’. Trolls! Gwydion smiled, and opened a random page.

In (something) with their underground (something) Kyöpelinvuori Peak trades heavily with the the elves of Alfheim and further with the goblin nation of Évreux, but due to long standing (something) with the dwarven kingdom does not trade with Dinas Affaraon in the south. The largest (something) to these regions is mined crystals including red imperial topaz found only in the mines of Kyöpelinvuori Peak. For above ground trade routes, the Ooga Booga region blocks trade to the east, and the Endless desert to the south, however the Republic of Nendos to the west is a known trading (something).

Elves? Like Santa’s elves? Gwydion vaguely remembered Dudley coming back from school last year and asking Petunia about elves, and demanded she get (buy, borrow, steal) an elf to make toys just for him, just like they did for Santa. He remembered because Petunia had said no, a very rare occurrence, and therefore worth remembering. Vernon had been absolutely enraged, coming home to a full scale tantrum of Dudley’s while the boy demanded magic elves. Gwydion had been locked in his cupboard for 3 days, as somehow it was of course his fault. It had been worth it though, to see Dudley so angry, Petunia almost in tears, and Vernon an incredible purple in colour.

Gwydion put back that book and looked for one on elves, or their place called Alfheim. None of the books had a nice easy title with the kingdoms name. ‘Undersea Kingdoms of the West’ might be interesting, as might ‘Cloud Lands, Living above the sky’ or ‘Through the Forbidden Woods on Dark Paths’. That was when Gwydion saw the next shelves book title of ‘World Traveling: Portals to the beyond’. He grabbed it before hesitating. Did he want to go back? He wasn’t sure. Well no, he was sure he didn’t want to go back to the Dursley’s at all. So did it matter how he got here? Maybe if for some reason he was sent back, he could find a way to return to this place instead.

He settled down to read, but it was very hard. There was a lot of talk about how things influenced natural portals, like the stars and other things he didn’t understand. The next chapter was about permanent portals. The were well guarded and often blocked to outsiders. The goblins had the most well known one, and the book said that they often travelled between Sierra and what was referred to as Terra, which might (probably) be the world he came from. So if he was sent back he just needed to find a goblin.

Because that was so easy.

The book also said there was a portal in the Endless Desert, but the surrounding country made it hard to get to. There was one in the undersea kingdom, but it linked to a place very very deep in the ocean on the Terra side, making it basically useless. There was mean to be a fourth portal, but its location was somewhere in the Old Dark forest in the south (and therefore considered lost).

The book then talked about rituals to open portals, but the ingredients needed where nothing compared to the complex (what looked like) maths to figure out when and where you had to be. Gwydion thumped his head back into the book shelves in frustration.

The last section had a short history of how the portals had made Sierra. This world, he found, was made of magic, and was sort of adjacent to the world he had come from. Because of the high concentration of magic, the fantastical beasts and beings Gwydion had read about lived here (having fled here or were perhaps were made by coming here he didn’t really understand it), partially because of the lack of belief and desire of the people in Gwydion’s old world had been weakening them, not just magically but in ways such as intelligence wise or physically, and often making them sterile (a word which took Gwydion a while and a few sentences to figure out). But their presence in what had been before just a whole bunch of magical energy meant time and space need to exist too, and so the world had formed. There was brief mention of the fact that humans, one of the last species to come through, all contained the ‘spark of magic’ and couldn’t exist here without it. This lead to a low birth rate (only babies with magic could be born), but a high survival rate (as magic meant they didn’t get sick as often), small towns (due to the few people being born) but high levels of trade and travel (as people were healthier and stronger). Occasional accidental portal travellers mean the population never became to ‘close’. The cities were also quiet small, normally only being a dozen or so buildings, and a single large castle. He didn’t really understand how that was possible, where did they grow the food?

A book on farming was a few books over, and Gwydion glanced at the introduction. From what he could figure out it was also because of magic. Magic meant that plants grew very fast, and could be harvested multiple times a month. A single field of wheat was enough to feed a whole kingdom, and sometimes multiple kingdoms. There was also no real change in seasons. Some places were forever in winter, some forever in summer, so Kingdoms like Daventry who were always in late spring produced the majority of the crops for all of Sierra, making the kingdom one of the most powerful and wealthy, despite its small size. The book then went on about how to farm magical plants, and what was considered ‘must haves’ for any garden. Gwydion thought he might like to plant a garden. He could make beds from some of the largest wood pieces, and the scrap heap of kitchen leavings could be, with a little work, turned into good soil for the beds. Some seeds from the kitchen and he could grow his own fruits and vegetables.

Gwydion by now was hungry, and realised he had forgotten to have lunch. He wandered back into the kitchen and make himself (and Master), some sandwiches. He was too hungry to try cooking again. Maybe he could find a book on easy recipes. Petunia’s magazines where full of that sort of thing, so there had to be books like that too.

It was only as he was climbing into bed that Gwydion realised that if all people in Sierra had magic that meant he had magic too.

Chapter Text

The next day Manannan simply grunted at Gwydion for breakfast before disappearing into the tower, without assigning a single chore. Gwydion was at a bit of a loss. What was he meant to do now? Maybe he could get a start on dinner by cooking something like a pie, so if the wizard checked on him Gwydion would be working. Before doing so, Gwydion checked in the study for any books which might help. Lucky the studies bookshelves were filled with books on every subject; the wizard fancied himself to be quite a scholar.

It took some time, and a few distractions (by ‘Talons of Love, a Harpy story’ and ‘Fairies, Fae, and Fiends’) before he found ‘The good wife’, which was a guide for all sorts of things, such as dinner settings and how to dress when meeting royalty and greeting a good witch or a evil witch, but did have a section on cooking and recipes which used fire places and open flames, which is just what he needed. Gwydion wondered in Master would miss the book if he took it into the kitchen, and decided it should be fine.

When he returned to the kitchen he patted the cat, curled up asleep on the mantle, getting a soft meow and a long drawn out purr in response. Gwydion spent the rest of the day experimenting with baking pies and cakes. And eating the results. He even started to collect some of the empty tiny bottles and jars from the kitchen, after the spice was finished. That night, when he removed the bandages on his back, he was happy to see the open sours were now completely healed. He had always healed fast, but he thought maybe being in Sierra helped even more. He would need to wash and boil the bandages, ready for the next use as a just in case.

It was good day.

Chapter Text

After one week at the Keep, he felt like he had a pretty good hang on what was going on. That morning, when he he was cleaning in Manannan’s bedroom and had ran a hand along the top of the closet. There he had touched something metallic. Grabbing it, Gwydion had discovered a small brass key but he had no idea what it unlocked, but was dusty enough that he had felt safe taking it. It had been hidden with the journal in the box under his bed.

The other surprise of the first week in the Keep was the cat. Gwydion had never had a pet before. Now he had a cat. A few bits of cooked mutton and a gentle combing had seemed to make the cat from to a distant disdain instead of outright hostilities. Gwydion had thought that might be as close a cat ever was to anyone, so he started (if only in his head) to call the cat his pet. The simple fact was Gwydion has never been happier.

He got to eat wherever and whatever he wanted. His chores were easily done. There was no Dudley to beat him, no Vernon to threaten him, and no Petunia to boss him around. Sure Manannan was demanding, but no worse then Petunia, and and he didn’t ‘supervise’ and sneer and snark at Gwydion while he was doing his chores. In fact, the wizard pretty much left Gwydion alone. Here he had a room. And a bed. And cloths that fit.

And the Keep itself! The magic! It was an awesome new world.

It was on the 7th day that a somewhat shriveled old women, who refused to speak to him (which if Rowans story about Francis was true, Gwydion didn’t blame her at all), had delivered a cartload of goods before departing quickly. It was nothing like what he remember from Before, when Petunia had made him carry all the shopping from the big supermarket in town. On that day Gwydion had quickly learnt all sorts of things he had never known before about how to prepare and store food, because the animals had been still a whole carcass and the greens straight from the ground, dirt and all.

It made him very thankful for the ‘The good wife’. It had how to butcher an animal, and how to store the meat (there were no freezers here). It was hard work, but at the same time, it was also much more satisfying. Anything that made it to the table, he would done almost from complete beginning. Thankfully, Manannan was in no way a fussy eater, because Gwydion’s first attempts at meals he prepared were not good at all. Even now, when he had started to get the hang of things like plucking chickens and removing entrails, how to keep the meat turning in the fire so it didn’t burn, how to use the dried spices and herbs to make the meat taste less of salt or sour pickle and more edible, the meals he gave to Manannan were still pretty horrible. Manannan got bland and tasteless, the worst cuts of meat he could hide, the burnt bits from the real meal he cooked for himself. Manannan never voiced a single complaint, and Gwydion knew that if he had ever detected or even suspected that Gwydion was serving sub-standard food Gwydion would be punished severely. But the wizard clearly had no taste at all (and his decoration of his bedroom attested to that too).

Gwydion had arrived at the Keep just after his seventh birthday. Even though delayed by almost 3 weeks he cooked himself a tray of biscuits to celebrate, half of which burnt in the fire, but were still sweet as they were all his. He gave none to Manannan (but did gave a tiny bit to the cat when it begged).

Chapter Text

He cooked, dusted, swept, empty the chamber pot, feed the chickens, and washed his own laundry (he had no idea who cleaned Manannan’s robes or underthings, and he refused to think about it either). Occasionally Manannan would demand he clean the windows or change the candles around the Keep, and once polish the floors. But really, it was very easy here. Much better then the Dursleys. After Gwydion had finished reading the journal, he had started his own entries with of course his name (Freak-Harry-Boy) and where he had come from (writing down he had come from what he thought might be another world was just as weird as thinking it.) Apart from that he didn’t have much to say, and getting used to writing with a quill was difficult to say the least, but he did report his dreams on planting a garden in the small yard between the kitchen and the edge of the flat space the Keep sat in, around the spring which bubbled up in its stone surround before tumbling off the northern edge. He had already laid the largest pieces of firewood as edging for the beds, and had started work on a few large compost heaps. Thankfully, he could repurpose a rubbish pile of kitchen leavings and chicken poop that was already there, and hoped to have good growing dirt with a month or two. For once, Petunia’s insistence on Gwydion doing all the gardening came in handy, as he could easily do this. In fact, gardening was perhaps the only work he liked more then hated from Before. It was horrible in the sun in summer, and the cold in winter, but there was something satisfying about looking out over the yard at what he had coaxed and grown from seed into beautiful plants. It helped that the glossy magazines on gardens had been one of his major reading sources, and he could name all the plants and how best they grew. He was even getting use to using the dictionary he had found tucked into the shelves to help when he got stuck on a word.

Gwydion had gotten comfortable, which of course meant something had to upset everything. It came in the form of a letter when dusting the study left out on Manannan’s desk:

My dear Manannan,
It saddens me to learn that no word of your sister Hagatha, has reached you of late. We can but hope she is well and able somewhere… to do as she pleases, to whoever she pleases! My own sister is well, and thank you for asking. She was taken with you once, before you grew that “excessive beard” and insists that you were a handsome man in you day. I can only imagine.
Is your servant performing as adequately as the last? You certainly pick them, don’t you! Rumour has it that The Father had a particular say in keeping this latest slave. Such a rare honour: I’m really quiet envious! Then again, you name them all “Gwydion,” so what does it matter where they come from? The way they meet their end all on their eighteenth birthdays… you are such a poetic dear! As for my own daring boy, he is performing his role as a loyal son superbly…one might think he’d been doing so his whole life.
In matters of Faith, my response is as is had always been: we must continue to do what we can to usurp control from the unfaithful, so that the world may be prepared for the Great Day. For my part, I have made plans to rid this realm of my enemy. Being so predictable and obliviously innocent, she will make easy prey.
The time comes soon, Brother Manannan, and our long wait will be over. May swift destruction come to all those who oppose us!
In The Father We Trust,
‘L’
PS. You really shouldn’t keep cats around the house. Steeds make much better pets.

Gwydion tried to tell himself he was mistaken, that this L was wrong, and that Manannan, who had been so kind to him, had maybe just sent the other Gwydion’s away when they turned 18. Maybe he found them new jobs elsewhere? It didn’t men he killed them. It couldn’t! Gwydion squeezed his eyes shut, as if he could through force of will push the thoughts out of his head. Instead, he concentrated on the other piece of information, that it was possible that this Father had done something to deliberately bring Gwydion to this place. But who was ‘The Father’? Maybe he should thank him too? Was it Manannan's father? But that meant it was L’s father too, and L sister liked Manannan, so that couldn’t be right. Right?

Gwydion carefully smoothed the parchment where his figures has curled hard, and put the latter back. He should just forget about it. It was rude to read other peoples mail anyway. But maybe he should also find out more about the town at the base of the mountain. They would be able to tell him if the other Gwydions escaped or… well he didn’t want to think of the or.

Chapter Text

At the 4 and a half week mark mark he finally felt confident enough to leave the Keep. So he waited for Manannan to announce he was going on a trip, and 5 days later, exactly that happen, the wizard gave Gwydion an evil glare at breakfast “I have decided to take a journey.”

Gwydion simply answered, “Yes, master,” as always. As soon at the wizard had disappeared Gwydion had ran to finish his few regular chores and then outside, and with a deep breath took his first step off the mountain.

The path down to the base of the mountain twisted back and forth, like a snake. This meant it was a long trip, but as it was covered in a bright almost yellow sand, which was loose under Gwydion’s boots and he was glad it wasn’t steep and short instead. Gwydion kept his eyes firmly on his feet, not willing to chance a bad fall for a fleeting glimpse of the view. Excitement thrummed through him, this was it! Gwydion was going to explore this crazy world he was in. Maybe he would meet a troll, or better yet one of the Fae! While thinking about it Gwydion had taken almost 10 steps at the base of the mountain before he realised the path had levelled out and he was surrounded by trees. He had done it! He had left the mountain!

Gwydion couldn’t look around enough. The forest was quiet, but in the distance he heard birds singing and the chatter of squirrels. A few pines clung to the base of the mountain, in front of him the oaks and ash trees thick green leaves formed an almost wall, interspersed with the ghost like trunks of silver birch. The occasional tall elm towered above, while the darker bark of the maples squatted below. Beneath Gwydion’s feet, the sand of the path disappeared into a dirt track which wove between the trees and the vibrant green grass. Gwydion wasn’t sure he was ready to head deeper into the forest yet, and knew with his luck he didn’t have time yet to go to the village before Manannan retuned. So Gwydion turned left instead, and followed the curve of the mountain base around. A small stream cut though the landscape, its water deceptively shallow but swift. The banks were muddy and Gwydion had almost slipped in when he approached. He could see the shine of tiny silver fish darting through the current. With the stream on his right and the mountain on his left Gwydion continued around. The stream cut in close to the mountain and Gwydion had to cross it to continue. As he did so he could see a cave sticking out from the ground in front of him. Stretched across its mouth was a giant spider web. Gwydion stared for a moment and considered getting closer for a quick look, but something about it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Gwydion instead picked up a smooth pebble from the stream and threw it into the web. In a blink a giant hairy midnight blue spider darted out of the overhangs shadows, chittering at Gwydion, as if yelling at him. The spider was as big as Gwydion was! Shuddering, Gwydion fell backwards. He sent a quiet thank you that he was not caught in the monsters 8 legs. Backing away from the cave, and putting the stream between them again, Gwydion jogged west now, having rounded the corner of the mountain. Here, the trees around him became almost all tall straight pines. The stream meandered back and forth in a lazy fashion ahead of him, around large grey boulders. Gwydion let its gentle bubbling ease him from his fright. Gwydion turned and could see a long waterfall down the side of the mountain spilling into a few small pools before joining the stream. He realised that this must be the end of the spring which tumbled over the edge at the top of the mountain. Gwydion dipped his fingers into the cool clear water and watched the sunlight reflect off the ripples.

With a sigh, Gwydion stood up again, and climbed over and around the larger stones. Out of the corner of his eye he saw soft brown of a feather. Gwydion pulled into out between the stones, trying not to break or crush the fragile structure. The feather was banded in cream and dark brown, its tip almost black. He would have to look up what kind of feather it was back in Manannan’s study.

A little further around the mountain and the trees thinned out as the boulders grew into walls of dark grey stone. A broken dead pine marked the edge of the forest, beyond which the yellow sand choked the edge of the grass, a few small twisted saltbushs struggled to grow. The parched sands of the desert seemed to reach forever westward. Gwydion could see a large armed saguaro almost beckoning him to come explore. Gwydion turned, resolute against the temptation, and continued back around south with a firmly planted hand on the sheer face of the mountain. The occasion maple dotted the small wedge of green between the mountain and the desert, and before Gwydion knew it, he is back around to the path up the mountain. Gwydion looked at the sun, trying to gauge the time. Deciding he needed to know how long such a trip takes him, not just guess, he reluctantly made his way back up the trail. Next time, he promised himself, next time, he’ll go into town.

Chapter Text

It was 3 days before he got another opportunity to leave the Keep. This time, he took the path at the mountain base past a large wooden cottage into town. Gwydion had only stopped briefly to admire the large structure and its small patch of brightly coloured primrose in front. It looked straight out of the story books on knights and maidens Petunia had once read to Dudley, all yellow thatch roof and exposed wooden beams. Gwydion had been very tempted to go up and knock, that was until the door opened and he watched three large black bears walk out on their hind legs. The largest and smallest were wearing blue overalls, while the middle sized one was wearing bright pink sundress.

The largest bear exclaimed, “What a beautiful day for a stroll through the forest!” Before all three wandered off. Gwydion thanked his lucky stars he hadn’t gone to knock. Bears! Talking, cloths wearing bears! As he started to walk away he found a tiny silver thimble glinting amidst the grass. Knowing it was the right thing to do, he had managed to get up the courage to greet the Bears as they started to leave the garden. Sadly, his cordial greeting annoyed the bear in a sun dress, and she growled back, "Grrrrrrrrrrrrreetings yourrrrrrrrrrself, young man. Stay out of my garden!"

Gwydion was reminded too strongly of Petunia to try again, but even as he thought of leaving the bear had growled menacingly again, "Grrrrrrrrrrr! We don't take to strangers here. Go away!"

With that Gwydion had hightailed it on to the town.

Calling it a ‘town’ might be a bit generous. For starters there was only 5 buildings and a long pier sticking out into the sea. Of the five buildings, only two had large signs on the front, a Tavern and a Store, the rest appeared to be houses, like the bear’s house, in grey plaster between exposed dark wooden beams, but with red tiled roofs. Both the store and tavern were made of cherry red wood, with round gold trimmed windows, like an old fashion boat. The tavern had a chimney from which white smoke curled lazily, perfuming the air with a gentle warmth. A large anchor was propped up against the stores’ wall.

After checking that the old crone who delivered weekly to Manannan was no where in sight, Gwydion ducked into the store and took in the walls packed with produce. Barrels and bags, jars and junk, every inch of space was full. A large black old stove against the back wall radiated heat. A shaggy old dog lay in front of the stove, taking up much of the space. It briefly lifted its head as Gwydion entered, only to huff and lay back down. Gwydion could see its collar is engraved with the name ‘Kenny’.

“Good day to you, young man!” the store keeper was a friendly middle aged man, dressed in a smart black suit with a crisp white shirt. He even had a black tie around his upper arms. “What can I do for you?”

Gwydion wasn’t interested in the food, if he needed anything, Manannan’s kitchen would provide. What did catch Gwydion eye was an old large pouch with a thick shoulder strap.

“Um, hello. How much is that pouch?”

“A keen eye you have there young man! This pouch is specially enchanted, its made of soft leather from a questing beast. No matter how large, it will fit exactly 20 items, yet weigh no more then it does now!”

“Wow!”

“Now for such a princely item, I’m afraid costs a princely sum. For such a fine young adventure such as yourself I’d need to ask for 10 gold pieces.”

“Oh. I don’t have that much.”

The store owner looked sad, and hung the pouch back up behind the desk. “Well anything else?”

“No, um.” Gwydion hesitated then smiled, “Thanks anyway.”

“Come back any time!”

Outside, the salty sea air brushed against Gwydion’s face. The tavern was next, and Gwydion wandered in, not expecting any customers at such an early time of the day. To his surprise two large burly men were drinking ale from large steins. A women stood behind the bar, with bottles of rum and wine sitting atop wooden shelves. Her low cut light blue top displayed her own wares. Just like in the store, a large stove squatted in the back corner, heating the room. On one wall was a large tabard and a pair of crossed swords.

“Um hello.” Gwydion greeted the barmaid.

But before the blonde barmaid could answer, one of the surly-looking characters yelled out, “Wench! Come o’er here with more ale!”

The young blonde hurried over, and Gwydion snuck back out to avoid the men’s eye. Their loud voices had reminded Gwydion too much of a time when he was called Freak and Vernon would yell at Petunia. Such yells were always a prelude to his own punishment.

Back outside, Gwydion checked the sun, but its high position suggested he still had plenty of time. He decided to stroll along the dock. There were no ships currently docked, but he took the time to watch the gulls soar gracefully on the sea breezes.

Wandering back into town, he tilted his head back, taking in the sea breeze and warm sun. He had never been to the beach Before, and he hoped he would be lucky enough to be able to return when the weather warmed. He couldn’t swim, but he could paddle in the surf, maybe even build a sand castle. As he was distracted with his day dreams, he didn’t see the burly men exiting the tavern.

“Watch were you’re going!” One yelled as Gwydion knocked into him.

“Sorry sir!”

“I’ll make ya sorry!” As the burly man reached out to grab Gwydion, the boy darted away. Hours of running from Dudley in practice, Gwydion sprinted away, into the forest and away from town. The drunk men shouted and made as if to chase, but their drunk muscle bound bodies were slow and heavy. Gwydion by this stage was are the edge of the woods. The chase continued for a good hour, at least for Gwydion, who refused to stop running, even if the sounds of the mens shouting and heavy running has long since fell silent. Huffing and sweating, Gwydion slowed and stopped as he broke from the tree line, facing the desert. The sky in the desert was a cloudless, deep, deep blue. Close to him a short round cactus was in bloom, delicate red flowers bright in the glaring sunlight. Just beyond that Gwydion could see a bleached skeleton of a cow or similar large animal. Even knowing it was a bad idea, he crept out onto the sand. The cactus flowers were very pretty, so he carefully picked a few and pocketed them. Halfway to the horizon, Gwydion could make out a structure made of stone, jagged like teeth above the dunes. He couldn’t help but venture forth to explore.

After about 30 minutes in the burning heat, the shade cast but what appeared to be some kind of large door set into a small mountain of rock was a relief. Gwydion hesitated, then knocked on the door. If they were friendly he might be able to get something to drink. To his surprise the door swung open, revealing a dark shadowed cave. Gwydion crept inside, “Hello?” He called. A large chasms in the centre of the cave gave off strange green light, throwing stalactites and stalagmites into sharp relief.

A voice hissed in the dark, “who comes to my den? Who dares disturb me?”

Gwydion tried to peer into the shadows, he knew it was polite to look someone in the face when talking to them, “Just me, Gwydion.”

“What is this? He speaks? What is a Gwydion?”

“Not a Gwydion, thats my name. I’m a human.”

“Man? I have known many called ‘man.’ All wretched. All deceitful. Now… all stone. As a man, you are not capable of honesty. Of truth.”

“But I am.”

But the voice continued as if it hadn’t heard, “As a man, you exist only to break a women’s heart. Shallowness and fear are your bane. Come closer, and I will destroy you.”
“You don’t need to do that. Not everyone is like that. I don’t think I’ve ever broken a womens heart. I try and be nice and polite. You can’t judge everyone before you have meet them.”

“The foolish man thinks he is different? If you truly believe so then reveal your true self.”

“How?”

“Hear me in earnest and respond in kind. A blind man asks you to describe the sunset.”

Gwydion considered. Once he could have been that blind man, never having seen the sunset, locked away in the dark. He wasn’t the most poetic of people, but he tried to consider how he would have described the beauty he had only now discovered in this world to the sun descend at days end. “I would speak of a flame dwindling in a rolling sky, and of heavenly fingers which trace the land with warm, dry pools.”

The voices hissed, weather in agreement or not Gwydion couldn’t tell. There was a pause then it spoke again, “A poor girl offers to sell you a rotten apple from her basket.”
Gwydion had been poor his whole life, poor and alone and very often hungry. His voice was soft as he replied, “If I had money I would share it with her to buy riper apples. We could sit and eat them together.”

The voice was harsh, “You would sit with her? Take what you pretended to offer?”

“I know what it is like to be hungry and doing whatever you can to survive. The biggest hungry is not always for food, but for someone to listen and hold you and tell you it will get better.”

“So if an old man, who reeks of the worlds’s worst stenches, asks for shelter…”

“I would invite him in.”

There was a long pause, and Gwydion listened to the drip of distant liquid, happy enough to wait in the cool dark. Eventually the voice hissed, “You have a pure heart child, and you speak the tongue of snakes, approach and look at me.”

With that Gwydion walked around the deep chasms in the floor and then looked up at the shadow in the deepest dark corner. He was surprised to be meet with a tall women, with green skin and hair made of tiny snakes, each hissing quietly. Now close he could make out there tiny voices, “He smells like dirt.”
“And lighting!”
“Snake eyes.”
“Scruffy.”
“Speaker!”

Gwydion blinked a few times, entranced. And before Gwydion’s eyes her skin lightened, into a normal honey tan, and the dark black snakes in her hair lighten into a golden yellow. Her eyes darkened from slate grey into a deep blue. Then the women’s voice made the others quieten, “So, it is true. You are not stone.”

Gwydion gulped, then squeaked, “I could have turned to stone?”

“If you were not worthy, yes, you would have turned to stone.”

“Oh.”

“But you have instead broken the curse which was placed on me almost 50 years ago.”

“50 years? What? But? Oh, you changed colour.”

“Yes. I had been cursed to be like my forsaken mirror. As you see me now is truth, and I will not turn you to stone. So Gwydion, what brings you here to my den?”

Gwydion calmed his shiver. He quietly thanked his stars that he had somehow past the test he hadn’t even known he was taking. “I was in the desert and was saw your door. I was thirsty and hoped for a glass of water.”

The women laughed, a laugh still held a note of a hissing noise which Gwydion found oddly soothing. “Yes Gwydion. Come, follow me.”

She turned, and Gwydion realised her entire bottom half was actually the thick coils of a golden snake. As they made there way deeper into the caves, Gwydion asked, “Do you have a name?” Gwydion could feel the blush at his blunt question, “I mean, what are you called? No, I mean, um, what should I call you?”

“Oh, little one. The answer to all of those questions is the same, Medusa I am called, for Medusa is what I have return to. I can not remember my name from before the curse which turned me into a gorgon.”

“Who cursed you? Why would someone do something like that?”

As Medusa slowed she gestured to a small pool ahead. The water was crystal clear, brightly casting sparkling reflections on the cave walls. “My family were great Witches, as all Medusa are, but we were hunted by men. Only I remained, and I refused to bow down to any man, so when Manannan came here he cursed me, that I would never be able to look upon another or spread my knowledge.”

Gwydion made his way over to the pool, and greedily drunk from the cool water. “That’s horrible. Why would he do that?”

“Men fear what they can not understand or control. We were all females, and looked to no man. After I was cursed I was hunted as a beast and a monster.”

“Oh. Surely you could ask them not to hunt you.”

That hissing laugh began again, as Gwydion sat down next to the pool. He wanted to ask where the soft light came from, but it had been forgotten in Medusa’s story. “Most humans can not speak the tongue of snakes. They could not understand my words.”

“But I could!”

“Yes little Gwydion, you are special. You have magic in your blood, truth in your soul. You speak the tongue the snakes easily. I would not be surprised if you could speak all the tongues of magic.”

“Tongues of magic? What do you mean?”

“Most magical animals speak their own tongue, which is shared and understood by all of their lesser kin. The great tongue of snakes is just one. For example there is the tongue of the hoof, the tongue of the many legged fang, the tongue of the feathered, the tongue of the small furred to name a few.”

“And I could learn them?”

Medusa inclined her head, “I shall aid you, if you wish. There is a potion which allows you to understand the tongues, from that you could learn to speak as well.”

“Oh yes please!”

“It is a task that will take longer then a day, and I think you have been in this cave for long enough today.”

With that thought, Gwydion was reminded of the time and jumped up, “Oh no! I’m going to be late! I have to go!”

Medusa huffed and escorted and quickly walking Gwydion to the cave door. “I will see you again, come back and visit me soon.”

“Of course!” and acting on impulse, Gwydion awkwardly hugged Medusa. “I won’t leave you alone again.” Then as fast as he had run from the men earlier in the day, he ran all the way back through the desert and forest and up the mountain, to collapse in his room, after shoving the cactus flowers in the hidden box. Bare seconds later he heard the tell tale CRACK of Manannans return, followed by his voice yelling, “Gwydion! Where is my dinner!”

Gwydion hurried downstairs to put a slice of cheese and ham on a piece of bread and bring it in to Manannan. It had been a full and exciting day. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

Chapter Text

It was 6 days before Gwydion was free again. In that time Manannan made him dust the entire study, removing one book at a time and gently wiping down the covers to clean them. It was during this process he found a false back in one of the shelves, which when opened reviled a small metal lever. Gwydion wasn’t ready to try it, but was pretty sure it was the way into the hidden cellar. He replaced the wood panel and book and avoided Manannan’s eye for the rest of the day as if the wizard might see the knowledge somehow. As Gwydion avoided Manannan’s eye normally anyway, the wizard did’t notice and went on his trip as normal. As soon as the wizard was gone Gwydion headed straight out of the keep and to the desert door, but hesitated once he got there. He was looking forward to the visit, but didn’t want to look stupid if Medusa had been lying to him about coming back. He had thought she could be trusted, but his history of adults keeping their promises (which weren’t threats) was zero. Gwydion considered if he should knock on the door. What if she doesn’t want to talk to you? What if you are just disturbing her, being an annoying little freak like always? But you said you would visit. But before Gwydion could talk himself out or into knocking, the door opened and Medusa could be seen.
“Hello Gwydion, beautiful day is it not? How about you come in out of the heat?”
The little snakes around he head twisted excitement, “Hatching!”
“Scruffy!”
“Still smells like dirt.”
“He’s so little.”
“Did you bring me a mouse?”

Gwydion stammered, “Hello Medusa, and um, little hair snakes. I was coming to visit, like you said.”

“Yes, I can see.” Her smile was gentle as she ushered him inside. “Ignore the little ones, they are just excited.”

Inside had changed dramatically from his last visit. The heavy dark atmosphere was gone, mostly due to the regular wall scones which had been added, giving off soft warm light. The deep chasms with its eery green light was still there, but Medusa quickly lead them deeper, back to the pool and its glowing walls. From there, multiple new small caves had budded off, one he could see had its floor covered in pillows and throws, another pots filled with deep green moss and leafy plants. The smallest had a deep stone basin and a number of earthen pots stacked in shelves dug into the rock.

“Does it meet your approval?”

“Oh, sorry, yes. I just don’t remember this all before, but its nice, of course!”

Medusa smiled, and gestured to the room with pillows. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Once both had settled in the pump pillows, Gwydion said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t visit sooner, I can only visit when Manannan isn’t home.”

Medusa hiss quick and scary, “Manannan! The wizard who cursed me!”

Having reminded Gwydion, he recalled her saying that before, but hadn’t really connected that his Master was the wizard who had cursed her. “Maybe? I mean, probably, he is a wizard.”

Medusa seemed to realise she was scaring Gwydion. “What is he to you?”

Gwydion can feel the blood rush into his face is embarrassment. “He is my Master. When I came here, he said he had bought me as a slave.”

“Where were you before? Who sold you?”

Gwydion hesitated. It was one thing to think he might have come from a different world, it was another to say it, “I’m not sure. I was, I think, in a different world. My cousin was chasing me and then I blacked out and then I was here and Master was saying he bought me and I was a slave, but I don’t remember being sold. And he is a wizard, and scary, but its better here then where I was so I don’t… I mean…” Gwydion trailed off, waiting for Medusa to yell at him or tell him to leave or something.

Instead, the half snake half women remained still and calm until Gwydion had run out of words. “I see.”

“Your not angry are you?” Gwydion didn’t want to loose what he though might be his very first friend.

“No, Gwydion, of course I’m not angry at you. But by the sounds of it, your Master is indeed the one who cursed me.”

“Oh.”

“I will need to think of what we should do.”

“We?”

“Yes, Gwydion. You saved me. I am very grateful, and I will teach you everything I can. Together we will find a way to deal with Manannan.”

“But I don’t want to deal with him!” Gwydion cried. Manannan might be a horrible person but he was happy! He didn’t want it to change!

Gwydion couldn’t believe it, but he found himself busting suddenly into tears, great heaving sobs. Medusa’s warm arms wrapped around him, and he could vaguely hear the soft soothing voices of Medusa and her snakes, “Shhh little one. Its ok. We will work it out.”
“Is little snake hurt?”
“Make it better!”
“It will be ok.”
“Now he smells like mud instead.”

Eventually, Gwydion calmed into an exhausted silence. As he became aware he was sitting in Medusa’s lap, her tail and arms curled around him like a dry silky blanket. His voice was small and corse when he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“No, little one. I am sorry. It is not the place of children to deal with evil wizards.”

“But he isn’t evil! He’s mean sometimes, but I have a bed, and I get to eat whenever I want! He he only beat me once, right at the start!”

“Shhh shhhh. I know it seems like that now, but I fear for you. If he was gone, you could live with me if you wanted, and have a bed here too, and I could cook for you, and I would never hurt you. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Gwydion couldn’t help the swell of hope in his chest, “You would really let me stay here?”

“Absolutely. But we don’t have to do anything yet. You have much to learn first. And you know if you ever need to you can come here. Now let me get you something to drink to sooth you.”

Medusa wasn’t gone long at all, returning with two cups of slightly pink liquid. Something about the aroma soothed Gwydion even more, reminding him of tea, and Gwydion found himself asking, “Where did all this come from?”

“This was my home before I was cursed. I had placed special wards on it before hand, so that no one could steal from me, which meant when I was, well, not myself, these sections were invisible to me as well. It was a good thing too, I can’t image what would have happened to my things if left for so long with only my rage as company.”

“Arn’t you scared of what Manannan will do once he realises you are back?”

“No, the temple is still invisible to all but you and I. I’ve also limited myself from going past the end of the wards during the day. Now tell me about what has happened since you came here.”

And so Gwydion explained about waking up on the mountain, and the days after, when he had to learn how to cook in a fire place, and how he had found a journal with Rowan’s words. He talked about his garden, and the cat. Occasionally Medusa would comment on something, but when he spoke of the cat, Medusa said, “Another reason to tell you the tongues, for if the cat has been there long, it may be able to tell you much about Manannan.”

Gwydion nodded. “What does this potion need? Maybe I could get the things during the day.”

“You would have to. The magic is stronger if you put your own effort in.”

Gwydion smiled, and Medusa collected the cups and took them to the other room. When she returned, she had a large scroll in her hands, “This scroll details how to create the potion to Understand the Language of Creatures. This type of magic is from the land, and requires little in the way of tools, but great will and intent to work.” The writing was a strange curly script, which seemed to resolve itself as he watched. Medusa noticed he attention and said, “This is written in the snakes tongue too. Can you read it?”

“It is? I mean, it looks normal.”

“Yes, it does to those who a blessed by magic to understand. So, we need a feather from a creature of the air, the coat of a creature of land, the scale of a creature of the sea, and a piece of your souls magic form and a few drops of distilled spring.”

“So something from a creature of air, land and sea is easy, just like a feather and a some fish scales and um, maybe some fur from a dog?”

“Very good!”

Gwydion felt a buzz of pride and happiness at Medusa’s words. “But I don’t know about the rest.”

“Mmm yes, well, a piece of your soul magic is something which represents you. Given your talents with the snake tongue, I would suggest a snake skin. As for distilled spring, that is just a fancy way of saying you will need to collect some pure dew, best would be from spring flowers, and should be collected in something silver, to keep it pure.”

“I can do that!”

“Yes, I am sure you can. Once you have an ingredient bring it here, we don’t want Manannan to find out what we are doing. If he suspects you of doing magic, I fear he will do far worse then what he did to me.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“Good.” Then, to Gwydion’s surprise, Medusa hugged him hard. “I know you can do this. Come visit me whenever you can.”

“I will.” And with a few goodbyes, Gwydion left to look for the first needed ingredients.

Chapter Text

For Gwydion’s next trip he wanted to take the feather he had found on his very first trip and a handful of chicken feathers to Medusa. He had found that the feather was from an eagle, after searching the books of what felt like hours. He also collected some fur that the cat had shed. But Manannan didn’t eat fish, so he couldn’t take some of the scales like he planned. Gwydion also had no idea where he could get a snake skin, or the dew. He remembered the bear’s cottage had a patch of primrose, which would be perfect, but he didn’t have anything silver (Rowan had stolen everything, and Manannan had never replaced it). But thinking about the bears reminded him of the tiny thimble he had found near by. When he took it out of the box under the bed and examined it in the dim light of his room, he thought it looked like it might be silver. With a little polish with the corner of his shirt, he could actually make out in tiny letters on the inside rim ‘Pure Silver, Childs Smithery’ and Gwydion gave a shout of happiness, before clamping his hand back over his mouth and waiting in tense since for Manannan to yell at him for making so much noise. When nothing happened, Gwydion gave a small wiggling dance around his room in celebration.

The night, when Manannan announced his trip starting early morning, Gwydion also made plans to leave early enough that there would still be morning dew on the Bear’s Primrose garden. It went without a hitch.

When he arrived at the cottage, the sun was just making its way over the horizon and drops of glistening dew had gathered within the soft petals. Holding the silver thimble beneath a dew-filled flower, Gwydion gently tipped the flower so its dew ran into the thimble. He moved from flower to flower, repeating the process until the thimble was brimming with dew. After that, he quickly made his way to Medusa cave, watching his every step carefully, making sure not to spill a single drop of dew. When he arrived at the door, it swung open for him, and Gwydion could heard Medusa voice call out, “Back here Gwydion!”

After painstakingly navigating the cave to get to the pools, Gwydion called back, “I have the dew! I don’t want to spill any! Where should I put it?”

Medusa’s distinctive hushing slide signalled her coming from one of the smaller rooms, “In here,” She indicated what Gwydion had thought was a kitchen of some kind, the room with pots and sinks.

Gwydion slowly lowered the thimble down onto the bench, and let out a big huff of relief. “I was scared of losing even a drop!”

“I could see that. What else have you found?”

“Oh,” Gwydion pulled the feathers and fur from his pockets. “Here! This fur is from the cat, and I have a feather from an eagle and some I got from the chickens. I wasn’t sure what would be better.”

“The eagle feather is powerful magic, it would be better to save it for other things. The chicken feathers are perfect. The cat fur may work, but if the cat is bound to Manannan I am unsure of how that would affect the magic. It may be better to look for other possibilities.”

Gwydion’s brow creased in thought, and Medusa’s hair hissed, “He’s so cute!”
“Look at his scrunched up face.”
“Adorable.”

Gwydion’s face felt extremely hot as he flushed. He couldn’t tell if it was pride or something else, but it felt vaguely wrong to get such comments on his looks from Medusa (or her hair). He cleared his throat and said, “I think I could get fur from the storekeepers dog maybe. It seems pretty relaxed.”

“And the fish and snake skin?”

“I don’t know about the snake skin. I was going to try and get a fish in town, or maybe I can catch a fish myself.”

“There are skins in the desert, but you will need to get away from the temple. No snakes will live near here, as they can tell its my territory.”

“Oh.”

“But before you rush out, come tell me what has happened the last few days.”

Gwydion smiled in happiness, and proceeded to tell Medusa about the last few days, his attempts at making a cake, which failed terribly when it didn’t raise, and instead ended up as a hard flat almost scone, and finding the cat had made a nest of odd socks in the bottom of Manannan’s cupboard. When he had emptied it out he had also found a little vial of rose petal essence that had a delicate, sweet aroma. He had hidden the vial in his own draws, thinking it too girly to use himself. Medusa interrupted, “The essence of flowers often have magical properties. Keep the vial safe just in case.”

“Should I bring it here?”

“Only if you want to.”

So Gwydion picked up the story again, about the beets which were refusing to grow in his garden. Medusa had some tips about adding bonemeal to help them grow.

“My kin and I have always been in tune with nature. It is why I have the scroll of the potion. Our magics all intersect with plants or animals, in understanding rather then controlling or changing against their nature.”

“So you magic is very different to Manannan's?”

“Yes. His is about transformation and control. That does not make the magic evil, it is what he does with it that makes it dark and against nature.”

Gwydion looked away, “I still can’t…”

“Shh, it’s alright. Lets not speak of it yet.”

“Thank you.”

And so Gwydion left what he had collected so far and spent the afternoon walking in the desert. He was careful to always know in which direction was the door, and the mountain (which was easier, as it rose commandingly from the surrounding plains). After a long hot hour or so, he was about to give up when he crested a small hill and stumbled into something from a nightmare.

The scorpion was the size of a large dog. It appeared to be sunning itself in the small shallow space, and Gwydion froze in the hope of not drawing its attention. Slowly he started to back away, when his foot slipped, sending a small cascade of sand into the hollow. The scorpion’s tail twitched, and it suddenly darted forward. Gwydion spun and started to run. Years of running from Dudley meant he was fast, but the monster scorpion was closing, its eight legs scrambling over the sand easily. Gwydion’s heart pounded in fear and adrenaline. He knew he shouldn’t, but he glanced over his shoulder to see how close the monster was. He slowed when he saw the scorpion had halted a rise away, waving its tail and pincers threateningly, but no longer following him. Turning fully and continuing to walk backwards, Gwydion watched as the monster turned and scuttled back away. Unsure, Gwydion stopped and tried to contain his huffing gasps. Hoping the monster hadn’t stopped due to an even bigger monster nearby, he scanned the surrounding desert. Nothing stood out among the low sad dunes and occasional cactus. Figuring he had been traumatised enough for one day, Gwydion headed back to the mountain.

It was that night, when he emptied a pot of lard, that he got an idea for trying to catch one of the fish in the small creek. Maybe he could scoop them up using the pot? That left the snake skin. He was just going to have to keep exploring the desert, but he needed to think of a back up plan. But where would snakes stay? Maybe a snake didn’t represent his magic, but if not, what could he use?

Gwydion went to bed that night thinking of animals and hiding places. That night he dreamed he was a snake, slithering his way in the leaf litter of an old dark forest. He could smell the dirt, the rotting leaves, the tracks of a small rat, but he was hunting for something else, something bigger. Something that scurried on two legs rather then four. He found a hole, only just big enough to fit his body into, and he slid down into the darkness. Popping up into a strange office full of silver instruments which hummed and whizzed and puffed smoke. The room stunk of lemons, reminding him of the cold too clean smell of Before. Voices, distant and thrumming though his body spoke.

“Now Arebella, how is little Harry?”

“Harry? Oh yes, Harry! Petunia has been keeping him inside, there was some scare awhile ago, something about him causing trouble playing pranks or something. Mr Scuffle was sick that week, I had to nurse the poor dear all night. But don’t worry, he’s all better now.”

“Well boys will be boys. I’m glad he is in such good spirits.”

“Yes, he’s doing well. I could hope to see him put a bit of weight on, he’s a bit skinny.”

“Yes, well his father was too at that age. If that was all, I do believe I will talk to you again in 12 months.”

“Yes, yes, Albus.”

Suddenly, there was aloud screech, and the flash of red and yellow, and he was picked up by long pointed claws. He was flying and he spread his wings and was soaring over the sea, in the distance he could see a cloud which had grass growing on it. He swooped down to see the grass was actually the body of a large three headed dragon, which reared up and tried to bite Gwydion out of the air. He quickly turned and winged away, and the dream fell away from him.

Chapter Text

When Gwydion went to feed the hens, he was shocked to see one caught in the fence, its wing twisted behind it. He pulled it out, but it pecked at him, and scratched a deep line in his arm. Its good wing tried to beat at Gwydion’s head. He had put the chicken back in the pen, but it listed woozily to one side. He knew then he couldn’t leave it. He had been avoiding thinking about the passages in ‘The good wife’ which detailed the best ways to kill small animals such as chickens, and the carefully crafted cone of wood nailed to a post outside of the wash room. But now, it seemed, he couldn’t avoid it any longer. Sure he could wait and see if the chicken somehow recovered, but it seemed somewhat cruel to do so, as Gwydion watched the bird stumble and hold its wing awkwardly at its side. Making up his mind, Gwydion retrieved his sharpest knife and caught the chicken again, which was much easier then it should have been, seeing as though the bird couldn’t even run away from him. After making sure the old wooden bucket was in the right place, he lowered the chicken head first in the cone. He had to help it fold the damaged wing in, and it twisted in his hands. Once its head popped through, Gwydion steeled himself and with shaking hands, made one quick motion along the side of the chickens neck. The chicken didn’t even cluck as Gwydion watched the blood pout from the wound into the already stained wooden bucket which he had left alone before now. ‘The good wife’ had recipes which used blood, but Gwydion felt a little ill about that thought, while he held the knife which had done the deed. He went and washed the knife, being careful of the sharp edge. He knew he would need to cut off the head once the blood stopped, but that didn’t need his sharpest blade. He put the blade back and grabbed one of the older, thicker knives. He tried not to think about how easy it had been to kill the chicken, tried to remind himself the bird had been suffering, and this was better for everyone.

He still felt guilty about it. Sure he had butchered the animals the old women delivered, and happily eaten them, but that was different. Those animals had already been dead. After want felt like forever, the blood stopped, only occasionally dripping from the open wound. Gwydion quickly cut off its head. Inside the cone, the legs and wings kicked out, and Gwydion shuddered in sympathy. He decided to put it all out of his mind, it was better if he pretended that this was just another animal the women had brought. With that at the forefront of his mind, Gwydion set about plucking and cleaning the animal, ignoring the way the body was still warm in his hands.

He couldn’t eat it that night, and gave most to a oblivious Manannan, and a large piece to the cat, who looked at Gwydion as if it was the cat’s due and not a special treat. That night the cat curled up on Gwydion's bed, and he accepted the accidental comfort.

Chapter Text

On his next trip out of the Keep, he went straight to the small stream, carrying his earthen pot. The tiny fish could still be seen, darting in and out of the current. Standing with one foot either side of the creek, Gwydion attempted to scoop the fish up. It took a number of tries before he got a few fish in the pot, during which Gwydion ended up soaked from the knee down after falling in more then once. Closing the pot tightly with its large cork lid, Gwydion made his way back to the Keep. Once there, he carefully drained the water out, and was left with 4 tiny fish gasping for air.

After yesterday and chicken, he wanted to kill them quickly, but couldn’t figure out how. Using one of the knives, he tried to cut their heads off, but their flopping bodies seemed to twist out of the way each time. After about 10 minutes, the fish had stopped moving, and he pulled them out. He was surprised he didn’t feel anywhere near as bad about the fish as he had about the chicken, maybe because the had seen the chicken and feed the hen everyday? Using the sharpest knife he had, he scrapped the scales off the tiny bodies. Once he had done all four, he had a small pile of scales, which he put into one of the small spice vials. He threw the fish bodies to the cat, who seemed very pleased. It was still midday, and so he took the vial and hid it under his bed. He spent the rest of the day using the telescope to look around in the desert, hoping to spot a snake. He was surprised when he saw one just south of where he knew the temple door was. If he ran, he could make it out and back in time.

Setting off at a fast clip, he was hitting his stride when he found the approximate area he had seen the snake. In the sand the snakes takes twisted back and forth. Following down into a small gully between two rocky overcrops. Gwydion hesitated then spoke to the hopefully present snake, “My name is Gwydion. I don’t mean any harm, I was hoping to take one of your old skins.”

“Whats this? A speaker?”

“Um yes?”

“Interesting. You may have one of my skins, there at the base of my rock.”

And as the voice had said, a dry skin the size of his leg lay crumpled in the shadow. As Gwydion edged forward, all the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and his gut clenched. He stopped inching forward and looked up, meeting the small black eyes of the serpent which was perched above him on the rock. Gwydion could almost feel its amusement. Its brown head was as large as a football as it peaked over the edge of the rock above Gwydion head.

“Ummmm.” Gwydion wasn’t sure, but he had the same feeling he use to get when Dudley was about to jump on him and beat him up. “I can take it? Are you sure?”

“Clever little speaker!” Its hissing laughter bounced around the gully. “I do not worship Speakers as some of my kind do. If you had taken it I would have bit you. Your body would have lured many a creature here for me to feast on.”

Gwydion gulped. “What would I need to do for you not to bite me?”

“What need do I have? I have a good rock, a hot sun, and many small creatures who stumble into my little gully to eat.”

Gwydion didn’t know what he could give the snake. He needed the skin. “You can’t watch me forever. Wouldn’t it be better to get something from me now, then allowing me to steal it later?”

“Mmm, Yes I suppose that it true. And I have no use to the old thing. Very well little speaker, take it.”

“I… thank you.” Gwydion decided it was best not to argue. He darted forward, and keeping an eye on the snake incase it changed its mind, picked up the skin he had to fold it over a few times before tucking it in one of his pockets. Glancing again at the snake only to see the snake unhinging its jaw in a terrifying yawn, he backed away, turned, and sprinted back to the mountain.

That night Manannan yelled at him for being dirty and that he smelt (likely from all the running he had done). He demanded Gwydion wash, or he would lash the skin away. Gwydion complied silently. He finally had almost all the ingredients for the potion, and nothing could bring his mood down.

Chapter Text

The next trip was into town. He had the snake skin in his pocket and was jittery in excitement. Today, if all went to plan, he would make the potion.

The store was the same as always. The dog may well have been a large fuffy statue for all it had moved. It was quick work to pat the dog a few times and collect the shedding hairs. Gwydion then ran to Medusa’s, the trip over in a flash. He hadn’t seen Medusa for over a week, and in his anticipation, he can be forgiven for his greeting, or lack thereof, “Medusa! I have it! The skin and the scales and the fur! We can make the potion!”

“Greetings to you too.”

“Right sorry, I’m just so excited. We are going to do magic! Real magic.”

“Come along then, I can see I will have to wait for you before I can have a decent conversation.”

Medusa lead Gwydion into her work room, which turned out to be the same room as what Gwydion had thought was her kitchen. After she had directed him to fill a small metal pot (a cauldron, Medusa corrected) with water from the spring, they had then added the ingredients carefully, starting with just the quills of the small chicken feathers, then the dog fur, a sliver of the snake skin ground into dust, a spoonful of the fish scales, and after 20 clockwise stirs even 30 second, let it simmer until it was reduced down to a thick paste, which was a surprising deep blue in colour. Medusa directed Gwydion to sprinkle the thimbleful of dew in the bowl, mix with his finger, while he chanted, “Feather of fowl and scale of fish
Molded together in this dish
Give me wisdom to understand
Creatures of air sea and land.”

Gwydion watched in fascination as the paste lighted in colour to a bright baby blue, before Medusa had him smear the paste in his ears. For a moment he wondered if the concoction had worked, or if it was some horrible joke on him, when it felt like his ears popped, the air rushing in. Gwydion blinked his eyes in a reaction to what had felt almost like a sneeze in his ears. He looked at Medusa, unsure. She smiled back.

“So it worked?”

“Mmm, I have not brewed such a potion before, but the colour change looked right. Why don’t you go explore and your next visit you can tell me if you now understand other beasts?”

Gwydion smiled, and did as he was told. Once he had cleaned up under Medusa direction, he hugged Medusa tightly. “Thank you for helping me.”

“Oh, dear Gwydion, the pleasure is all mine.”

With that Gwydion started his way back to the Keep. He decided to go find some birds or squirrels in the forest, as they were always around. Finding a quiet spot, he settled down and listened. A flutter of wings announced the arrival of a lark in a nearby tree. At first Gwydion could still only hear the trills of the bird, before he realised that those trills were actually words, “This tree is mine. Mine. Mine. Mine! Go away!”

The chittering of a squirrel nearby caught his attention, “Hey! Whats that? Hey! Hey! Run away!”

The potion had worked! Gwydion spent the rest of the afternoon listening to the animals of the forest. Turns out, most creatures didn’t really have a lot to say at all. Gwydion was lucky if they said anything outside of “mine!” or “hey!”. Sometimes, they shouted warnings, or threats to back off. He had tried to talk to the squirrel.

“Hello, my name is Gwydion, what is,”

“This is mine! GO away!”

“I’m not going to take it from you, I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Back off! Mine!”

“I don’t want your nuts!”

“Mine!”

“Yes I know! Look, whats your name?”

“Threat! Run away!”

And with that the squirrel had disappeared into the trees. Gwydion got the impression most animals were as about as intelligent as Dudley, which was to say, not at all. With a sigh, he had made his way back to the Keep. It was nearing the top when the hens clucking had caught his ear.

"Whatever happened to your last batch of chicks, my dear?"

Another answered, "My poor babies were doing so well! I was just teaching them the proper methods of scratching when that old rascal came out and took them away!"

"Where do you think he took them?" wondered the first hen.

"I hate to think," the distraught mother hen replied. "I just heard them peeping as they were carried off."

By this stage Gwydion had topped the path. He hesitated next to the pen. The chickens, for some reason, seemed so much smarter then the creatures in the forest had. Before he could decided to try and ask why, one hen, the largest clucked, “Look it’s the poor boy. He really thinks his name is Gwydion."

"Wouldn't he be surprised to find out he's a prince!" replied one of the smaller hens.

"Yes," cackled the first hen sarcastically. "He's really a lost Prince from far away, come to save the kingdom.”

“Well I feel so sorry for the boy. The old wizard treats him miserably."

"Yes, dear, but YOU ought to worry about your own neck. Look at the situation WE'RE in."

"Remember Gertrude," a third chicken reminisced. "Remember how one day the boy came out and got her."

"Oh, I know," clucked the largest. "It was horrible! I hear she ended up in the old wizard’s stew. I can't bear to think about it!"

Gwydion gaped at the chickens. They could remember him killing one of them? That was horrible. He fumbled for something to say, not sure why or what, but needing to say something.

“Yes well, I don’t miss her at all. Always pecking at my spot.”

The largest had started eyeing Gwydion wearily, “And whats the boy doing now? Standing there with his gob open. Looks suspicious to me.”

Gwydion blurted out, “I didn’t mean to!”

Silences feel across the chickens. The largest exclaimed, “Whats this? Speaking to us now?”

“He’s been listening in! Spying on us!”

This of course caused all the hens to start flapping about in agitation. Gwydion attempts to defend himself fell on deaf ears. “I wasn’t listening in!”

“Spy!”

“None of our secrets are safe!”

“Ugly little liar!”

Realising there was nothing he could do to help, Gwydion backed away and went inside. From the windows of the kitchen, he watched the chickens eventually calmed down. He thought about going an explaining to them, but he could really do so. He had killed one of them to make a stew. And it had been delicious. Now Gwydion felt a bit sick.

“So the boy is back from another gallivant around town.”

Gwydion jumped, half falling into the bench and banging his elbow. He whipped around to see the cat standing in the doorway, eyeing him in what had tho be amusement. “You? What?”

The cat stilled, it’s eyes narrowed and the menace it radiated seemed to colour the air. “So boy, done some magic have you? The hens weren’t spinning tales. Understand me now do you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, well, well. Isn’t this interesting.” It wasn’t a question. The cat continued, “I would be very careful boy, don’t let Manannan catch you. He won’t even hesitate to kill you for it. And then where will I be? Training some new idiot boy.”

“But Manannan is a wizard! Why would he be upset?”

“Poor little naive child. Manannan could never stand competition. Why I was once a powerful wizard too! Manannan couldn’t kill me, so he poisoned me instead, turning me into this cat. Now I’m stuck like this, unable to do magic, unable to escape.”

Gwydion remembered that Manannan had also cursed Medusa too. But he wasn’t powerful at all, so surely Manannan wouldn’t come after him.

“Don’t strain yourself boy. My head hurts just looking at you try to think.”

“Hey!”

“If you want to learn magic, you should start but going into the cellar. Thats is where Manannan keeps all his magic books and ingredients.”

“I can’t do that!”

“Mmm, perhaps not yet. But still, you better keep your little new ability quiet. I would hate to see you dead. Call me Letholdus, it was my name before Manannnan attacked me. Now make me food.”

Gwydion blinked. He supposed he should start dinner. While he worked, he thought about every thing he had learned. Letholdus sat curled up in front of the fire place. Eventually Gwydion asked, “Why are the chickens so much smarter then the animals in the forest?”

“Because they live here.”

“What does that mean?”

“The Mountain is saturated in magic, which is why Manannan built here. Spells are more powerful when cast here, and animals that live here can’t help but soak some of that magic in. After a while, that magic affects their little brains, becoming smarter. I have no doubt that is why you ended up here too.”

“What do you mean ended up here?”

“Manannan tried to summon an object for his master, The Father, using the blood of the last Gwydion. It failed, but for a week random things kept showing up. On the last day, he found you in the courtyard, and decided to keep you to replace the boy he had sacrificed.”

“You mean he killed someone to try a summon a thing, and that brought me here somehow?”

“Absolutely.” Letholdus looked up at Gwydion. “I’m sorry, did you have some impression that Manannan wasn’t evil?”

“But he isn’t mean to me!”

“You poor naive a-mew-sing child. Just because he hasn’t tried to kill you yet doesn’t make him good.” With that, Letholdus lowered its head and went back to sleep. That night Gwydion found it almost impossible to sleep. He kept thinking about everything he knew about Manannan. While the wizard had never been bad to him (the first day didn’t count), everyone else was so sure he was evil.

Fitfully he dreamt.

He soared high above the world from Before, neat little house all alike. He dropped down and sat in a tree outside of number 4. A tabby cat stared at the house, its tail flicked back and forth. As he watched it spun on itself and disappeared in a CRACK. Dudley ran down the street, and up the path, before sirens could be heard in the distance. The annoying sound caused Gwydion to fly away, up and up and up into the clouds. He circled a few times, before a loud roar made him bank hard, as a giant green dragon flew past, fire busting from its mouth. Dodging as fast as he could, he missed the second head swinging around and SNAP! Gobbling him up. In the dark of its mouth Gwydion panicked before busting out again, now again a boy, and falling fast down to the ground. In the distance he could see a castle from a fairytale, all twisted towers and stone. He jerked awake just before hitting the ground. Bleary eyed, Gwydion got up the next day, hoping that somehow he could find something which made it clear, one way or the other.

Chapter Text

Gwydion visited Medusa as soon as possible, mostly to tell of the success of the potion, but also because he needed someone to talk to about what the newly renamed Letholdus had told him. Medusa was in the cave with all the small plants when he arrived, carefully cutting and watering the tiny seedlings.

When she saw him she smiled, “Greeting.”
The little hair snakes, which for the most part remained quiet, started their normal greetings, “Lightening!”
“Little One!”
“Did you bring me a mouse?”
“Snakeling!”
“Mudling!”

Gwydion ignored the little snakes like Medusa had told him too, “Hello Medusa.”

“Well it was time for some tea anyway, let me finish watering this row.”

“Alright.” Gwydion liked watching Medusa work. It was soothing, and she had a tendency to sway slightly back and forth on the coil of her tail. “Medusa, how did these plants survive when you were cursed? I mean you said that it was all locked away from you, so they couldn’t have been watered or anything.”

“Oh, you are clever. Yes, indeed, most of my seedlings died. But the ones in the larger cavern,” here she gestured to a door way he had not noticed before, at the back of the green room, “lived on, a little too well in fact. That is why I haven’t show you it, its very much overgrown. The magic which replaces the need for sunlight continued on, even in my absences. These little ones are cutting I have managed to salvage from clearing the cavern. You can have a look if you like, but don’t venture in.”

Gwydion, curious as always, peaked his head through the doorway, to find a space around the door had been cleared, a path emerging between two neat beds, filled with ferns and strange tropical plants, but after only about 40 paces the space resembled a jungle more then anything else. “Oh, I see.”

“I’m done here, let me put some tea on.”

Gwydion spent some time telling Medusa all about what he had learned from the animals in the forest, and how the chicken were smart. Of course, he also told Medusa about what Letholdus had said.

“Letholdus, thats the black cat at the Keep, said that once he was a wizard too, and Manannan turned him into a cat which stopped him from doing magic.”

“It is a better fate then many have face at Manannan’s hands. At least he may interact with others.”

“But as a cat!”

“Do you see now child how Manannan is not a good person?”

“Thats what Letholdus said too. That just because he wasn’t evil to me didn’t mean he was good either. But I can’t kill him! I told you about the hens, I killed one of them when I didn’t know, and they still miss her! She might have been a chicken, but she could think and dream and had hopes and friends, and I went and killed her and ate her! I can’t do that again! I can’t!” At this stage Gwydion was close to panicking. He kept thinking about Gertrude the hen, and how the others still spoke sometimes of her, clucking in the pen. Gwydion felt like a band was tightening across his chest, his hands shook. He was a monster. He was a killer. “You’ll have to kill me too! I’m evil too! I killed Gertrude!”

Medusa was suddenly there, her hands on his shoulders, her voice low but commanding, “Shhh Gwydion, listen to my voice, breath in with me, thats it now out slowly shh shhh.”

Gwydion rested his head on her shoulder, calming slowly down.

“You didn’t know little one. In almost any other place the hen would be just as silly as all her kind, I doubt the others would have even noticed her missing. Would you do it now you know?”

“No!”

“Even if you were hungry?”

“No! Not even then!”

“Then you are good, better then many men who knowingly strike down those lesser then themselves. You are better then Manannan who has killed those boys before you, who controls the lives of all who inhibit this area, demanding obedience to his whims. You are a pure being with a strong heart! That you grieve for a chicken just shows it even more.”

“I don’t think I am…”

“Shh, that is not your choice to make. We are our own greatest critics. But perhaps, you might have the answer already.”

“What do you mean?”

“Perhaps you can do what Manannan himself did, and turn the wizard into a cat. He would still be alive, but he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone any more.”

Gwydion had let the thought sink in. It was true that he would much prefer that to killing someone. He still hadn’t been able to kill any more chickens, and was thankful the animals the old crone bought were already dead (even if he had to butcher them himself). He was still eating meat, simply because if he didn’t it was a waste of food, and the animal would have died for nothing. But he didn’t think he could kill anything, knowing it had hopes and dreams like a normal person. He resolved to go and see if that animals in town were just as smart, or if like the forest animals, they were still animals.

After that Medusa spent some time naming the magical plants she was growing, and together they tackled clearing some of the large cavern. It was hard work because many of the plants were magical, which mean they fought back, twisting away when they tried to cut the branches, or hitting them when the got to close. Medusa did most of the hard work, saying she didn’t want Gwydion to get hurt, and when he protested, pointed out that if he got hurt to badly Manannan might realise he was leaving the Keep. So Gwydion spent most of his time collecting the cut branches, snapping them into smaller pieces and piling them to one side. By the afternoon he was tired and sweaty, and so bid Medusa good bye and heading back into town.

It took some time to find a farm with pigs and a few chickens, and once there Gwydion sat on the fence and listen to the animals, trying to figure out if they, like the chickens, were smart.

They were not. The pigs basically only said four words, ‘mine’, ‘what?’ ‘hey!’ and ‘yum,’ the chicken even worse, with just ‘hey!’ Sure there where different types of ‘hey!’ like meaning, ‘hey, (thats is mine),’ or ‘hey (what is this?)’ or ‘hey, (danger),’ but Gwydion was left less then impressed by them. It shouldn’t have made him feel better about eating them, but it really did. He still wasn’t sure if he could kill one himself, but he was more sure about continuing to eat meat.

Heart a little lighter, he returned to the Keep and washed himself for the second time that day. When the wizard got back he handed over a hunk of cold ham, before going to bed.

Chapter Text

Manannan was oddly busy, working most of the day in the study. After six days of this, Gwydion was extremely bored. It hadn’t helped that the weather turned nasty, raining for three straight days, and drizzling for the rest. In the few sunny breaks, he check the garden, which was already thriving, and he was using the fruits and vegetables in the kitchen daily, but it did really need that much tending. The Keep was spotlessly clean. He couldn’t go visit anyone with Manannan hanging around, and because the wizard spent all his time in the study he couldn’t even borrow a book to read. He had even given Letholdus so many brushing that the cat was now avoiding him.

He was bored.

He finally cracked on the seventh day, and that at night, sneaked into the study and borrowed three books, shifting the ones around them to hide the gaps. The first book was a small diary which had ‘The Chronicles of Prydain, by Taran Wanderer’ on the first page, and was full of interesting pictures of strange creatures, and was written by a orphan boy who Gwydion immediately felt kinship with. The second was ‘Snakes; common, magical, and related’ which was quiet thick and heavy, but had drawn Gwydion to it, especially its beautiful colour plates and illustrations. The last was a diary written by Kurt Niederloh, who traveled deep into forests looking for magical talking plants, of which there was a surprising variety. Gwydion had picked it because it smelt softly of lavender, and pressed in the pages was a variety to cuttings from the plants Niederloh had been looking for.

Gwydion had taken to reading the books in his room, curled up on his bed, watching the rain drum against the window. He was in the middle of the book on snakes, which he found was ordered alphabetically.

Seps: First described by the chronicler Lucan (in his work Pharsalia), the seps is a dangerous snake, with extremely corrosive venom. The Seps can be found to two colour variations, the more common pure white or the rarer, larger, pure black both with a slight blue tint to the scale. The white Seps is commonly found in the highlands of the north, and is in fact endemic to the Kingdom of Morfessa, but has also been spotted as far south as the Barzakh Mountains. Black Seps are found only in northern marsh lands, and are highly territorial. Both variations are known to hiss loudly when threatened. Seps are not particularly large creatures, with white Seps reaching only two feet long, and black Seps a maximum of four feet long, but their venom is almost larger than life in its capabilities - more than able to eat through not just flesh, but bone as well. The venom of Seps’ are, as such, often used in potions and solutions used to clean dragon scales, as dragonhide and dragon scales is one of the few materials resistant to the venom of a Seps. The venom of a Seps turns the body of those it bites to slurry, rather akin to the venom of the Axetail dragon, and, like that dragon breed, it then feeds off the slurry produced. Indeed it takes very little venom to completely liquefy a body, and generally the only cure for a Seps bite is a hasty amputation. However Seps tend to produce their venom rather slowly, with milking done usually once every three days, in comparison to the daily, required for snakes such as the Dipsa and the Hydros. This means they are a measure more common as pets than other magical serpents, and are often kept by the brave or foolish. Isidore of Seville was the

“Gwydion! Where are you boy?” Manannan’s yell was so surprising Gwydion almost fell off his bed as he jumped. Quickly shoving the books under his bed, he shouted back.

“In my room Master!”

Gwydion scrambled out into the hall, to find Manannan storming up the stairs. Manannan seemed to pause, taking in Gwydion’s appearance. He sniffed, as if the boy was something distasteful, before saying, “I will be taking a trip into town. Feed yourself and go to bed before dark.”

“Yes, Master.”

Manannan again looked over the boy from head to toe. Gwydion thought he might be looking for something to complain about, as Petunia had often looked just like that. But something seemed to soften in the wizards eyes. The wizard then said, to Gwydion amazement, “The Keep looks very clean. Well done,” before the wizard spun and stomped out of the keep, as if escaping the praise he had just given the boy.

Gwydion wished the wizard hadn’t said anything. It just made him feel even worse about even thinking about betraying him. And that’s what it would be, a betrayal, not matter how much everyone else said he had too, and that it was the right thing. Gwydion barely tasted the sandwich he made for dinner, and went to bed early, even his joy at having books to read gone under his heartache.

Chapter Text

Gwydion had finished reading the books he had borrowed and had to sneak them back into the study. Gwydion had though that Manannan was in the tower, but at some point the wizard must have passed Gwydion’s room without him noticing, as the wizard was writing at his desk when Gwydion entered. Manannan looked up from his work, and greeted the boy with a scowl. "Boy, you know I don't like you to enter my private study, especially when I'm writing," he growled. "Leave now, or I'll make you leave!" Unfortunately, just then the wizard had caught sight of the books in Gwydion’s hands.

Gwydion could see his rage building as the wizard's face turned red behind his white beard and his eyes bulged alarmingly. Manannan had roared at the boy, "You know you're not allowed to touch my books!”

Gwydion had cringed back. It wasn’t the first time the wizard had shouted at him, but it was the first time he had looked so angry. “I’m sorry Master!” and thinking faster then he had ever in his life added, “The books needed dusting, and I didn’t want to disturb you, so yesterday I removed them to clean them!”

The wizard seemed to pull a deep breath in. Thankfully, the alarming shade of his face evened out. “Well. I don’t want you touching my book, understand?”

“Forgive me Master.”

The wizard beckoned his hands to the books, and Gwydion handed over them quickly. “You will never touch my book without my permission. Is that understood?”

Gwydion quickly nodded, looking down at his feet. “Yes Master.”

“I still need to punish you. Hold out your hands.”

Gwydion did, knowing hesitation would only make it worse. He then yelped, before biting his lip down on a scream as his hands heated quickly, as if he had dipped them in boiling water. They reddened but did not blister. Gwydion’s hands throbbed in pain, and he whimpered.

“There. Now go to your room. There will be no dinner for you tonight, but I expect you to still finish all your chores. Is that understood?”

“Yes Master.”

Gwydion quickly fled the room. Thankfully he had done his chores already. His hands hurt, but when he inspected them he could see no actual injury, they were just a little red in colour. He ignored the way his nose and eyes ran, angrily wiping it away with his elbow. He could not believe the wizard had hurt him, but on the other hand the punishment had been mild compare to what he had expected. The next day when he woke at dawn, it was like nothing had happened, his hands fine, Manannan as distant and accepting as always.

Gwydion did not borrow any more books.

Chapter Text

Finally, after what felt like forever, but really was only eleven days, Manannan announced he was going on a another trip. Gwydion took the time to visit Medusa, who was still busy with clearing the large cavern, and sympathised when he told her about how bored he had been, and how he had borrow some books before getting caught.

“What! Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. He just made my hands hurt a little.” That of course was a lie. His hands had hurt a lot, so much had hadn’t been able to do anything with them, and was glad he had been sent to his room.

“Let me see them.” Medusa started to turn his hands over and examined them, muttering to herself.

“I’m fine. I shouldn’t have touch his books.”

“You had every right to touch the books!”

“No I don’t! They’re not mine, and what if they were dangerous? How can I know if they are magic or something?”

“Even Manannan would not keep such books when you could get them!”

“You don’t know that! Even if I was bored I should have asked!”

Medusa had bit her lip hard, as if to hold in all the words she wanted to say. After that both carefully avoided bringing up the wizard. Medusa herself didn’t have any books to give him to read, she said her people only even wrote down on scrolls, and then only rarely. Most of her learning had be taught via songs and sort of chanted poems which she called sagas. After a snack with Medusa, and still feeling a little upset about fighting with her, Gwydion went into town. In the store he visited the dog, called Kenny. Kenny, despite not living in the Keep, came across as much smarter then the animals at the farm, but still no where near as smart as the chickens. For example, although Kenny understood Gwydion most of the time, he had to speak slowly and couldn’t use any words longer then about 6 letters. Gwydion also found that if he left the dogs sight Kenny knew Gwydion still existed (something the squirrels didn’t). But Kenny didn’t understand how people could have more then one name, as when Gwydion talked about Manannan or his master, to Kenny those were different people. It was slightly frustrating, and eventually Gwydion gave up (it may have also been because the shopkeeper kept giving him the side eye for talking to his dog).

It was almost three weeks after Medusa first suggested turning Manannan into a cat that Gwydion’s choice about what to do suddenly came to a head. It was in the form of a letter, which he found crumpled in Manannan’s waste bin.

Dear Mordack,

I write to tell you of my latest plans. Despite our argument, you are still my brother, and I would heed your advice in this matter. The royal brat, whose sire has done so much to impede the Father, will, in a few short weeks, require a new nursemaid, and I have a candidate who could be assured to win the placement. Once in place, removing the prince will be easy work. Killing the child will no doubt destroy Graham, but perhaps keeping it for my own servant may be an even more sweet revenge. Without his influence, our plans for Sierra will surely succeed. If you could actually do something

A large ink edged rip underscored ‘do something’ showing Manannan’s anger. It was clear why he had discarded this draft. But Gwydion was much more worried about the first part of the letter. Manannan planed to kidnap some poor child! Gwydion focused on that, and not the implied threat that he might in fact be replaced. Gwydion could not let this happen. It was perhaps the greatest sign from the wizard himself to show his nature. Resolved strengthened, Gwydion realised at the next opportunity he would have to go into the cellar.

Chapter Text

Manannan announced his next trip quickly, he appeared to be excited as the old man got, and it caused only fear in Gwydion that it was his plan being set into motion. When he left, Gwydion removed the book and false wooden panel he had found weeks ago when cleaning the study, and pulled the lever. The cellar down swung outwards with a loud squeak, which made him doubly glad he hadn’t tried it when he first found it.

Inside was a flight of steep underground steps, curving downward toward a dim light. The first dozen or so steps were oak, but after that the steps were made of narrow, rough stones, crudely constructed and uneven. Gwydion slowly creeped down the stairs, one hand on the rough stone wall to his right, the other sticking out for balance. On the stone landing, the loose gravel almost caused him to slip. From above Letholdus yeowed, its head peaking over the edge of the opening above Gwydion, “Careful boy, you would look mighty funny falling down those stairs.”

Once down the stairs, Gwydion looked in awe around the torch-lit underground room. It appeared to be a laboratory somehow more modern looking then anything else he had seen in this new world. It was exactly how Gwydion had imaged a wizard's laboratory to look like. The shelves held skeletons of small animals and birds, some human skulls and bones, and other odd instruments, the use of which Gwydion had no idea. In the corner was a small bare desk. Against one of the earthen wall was a massive oak table with a spacious worktop, atop of which was a large leather-bound book, a mortar and pestle, a little brazier holding charcoal, and a flint, plus measuring cups, beakers, flasks, and stirrers. Gwydion leaned down and peeked under the table, but there was nothing but an earthen floor. Firmly attached to the earthen wall, the burning torches threw flickering shadows across the walls, making the room even more ominous.

Gwydion looked closer at the many jars and vials of strange ingredients. His fingers tingled to pick up the vials, bearing such interesting names as ‘Nightshade Juice,’ ‘Mandrake Root Powder,’ ‘Saffron,’ ‘Toad Spittle,’ and ‘Toadstool Powder.’ There was also a jar labeled ‘Stasis Jar’.

Gwydion went back to the desk. Dominating the space was an old book. Covered with gold trimmings, the old book's leather cover was cracked and worn, its pages yellowed and brittle. The title, however, was clear: ‘The Sorcery of Old’.

Gwydion eagerly thumbed through page after page of what he assumed to be magic formulas. The ink of the old handwriting was faint, and barely readable. Gwydion treated the old book with great care as he could tell it contained recipes for some very old and powerful magic spells. Most of the formulas were indecipherable, but a few are in a language Gwydion could understand. His hands shook as he realised this book could be the key to dealing with Manannan.

With trembling hands Gwydion turned the pages and prepared to follow its instructions precisely. Medusa had taught him that when doing magic he must work with the utmost care. Every step is critical; each must be done in the proper way, in the proper sequence. Gwydion trembled in anticipation.

After examining the book from cover to cover, he could see six potions he could understand. The first would cause him to fly like an eagle, which sounded wonderful, and was defiantly on his to make list. The second caused a deep sleep in any who inhaled it, which he wanted to make as a back up plan for Manannan. The third would brew a storm, which he might need if things went wrong. The fourth would shrink what it was sprinkled on, and the fifth would enlarge it back. The sixth would turn him invisible which he might need to give Manannan the last, a biscuit which would transform him into a cat. There was a long list of ingredients for all six potions, which he would need to find and collect. He was pleased to note he already had some of them, like an eagle feather and Rose petal essence for the potion to fly, and quiet a few he had in the kitchen, like lard and oil. Unfortunately, every single potion require a wand to be waved over it (to probably to activate the magic), and Gwydion had no idea where to get one.

Feeling like he deserved it, he cursed under his breath, “Damn it!”

Letholdus’s voice above him startled Gwydion badly, “What is it boy? Can’t read?”

“Of course I can read it. Well, most of it. I found the spell which changed you into a cat, and a few others which might be helpful, but I need a wand and I don’t have one.”

“Manannan has one.”

“Oh and I’ll just go ask him for it shall I?”

“If you would prefer to be killed, please, continue your sarcastic comments.”

“Sorry. I’m just so close, and now this!”

“Manannan keeps his wand upstairs in the cabinet in his study. You will need to find the key however.”

Gwydion, who had perked up at the mention of where the wand was slumped again hearing that it was locked. Absently, he turned the pages in the book. Then he blinked. “What does the key look like exactly?”

“A small brass key. Manannan keeps one copy on him at all times, but I know there is another somewhere.”

“I think I might have it! I found it in his cupboard!”

“Well? Put everything back were you found it and go see if the key is the correct one!”

“Right!” Gwydion nodded and scamped back upstairs, and into his room. The small key was still in the box under the bed with the journal, and he took it out and ran back to the study, almost tripping down the stairs in his excitement. The cabinet was oak, like all the expensive furniture in the wizards house, and Gwydion’s hands shook as he carefully unlocked the door. There, on the middle shelf, sat the wand. Unlike the cellar, this didn’t have a thin layer of dust, making Gwydion think that the wizard may in fact use the wand regularly. He would have to return it each time he used it. Cautiously, he reached out and stroked a single finger down the wand. A tingle ran up his arm, a gentle warmth settling in his heart. Bright green sparks shot from the end of the wand. Gwydion shuddered in something he had only felt once or twice, both times from when being held by Medusa as she comforted him. Something he thought might be similar to love.

“Careful!” Letholdus hissed. “Don’t go crazy now! Not when my chance at revenge is so close!”

Gwydion peeled his finger away. It felt like he was tearing a part of himself in pieces. But Letholdus was right. Now was not the time. After one long breath, he closed the door and relocked it, and then stepped back. He had a list of things he had to find, and time was not on his side. He hid the key back in the box under his bed and carefully tore a page from the journal. Using the quill he listed: dried acorns, ocean water, mud, cactus leaf and juice. The rest had either been on the wizards shelves or he could get from the kitchen. Mud he could make, but a note in the margin had said that mud from a from a stream was better, as it continued the essence of flowing water. For all he would need jars that were very clean. He knew where to get ocean water and cactus leaf and juice, and he could use a kitchen knife and a few clean spice jars to collect them. Acorns he could search the forest for.

That afternoon, after scrubbing a dozen pots and vials. He set out to get the cactus first. Once he had done so, he got the mud from the small stream that curled around the mountain base, and wandered around until he found a tree chocked in mistletoe, which he carefully removed a few sprigs. The acorns he literally stumbled across while vaguely heading to ask Medusa about the mistletoe. After picking himself up off the ground, he collected a few and then rubbing his aching backside, decided to head back to the Keep.

As he rounded a corner, two large dirty and unkempt men jumped out, their hair was wild and their clothes smelt. Both had mean looks darkening their faces. Gwydion darted to try and avoid them, Rowans words from the journal making him think these might the unsavoury rogues which robed him.

“Alright boy! Hand everything over!”

“But I don’t have anything!”

“Then we’ll take those nice boots!” Came a voice behind Gwydion, as a heavy whack hit his head.

~~~~~Sometime later~~~~~

When Gwydion came too he stand unsteadily, and patted down his pockets. All the jars with ingredients were gone, and looking down, he saw his now only stocking clad feet. What was he meant to do now? Manannan would punish him if he came back without boots, and that was all the pots he had. It would take months to build up more.

He had to get them back.

He knew vaguely where the bandits hide out was, everyone in town did. Somewhere east of town, north of the bears cottage, but on or near the edge of the desert. Shoulders straight with determination, Gwydion walked quickly, following the broken branches and muddy footprints the bandits had left behind. The soft grass was surprisingly soothing to Gwydion’s aching feet. After about half an hour, he came across a small clearing where the beautiful trees of the forest to the east grew sparse as they reach the edge of the great desert to the west.

Gwydion noticed one particularly large oak tree, looking up into the towering oak tree he could only see large, spreading branches and thick leaves. Looking down, however, he noticed a small hole between the tree's large roots. The bandits must be in the tree somehow, the footsteps lead up to the trunk and then disappeared. Gwydion attempted to climb the huge oak tree, but couldn’t find a good hand hold. He slipped back, and all he gained for his efforts were splinters. Going back to the small hole, he laid down on the ground and looked inside. It was too dark inside to see anything, so he carefully felt around inside the hollow and discovered a rope, stretching up into the tree. He pulled it and (to his amazement) a rope ladder fell from the branches above. The rope ladder stretched up into the branches. Holding his breath in part fear and part excitement, Gwydion started to climb. At the top he awkwardly swung his legs over the large branch, and stood.

The thick leaves and massive branches obscured the ground below, and allowed only rare glimpses of the sky above. In front of him a yellow wooden shack had been built in the branches of the spreading oak tree, and while he could see very little of the interior from where he stood, he could just make out a figure sleeping in a chair through a hole cut in the side of the wall. The doorway of the treehouse was only a rough opening in the planks, and with some difficulty Gwydion carefully half crawled half climbed to the door and pushed it open a tiny bit a peeked inside. Seeing no one moving, Gwydion sneaked inside. The hideout was made of rough planks, sparsely furnished with a table, a chair, and a small, wooden bin in the corner. One of the ugly bandits is dressed in dirty clothes was slumped over the wobbly, wooden table made out of rough planks fast asleep. He looked, and smelled, as if he hadn't had a bath in months. There was a leather coin purse lying on top of a wobbly table. Gwydion crept forward and looked around.

There wasn’t a lot of places where they could have been keeping his things. He checked the shabby, wooden bin built into a corner of the treehouse. It was covered by a hinged lid, which he very slowly opened, keeping one eye on the sleeping man. Inside was all his stolen possessions. There are also a few other things, inducing the bag he had admired long ago in the store, the enchanted one. He quickly scooped up his jars and put them in the bag, and grabbed his boots in his other hand. On the way out he paused next to the sleeping man. Gwydion didn’t like the bandits. They had stolen from him, and others. They had hit him and left him alone in the forest, where anything could have happened. Maybe they needed a lesson what it was like to be stolen from. With that thought, he very carefully lifted the coin purse off the table; practically out from under the sleeping bandit's nose! Gwydion smirked as he slipped out of the hideout and back down the ladder. The sun had started to touch the tree tops, he would need to hurry to make it back to the Keep.

After hiding the bag under the bed, he went and made dinner. Tomorrow he would think about when he could actually make the potions.

Chapter Text

As if he somehow knew what Gwydion planned, Manannan didn’t leave the Keep for the next three days, spending all his time in his study, pulling out books to mutter over them before scrubbing down notes and reading more books. Gwydion felt like a spring wound too tight, like any second he may explode. Fearing that somehow the wizard would know, Gwydion avoided him as much as possible. Finally, three days later, the wizard announced he was going to be gone at dawn. This was Gwydion’s chance. Before dawn, he was up and waiting tensely behind the his closed bedroom door for the tell tale crack of the wizard leaving. As the sun broke over the horizon, the loud CRACK echoed through the Keep, startling Gwydion despite that fact he had been waiting for it.

In an instance he was downstairs. He forced himself to do the chores left for him, trying to calm himself. He was a mess of excitement and fear, butterflies the size of horses flapping away in his stomach.

Once done with he chores, he made his way down the cellar with his bag full of gathered ingredients, Letholdus watching from stairs. Some of the the things, like the mistletoe, where for potions which he was still missing other ingredients, and couldn’t make yet, or only understood part of the recipe. For now, he would stick to the ones he understood totally.

Gwydion decided to make the least important (and probably the easiest) potion first, so he could get a hang of it. To be able to fly would be wonderful, but if it failed he could try again after everything was over.

In the cellar he had found three sad looking saffron treads in a stopped vial. He knew of course, that if Manannan checked he would notice one of the threads missing. The book said a single thread at least a fingernail in length, was needed. The more saffron added, the longer the potion would last. Gwydion planned to use all three. He set up the fire, and the smallest golden cauldron. Slowly, he heated the rose petal essence, until it simmered slightly. He added the three treads of saffron, and stripped the eagle feathers barbs and before it cooled chanted three times, one for each saffron thread, “Oh winged spirits, set me free,
Of earthly bindings, just like thee.
In this essence, behold the might
To grant the precious gift of flight.”

On the last flight, he waved the wand in a complex sideways figure 8 three times. And watched in amazement as the previously clear liquid blossomed from each of the three saffron threads into the blue of the endless summer sky, before the threads and the feathers barbs dissolved completely. Gwydion pored the potion back into the now empty rose water vial. A sip from the vial would allow him to fly like an eagle, but he would need to be careful the first time, as he still didn’t know how long it would last.

“Well done boy.” Letholdus sounded actually proud of Gwydion. He felt a small spark of happiness, he had really done it! “Don’t get distracted now! You still have work to do.”

“Yes. Of course.” Taking a deep breath, Gwydion cleaned up cauldron and started the next potion. The next was the back up potion, which if the cat cookie failed, would put Manannan to sleep. Gwydion carefully ground the acorns up while he waited for the cauldron to dry completely. Once in a fine dust, he scoped it into a bowl with a deep silver sheen. Drawing a M with straight sides and a middle which didn’t go all the way down into the dust, he then carefully poured the nightshade juice into the trough, before mixing with a silver spoon clockwise twice. Gwydion then light the charcoal brazier and balanced the silver bowl on the stand. Knowing this was a critical stage, he watched as the mixture boiled, lifting the bowl off as the last of the juice evaporated. Giving one last mix with the silver spoon, Gwydion started to chant, “Acorn powder ground so fine
Nightshade juice, like bitter wine,
Silently in darkness you creep
To bring a soporific sleep.”

At the last, he carefully sounded out ‘soporific’ drawing it out to three syllables. He just hopped that didn’t affect the potion. He set the bowl aside to dry completely. The dust glittered even in the dim light of the cellar.

Next Gwydion picked up the now dry cauldron and filled it with the ocean water he had collected. Heating it over the brazier, before it started to boil he removed it and added the mud, and a pinch of toadstool powder. Felling slightly foolish, he then blew into the hot brew. Gwydion carefully then chanted between puffs of air, “Elements from the earth and sea,
Combine to set the heavens free.
When I stir this magic brew,
Great god Thor, I call on you.”

And waved the wand in a lighting shaped figure like his own scar. And he did so, he felt a tingle run up and down his back, and the smell of rain filled the air. Carefully he pored the now red potion into a vial, and stopped it tightly. This potion would activate if thrown into the air while shouting ‘Brew of storms, churn it up!’, and Gwydion had no wish for that to happen by accident.

The next two potions were made as a pair. The first to shrink the second to enlarge. He figured that even if he couldn’t think of a way to use them, he should make them as they were relatively simple. Before that, he checked on the dust and found it dry. Careful not to breath any in himself, he pored it from he bowl into an earthen clay jar with tight cork lid he that cleaned just for this. The jar had once had honey in it, but he had cleaned it carefully and hopped that wouldn’t affect the potion.

Taking another bowl down from the shelves, this one a deep burnished bronze, Gwydion measured out two spoonfuls of the red dried fig seeds and then covered them in red wine. He tired them slowly while heating them over the brazier. While heating, he took down the jar of dried caterpillars and removed one. Carefully, he plucked the hairs form it tiny body. Keeping one eye on the mix, he mashed a daisy root and the hair from a red caterpillar together. He put it together was a single wormwood leaf in a jar and sealed tightly, before shaking it vigorously for 30 seconds, counting aloud. He then poured the mix into the now hot bowl and stirred counter clockwise 3 times. Pouting half of the bowl back into the jar he quickly chanted over the steaming jar waving the wand back and forth, “Reducio, Reducio, Reducio” and sealing the jar. The mix he then stirred three times clockwise and poured it into another jar, over which he chanted waving the wand back and forth, “Engorgio, Engorgio, Engorgio,” and again sealing it. The first glass jar, now a lime green in colour was the shrinking solution. The second, now a ice blue in colour, was the enlarging potion.

The next was potion to turn him invisible. With a small golden knife he diced the cactus flower, before squeezing the cactus juice into the silver bowl. He mixed in the toad spittle and heated a small lump of lard over the brazier to make it runny, and then added it to the bowl. Then he mixed everything 13 times with the silver spoon alternating clockwise and counter clockwise. With the 13th stroke he chanted, “Cactus plant and horny toad
I now start down a dangerous road
Combine with fire and mist to make
Me disappear without a trace,”

And waved the wand in a diamond shape. The potion, now a thick honey like texture, tuned a colour somewhere between grey and purple, with a pearly shimmer. He carefully, slowly, pored it into the waiting vial. He wasn’t sure how good it would be in a emergency situation, it was too thick to drink quickly, and also needed an environment of mist to work best.

And now there was no more putting it off, the last and most important potion. Making sure everything was clean and dry, Gwydion measured the half cup of mandrake root powder and two spoonfuls of fish oil and placed them to one side. The small ball of cat hair was untapped from the small scrap of cloth he had wrapped it in week ago. Suddenly he realised why he still had the cat fur, as Medusa had rejected it for the understanding potion as she had been unsure of the effects of having fur from a not-actually-a-cat.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn't do this. He couldn’t use this fur. He couldn’t make the cookie. He just couldn’t!

“You must.” Letholdus answer made Gwydion realise he had spoken out aloud.

“I can’t! The fur is from you! I can’t know if it will work! It can’t go wrong!”

“Calm down. Tell me the spell. I was a wizard if you remember. I will be able to tell you if it will work.”

With that Gwydion read the passage aloud, including the notes written in by Manannan.

“The human form is more fluid then one would expect, and requires little to change. Unfortunately, once changed, it is in fact the reverse which is difficult. For this reason, this potion is dangerous in the wrong hands. A cat can not speak in human tongues, can not act in human ways, can not cast magic to return themselves to their true form. Then Manannan has noted, ‘This will show that arsehole Letholdus’.” Gwydion blushed heavily at the swearword. Letholdus simply sniffed in reply, so Gwydion continued, “Below, this potion relies on on humanoid nature of mandrake root, which represents the self, fur from the destined form, and oil to smooth transition. The true difficulties is in the bowl in which the potion must be made, for it must be of the finest gold, a metal known for its unchanging nature, and inlaid with jade, a stone know for balanced magics. Without this, the potion will still work, but after a short amount of time will loosen, causing the drinker to partially revert to human form. This revision will never be complete, and is highly likely to kill the drinker. Manannan has noted, ‘Death is too easy.’ Then there is a calculation I don’t understand, and then the actual recipe and enchantment.”

“Show me the calculation.”

Gwydion held up the book for the cat sitting on the stairs to see. The calculation was filled with almost recognisable letters such as strange i’s, x’s and h’s with a cross along its length, and t’s and r’s and a u with a long tail, and backwards d’s and upsides triangles and horseshoes and something that looked like a handleless fork. He had seen this sort of stuff before, for example in the book on portals long along, and knew that this was complex magic in its most basic form, but he still had no hope of understanding it.

Letholdus made a sort of purr-hum noise and said, “No, this is good. Use my fur. It will bind Manannan to me, and it will mean he can’t act against me. It will stop him from seeking revenge.”

Gwydion hadn’t even thought about that, that Manannan could try and find a way to hurt him for what he was doing. It was better then killing Manannan, but Gwydion didn’t think the wizard would see it like that. But what would Letholdus do to Manannnan? What did ‘binding’ mean exactly? Gwydion didn’t want Manannnan hurt. He looked at the black cat, “Ok, but you have to promise not to hurt him, once he is a cat.”

“I will do nothing he has not done to others.”

“No! You have to promise not to hurt him.”

“I will promise not to do anything he has not done to you then.”

Gwydion hesitated. The wizard had been good to him, mostly. He had been beaten him that first day, but hadn’t been starved or hurt so much he was maimed. He knew he would have to be happy with that, as Letholdus could of course not promise at all, and Gwydion wasn’t sure he had time to go find another real cat. So he nodded, “Swear.”

“I, Letholdus the cat, do swear to do nothing to Manannan when he is bound to me in cat form, which Manannan has not done to Gwydion.” There was a tingle in the air and a certain not quiet heard bell ring. The promise would be held up with magic.

Taking one deep calming breath, Gwydion got to work. First he put the mandrake power in a small golden bowl. Around the rim of the bowl, runes were inlaid in jade shone. Evenly, he spread the cat hairs in a circle in the powder. In the center he poured the fish oil. Starting at the edge of the bowl and spiraling in in a clockwise motion, he stirred the mix together. The mix sort of clumped together, but Gwydion just repeated it twice move until a loose dough had formed. The dough ball was only about the size of his fist, but he carefully patted it out into a roughly round shape with the back of the spoon. He then grabbed the wand and chanted, “Mandrake root and hair of cat
Mix oil of fish and give a pat
A feline from the one who eats
This appetising magic treat.”

He then set the bowl over the brazier, over a low heat, drying out the biscuit. It was done. The biscuit was made. Now he just had to get Manannan to eat it.

“Finally!” Letholdus exclaimed, “Now Manannan will get what he has always deserved!”

Gwydion shook his head, “I’m not doing this for your revenge! I have to stop him from hurting someone!”

“It doesn’t matter the reason, as long a Manannan is a cat by nightfall.”

“I might not do it tonight. I mean, maybe he won’t kidnap the Prince after all.”

“You must boy! Do not tell me you are getting cold feet now! You know as well as I it is simply a matter of time before he kills you.” Letholdus suddenly looked shy, “Besides, what do you think will happen to you when he finds all his ingredients missing?”

“You said he never comes down here!”

“Well maybe not never. He doesn’t spend all the time he is in the study just reading.”

“But! I’m not!” ready, he wanted to say. But if not now, when? How long did the little baby prince have? How long did he have? Manannan had saved him, but he couldn’t face the possibility of being replaced. After all, a little voice thought, as a cat Manannan could never leave him. He told himself he was doing this for the Prince, and he pushed the thoughts about hurt rejection fear away.

“No time for second thoughts! It has to be tonight.”

With a flick of its tail Letholdus made its way up the stairs. Gwydion looked at the two jars, one pot, three vials, and of course one cookie now sitting on the work bench. He wouldn’t be able to carry that all at once. Looking around the room he found a belt with 10 pouches on it, big enough to put the vials and jars, but not the pot. Gwydion slipped the vials and the jars in the little pouches and was amazed when the belt didn’t fell any heavier at all, the pouches not did the bulk out like he expected. He was reminded of the backpack upstairs hidden under his bed, which had a special spell to carry exactly twenty items no matter how big. He tried slipping the pot in one of the pouches and was delighted to see it fit in smoothly, as if it wasn’t bigger then the opening. Looking around the room again he took the empty ‘stasis jar’ for the cookie. He had no idea if it mattered if the cookie was fresh, but he didn’t want to take any chances. Once he was done, he realised he was still planning to turn Manannna into a cat. Shaken and unsure, Gwydion followed Letholdus upstairs.

Emerging from the cellar he was surprised how late it was. Gwydion knew Manannan would be back in just a little over two hours. Before then he had to have sort of plan to get the wizard to eat the biscuit. He carefully hid the belt with the pouches under his bed, before looking at the biscuit again. The only resemblance to a real cookie was its flat, round shape. It was hard, and had cat hair sticking out of it. Definitely non-appetizing! So how was he to get the wizard to eat it? Letholdus was sitting in his doorway, watching him with an intense stare.

“How did Manannan get you to eat this? It looks gross.”

“He held me down and forced it into my throat.”

“Oh.” Well that option was out. Gwydion doubted very much he could hold Manannan down. Maybe he could trick the wizard into eating it? If it don’t look so horrible…

That was it! He would make it look like a real cookie! The wizard never looked twice at anything Gwydion gave him to eat. A plan now in mind, Gwydion went into the kitchen and quickly started to pull the flour down from the shelf. He would have to bake the the cat cookie inside a real cookie. But wait, what effect would cooking the cat cookie have? He couldn’t know for sure. Frustrated, he sighed. OK, not a cookie, but maybe something else. Something already cooked or maybe that didn’t need cooking. He took the cookie out of the stasis jar and looked it again. Even now, the edge was starting to crumble slightly in his hands. Maybe, maybe he could crumble it up in something.

He looked around the kitchen. Set to one slide was the large pot he had cooked a porridge in that morning for breakfast. Gwydion felt his eyes widen as he realised that was the answer. A porridge. The oat chunks would hide the crumble and Manannan always wolfed down any bowl so quickly he would eat it all before he even started to fell the change. And even better, he had served cold porridge before and wizard hadn’t even noticed. With only an hour left before sunset, Gwydion started to cook. Minutes later he had a thick rich porridge, which he set aside to cool completely. He would add the biscuit at the last moment.

The CRACK of the wizard returning echoed in the house, followed by, “Gwydion! Where is my dinner?!”

Grabbing the bowl, Gwydion crumbled the biscuit over the top, and mixed it together. Taking the bowl out to the wizard he handed it over and fled back into the kitchen to wait. He couldn’t look the wizard in the eye, not now. Couldn’t watch as he betray the man who had saved him from the Dursley’s, who had treated better then any had before.

Seconds later he heard a startled gasp, then a strange crunching sound. Peering around the kitchen door, he watched in horror as the wizard fell backwards, his body twisting and twitching painfully. There was loud creak of bones shifting then a snow white cat popped out of the now much too large wizard robes. The white cat sort of stumbled upright, like a newborn foal. Before it could get even a foot, Letholdus jumped onto its back hissing, “Oh no Manannan, now your my little bitch!”

“Stop!” Gwydion yelled, “You swore not to hurt him!”

“I won’t allow him to run, before I’ve had a chance to speak to him. He will have to learn what it means to be a cat.”

“YOU!” the white cat hissed.

“I couldn’t let you hurt the prince!”

“You fool! You think this will stop it? Its already planned for, already paid! You have betrayed me for nothing. I will see you burn! I will dest-"

Letholdus’s paw hit Manannan on the back of his head, “None of that now. You will be silent unless spoken to by myself or Gwydion here.” Letholdus, from his position still hunched over the white cat, turned to Gwydion, “Shut us in Manannan’s old room, and get some rest. Nothing can be done tonight, and he may just have a better attitude tomorrow.”

Gwydion let out a shaky breath. He hoped that Manannan was just upset and not telling the truth. He wasn’t sure what he would do if the Prince was still in danger, if had done all this for nothing. “OK.” He picked you the squirming white cat as soon as Letholdus shifted away and carried it upstairs with Letholdus following behind. He waited for Letholdus to enter Manannan’s room and then quickly threw in the white cat and slammed the door between them. He could just make out Manannan hissing, before the room fell silent.

Exhaustion dropped down on him like a heavy coat. Gwydion turned and went to bed. He would deal with it all tomorrow.

That night he dreamt of a men who turned into a giant black dog, a stag a wolf and a rat. Together they ran in a forest with massive trees and laughed and joked, until the rat ran into the shadows, the wolf disappeared behind the tree, the dog got distracted by where the rat had run to, and the stag stood tall and alone in a cleaning filled with bright red lilies. As Gwydion watched a bright green light filled the clearing, and when he looked again all the lilies were dead, surrounding the fallen bulk of the stag. Gwydion felt a great well of sadness, before he turned an ran deep into the forest. The tree seemed to reach out and grab him, but he twisted this way and that, escaping their clutches. Suddenly he broke into a large clearing were a small pond reflected the moon high above. Breaking the quiet of the forest a babies cry cut, and Gwydion tried to find the baby but the dark of the forest confused him, until he fell away into deeper sleep.

Chapter Text

Gwydion, long conditioned to an early wake up time, rose with the sun. It took a moment before yesterdays events caught up with him, doing magic, turning Manannan into a cat, only to find out that he may have been too late. Deciding to put it off a little longer, he went through his normal morning routine of washing in the wash room, feeding the chickens, making breakfast. The first snag he hit was there was no drying clothes from yesterday, he had been in such a rush to make the potions he had just dumped his clothes in a pile and not got around to washing them. Gwydion ended up creeping back upstairs naked, feeling extremely embarrassed, even knowing the only other people (or once were people) were locked in Manannan’s bedroom. Once back in his room, he put on an outfit which was slightly too large, but fit fine once he tied the belt a little tighter. It was then back downstairs, and feeding the chickens, cooking breakfast. Out of habit he put aside a plate for Manannan before he caught himself, and then stood there forlornly looking at the plate.

What had he done? He had betrayed his master, the one person (except Medusa) who had even been nice to him. Actually Letholdus was kinda nice in its own way too. And most people in town like the shop keeper seemed pleasant. OK, so Manannan was the first person to be nice to him, and that had to count for something. And now he had gone a ruined it. He would be kicked out, and even the clothes he was wearing would be gone.

Having worked himself into a state, Gwydion angrily wiped the tears from his face. He grabbed the dirty clothes and started to scrub them clean. He had to do it! Manannan would have hurt an innocent baby. And besides if he hadn’t and Manannan had brought the baby here, what use would he have had for Gwydion? But he hadn’t done it for that! He had done it because it was the right thing to do. He couldn’t let Manannan hurt anyone else.

Once he had washed everything clean, including mopping the floor Gwydion straighten his shoulders. He couldn’t put it off any longer. He walked up stairs and knocked on Manannan’s bedroom door. He felt a little silly straight afterwards, it wasn’t like a cat could open the door. But then he heard through the thick door, “Come in Gwydion! Manannan and I have sorted out his little attitude problem!”

Gwydion pushed the door open, “Oh? Really?”

“Yes, yes. He is ready to tell you everything about the little Prince.” Letholdus was sitting in the middle of the large bed, and seeing Gwydion walk in, went back to grooming its front paw. The white cat, which he knew was Manannan, was on the floor at the foot of the bed, hunched down as if to be as small as possible, eyes trained on the black cat, Letholdus.

There was a long pause, and Letholdus looked up and at Manannan, and hissed harshly, “Well?”

Manannan seemed to uncurl slightly, and without looking away from Letholdus said, “The Prince is to be taken before the new moon. I have already paid off the maid and seen to the guards. Some of the guards have been paid to absence themselves, and those that haven’t been will be given a potent sleeping draught. Once the boy is out of the castle he will be smuggled to the coast, to Port Karlavaegen, where a pirate vessel will take him here. The pirates haven’t been paid yet, so I can’t say what will happen if the boy gets there before payment arrives. The pirates may ransom the boy back to Daventry, but I doubt it. Anyone involved will have a death sentence over their heads.”

“So we need to get the boy before the new moon.”

Letholdus huffed, “Thats is in only 4 days time. The trip to Daventry takes around 40 days by even the fastest ship.”

Gwydion slumped down on the bed next to Letholdus. Absently, he petted down the thick black fur. He didn’t notice the almost longing look in Manannan’s eye. “Could we send a letter?”

“Would take even longer.” Letholdus' purr was loud in the room.

“So what do we do?”

“There is very little we can do. By the time we get there it will be too late.”

Gwydion let himself fall back on the bed. “Maybe Medusa will know something.”

“Medusa! You’ve been talking to that bitch have you?” Manannan hissed.

Letholdus was up and over the edge of the bed in a flash, and Gwydion startled at the hissing and yeowing that followed. Clearly Manannan still had some attitude problems to work out.

Gwydion got up once the sounds had stopped and looked over the bed. Manannan was sitting pressed into one corner, Letholdus in the middle of the room. Gwydion couldn’t see any cuts on either one. “I’m going to go see Medusa. You both need to behave.”

“Go, we will be fine, won’t we Manannan?”

Not waiting for an answer, Gwydion crept out of the room. He decided, just in case, to take the belt of potion bottles with him on his trip to Medusa. He wanted to show her them anyway. He slipped the again empty ‘stasis jar’ back into the belt. Once equipped he started down the mountain to Medusa’s cave. He realised half way that he could come a go when he pleased, he could visit Medusa every day if he wanted. The walk seemed much shorter, the air seemed brighter then ever before.

Medusa’s door open for him by magic like always.

“Medusa! I have news!” Gwydion called out.

“Gwydion, it seems like weeks since I last saw you, tell me everything that has happened.”

And so Gwydion did, right from finding the letter, getting robbed (and a small break which allowed Medusa to calm down and stop threatening to find the bandits and gut them), making the potions (at which point he showed Medusa the ones in the belt, which she exclaimed over and smiled at him proudly), realising he had to act that night and finally turning Manannan into a cat. Medusa was beaming by that stage and wrapped Gwydion in a massive hug.

“Oh you clever clever boy! You did it!”

“But I was too late! The little Prince is still going to be kidnapped!”

Medusa frowned, “Do you know when?”

“Manannan said by the new moon. Letholdus has been keeping an eye on him.”

“That is troubling. Daventry is a powerful kingdom. If they decide to go to war, we will be in trouble.”

“War?”

“Why yes, the previous ruler is responsible for kidnapping a Prince. They are well within they rights to declare war on us all, especially you.”

“What! Why me? I tried to help!”

“But you are the new ruler of Llewdor.”

“No I’m not!”

“Yes, you are child. You defeated the old ruler, which by right of conquest makes you the new one.”

“But I’m seven! I can’t rule a kingdom!”

“Well you can appoint a regent. Someone who rules in your place until you are old enough.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but it must be someone you trust. It’s a big responsibility.”

“You! I want you to be my regent. That is if you want to. I mean, I trust you, and your my friend. And you know tons of stuff. You would be a great ruler.”

Medusa laughed, “I’m not sure how the townsfolk would feel about a monster being their ruler, even if it is only as regent.”

“Well if they don’t like it they can go elsewhere. You’re not a monster. You’re my friend. Please Medusa, I don’t know how to rule a kingdom! I’ll mess it all up.” Gwydion clutched at Medusa, staring earnestly up at her.

“Alright, alright. Let me pack a few things and meet up back at the Keep. There is a lot to do.”

“What about the little prince?”

“You said before that Manannan could disappear and re-appear didn’t you? He must have had some means to go to Daventry quickly in order to arrange all this. You have great magics in you, you managed all the potions on the first try. If you can learn Manannan’s transport magic, you could get there before the Prince is kidnapped.”

“Medusa! That's a perfect idea. But what if I can’t learn it? What if the potions were just a fluke?”

“Then we will think of something else. For now, go and have a walk around your new kingdom while I pack up. We still have a few days.”

“OK.” Gwydion stood up from Medusa’s arms and made his way out of the cave. He waved at Medusa, who was already starting to pack things in large canvases bags.

Gwydion wandered around the dessert for a bit, but the hot midday sun was burning down, and so he made his way back towards the forests. Turning north instead of south to the track up to the Keep, he rested the waterfall and its dancing pools. As he watched the sun shine on the water he suddenly realised that Medusa was coming to visit his home! He laughed happily, a friend was coming over to visit him! Maybe he should cook dinner? Thats what people did wasn’t it, when friends visited?

Gwydion stood, stretching out his back and continued around the mountain, thinking about what he could cook for Medusa. Rounding the bed in the river his eye caught the large spider web again. Gwydion paused watching the massive spider, sitting in its web absolutely still. If this was his kingdom he should do something about that spider. But he didn’t want to kill it. The spiders from Before has been his only company on the long dark nights in the cupboard. Gwydion frowned, maybe he had something? He thought about the stasis jar, which would be perfect, he could take the spider somewhere away from people. But the spider was way too big to fit. Gwydion hit himself in the head when he remember he had made a shrinking potion. Now all he had to do was get some on the spider, then catch it in the jar before the potion wore off.

Watching the spider carefully, a crept closer, now with the lime green potion in hand, stopper in his pocket and stasis jar in his other hand. In a weird jerking motion, he flicked the potion at the spider. Most hit the web, but one or two drops hit the spider. It jerked, and cittered at him, “What’s this? What’s this?” as half the web rapidly shrunk down from the size of his finger to the size of normal web. The spider was also shrinking, but not as fast, causing it to skittle to one side, trying to hold on to the undamaged web. Gwydion darted forward and before the spider could run out of sight, scooped the now fist sized spider into the jar. No doubt if it hadn’t been confused from the sudden change in size he wouldn’t have had a chance, but the spider was now in the jar. He juggled the lid and the still open potion bottle, loosing more potion on the ground as he flipped the lid closed. It sealed with a hiss of air, but to Gwydion’s surprise the spider didn’t freeze like he expected. It was waving its front legs at Gwydion and he could hear it’s now tiny voice shouting, “What have you done?! Why am I now small? Let me out!”

Gwydion shook his head, and placing the jar on the ground said, “Sorry, but its not safe to have you here.” He capped the jar of shrinking solution again. “I’ll find you somewhere nice, away from people.”

“The oracle made you do this, didn’t he? That old coot!”

“What oracle?”

“The one inside my cave! I’ve been waiting for him to come out and fall into my web so I can eat him, but the old coot just sits there all the time staring at his glass ball. It’s not good enough! I’m hungry!” The spider sound so pitiful at the end, that if it hadn’t been talking about eating someone Gwydion may have felt sorry for it. He picked up the jar and shoving it back in the belt said, “I’ll find you some food later.”

Finding a stick that had somehow managed to not be miniaturised by his uncoordinated attack, Gwydion cleaned the rest of the web away. Looking at the silky thread he considered, then scrapped them off into one of his empty vials. Spider thread may coming in handy for something. Gwydion made his way into the dark cave.

From the darkness a voice echoes, "I've been waiting for you a long time, Gwydion. I have sorrowful news for you."

As Gwydion ventured deeper into the cave a opening came into view. A clear, polished ball of crystal rests upon a stone dais. Within it, Gwydion could see a kaleidoscope of bright colours and flashing lights, occasionally blurred by dark, ominous shadows. Clearly, Gwydion had entered the cave of the Oracle. The Oracle himself (herself?) was an image shimmered indistinctly above a crystal ball, vague and indistinct. Gwydion was almost afraid to speak. “How did you know my name?”

The Oracle remained silent for a long time. Finally, Gwydion heard a hollow voice that seems to come from far away, "Behold the crystal ball! Through it the universe is revealed to me.”

To Gwydion that was a little creepy, but he decided he couldn’t really do anything about it any way. Within the ball, the medley of colours swirled together to form a vision of a dragon with three hideous heads. Then, the image changed to reveal a young beautiful blond girl, crying. Gwydion’s heart went out to her. “Years ago, a terrible three-headed dragon invaded Daventry, and keeps the people in a state of terror. This monster requires, once a year, a sacrifice. A young maid is the chosen one this year. This truly terrible, as the maiden is in fact the young Prince’s nurse. Time is running out for her, and she knows it. Unless she receives passage away, she will be sacrificed. But your heroic actions will lead her to a terrible choice. She will plan to sacrifice the Prince in her place, unless someone stops them. You, Gwydion," the hollow voice continued, "are the only one who can save them. But, you must hurry! I have something to give you...a small stone of amber. Use it to travel there, my friend."

The Oracle fall silent again, and seems to fall into a deep sleep. The light from the crystal flicked, and then disappeared. Only the distant sunlight from the caves mouth now filled the cave. On the pedestal where the crystal ball once stood was a beautiful reddish-yellow smooth stone of amber, the size of Gwydion fist. Gwydion quickly picked it and backed out of the cave, before running all the way back to the Keep.

He got back and put the belt on his bed. Medusa wasn’t there yet, and both cats had disappeared somewhere. As the old women had deliver a huge box of apples 4 days ago, Gwydion decided to cook an apple pie for dessert, and because he could make some apple sauce, a pork roast.

He spent the rest of the afternoon cooking, waiting for Medusa.

“Hello the Keep!” Medusa’s voice echoed from the front of the Keep, and Gwydion, having set finished cooking some time ago, run excited to the door.

“Medusa! Is that everything?” Gwydion looked in shock at the two large bags in each of Medusa’s hands.

“Of course. You should know by now that a bag can hold much more the you think.”

“Oh, of course.”

“I left behind most of my delicate plants, they can’t be moved easily, and I will need to visit them regularly. But as for the rest, well, if I’m to be your regent I thought I should bring it all. The mountain has always been were the rulers of Llewdor have lived.”

“Here, let me take one.”

“Oh no, I’m alright. Now lead the way.”

After being distracted by watching Medusa make her way up the stairs with a gliding side to side motion, Gwydion hesitated. Should he put Medusa in Manannan’s old room? He wasn’t sure if she would like that, so at the top of the stairs Gwydion said, “There are two bedrooms, the smaller is mine, and I was going to give you Manannnan’s old room if that's alright?”

Medusa put the two trunks down and looked Gwydion in the eye, “No Gwydion I don’t think that will do at all.”

“There’s the tower too… if you want that? Or the study? I mean I can move the books somewhere?”

“No Gwydion, that's not what I meant. You need to take Manannan’s old room. It’s the largest, and is meant for the King. I will take your old room.”

“But my room is the smallest! I can’t make you stay there!”

“Come now silly, you have seen my caves. What would I do with all the open space? I’d much prefer a smaller cosy room I think. Now,” Medusa headed down the hall and opened Gwydion door, “Yes, this will do nicely.”

Gwydion tried to protest again, but Medusa simply started to go through his draws, piling his clothes on the bed and clucking at their worn state, before picking them up and carrying down the hall to the master bedroom. There she signed loudly when she saw the decor, muttering about tasteless old wizards, before putting the clothes on the bed, and then forcing Gwydion to put all the too small and too large clothes in a pile, which she would take to town to sell. Medusa informed Gwydion he would need a new wardrobe, one fit for his new status. Gwydion kept his objections to himself, sensing he wouldn’t win. By the time Medusa was done, Gwydion had been moved into the master, and his old room was a den of pillows and throws, the old bed and cupboards having been moved into the tower, for storage and ’for the cats to sleep on’, which Medusa said with a definite sniff.

Gwydion escaped at some point and warmed up everything for dinner, before setting the table for two, the first time he had done so since coming to Sierra. They had a wonderful meal together, Medusa praising Gwydion’s cooking enough to make him blush. While they ate at the table, Gwydion had also put some of the pork on two plates and put them on the other bench seat to feed the cats. Manannan seemed to have no problems scarfing the food down like always, despite his new form.

“Alright, I think it is time to discuss everything. Manannnan and Letholdus please sit where I can see you.”

Letholdus and Manannnan jumped onto the table top, while Gwydion sat down again next to Medusa after putting the plates to one side.

“Very well,” Medusa looked seriously between the two cat and Gwydion, “Gwydion will need to translate, as I can not understand cat. You can understand me of course?”

“Yes.”

Gwydion nodded for the cats.

“We must decide what to do about the Prince.”

“Why exactly do we need to do anything?” Letholdus asked.

“We have to!” Gwydion shouted.

Medusa cut across before Letholdus could responded, “We need to do something to stop any reprisals. Gwydion is now the King by conquest and he must…”

Manannan hissed, “What! A slave can’t rule!”

Gwydion repeated his comment while Manannan continued to rant. “You betrayed me for power!”

Medusa was beaten this time by Letholdus, “You have no say! Now be quiet.”

Manannan’s mouth snapped shut immediately.

“As I was saying, he must act if only to prevent war. If he doesn’t and it becomes known he let the Prince be kidnapped then Deventry is well within their rights to destroy us. With the poor state of the land due to Manannan’s actions, we could not defend against that.”

Manannan was rigid, clearly wanting to argue but unable to due to Letholdus’s command.

“We know it will be in 4 days time, when the ship which is meant to carry the Prince away will sail. We will need to travel there before then. Manannan, you were able to set it up, so you must have a way of traveling easily.”

Letholdus said, “Go ahead.”

Manannan sneered, “The spell is complex and requires a strong will and even greater magic. One must have traveled there before, marked a location in mind and then will themselves there at the exact moment of sunrise. You have blocked my magic from me, I can not do so.”

Gwydion repeated and then added, “and neither Medusa or I have been there.”

Medusa sighed, “There must be another way.”

Gwydion frowned, and the memory of what had happened early rushed in, as if it had been hidden before. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I found an oracle. He was a little strange, hiding a in a cave in the forest. He said the prince’s handmaid has been picked to be given to a dragon, and that I had to stop it. He gave me this stone. He said I could get there with it.”

“Really? Oracles are very powerful. Tell me exactly what they said.”

So Gwydion recounted the encounter, including with the spider.

After the tale Medusa said, “He if gave you something it would defiantly work. Do you have it on you?”

Gwydion shook his head, and went and got it from his new room, the belt on the new hook just for it. Placing the stone on the table, Manannan’s sharp inhale was not missed by Medusa, “You know what this is, don’t you Manannnan?”

After a look from Letholdus, Manannan nodded and said, “Yes, it is an Amber stone. There is a spell which will transport the holder of an amber stone to the location of tree the stone was made from. It still requires a user to be magically powerful, but the spell is relatively simple, and in one of my books in the cellar.”

Gwydion excitedly repeated to Medusa the information.

Medusa smiled at the boy, “I guess all hope is not lost after all. Tomorrow we must do many things to confirm both your rulership and my regency. We will also find the book and Gwydion, you will need to practice the spell.”

“Wait, why should I go? Wouldn’t they listen to you better?”

Letholdus’s laugh made Gwydion blush in embarrassment, even if he didn’t know what he had said. “No. They will not listen to Medusa. In fact they would no doubt blame her, if they didn’t kill her on sight.”

“Oh.”

Medusa shook her head. “They would not listen to me Gwydion. I think perhaps well should all get some rest. Good night Gwydion, Letholdus.” Medusa eyes flicked over Manannan as she rose and glided from the room. Gwydion bid both cats good night and followed. Before he got into bed he saw the jar with the spider. He back tracked to the kitchen and got a strip of cooked roast. Both cats where gone, Gwydion assume to bed in the tower. The spider was sitting still in the jar. Gwydion considered whether he should just drop the food in, or try and talk to the spider. He muttered, “I’m going to give you this meat, don’t try and escape.”

The spiders legs twitched, “Finally remember me did you? Fine.”

Carefully he unscrewed the lid and flicked the strip of meat in before slamming the lid shut again, not giving the spider a chance to change its mind. The meat stopped halfway in the jar, and Gwydion realised that the spider had spun its webs across the jar.

That night it took some time to sleep, the bed too soft, the room to large. Despite everything, Gwydion still felt comforted by the thought of Medusa close by, and hopefully, a solution to the problem of the Prince.

Chapter Text

The next day Gwydion was again awake before anyone else. The vial which had had shrinking solution was empty, so he washed that and the rest of the dishes from last night. He made some breakfast for himself and gave some grilled ham (which was almost like bacon) to both cats when they wandered in, Manannan complaining about the early time the whole way. Medusa woke later, and glided into the room with her hair snakes making cute little yawns. Medusa insisted on feeding herself, shooing Gwydion away to eat his own food. To Gwydion it felt oddly warm, just like Medusa’s hugs did, to be surrounding by the people he cared for most in this (or any) world, and to eat breakfast together.

“Eat up, we have a lot to do today.” Medusa commented. “First we must confirm your reign, and then my regency. Both require rituals to tie to the land. Then you and Manannan must find the spell, and practice it, or potion, and make it.” Medusa here glared at the white cat, “If anything happened to Gwydion while in your care I will make you suffer ten times worse. On that you have my promise.”

Letholdus hiss-laughed, “Not to fear, I will keep my eye on both of them.”

Medusa eyed the black cat, and despite not understanding the words, understood the tone enough to sharply nod. “You will watch them both and while you do, I will go into town and spread the word of Manannan’s defeat. There is also a number of decisions to be made about trade and I need to update myself on a few things which I was unable to do in my cave. We are at a distinct disadvantage right now, if we can make allies before any of the more aggressive kingdoms hear of Gwydion’s age it will protect us.”

“Why does my age matter?”

“A young ruler is both a weakness and strength. Firstly, children are seen as weak, even if that is not true. You have great magics, enough to defeat Manannan, who is well known, and I will tell all who will listen this. But there will always be those who see a child and think they can either manipulate you or attack you out right. On the other hand, you are young enough that many will seek to ally themselves now, likely through marriage, before you grow strong enough to defeat them.”

Gwydion gulped, “Marriage? I’m seven! I don’t want to get married!”

“And I will not make you. A marriage for only power may in fact weaken you, both politically and magically. Right now it is better if we concentrate on building up what we have. Today I will also check the financial state of the kingdom. From what I have observed since the curse was lifted the kingdom is not in debt, but that is all the good I can say about the coffers. There has been no money to pay for guards to protect the land against bandits and pirates, which is why they infest this area so heavily. Most families have sent their children away, as there is no money to pay the guilds for our youth to gain apprenticeships. Basic repairs which are needed on the pier have not been done in decades. The river north, which is a main trade route, has been allowed to dry and the banks are overgrown. The desert has crept closer to the town every year. Farmers have left as crops failed. You ritually uniting with the land will help some of these problems, and marriage to a wealthy state could fix the other problems in the short term. But it would put you in a weak position for the rest of your life. And if you are unhappy that can weaken your magic, and through you the land. It is not worth it. It may take time but there are other ways to find money.”

Letholdus had been listening keenly, “Ask Medusa if she plans seek the old races. It would a quick way to find power.”

After repeating to Medusa Letholdus’s question, Medusa and the cat seemed to have a conversation without saying a word, while Manannan hissed, “What! A creature for a regent is bad enough! You will let that filth here?”

Gwydion looked bewildered between the others, “What is going on?”

Manannan hissed, “She means to destroy you! Consort with the old races is to invite the lesser here! Power thieves, filth banished from where good folk live!”

Letholdus shouted, “Silence!”

Medusa spoke softly, “That is a matter for later. Now there is,”

“No I think I need to know!” Gwydion interrupted, “what are you talking about? Who are the old races? Why would we seek them?”

Medusa seemed to sigh, “The old races are those who came to this land first, long long ago and have for one reason or another, become outcasts.”

“Why would that happen?”

“Gwydion, men fear what they can not control. The old races are heavily linked to the land, and are powerful for it. I am one of the old races. I’m the last of my kind, and have long been seen as a monster. If I was to travel to Daventry I would likely be killed on sight. There are others like me, the last of the old races, the forgotten. They are excluded from many places where men rule. If we invite them here we would have their power at the cost of many Kingdoms fear.”

Manannnan was twitching, clearly desperate to talk. “Let him talk, Letholdus,” Gwydion said.

Letholdus hesitated then, “Say what you want, but be civil.”

Manannan sneered, “They are banished for good reason. To invite them here is to invite your own destruction. They will kill you for even a scrap of power.”

Gwydion shook his head, unsure. “How could we know if we can trust them?”

Medusa seemed to slump in on herself, “I can not say we can for now. Until we are sure of our position it would be folly to ask them to come here. This, however, is a matter for later. First we have much to do to even confirm what we have. I will set up the ritual in the hall, Gwydion you must wash very well. Do not get dressed after, but come straight to the hall.”

“You mean naked?!”

“Yes. Oh, don’t look so worried. You are hardly my type.”

Gwydion was bright pink in the face as Letholdus broke into great huffing laughs, and the boy fled to the wash room.

What followed was highly embarrassing, with Medusa having to encourage the boy through the kitchen and into the hall, where the table had been pushed to one side, and a large circle of vines and soil had been placed. Naked and slightly cold, the boy stood where directed and repeated a series of chants after Medusa.

“I claim this land, as by right of conquest. I hold power over the land, and all its peoples. I take its magic and offer my own, entwined.” Around him, the vines bust into a strange green flame. The soil danced above the vines, glittering. Gwydion could feel the pressure build against his skin. Medusa handed him a large goblet and Gwydion drunk the earthy mix. “As I take in the land I become. I am the forests. I am the air. I am the rivers and lakes. I am the dark places and the light. I rule this land.”

In a flash of light, everything tingled and he had felt light headed, making him sit down. The vines and soil had burnt up completely, leaving the room bare.

Medusa was smiling as she helped him redress, his limbs floppy and his head fuzzy, “That went well. The land accepted you as its ruler, but you wont be able to act fully until you come of age, which for humans I believe is 18 years old. When that happens we will have to do another ritual. But for now, rest while I set up the regency ritual.”

Letholdus sat in Gwydion’s lap purring, and Manannan pressed himself against Gwydion’s side while Medusa took the goblet and mixed herbs and liquids together in it. After sometime, Medusa coiled her tail under herself tightly, almost as if she was kneeling before Gwydion, holding the goblet. She gave him the goblet. Letholdus and Manannan moved away, and Gwydion felt suddenly vulnerable.

“I will speak, and then you must say, ‘I accept your oath’ and give me the goblet. Are you ready?”

Gwydion focused on Medusa, “Yes.”

Medusa voice was clear and strong, “I swear before those gathered and magic itself to protect this one called Gwydion, ruler of this land. I swear to hold in trust his will until he is of age to rule. I swear to act as his sword and shield, for this land and for all who are tied to it. Do you accept my oath?”

“I accept your oath.” Handing over the goblet made everything slightly less fuzzy, but at the same time made Gwydion tingle even more. Medusa quickly drunk the mix, and around each wrist a band of green light formed before settling in to her skin. The ritual was done.

Gwydion had a nap, more affected by the ritual then expected, while Medusa went into town and the two cats stayed close. Even Manannan acted protective, curling up against the sleeping boy.

Around dinner, Medusa roused the boy and fed him a simple broth. He wasn’t sleepy as such, just unable to concentrate, as his magics flowed into the land and the land’s magic flowed back. As such, she didn’t force him back to bed, but instead sat with him among the pillows now in his old room and sung to him, telling him stories of the land he had now claimed. It was soothing, and eventually Gwydion drifted back to sleep.

Chapter Text

The spell was easily found in the book in the cellar, however it was in part written in a dialect of elvish, which is why Gwydion hadn’t understood it before. It needed salt, mistletoe and of course the amber. There was salt in the kitchen, but the sprig of mistletoe he had found days ago, now a little dry and slightly yellow. Medusa was in the study, piles of paper in front of her. Manannan hissed at her, but Medusa ignored the angry cat and smiled at Gwydion instead as the boy proudly waved the thick, greyish-green dried sprig of mistletoe its with remnants of little berries still attached. “Look! I had some from days ago in my bag.” Medusa look a little doubtful when his enthusiastic wave dislodged a hard green berry, sending it flying into a corner. Gwydion defended himself, “Letholdus said it wouldn’t matter if it was a little old and dry.”

“Very well, if Letholdus believes it will be fine. Go and make the potion now, but don’t activate it yet. There is much to prepare before your trip.”

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to. It has to be done at dawn. It’s part of the magic.”

Medusa smiled. With that Gwydion and both cats disappeared down into the cellar. The potion had to be one of the easiest yet, with Gwydion just mashing the mistletoe and salt together into a paste and then rubbing it into the stone as Gwydion chanted, “With this kiss, I thee impart,
Power most dear to my heart.
Take me now from this place hither,
To another place far thither.”

And, grimacing, kissed the stone. There was a tingle across his lips, and when he looked at the stone again the red-yellow turned almost burgundy in colour, and the paste had soaked up like a sponge. To activate it he had to hold the stone at dawn and will himself away. At dusk, if he was holding the stone, he could will himself back to wherever he had departed from. Letholdus had warned him that the potion would have to be reapplied after every round trip, but Gwydion didn’t think that would be much of a problem. Hopefully it would only require one trip to Daventry to warn the King and he could come back home.

Gwydion and the cats went back up stairs, and Gwydion proudly showed Medusa the stone.

“The stone is ready?”

“Ready.”

“So we have the rest of the day to prepare. There is also a number of things you should know about Llewdor before you go. But first let us have some lunch.”

After lunch Medusa sat down with Gwydion and went through the basic information on Llewdor. Including Gwydion, Llewdor had forty three citizens, seven of whom were chickens, two cats, three bears and one Medusa (but not inducing three bandits, who had disappeared after being told of Manannan’s defeat). Medusa explained these were now Gwydion’s responsibility, he had to make sure they were happy and healthy. This included checking who people married where good, useful people (and that they weren’t too closely related), and getting them jobs (or apprenticeships). He was also somehow tied to the land, but Gwydion didn’t really understand all that, and Medusa said it wasn’t as important to know yet. In exchange for his protection the people had to pay a tithe (which is what the old women had been delivering each week), and were sworn to obey him. Medusa explain it was like he was now their dad, in charge, but also responsible. Gwydion had asked if that made Medusa the mum. Letholdus had laughed for a solid 5 minutes at that. Gwydion also learned that Medusa was setting up meetings with all the neighbouring kingdoms, to discuss trade routes. Port Bruce used to be a stop on many of the routes, before Manannan took over, and banned trade with he had sneering called creatures. Medusa was going to try and fix that, but it would take time to set up.

That afternoon also saw Medusa, Letholdus and Gwydion packing (Manannan refused to be helpful). Medusa had seen Gwydion’s knapsack that he had taken from the bandits and explained it could fit 20 items into, no matter the size or weight, and remain only as heavy as the leather it was made of. After that the sack was like any other. Gwydion asked if it was ok for him to keep, after all the bandits probably hadn’t paid for it. Medusa had retorted that Gwydions need was currently greater. Gwydion had then given the gold pouch to Medusa, asking her to find whoever it had belonged to and pay for it, to which Medusa promised she would, but handed back the pouch after taking ten gold pieces, insisting it was Gwydion’s winnings.

Into the knapsack went a whole ham and a massive loaf of bread, as well as a large skin of pure water. Medusa also packed the thickest blanket she had. When he looked in the bag, the things all looked the same size, about the size of a large grape, all sitting at the bottom. She muttered over Gwydion’s clothes, but they didn’t have the time to get ‘ones fitting his station’ made, but did give Gwydion one of Manannan’s short red capes, which was full length cloak on Gwydion. Medusa also gave him three small vials. The first would heal burns, the second small wounds, and the last should counter most (non-magical) poisons. Gwydion put them in his belt. She also packed a roll of fine green silk, a present ‘of good will’ to give to the king of Daventry when he got there. And in case of trouble, made Gwydion pack one of the kitchen knives.

With everything mostly done, they had dinner and then Medusa followed Gwydion up to his bedroom, and tucked him in. Sleepily, the boy smiled when he felt Medusa brush a kiss across his forehead (and half a dozen little kisses from her hair) and the warm bodies of both Letholdus and Manannan sneaked in next to him. He had his family around him, and tomorrow he would save the Prince.

Chapter Text

Before dawn saw everyone gathered in the small courtyard. Medusa had a proud smile on her face that did nothing to hide the worry in her eyes. “You will come back immediately if anything goes wrong. We will figure something out.”

“Yes Medusa.”

Letholdus nodded to the boy, while Manannan sat in the doorway, refusing to go outside and get dirt in his white fur, but both cats had spent time purring against him that morning before they all got out of bed. Gwydion knew that was their way of saying good luck. Belt in place, rucksack on, Gwydion held up the amber, and the moment the sun rose above the horizon and shone through the amber, Gwydion wished as hard as possible for him to be in Daventry, to save the Prince and keep his family safe.

With the sensation a hook in his stomach pulling him inside out, and a loud CRACK, Gwydion disappeared to somewhere else.

~~~~~Elsewhere~~~~~

The first thing Gwydion recognised was the massive turrets, from which the guards could defend the castle, stretched to the sky above. He blinked a few times, as if his eyes had been delayed in travel. Eventually, everything came back into focus, or as in focus as it ever was for the boy. High above the castle, the flags waved in the wind. He was standing in the leafy shade from a large old oak next to a deep moat. The moat was deep and dangerous with slippery sides to prevent anyone escaping. He was surprised to see small flowers growing along the moat, which did nothing to hide the smell from the murky water. Gwydion could see alligators floating in the water. A very small, wooden barrel bridge stretched across to the castle. Gwydion carefully crept across the bridge to the castle gates. Gwydion expected to see guards at the door, but only two pots of vines creeping up the walls of the castle watched over the intimidating closed portcullis, the only entrance to the King's castle. Unsure, Gwydion knocked, but it echoed within the castle. Gwydion waited, but no one came to answer. Feeling the press of time, Gwydion was about to try and push open the portcullis, when they swung out, almost hitting him, causing him to trip backwards.

Gwydion, from his position sprawled across the ground, had a brief impression of a dark hood over blond hair. The figure was carrying a large bundle, from which a soft coo emitted before they darted away, almost running in their hast to get over the bridge. They were out of sight before Gwydion was over his shock. Muttering, he climbed to his feet, brushing off the dirt from his clothes. The portcullis was still open, and he peeked around the hall on the other side, and more curious still, the room was also deserted; Gwydion expected someone to at least be waiting in such a large castle. Gwydion began to feel deeply disturbed, he hoped he was not too late.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” Gwydion tried shouting. He didn’t want to enter, that felt rude, but he was well aware of how little time was left. Tonight was the new moon.

The breeze was the only answer.

“Anyone?”

Gwydion frowned. Slowly, ready to defend his actions if needed, he edged into the hall. It was then, once his eyes had adjusted to the relative dim compare to outside, he saw the slumped over figure to one side of the doors. Gwydion crept closer, “Hello?”

The figure flopped to its side when Gwydion shook the closest shoulder. Gwydion stiffened in fear for while the body was the shape of a man, it’s face was that one of Aunt Marges’ dogs. The dog-man, teeth bared in snarling lips, growled lowly in sleep. Gwydion slowly backed away, remembering Ripper, it’s teeth nipping at his ankles as he desperately tried to climb away. He could almost hear the Dursley’s laughter echoing.

He wasn’t there anymore. He had a family that loved him. He had nothing to fear from Marge and her dogs.

That didn’t mean he was going to wake this guard.

Gwydion bit his lip, thinking deeply. What did he do now? Should he just wait? Should he go further and try and find someone to warn about blond maid?

Blonde maid… a blonde figure carrying a bundle which could easily be a small child.

Manannan’s voice echoed in his memory, ‘Some of the guards have been paid to absence themselves, and those that haven’t been will be given a potent sleeping draught.’

Gwydion spun, racing outside again. He had been right there! He could have stopped it! He couldn’t see the figure, but he knew where she was going, Port Karlavaegen. If he could catch up to her… without another thought, Gwydion was racing over the bridge and in the direction he remember her running. A path of through the trees. Surely he could catch a women carrying a baby, he had always been fast. The green country was a blur as he ran and ran and ran.

Before he knew it, the sun was high overhead, and the smell of rotting fish was the first sign of the coast. Cresting over a small hill, a small cove came into view. A handful of houses were scatted along the protected beach. To either side, steep short cliffs rose. A few small fishing boats bobbed gently in the surf. There was no big ship waiting, which he took as a good sign. The path followed the top of the cliff, and then down into the town. By now, Gwydion was panting, his legs burning from the all the running. How had the maid managed to be so fast? It was too late now to turn back, so he continued down into the town. As he got closer he could make out the four relatively large houses, and what looked like a warehouse of some kind. Two row boats sat on the beach, empty for now.

One of the houses turned out to be a tavern, and Gwydion thought they might know where the maid was. He wasn’t quiet sure what he would do when he found her, but he put that aside for now. The style of houses were different to Port Bruce, despite also being wooden these were all grey and worn. Their roofs were a darker grey slate, the windows small and grimy. The air was heavy with rotting fish, and everything felt gloomy. He entered the tavern and was greeted to a thick smoky atmosphere. He had only a moment to take in the slender women with blonde hair holding a tubby toddler, surrounded by large angry looking thugs before she saw Gwydion and screeched, “He followed me all the way from the castle! Do something!” Gwydion had sneaking suspicion that he had made a big mistake. These were the pirates! But before he could act on it, before he could run, he felt was a heavy muscular arm snapping around his face, the soft feel of a rag over his mouth and nose. As the heavy sweet musk choked him, distantly Gwydion heard, "Take 'is things an put 'im in the 'old until I figures out what ta do with 'im.”

After a few seconds, all was darkness.

~~~~~Sometime Later~~~~~

Gwydion awoke in the dank cargo hold of the pirate ship. With caution, he looked around the dim surroundings. Each movement of his head sent waves of stabbing pain to his neck, eyes and mind. Mostly, all he could see was stacks of wooden crates. Looking upward, he noticed a rope ladder dangling partway through an opening in the hold ceiling. The ladder was directly over the largest crate. A couple of little gray mice scurried to and fro on the floor of the hold. Gwydion watched them dart around while his head throbbed.

"Do you know where the pirates are taking us?" one gray mouse asked the other.

"I heard them talking about a buried treasure chest," the other mouse answered. “I think it's buried on a beach and they're going to dig it up."

"Oh, I remember!" squeaked the first mouse. "Remember when they first buried the treasure? I remember hearing one pirate say that nobody has ever crossed those mountains alive."

“That’s because of the dragon!”

“Well better that then what happened to the last cabin boy they had.”

"What happened to the last cabin boy they had?"

“Didn't you hear? They fed him to the sharks just for sport.”

“Maybe this one will last longer.”

Gwydion blinked at the mice, which were looking back at him. When the mice both realised he was awake they squeaked and ran into the deeper shadows. There was a long pause as Gwydion started to feel a little better. His head still ached, but he felt like he might be able to stand without falling over. His bladder made itself be known, uncomfortably full. He didn’t particular want to alert the pirate he was awake yet, so, awkwardly, he empty his bladder in the furthermost corner, behind some boxes. By the smell he wasn’t the first to do so.

Far above he heard the pirates shouting and working, and the soft rush of waves breaking on the ship. Gwydion realised a potion would be good right now, but is belt and rucksack were gone. What was he meant to do now? Was the Prince on board still? By the sounds of the mice, they were going to a beach somewhere near the dragon. Gwydion just hoped the maid wasn’t still going to sacrifice the Prince.

There was no window in the hold, but eventually the light from the hole above dimmed in what he thought might be night time. His stomach grumbled. He had gotten used to eating three meals a day, and now he had had nothing since breakfast hours ago. He thought about yelling to the pirates for food, but bringing attention to himself had never ended well. He explored the hold, but the creates were sealed tightly closed and quiet heavy. After some time the sounds from the decks above quieten, and Gwydion pushed the creates to make a ladder of boxes high enough to reach the rope ladder. He tugged on it to test how strong it was, but it seemed ok. Quickly, he scrambled up the ladder. The ladder sagged under Gwydion’s weight. He had a vision of one of the large pirates dangling and then falling from the thin ropes. He muffled his giggles against his arms.

The room he emerged into was also enclosed, still part of the inside. Gwydion didn’t know anything about ships. On one side was a closed door, the other two darkened doorway. Gwydion found himself below the lower deck. On one side the ship's lifeboat was stored. There was a shovel lying by the lifeboat. There was a further open doorway at either end of the compartment. Beyond was rows of hard bunks lined the walls of the crew's quarters. Gwydion couldn’t imagine that the pirates would get a good night's sleep in the cramped bow of the ship. Actually, the bunks didn’t look much more comfortable than Gwydion’s old miserable cot from Before used to be and the space was just as cramped. On the closest bunk he could see a sleeping pirate, only the long dirty dreads visible in the dim lighting. Gwydion backed out of the room, not wanting to wake the large man, or any others who might be further in the dim lighting.

Gwydion sneaked into the other doorway lead to find the kitchen of the pirate ship. A large iron wood stove dominated one wall. Pots, pans, and barrels surrounded it. When Gwydion peeked into the closest barrel he found it full of rum, causing his nose to twist at the smell. There was a long dining table at the other end of the room. The wooden dining table was not too clean, making Gwydion’s hands itch for a rag and bucket. The remains of many meals were lodged between the oaken planks. Its top was deeply gouged and stained. It was obvious the pirate's eating habits were less than desirable. Through the window the dark sight of the rolling swells against the star filled sky made Gwydion a little queasy. To his relief, there was no pirates around. A loud snore started Gwydion. On a small cot tucked behind the small kitchen the cook was sleeping. His snores were so loud they seemed to rattle the walls. Carefully, using skills long learned from Before, Gwydion crept around picking up a hunk of cheese, half a loaf of bread, and a small skin of water, which despite being stale and slightly dirty, was wonderful to Gwydion’s parched throat. The food he tucked into a pouch he made by curling up the bottom of his tunic.

Gwydion ate half the bread and cheese in the first room, ready to scramble back down the ladder if he heard anyone approaching. Once he had had enough to no longer feel light headed, considered dropping the rest in the hold, but was unsure how loud a noise it would make. Instead he left them to one side, ready to grab on the way back down. There was one last door to check before exploring the stairs leading up.

Gwydion peaked into the last room, this had to be the Captain's cabin. He seemed to be a bit more tidy than his mates, as the room was clean and orderly. Before he could explore more, a shuffling from the bed alerting Gwydion the Captian was currently sleeping. He closed the door again carefully.

Up the stairs was the top of the ship, Gwydion paused to take in the solid mast which was swaying slightly in the breeze and swell, solid against the moon. A flimsy rope ladder lead up into the rigging. Behind him the hatchway lead back below decks. Gwydion scanned the horizon. There was nothing but sea in every direction.

"What d'ya think yer up ta, boy!?"

Gwydion started, backing away from the pirate looming out of the darkness. “I, um…”

"I'm warnin' ya, boy. I gots a tricky sword hand. Better go back to bed afore I cain't stop meself!"

“O-of course.” Gwydion hesitated, did the pirate not know who he was?

"Are ye deaf, or just daft, boyo? No? W’ll go!”

Gwydion scrambled back down the hatch. Just a he was doing so he heard the pirate mutter, “Cap'n n’er tell me wakeman when we get sprogs. Cab’n boyo better be learnin’ fast.”

On the way past Gwydion grabbed the cheese and bread, and awkwardly held them while he climbed back into the hold.

He settled in one corner, and listened to the tiny voices of the mice.

"It's getting so musty and damp down here, don't you think?" Gwydion heard one gray mouse ask the other.

"That's water seeping through the hull," explained the second mouse. "But, I agree with you, it is getting uncomfortable. Why, I have a hard time keeping mildew off my nest!"

"Yes, but it is safer down here," returned the first. "I guess we gotta take the bad with the good."

He fell asleep propped up in one corner, exhausted.

Chapter Text

Gwydion sat awoke in the dark and listened to the mice whisper to each other. ”I heard the pirates talking about bringing a CAT on board!”

"No! Don't scare me like that!" exclaimed the other mouse.

The first retorted, "I mean it! They said there's getting to be too many mice on this ship. We need to call a mouse counsel and decide what to do about this situation!"

Gwydion wondered why the mice here were so smart. Was the ship like the mountain some how? But he knew that these thoughts were just a way of avoiding the real issues. He felt grimy, and longed for his small wash room back at the Keep. Why had he ever thought this was good idea? He should have just tried to find someone in the castle and told them what he knew. Sighing, he ate some more of the bread and cheese, half surprised the mice hadn’t tried to eat it while he was asleep.

Gwydion climbed on the crates but didn’t climb the ladder. In the distance he could hear the pirates grumbling.

“How’d he get from thar t' thar?"

“I be thinkin’ he swum.”

“But he be a right lazy bastard.”

“He di’n’t fly, thar be aye.”

“WATCH T’ RIGGIN’ LAD!”

“I'll be thanking t’ trip be over. All these new sprogs…”

“Well we will only an hour or so t' t' beach. Stash the loot and then give t' wench and babe to the dragon and we can go."

“If she be yelling like a harpy at me again…”

“Aye, I hear ya. But we don’t be wanting a dragon after us for taken his grub.”

So the maid and prince were still on board! And by the sounds of it, the pirates were now going to give the maid (and maybe the baby) to the dragon. Carefully Gwydion climbed the ladder. He had to find his things. If it was true, he only had an hour to find a solution. The only room he hadn’t checked was the Captains. He peeked in, and seeing the empty room, sneaked in. On one side wall was the Captain’s desk. The desk top was very neat, holding only writing implements. Curiously, Gwydion opened a drawer or two. There was nothing of interest among the charts and logbooks. He flipped through the logbooks, but they were dull and uninteresting, not like the journals he had read from Manannnan’s study. Gwydion looked with interest at the chart tacked to the wall. It traced the route the ship was now sailing. It started at Daventry, crossing a wide ocean, and arriving at a small island, Jambalaya Island. The middle of the island had a mountain range, and a town called Jambalaya Town marked in the north but the south was all beach. An ‘X’ had been marked at the arrival point. Against the other wall rested the captains bunk with a large chest at its foot. The Captain's bunk had been very neatly made. Gwydion looked it over carefully, but found nothing of interest. The chest at the foot of the Captain's bunk was closed. Gwydion opened the chest to find all his things, his belt, rucksack and cloak with range of clothes, a few pouches and bits of silverware. He took his things and checked them over, and left the rest alone. He doubted the captain had come by it legally, but it wasn’t his place to take it. Maybe it had been paid for it, and that would make him a thief instead. He didn’t want to live down to what the Dursley’s had thought of him, never mind what Medusa would say.

Gwydion briefly considered using the Amber now, just going home and forgetting about all of this. But as soon as he thought that guilt settled heavy and thick in his heart. He had to at least try.

The question was what to do now. He didn’t know how to swim, so jumping overboard was out. He also didn’t know where the maid and prince where on the ship, as he hadn’t seen them the night before. In the dark he had been mistaken for a member of the crew, but he didn’t think that would work in the daylight. So Gwydion decided to wait, maybe he would hear something that would help. Crouched in the shadow of the stairs up to the top deck, Gwydion spent the next hour listening to the crew. Mostly they worked silently, with the occasionally shout or warning. Sometimes they told crude jokes which had Gwydion blushing, if he understood it at all. He did learn that the maid had still demanded passage, despite the pirates not being paid, and had finally told them why. The pirates, a superstitious bunch, had refused to cross a dragon, and they decided to feed the maid to the dragon anyway. The maid had protested, loudly. She had then tried to bargain with the Prince, but none of the pirates had believed that the baby was the prince, and thought instead it was the maid’s bastard. That she had tried to basically sell the boy had not endeared her to the pirates at all. They had locked both up in the forward berth, wherever that was. Mostly because Gwydion’s body was in the hold. It was then that Gwydion realised the pirates thought him dead, that the sleeping draft had been too much.

Well that explains why no one had thought to feed him. Now he was sure he didn’t want to be found, the pirate might just kill him this time.

“Land Ahoy!”

“Get the boat ready lad!”

“Drop anchor!”

“Trim that sail! Get to it!”

Right, now was the moment. If they had a boat, he could use that maybe. But he couldn’t take on all the pirates, now they were all awake.

All awake…

That’s it! He still had the sleeping draft with him. And his was powder, which, as long as he didn’t breath in, a puff in the face would send any pirate he meet to sleep. While he was thinking, he heard the distinct splash of a something large hitting the water.

“Good riddance!” One of the pirates shouted. The rest laughed.

He had missed his chance! He had to do something. But he didn’t wanted to get hurt. He had no idea how many pirates where out there. But it was now or later, he would still need to face them. Now, with some rowing to shore had to be better then later when they were all here. Screwing all his courage together, and refusing to think more about it, Gwydion pulled the pot of sleeping draft out and ran up the stairs. The first pirate got a handful in his face and only had time for a started yelp before collapsing into sleep. There was only two other crew on the deck, and both went down just as fast, one he got as he was turning to see what was happening, and the other he threw the handful at from across the deck. Gwydion swayed a little, blinking in surprise.

That was surprisingly easy.

He had taken only 4 steps or so from the top of the stairs, and when he turned to look, the bright sun afforded little illumination into the dark pit. The ship had anchored just offshore of a small beach to the east. In every other direct the ocean seemed to be endless, nothing but deep, blue water. The ocean was calm and untroubled. Above him, a sea bird called, its squawk harsh in the still artificial quiet of the ship.

Making his way down to the lower deck, he found it had no railing. Propped up against the wall a pirate he had thrown the power at was fast asleep. If people are meant look more innocent when asleep, it certainly wasn't true with this one! The life of a seaman had definitely taken its toll on the grizzled old sea dog. His skin was brown and cracked from years in the salty air and he stooped from countless swabbings of countless decks. His clothes were none too clean, either. On one hip the old seaman had a sharp cutlass. Gwydion hesitated nearby. A small boat was already on the shore, the other pirates nowhere in sight. An even smaller second row boat was hooked up on the side, ready to be lowered into the water. The rigging and wench took a moment to figure out, before he was ready to be lowered into the water. Using all his strength, he slowly lowered the boat down. It swayed gently in the surf. Using the oars, he navigated into shore. He was glad he didn’t swim in when the boat was butted at one stage by a large shadow in the water, its fin sharp and comically shark-like. Whatever that had been he did not want to be eaten by it.

When the water was only knee deep on him, and the oars scraped the bottom with each stroke, Gwydion climbed out and pulled the boat as far uptake beach as he could. It wasn’t anywhere near as high as the other boat, but he hoped it would be fine. He really didn’t want to anger the pirates more then necessary, after all he still had to get back with the prince somehow, and the amber would only take one person. The breeze off the sea was surprisingly nice, the sea spray quiet refusing.

Nothing like a little salt air to perk up one’s spirits, Gwydion thought. All things being equal, he might have enjoyed the ocean voyage… if his accommodations had not been slightly less than satisfactory.

Gwydion followed the tracks in the sand, up the beach. At the dune line they spilt, one going down a path winding its way through the thick vegetation, the other along the beach. Gwydion followed the second with his eyes, only to see two pirates digging above the high tide line. He was frozen in shock. As quietly as possible, he pulled the pot of sleeping draught and crept up the beach. The sand was surprisingly helpful in muffling his steps. Both pirates were too involved in filling a large hole to notice the boy. Only three steps behind them, Gwydion shouted, “Hey!” while throwing the powder toward them.

Both turned quickly, getting a face full of the spell, and instantly falling over in sleep. Gwydion looked in the hole to find a large chest. He bit his lip. If the pirates were burying the chest, they clearly didn’t need it. But Gwydion remembered Medusa talking about how poor Llewdor was, and how they couldn’t protect the kingdom and all the people in it because of that. Well it was unlikely that the pirates would listen to him ask for a way home anyway, especially after he had put everyone to sleep.

The chest was heavy and awkward to maneuver into his rucksack, but he managed. After doing so, he quickly filled the hole in. If he was lucky, the pirates might think the chest was still buried.

After that Gwydion quickly backtracked up the beach and started to follow the path instead. He was at the foot of a high, snowy mountain range. The shrubbery was scant here, growing only between boulders. The ground was strewn with large boulders. A cliff loomed before him with a tricky path winding its way up the steep face. The narrow path winding up the steep cliff looked precarious and confusing. How did the maid carrying a baby climb this? Gwydion thought to himself looking upward and seeing the mountain range looming toward the beautiful blue sky. Carefully, Gwydion started edge up the path. The thin path ran along the top of a steep ridge, seeming to advance forever upward. A few meters above the beach, the lush topical jungle thinned into a more evergreen forest interspaced with low bushes. Unable to help himself, Gwydion glanced over the edge to see the steep cliff below him. The drop was sudden and looked very deadly. Gwydion kept one hand firmly on the stone wall. Eventually, Gwydion reached the heights of the mountain range and snow and ice surrounded him. It was bitterly cold, and Gwydion was thankful for his thick cloak. A path, through the snow, lead onward. Plants and trees were scarce in the snowy reaches of the mountains, and he could see no sign of the pirates, maid or dragon. The deep-blue sky contrasted sharply with the brilliant white mountain peaks, and Gwydion had to admit, even while puzzled and annoyed, it was a beautiful sight. At one point the runoff from melting snows fed a tiny stream cascading down through the jumble of stones, and Gwydion paused to drink the clear clean water. Finally, with the sun now high over head, Gwydion reached the summit. The path lead into a cave, and nervously, Gwydion looked around. Surely by now he should have caught up? And if not, why weren’t the pirates on the way back? He crept into the snowy cave, it was very large with thick icicles hanging from its entrance. Inside was very very dark.

Cautiously, Gwydion edged forward, until his toe felt the edge of a step. After a number of twists and lots of stairs, a single glowing crystal was a relief. Dim illumination showed each small landing. In the distance from the upward stairs, he could hear the murmur of what may have been voices. Making his way upwards, he soon emerged into another cave, this one had much more light filtering from the opening opposite him.

“Did you see her face when we tied her up?”

Gwydion almost stumbled backwards when he heard the voice moving towards him. The was loud laughter at the comment. He realised he had caught up to the pirates, and they were on their way back. Quickly he checked his belt. The pot of sleeping powder was almost empty, and he might need it for the dragon. While looking, he hesitated over the invisibly vial. Was it foggy enough? The cave was damp and humid, and he didn’t have a lot of option. Tipping the vial up he watched it slowly, ever so slowly, drip down, catching it in his moth as he move to one side, pressing as close to the wall as possible. In his other hand he held the last handful of sleep powder. Just as the dancing lights of a torch bounced off the caves wall, he felt the tingle he was come to associate with magic. He held up one hand and was relived to see it simmering, almost invisible. As long as he held still, the pirates wouldn’t see able to see him.

“It’s just a pity the boy was so small. Can’t be having such a burden on board.”

Just then four large men rounded the end of the cave, and quickly moved past Gwydion. His handful of powder would be no good against all of them, and he didn't like his chances in a fight. He stood as still and thought as small as he could. It took only moments for the pirates to past by him, and as their voices dimmed, he ran out of the cave. Looking around, Gwydion could see clouds surrounding the small bit of land like a white, cottony sea. It gave him an the odd feeling of floating upon a endless ocean, despite the strange heat he could feel. The ground was moist from the constant presence of clouds. Charred stumps of trees somewhat spoiled the scene.

Gwydion crept forward. The maid was tied to a wooden pole in the open space. At her feet was the prince.

“Come back here! How dear you leave me!” The maid screamed. Her voice was whiny and painful. He was surprised that the baby was still quiet. The was a roar, and the dragon landed in the small space. It was massive, as big as the Keep, its large green bulk covered in thick scales. Its wings folded carefully down, while its three heads hissed and snapped at each other. Gwydion couldn’t make out any actually words.

“Don’t eat me! Eat the baby, eat the baby!” The maid was hysterical, but Gwydion looked on in horror as she still managed to kick the small bundle at her feet towards the dragon. The baby let out a loud long cry. Gwydion, panicking, threw to powder he still had in his hand at the dragon, which unfortunately was facing away and didn’t even notice. However the maid did and screamed in his direction, "Help me!! Untie me!!"

The three heads of the dragon all dived for the baby at the same time, butting against each other and giving Gwydion precious seconds. He had the potion to make something larger, but that wouldn’t help. The potion to fly, but again, not helpful. No sleep powder or shrinking solution left. Turning the dragon invisible would only make things worse. The small knife somewhere in his rucksack, which unless the dragon had a weak spot conveniently close to the ground. With no other choice, he pulled the storm brew from his belt. He could only hope it wouldn’t hit him or the baby (he cared less about the maid after she had kicked the prince). Shouting, “Brew of storms, churn it up!” he flung the uncapped vial in the air, creating a graceful arch of potion. Instantly, a large black cloud formed over head, and forked deadly lighting bolts stabbed at the dragon, the ground, the already blacked trees. The booms and light flashes seemed directly out of a horror movie, and Gwydion simply curled up into a small a ball as possible. Seconds later, as suddenly as it had began, the storm cleared.

The dragon lay twitching on the ground, its hide dotted with numerous burn marks. The silence rang in Gwydion’s ears, the after vision of bolts obscuring his sight.

As if to wake him, the high, loud cry of a baby sounded. Gwydion jumped forward, around the dragon, to see the prince resting on the ground between its dead forelegs. The bulk of the dragon must have protected him. The maid was not as lucky. Her body, burnt and limp, hung from the pole. Gwydion shuddered and avoided looking at her. She was clearly dead.

He picked up the baby. How did one comfort a baby? He had certainly never gotten any comfort from the Dursley’s, and Manannan wasn’t one to comfort anyone. Remembering Medusa, Gwydion soothed, “There, There. Shhh, Shhh, you’re fine.” A large screaming mouth made up most of its face, the tuffs of black hair contrasting sharply with the red skin. If this was normal he didn’t understand the appeal of babies at all. He put the baby back down, and opened his rucksack. The baby clung to his leg, now mostly whimpering rather then screaming, pressing (but not really wiping) its snotty nose against his leggings. Taking the water skin, he drank greedily, before using some to wash the last of sleep powder off his hands. He then encouraged the baby to drink, now it was mostly hiccuping and quiet. He used a bit of the blanket the baby had been wrapped in to wipe its face, before dropping the dirty rag to one side.

Gwydion finally looked at the maid. Sure, she had been a nasty women, but he couldn’t just leave her here. He pulled out everything including the thick blanket Medusa had given him and the knife. After cutting the ropes holding up the maids body, he rolled her in the blanket and then tied it up using the rope scraps. He deliberately tried not to think about anything. He then pushed the whole thing back into the rucksack. Then he looked at the dragon. It didn’t deserve to die either. It hadn’t seemed intelligent in the brief moments he had seen, and it had tried to eat the baby, but maybe it had been hungry and it wasn’t like it could buy a cow or pig, it didn’t have any money. Starting at the tail, he dragged the dragon into his rucksack as well, it’s opening impossibly pulling in the dragon a hundred times its size. Then the pirates chest, the roll of silk, the ham, the now half empty water skin, the pouch with 20 gold coins, and the knife on top. Gwydion ate some of the bread and put some aside for the baby. The baby, by this stage, had fallen back to sleep. Gwydion himself felt hollow. It might have been to save someone, but he had killed two beings. If he hadn’t used all the sleep powder on the pirates, or if he had been smarter or quicker, he might have been able to save everyone. Distantly, he wanted to curl up and weep, but the little prince wasn’t safe yet, and they had to get back to Daventry. He couldn’t go back down to the beach with the pirates, especially not with the baby.

He remembered the town which had been on the pirates map. It was his only hope of getting the prince home. But how was he to get there? He checked his belt. All he had left was some invisibility potion, some enlarging potion, the jar with the spider, which Gwydion blinked at a few times before putting back, the amber stone, and the flying potion, and the three healing potions from Medusa.

He realised the obvious choice was to use the flying potion and to fly north carrying the baby. The only problem was he had no idea how long the potion would last, and if it failed while he was midair he would kill both of them. But he didn’t really have a choice, and he knew he wasn’t thinking clearly.

Picking up the baby, he took a big gulp of the potion and immediately felt lighter. A few steps forward and then he pushed off the ground, causing him to fly up as if he weighted nothing at all. Clutching the baby to his chest he tried to direct the flight, by a mix of wishing it so and sort of pushing off the air around him. He fell forwarded, and was unable to hold in the pleased whoop of delight.

Aiming northwards, or at least away from where he could see the ship now he was above the clouds, Gwydion flew.

The wind tugged at his hair playfully, the clouds were like the sea spray, a refreshing coolness against his skin. The dragons land didn’t just fall away like a cliff, but hung suspended in the air, held by only a thin strip of mountain, like a flat lollipop on a stick. Because he could, he cycled once around before heading northward, stay low to the ground just in case. The prince, awoken from Gwydion’s happy glee, tucked his head against the older boys neck, clearly not enjoying it as much as Gwydion. The north side was even steeper then the south, and looked almost impossible to climb. It had taken him all morning to climb the mountain, but took only about 5 minutes to fly down. Skimming over the tree tops, Gwydion laughed, everything else forgotten for now. He was tempted to try looping and diving, but the little prince’s fierce grip around his neck dissuaded him.

Much too soon for Gwydion’s liking, he spotted a few roofs above the jungle. He slowed down and started to look for a place to land. He doubted the people of the village would appreciate him flying in. As if in agreement, the air started to feel heavier, or maybe he was heavier and the air was the same. Thinking it was a warning that the potion was running out, he dropped down between the trees, it would be a short walk from here.

The prince was defiantly happier back on the ground, but refused to let go of Gwydion, not that Gwydion could blame the little guy. In the last two days he had been kidnapped, held prisoner, almost sold, kicked and almost eaten by a dragon. And quietly, Gwydion was glad to have the heat of another body and against him, the little puffs of breath to remind him why he was here.

It was a short walk to the village. Once there, he hailed the first person he saw, a old women. “Hello!”

“Hello young man.” The old women was bent with age, skin like leather, hands thin and spider like. She wore a wide brimmed straw hat, shading her face from the strong sun. Her face was dominated by a large hooked nose, but despite that she had a friendly appearance.

“I was hoping for a trip to Daventry for myself and my brother.” He tried not to fidget as he lied.

“Mmm, you can ask at the docks, but the I know the Berner sisters are trading that way tomorrow, you can find them in the tavern.”

“Thank you ma’am.”

Gwydion decided to try the docks first. He wanted to be away from here as soon as possible, no only so he himself could go home, but also in case the pirates came looking for him. He didn’t think they would, after all, he was meant to be dead, but they had seen him, and unless they thought he was a ghost they might come for pay back. The docks were empty of people except two old men fishing off the end of the pier. A stately ship was anchored just off shore, its side proclaiming it ‘The Lady Rose’. After an annoying amount of small talk, the old men told him that most of the boats were out fishing and wouldn’t be back until tonight, but as it was the high season most wouldn’t be willing to travel to Daventry, a four day round trip, when there was still fish to catch. They also directed Gwydion to the Berner sisters. Gwydion thanked the men, and went to the tavern.

The tavern was open and airy, with a large balcony, and a few outdoor seats and tables. Two surprisingly slender women were sitting in the shaded area, piles of paper between them, arguing loudly. Both were blonde, the kind of colour which came from hours in the sun. They had naturally dark skin, a deep brown colour which seemed almost tinted purple in the light. Now he looked closer, the one had a faint vertical scar running the length of her face from left eyebrow to chin. The other sister was slightly taller and broader.

The scared one argued, “Traveling west will just end up taking more time then we can get from the ports there.”

“This season, yes, but it is all about repeat custom.”

“When have we every done more then broken even on the west? Not for the last 3 years!”

“So it will have an upswing soon!”

Gwydion, trying to head off an even bigger fight said, “Excuse me?”

Both women turned to face the boy, their vivid purple eyes taking in his high quality cloak and toddler in arms. The taller one straighten and said, “Yes?”

“I heard you are sailing to Daventry in the morning?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I want to go to Daventry.”

The scared one cut in, “Six gold pieces. Each.”

Gwydion was pretty sure that was way too much. He tried, “Six gold for both of us.”

“Eight for both, and you have to help on deck.”

“Six for both of us, and I can help cook.”

“What, and have you poison us? Eight for both and you stay below decks and out of the way.”

That still seemed really high but, “Done.”

“We leave at first light tomorrow. The ship is the Lady Rose. I’m Captain Berner, this is my sister who you will refer to as Sarge. You pay half now, half at Daventry.”

Carefully, Gwydion fished out the pouch and counted the coins into the women’s hand. After that, he went into the tavern. The tavern in Port Bruce didn’t have rooms, but this place was much larger. Gwydion really wanted a bath, and the prince could do with a wash too. He was pretty sure it was wearing a nappy that needed changing. There was a serving man, rather then women, who Gwydion asked about rooms. There were rooms each of which had running water from a natural spring, and it included a meal for one gold piece. Gwydion also requested a wake up call, unsure if once he got to sleep he would wake early enough for the ship.

He headed upstairs, meeting a women on the way. She was a buxom brunet with a low cut dress but strict demeanour. On seeing the little Prince, her whole attitude changed, and she cooed at the boy. She smiled at Gwydion and asked if he needed anything.

“Um, you wouldn’t have some nappies would you?”

“I can find some. My boys all grown up, and off to sea. Not like this little one, being so good for his brother. I’ll bring up some food for you too, now off and wash.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Gwydion did just that, washing both the baby and himself in a large bath in the room. He was happy to see taps of hot and cold water, even if the water was a little salty in taste. The little prince had fun splashing in the water, and said, “Bath! Bath! Splash! Splash!”

The lady came back when Gwydion was drying the boy down, just in time with clean nappies, which she then helped him put on, before dressing him in some of her sons old clothes. Gwydion then happily ate a full meal of fish and chips, and gave the prince a mash of tropical fruits he seemed to enjoy. He then tucked them both into bed, and waited for tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Gwydion was awoken by a sound kick to his side. The kick wasn’t especially hard, the prince was only a small toddler after all, but still hurt, partially as he wasn’t ready for it, partially because it was just under the ribs. It was certainly an unpleasant way to wake, about on a par with Aunt Petunia yelling at him.

After grumbling at the baby, Gwydion climbed out of bed and was slightly grossed out to see a small damp area in the sheets, and the smell of urine. He tried to gauge how long he had before they needed to be down at the dock, and felt a quick bath was worth it to get rid of the smell. After they had bathed, and changed into cleaner clothes, Gwydion gathered up the baby and headed downstairs, on the way meeting the brunet women again, who gave him two sandwiches of bread, cheese and cold beef. She also directed him to a well to fill his water skin. When going past the man downstairs he gave Gwydion a small dog carved from some drift wood, ‘for the lad to play with.’ Gwydion was thankful, as he hadn’t even thought about how he would keep the prince entertained (and therefore quiet) on the way back. He was down at the dock with time to spare, and watched to two Berner sisters lift the cargo into the small ship. The ship was about half the size of the pirates, but still had at least four crew outside of the sisters, all of whom were involved in rigging and packing and other tasks to get the ship ready to sail.

Gwydion was starting to think the Berner sisters weren’t exactly normal when Sarge lifted a large heavy create with one hand, but figured as long as they got them to Daventry it didn’t matter. He didn’t have the same prejudices as Manannan had.

“Well? You waiting for an escort? Get on board!” The Captain yelled at Gwydion, and he quickly scrambled up the plank and onto the ship.

He was directed by one of the crew to a small room under the deck, with a single bed and nothing else. He put the baby on the bed and sat on the other end, watching the predawn light colour the surf through the tiny window. The baby cooed and played happily with the small dog. Gwydion wondered what the princes name actually was, as he had never heard it spoken. He also wondered how old the baby was, as it could talk (or well say a few words) and toddle along, but still needed nappies. Sighing, he considered having a short nap, and checking the door was locked, and the baby happy, did so.

Gwydion and the baby spent most of the morning in the room. The trip to Daventry was meant to take a day and a half, and the Berner sisters hadn’t packed food for the boys, so Gwydion was glad he still had food and water in his rucksack. The baby chewed at the bread happily. He felt a bit guilty he had no idea what to do with the baby, but figured he would be home soon and it wouldn’t matter too much.

In the late afternoon he took the prince for a small walk around the ship, and onto the deck. The baby gurgled at the waves, and kept saying “Bath!” and Gwydion refused to let him go incase he decided to jump in.

As he was standing by the rail he heard a voice down below, "How are your smallfry doing in school?"

Gwydion peered over the edge to see a few large fish frolicking in the surf from the ship’s prowl.

Another voice answered, "Not well, I'm afraid. The school's much too crowded. They don't know if they're coming or going!"

“Well maybe if you went to school you would know what is this thing is.”

“I know that! Its a ship. Humans use it to swim. They aren’t very good at it, look, they are really slow!”

"Well, humans are pretty stupid creatures. They're always trying to defy Mother Nature," a fish declared. "There's nothing you can do about it, anyway. At least the disruption gives us plenty of krill.”

With that the fish disappeared back under the waves, and Gwydion could no longer hear them.

Thankfully the stroll exhausted the boy, Gwydion hoped he would go to sleep easily that night. Gwydion couldn’t wait to get to Daventry so that he could go home and not have to deal with baby poo anymore. It was bad enough that he found out the toilet was a simple hole in the side of the boat which dropped into the sea.

That night he was laying lazily on the bed, with the prince sprawled across his chest when a knock sounded in the room. Trying not to wake the baby, he rolled over and answered the door. One of the Berner sisters, the not-captain one was leaning casually up against the wall in the narrow corridor.

“Was checking if you wanted to join the crew for dinner.”

“Oh, um, ok.” Gwydion looked at the baby. Maybe he should wake he boy up so it would sleep tonight. “Let me wake the pri- I mean, my brother.”

The sisters eyes narrowed sharply, but seemed to let it pass. She turned and left, while Gwydion cursed himself a fool. The last thing he needed was for someone to find out the baby was a prince.

He belted his potion belt on and woke the baby, who sleepily nuzzled Gwydion’s neck when he picked the little one up. Together they made three way down the corridor towards the noise. At the end of the corridor was a doorway leading to a reasonably size dinning hall, with a single long table in the centre. Around the table were three large men and the two Berner sisters.

What followed was a surprisingly pleasant dinner, of stew and bread, and light conversation. Gwydion spoke little, as the sailors had little idea of growing things, and he couldn’t really speak about anything else in case it gave away who he was traveling with. He got a few interested looks when he let slip he could read, and after that tried to deflect as much as possible. Letting other people talk was a talent he had learned early to avoid punishment Before, the Dursley’s loved their own voices, and sometimes, if they talked long enough, they forgot why they were angry at Gwydion in the first place. The sailors stories were much more interesting, they in turn spoke of places they had seen, and Gwydion hoped most of the stories were exaggerated. The stories also encourage him to thing that the Berner sister were indeed not human, as they could hold their breath forever and had webbed toes. He wasn’t confident enough to actually ask what they were.

Once the baby started to yawn, Gwydion made his excuses and escape back to his room. Tomorrow, he would finally be able to go home.

Chapter Text

It was early afternoon when Daventry came into sight. Gwydion could not be happier, with the prince having decided to cry and scream and carry on all night, until he wanted to scream in return. It didn’t help that Gwydion had run out of bread, and the baby didn’t want the ham he had left.

They anchored off Port Karlavaegen, and after paying the other half of the gold, were rowed into shore, with a number of creates and barrels. Once on the beach, Gwydion had planned on skipping past the town, unsure if any of the bandits were around, but as they climbed out of the small row boat Gwydion was shocked to hear a happy cry carry on the wind from up the beach.

“Alexander!”

Gwydion hugged the boy tighter as he twisted in Gwydion’s arms, crying out, “Mummy!”

Gwydion turned to see a stately tall woman, dark brown hair pulled up large bun complex on the top of her head, encircled by a golden crown. Her high aristocratic features where filled with joy as she picked up her long green dress and ran down the beach, ignoring the way her slippers became sandy and wet. “My baby! My beautiful Alexander!”

Gwydion was reluctant to hand over the child, to someone he didn’t know, but the figures following the women at a only slightly slower pace changed his mind. At the head was a black haired man, with streaks of white at each temple. He was wearing a thick doublet in heavy red linen, with gold rampant lions embroidered on the front over deep red leather trousers, and high black boots. On his head was a crown of gold, with large rubies and sapphires shining in the sun. Behind him, at his heels, were four guard dogs, a german shepherd, a doberman and two rottweilers, each wearing the uniform he had seen what felt like weeks ago in the castle of Daventry, the tunics with the five pronged golden crown on blue shield, over chainmail shirts and thick leather trousers and boots. One guard dog carried a small girl the same size as the prince and the same sky blue eyes, but with hair as light as the prince’s was dark.

By this stage the woman, who Gwydion thought just may be the Queen, had reached Gwydion, and the little baby prince was straining forwards, making grabby hands at her. Gwydion handed over the child. The Queen peppered kisses on the child’s face, crying and laughing at the same time.

Gwydion wasn’t sure what to say. Thankfully, the King had reached them, and started, “King Gwydion, we know you set out and managed to save out son, and came to meet you on your return.”

“Oh, um. That’s good?” What was one meant to say to that?

King Graham laughed, and hugged his wife and child, before taking the girl from the guard. He then ushered everyone up the beach, including the two Berner sisters, who had looked about ready to interrupt, giving everyone, especially Gwydion, long looks.

“King Gwydion?” Sarge asked.

“I sorry I didn’t tell you. I just wasn’t sure if it was safe.”

“Oh, no, that’s about the only think about this that makes sense.” The Captain said.

“Where exactly are you king of?” Sarge looked slightly bemused.

“Oh, Llewdor. But Medusa is mostly in charge.”

“Medusa? And what of Manannan?”

“Medusa is my friend. She agreed to become my regent until I’m old enough.” Gwydion blushed, “I turned Manannan into a cat.”

Both sisters laughed loudly at hearing Manannan’s fate. “Medusa is an odd name. I once heard of a great witch by that name, who was one of the Old Ones.”

“Medusa is one of the Old Ones. Manannan cursed her but I managed to break the curse, mostly by accident.”

At this, the King and Queen seemed to have calmed down, and the little prince, now Gwydion knew was called Alexander, had fallen quiet clutching at his mothers high collar.

King Graham, still smiling, proclaimed, “King Gwydion, you will of course return with us to the Castle, and we shall feast in celebration that you saved Alexander from a horrible fate. Ladies, you can also come, but I think you have business yet in Port.”

“Yes, sire.” Captain inclined her head.

“Then you may join us later if you so wish.”

Gwydion called back “Come visit me in Port Bruce some time!” to the sisters as he found himself climbing into a carriage with the Queen, Prince and little girl who turned out was the Princess, while the King mounted a strong looking black horse.

The trip to the castle was bumpy. Gwydion found himself awkwardly watching as the Queen sung quietly to the now sleeping prince.

“So how did you know I would be coming back? In fact, how did you know I saved the prince in the first place?”

“The magic mirror of course!”

“Huh?” The queen did not look impressed by his vocabulary.

“The Magic Mirror is one of the Three Great Treasures of Daventry, it once belonged to the magician Merlin and shows the truth, whether of past, present or future. When we found my dear son gone, at first it could provide no answers, but showed a horrible future were my son was a slave, forced to toil for an evil far away, lost to us forever. But then the mirror changed and we saw you being crowned King of Llewdor before being trapped in the pirate hold, and escaping to save Alexander. When we saw you buy passage back, we knew that you would return, and rode out to meet you.”

“Wow,” Gwydion said. A magic mirror! “But if the mirror is so powerful, why didn’t you see what was going to happen beforehand?”

“The mirror is powerful, but it is not infallible,” seeing Gwydion’s puzzled face qualified, “it is sometimes wrong, or clouded, and it requires someone to watch it with the right question in mind. We were happy, and thought that nothing could touch us. We had heard that some believed we would sacrifice a virgin to the dragon, but did not give it much thought, after all we would never do such a thing. That the maid believed it was her may have just had to do with the amount of gold Manannan had paid her, or perhaps Manannan found it easy to bribe her because of her delusions.”

“So you were never going to feed her to the dragon?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh.” There was a long, awkward pause, while Gwydion avoided looking at the women he had thought could give a dragon a young women to eat.

“You know, traditionally, saving a member of a royal court would be a proposal of marriage. Why Graham saving me was the start of our long married life! Perhaps then we should also celebrate your betrothal to Prince Alexander.”

Gwydion’s eyes widen in panic, his face drained of colour, “I didn’t mean that… I just wanted to stop something terrible from happening, and I don’t want to get married! And the Prince is a boy! And I mean, he’s a baby! What if he falls in love with someone else?”

The Queens face is intense, “And you wish for no such reward? Daventry is wealthy, and a marriage would no doubt solve many problems for Llewdor. Do you think the Prince’s feelings matter in such affairs?”

“They matter to me!”

Suddenly, the Queen smiled, and Gwydion had a feeling he had passed some sort of test. He vaguely wished people would stop doing that. “I am glad. Some would not be as considerate. Maybe not a marriage, but something else is in order. But we will discuss such things with Graham.”

Before Gwydion could protest any reward, the carriage rolled to a stop and the door opened. They were in a small courtyard, he assumed within the castle. King Graham offered a hand out of the carriage to his wife, whose arms were still full of the sleeping prince, and then picked up the princess. She had remained so quiet Gwydion had forgotten she was even there. She giggled happily in her fathers arms, while Gwydion climbed out.

Before he entered the castle, the King stopped briefly and said, “King Gwydion?”

“You don’t have to keep calling me that. Gwydion is fine.”

Graham smiled, “Then called me Graham.” The smile then fell from his face, “Do you still have the maid’s body? Give it to the Sergeant, and he will see it is buried properly. Even if she was the one to kidnap the prince, she did so in desperation thinking to avoid the dragon.”

“I sorry.”

“It isn’t you fault, and you should not feel bad about it. If anyone is at fault, it is I, for not dealing with the dragon before now.”

Gwydion disagreed, but didn’t say anything. Instead he took the blanket wrapped body out, which as soon as it left the bag dropped to the ground in a loud unsettling thump when Gwydions arm couldn’t support it. The waiting guard dog, one with the head of a mastiff, nodded stiffly and picked up the body, throwing it over his shoulder and moving away.

After that he was ushered into a room in the castle, given a fine set of clothes to change into, while servants filled a large ornate bathtub with steaming water. When they moved to undress him as well, Gwydion protested loudly, and eventually managed to convince them to leave. He bathed, thankfully to wash the salt layer from his skin, and scrubbed maybe a little to hard, as if to rid himself of thoughts he didn’t want. His clothes, quiet worn before his adventure, where now closer to rags then anything else. He put the new clothes, even if he felt a bit weird for doing so. The woollen leggings and velvet tunic were a deep blue, with silver trim and made him look much too pale. It was also much too tight across his shoulders, clearly for a child who hadn’t worked hard everyday in his life.

“Sire, the feast will begin shortly. Can I escort you to the dinning hall?” The voice was muffled through the door, but still understandable. Still slightly suspicious after everything that happened, Gwydion decided to take his belt and rucksack with him.

The servant turned out to be young boy of maybe only ten or eleven years old. He had an unfortunate shade of bright red hair, and soft honey coloured eyes. Eyes which looked at the rucksack over Gwydions shoulders, “Sire, you do not need to bring your things.”

“I think I’ll just keep them on me. Just in case.”

The page looked like he wanted to argue, but simply nodded and started down the corridor. It was a short walk to the dinning hall.

The King was already present, as well as various human-looking guests.

“Gwydion! The one who saved my son, and Daventry, from the dragon!”

The guests, all lords and ladies, looked the boy up and down, many with the carefully blank faces of high ranked peers, some with open disdain, some with open happiness.

“Gwydion, in the spirit of times past, I offer a great alliance between our kingdoms. May both Llewdor and Daventry be forever allies and friends.”

The was a long pause, clearly Gwydion was meant to say something. “Thank you. I hope we can be friends for a long time too.”

King Graham beamed, “Now come, and let us feast!”

Gwydion was shown to a seat next to Graham, with the Queen on the other side. The little Prince and Princess where somewhere else. Gwydion looked over the mounds of food piled high on the table. “Um thank you for this meal, but I need to leave at sunset.”

“You still have time. And I wished to speak to you. You are clearly a good King, but still young. I had already arranged some of the finest tutors for my own children, and one more in the lessons would not be such a trial.”

“What do you mean?

“Let me pay the debt I owe you for saving us, join us here and learn.”

“Um, again, thank you, but I want to go home.”

“But you have a way to travel easily between Llewdor and Daventry, do you not? Perhaps you can come and visit us every few days, learn during the day and return home at night.”

“I need to think about it.” And ask Medusa Gwydion thought.

“Very well. But know you are always welcome here.”

Gwydion nodded and ate some of the food, making small talk with the king. Just before sunset, he nodded to the King and Queen, who after another round of cheers, allowed him to slip away from the feast.

In the courtyard he held the amber stone up, and wished, as he had for the last few days, to finally be home. A moment later he was.

~~~~~Llewdor, the Keep~~~~~

“Gwydion!” Medusa was standing in the doorway, looking tired and worn, Letholdus beside her coils, both clearly waiting for the moment of dusk. In a scene very much like what he had seen only hours earlier on the beach, Medusa swept forward and hugged the boy tightly. “You silly boy! Where have you been? Three days you have been gone!”

“I sorry Medusa! I was too late! And then I got caught by pirates… and then I had to save the Prince, and then I had to get him back…and then I had to wait until sunset. Please don’t be angry.”

“Pirates! No don’t tell me yet. Come inside, let me brew some tea. I have a feeling I will need it to calm my nerves.”

And she did. Medusa, Letholdus and Manannan, who sneaked downstairs as soon as he had heard Medusa call Gwydion’s name, sat in the dinning hall and listened to Gwydion recount everything that had happened. At some points Medusa hands were white in tension as she clutched the cup. Gwydion, noticing, was somewhat surprised it didn’t break apart, and tried to down play the danger he had been in. None of the audience believed him.

Finally coming to the end, Medusa stood, and silently hugged the exhausted boy.

“Rest Gwydion, tomorrow is early enough to discuss all of this,” and with that she carried the now limp King upstairs and stripped the boy and tucked him into bed. It seemed to Medusa she would most certainly have to be on her toes to keep her little King out of trouble, but for now she could be sure he was safe, and that was enough for her to finally, after three days of worry, rest.

Chapter Text

Hello Readers! I will hopefully provided you here with a little insight in this extra chapter (none of which is needed to enjoy the story). These notes were once at the end of each chapter, but as the story is now complete, I decided to streamline them into a single chapter for ease of reading both the main story and these notes. For ease, the character of this story is called Harry in these notes, while the character of the games he replaces is referred to as Gwydion.

This story is a cross over of the fantastic works of Roberta Williams, published by Sierra Entertainment (at the time known as Sierra Online) in the 1980s and early 1990s. This is mainly the King's Quest series and The Quest for Glory series, but throughout this stories there are references to Labyrinth, The Dark Crystal, Black Cauldron (made in 1986 by Sierra), mythology, the Redux game and a few others. The events of KQ1 and KQ2 have already happened, without the influence of our Hero (which will be explain when it is important). Harry (who here has only minor thoughts that that is his name) takes the place of the Hero. Where possible I have tried to stay true to the timeline of publish dates of the games and Harry Potter, meaning that here in 1987 (a year later then KQ3 was published, but the earliest I could really expect to see a Harry with the independence needed) Harry is 7 years old. If you have played the games, the plot should not be too much of a shock, but hopefully some of my plans have at least entertained you. Likewise much of the dialog may be recognizable to those who have played the game, as I have borrowed heavily.

Places mentioned and nods made

In this world, both games and everything else exists on a single land mass as shown in this map below (a working draft at this stage).

Kyöpelinvuori is a mythical place in Finnish for ghosts' mountain, appropriate I thought consider its location as the above ground section next to Ooga Booga land (KQ7 is a long way off, but was in fact the 1st game I played as a young girl, and therefor holds a special place in my heart). Elves of course live in Alfheim. Dinas Affaraon is a mythical home of druids who were known as metallurgists and alchemists. Nendos is a Celtic region meaning 'sacred place, sanctuary'. The Port Karlavaegen cove looks something like Lulworth Cove, if you were wondering. I figure a kingdom like Daventry would have a port as well. It is named after after the mapmaker for many of the KQ games. Yes, Harry is transported directly to the spot that Graham starts KQ1 in. I thought it was a good nod to those earlier games. Yes, Jambalaya island is from Escape from Monkey Island. I didn’t plan on mixing the two worlds, especially considering the epic rivalry between Lucas and Sierra, but I needed a name for my created island and couldn’t help myself. The geography of Daventry really didn’t make a lot of sense in KQ3, especially considering KQ1 and 2. So I moved the dragon to a mountain on an island near Daventry. The island is about 150 kms (a little under 100 miles) off shore, quiet close all things considered. While the trip to the island only took about 12 hours, the trip back takes a longer, at about 25 hours, due trade winds and tides. The pirate ship was also twice the size, which affects how fast they can travel, but still they managed about 6 knots, which is very fast. In a world of magic, where I can see ships, especially pirate ships, using magic to boost their speed, that wouldn’t be too unbelievable. On the way back, they are averaging 3 knots, a much more likely speed for sail. For course flying (such as by dragon) would take much less time, which is why the dragon is a threat to Daventry, but is not easy to kill, as it lives over the sea.

Characterisation of Harry

Readers may claim Harry accepts his new situation and magic too easily here. Its hard to judge Harry's mental state, and therefore what is reasonable to expect for a child in this kind of situation. For starters, he is 7 years old, which on average is the start of kids having more adult thought process, such as being able to see another's point of view, using conflict resolution (ie manipulation via words), becoming vaguely independent, starting to seek out knowledge, starting to read fairly well. Around this age is also when children start to question long held beliefs, no longer is Santa and the Tooth fairy taken as granted.

So Harry should be able to act 'adult' enough to be our lovable hero, but he is still a child enough to accept magic and not fight Manannan as his Master. But it can come across as to easy... The other problem to gauge how well Harry can handle this is I have deliberately made his childhood more isolated then canon (for good reasons, mostly to do with what Harry calls himself, and to make his attachment to Manannan more likely, as well as bring him more in line with the Gwydion of King's Quest), which itself is much more isolated then is even vaguely health and acceptable. There are no controlled, expected, 'normal' reactions to long term social isolation is children, for damn good reasons. The closest we get is historical studies in child abuse and neglect cases, for example the children who came out of the Romanian Orphanages in the 90s. Although the abuse is worse then what our Harry sees, it would be reasonable to expect certain patterns of behaviour, such as lower academic intelligence, inability to form social connections, apathy, disrespect for authority figures, tendency to wander away from 'parents' (lowered stranger danger reflexes) and sometimes brutal violence or rage to affirm their place in social hierarchies.... (actually JK may have been close with canon Harry in some ways.)

Simply, my Harry is not going to be totally realistic, he just isn't. The simple fact is such a child would not be the hero which fits in this kind of story. In the later section of the story we see more of Harry’s Gryffindor nature really shining through, especially after going to Daventry. For the most part, however, I stuck with a more Slytherin Harry.

It never seemed very realistic to me that in the games Gwydion doesn't even hesitate to deal with a man who has raised him his entire life, especially in the original where there is no evidence that Manannan means him any harm at all. The letter discovered by Gwydion/Harry is slightly modified from the Redux version, where it is slightly more evident something bad is going to happen. I know that some of the expanded universe deal with the effect of his enslavement... but not really the fact he was perfectly willing to turn against who was basically his father. Harry, of course, thinks he has it better now, and I can't see him easily turning away from that, and therefore is more the happy to justify even heavy handed hints, until it really was too late.

I have a reason for not marking parseltongue as different from regular text. Simply, Harry isn't aware he is talking in a different language, and as it is his POV, I'm not going to note it either. Later, if he actually realises the difference then maybe, but for now, the text will appear as if also in English.

Harry are his potion skills are a matter of debate. Here I’ve taken the fact that in Half Blood Prince Harry, with clear instructions and away from Snape, can actually brew, and is in fact the best in class. So I think that means Harry can brew in canon, and have taken that to here as well, with him brewing everything correctly first go.

Harry’s eyesight. I haven’t really dealt with it, but have left a few hints. Harry doesn’t have glasses, but probably does need them. In a classroom environment it would have been picked up, but for the most part he hasn’t been asked in Sierra to read things in the distance. He can probably only see large blobs of colour and shape beyond about 30 meters, but for close up, he doesn’t really notice. And as he thinks it is normal, it isn’t like he is going to complain or tell anyone

So why are Harry’s dreams prophetic? There is some vague evidence that Harry’s dreams in canon have a vision component, mainly due to that fact no 15 month old would remember all the details seen in his drawing we see hanging in his cupboard. And well I figure in a place like Sierra, which is made of magic, everyones dreams are a little prophetic, which is why oracles are even a possibility.

Medusa, Letholdus and Manannan

I have noted I have a lot of weird names going on. But most are from the games and Letholdus fits the setting so…

I debated a long time about what to do about Medusa. In the original game you of course need to destroy her by making her look in the mirror. You can't talk to her, and you have to go prepared to kill her. Harry would never be able to do that. He doesn't have to knowledge, no matter how many books he might have read, and he is still too soft hearted to deliberate kill a creature which has done nothing to him (yet). As Harry can't save and reload, I've gone the redux storyline, where you can win Medusa over and she turns from a dark skinned half snake into a white women (somehow that sound more racist the more I think about it). I decided I didn't want to her become human, but stay somewhat snake like, and be more in touch with magic, in order to mentor Harry, and it will also strongly influence later stories with a much more non-human slant. I've always wondered if Medusa had to feed her hair, or if it gets its food from Medusa. Also, do the continue to grow? Its not like you can get a hair cut...
At one stage I almost had Medusa read Harry a bedtime story, but figured she wouldn’t know how to treat a child, as she has never had one.

As for Manannan, I had a reviewer (over on Fanfiction) bring up that Manannan is less mean here. This is deliberate in a way, and like I said to them, I know that Manannan isn't as evil here as in the games, but the fact is that Harry can't save and reload (so making him as harsh would end the story very quickly). If Manannan was as evil, I'm not sure that any of his servants would last that long at all. I also like that Manannan doesn't seem (that) evil to Harry, especially considering the treatment he had at the hands of his relatives. In the chapter in which Manannan catches Harry returning the books Manannan appeared to be his old evil self, but Manannan doesn’t permanently hurt Harry, and acts more like a parent who had caught wrong doing in a child. I doubt Manannan believed the lie Harry had told, but all little children lie to avoid punishment. Imagine, some of the books Manannan has might very well be harmful. This is after all, a world of magic. Harry realises this while talking to Medusa. Sadly, although Manannan not being evil would be an awesome story, to keep close to the games I have to continue with his evil plans. Later after he becomes a cat Manannan seems even nicer. But the thing is Manannan is no longer himself. In KQ5 we get the impression that (at least by then) most of Manannan personality is cat like, he can be tricked into a sack with some fish, basically having lost his human mind. Here is the added layer that we have no idea what Letholdus has or hasn’t done to Manannan. And Letholdus is fond of Harry, so it would not be beyond belief that Letholdus has ordered Manannan to be nice. Of course if you are optimistic, maybe Manannan was fond of Harry himself before Harry turned him into a cat, and now, with his emotions also simplified due to his form, that is more evident.

Random book, history, and magic information

The description of the Seps here was taken in part from the excellent blog, http://themonsterblogofmonsters.tumblr.com. You should go check it out.

Also, before anyone asks, Harry might be too young to question the books, but I'm going to say straight up front that they might not be as accurate as one would hope. I was reading up on Potter spells in order to try and fit the two canons somewhat together. I was kinda shocked to find that the ‘tempus’ spell seen all the time in fanon is in fact not canon. Sure the ‘notice-me-not’ spell is the same, but I knew that was fanon. But Tempus, really? The other one was wards, which are never mentioned by name, despite their ubiquitous nature in fan fiction. Well ok then.

Some notes on the staples in the kitchen: Everything listed would be available in a 16th century England. But in the amounts here, probably not. Sugar was indeed considered a spice.

For those heavily into HP cannon, some of the books mentioned here are found in the extended verse. For the foreign language ones:
'Hélas, Je me suis Transfiguré Les Pieds’: Translation, Alas, I have Transfigured My Feet, is a French play seen in Quidditch Through the Ages
‘Магичен Теория’: Translation, Magical Theory, is a textbook for the Durmstrang students seen in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (film)
‘Skrifter af Knos’: Translation Writings of Knos, a book prop in the Harry Potter films in both Remus and Albus' Offices.
‘Þrymskviða’: is one of the best known poems from the Poetic Edda, in which a giant steals Thor hammer, and Thor and Loki end up dressed as the bride and bridesmaid during a scheme to get the hammer back.
’Ars moriendi’: Translation The Art of Dying, a 15th century text about how to die well.
‘القانون في الطب’ : Translation The Canon of Medicine, an 11th century medical encyclopedia
‘Trk'hsk’: Translation Bloodshed in battle, in world of warcraft orcish.

A few books which didn’t make it in this story: ‘One was boringly called, ‘Belief, personification and understanding; guarding childhood’ but was really about these warrior spirits who were thought to protect childhood. Gwydion had picked it because when he was flicking through it he had seen a picture of Santa just like Before. The figure however was called Nicholas St. North and a huge sword in each hand, fighting off a black cloaked figure.’ Or ‘‘The History of Jiggery Pokery’ which was all about people fixing and improving magical instruments’. Kurt Niederloh, who lent his name to the diary about magical talking plants, was the Vice President of Sierra On-Line, and has a cooler sounding name then most who are noted to work for Sierra. I sadly know nothing else about him.

The M used in the sleep potion is the rune Ahwaz, which means horse, but also journeys. The calculation mentioned is sort of, kinda, based on the time-dependent Schrödinger equation, which I don’t pretend to have more then a slight understanding of.

Oaths and Swearing

Magical swearing and promises in Potter canon always kinda freaked me out. Ask any lawyer and you’ll know words can be twisted, meanings can be changed or defined differently. If such things could just kill you, and strip you of magic? Seems highly dangerous, and yet Harry being put in the tournament against his will isn’t a big deal for that reason. There are a number of fics out there dealing with this better then this note probably explains. Here we have no idea what the consequence of breaking the promise is, but if a cunning wizard such as Letholdus allows it? I can’t image it to be too bad. For those with a more Slytherin mind, the promise made by Letholdus has of course a giant loop hole in it. Harry is not the first one called Gwydion, and the others have meant some horrible fates. Harry sadly doesn’t quite think of that, he is after all still a somewhat naive 7 year old. As I said at the start of the chapter, depending on how pessimistic you are, whatever happens in the room after Harry leaves could be anything from a few harsh words to full on torture. I’ll let you decide, but remember that Harry is optimistic, and more to the point, somewhat naive, and thinks Letholdus’ vow will stop any major harm from coming to Manannan.

The whole time I was writing Harry becoming King I kept think of Monty Python, “Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony.” Of course in Sierra, that probably is a normal form of government. Or in this case whoever has the best magic. But who is going to argue with the boy who managed to take out the old and evil Manannan? Oaths are hard man. I just kinda wrote this in one go, but no doubt it could be much better. I’m not a lawyer. Just believe that magic reads intent as well as the words said. As for Harry’s magic, its not really changed at all, just it took a lot out of him, because the land hasn’t had a ritually tied to a ruler for decades, as Manannan didn’t do it for reasons, mostly because he doesn’t believe in that sort of thing, and as a somewhat illegitimate ruler there would have been major backlash. So why is Harry’s victory acceptable? Well for one, he is counted as Manannan’s apprentice, as he lives with the wizard and has learned magic while there. He has also is Medusa’s heir, as she has taught him magic that only her family knows. And as Medusa is tied to the land, that is enough for Harry to be seen as a legitimate option to rule. Defeating the previous ruler sealed the deal as it were.

Events included and not included (…pirates, bandits and dogs)

As the spell to fly doesn’t turn Harry into an actual eagle, as I’ve vaguely established such magics are permanent in this world, and I think between a giant spider and Harry the spider would win, we instead have a new companion. I have plans for that spider (see The Gamble of Gwydion!).

Unlike the games, Harry wasn’t stuck on the boat for weeks like in the games (which kinda never made sense; was the Princess with the dragon the whole time?) On another notes, not all pirates have to talk like pirates. One of them here is quiet well spoken.

So I wanted to deal with the bandits, despite them not being a totally necessary part of KQ3. I always thought it was kinda weird that these scary thugs had a tree house as a headquarters. Especially a bright yellow one. In my head there are two possibilities as to why the bandits disappear. The first is that they (the other two) came back to the head quarters to find the money missing. The sleeping one claimed a great wizard came and stole the money, and he had no chance. The other two in their anger killed the sleeping one (maybe by accidentally pushing him out of the tree). Realising what they did, they made it look like he had left, rather then died. Only a few days later they hear the great evil wizard has been defeated and a new ruler, a powerful wizard is around. Fearing that the sleeping bandit had told the truth, they flee.

The second is that Medusa found the bandits, and took revenge for their actions against Gwydion. She is after all, part giant snake, and even if she is nice to Gwydion, she is feared for a reason.

Why does Daventry have guard dogs, which weren’t seen until KQ6? Well I figure why wouldn’t a big castle have loyal, hardworking dogs as guards? And it isn’t like we see the guards in KQ1-5. Also I went back and looked at the structure of the body of the guards and they have super creepy man hands. I know they need them to hold a sword and all, but it just looks wrong. Alligators vs vicious serpents in the moat. AGI version has serpents and SCI has alligators. As Harry might be able to talk to serpents, I went with alligators.

I also got rid of the yeti, because like Medusa, you had be ready to face the yeti without, story-wise, knowing it was coming. And the solution to that puzzle didn’t exit here, as the potion doesn’t actually turn you into the animal, and fly isn’t even a option anymore.

Language and writing things

Snuck vs sneaked. I had snuck here originally, unaware of the fierce debate of over it. I changed in to sneaked to fit more with English-British born Harry's POV. However it sounds weird to me. And kinda funny. I had ‘rooves’ here for a long time before I went to the more acceptable ‘roofs.’ Why? It’s the old sneaked vs snuck. I’m not old, but as I was raised in Australia in the 1980s I consider rooves the acceptable term, but I know roofs is used more widely, especially in the UK, where it replaced rooves in the 19th century (according to the internet).

I have a theory that there are two types of (good) fiction out there. The first extends what canon has given us, expands characters and worlds, creating details. Post storyline, minor character POV are the two biggest categories here. In these stories it is important the characters stay true, that the work stays consistent, a natural progression of canon. The second twists characters we know and love, putting them so far away from canon that the reflection is what highlights canon. Dark fics, gender bends, even most (non-canon) slash fall into this category. The characterisation in these fics can be anywhere from totally canon (expect that one important thing) or due to that one important twist completely different. Done poorly they are co-opts of character which are totally unbelievable, were previously strong characters now are weak or mary-sues, desk ex machine abounds, and often, spelling and grammar fall by the wayside. The problem is that fan fiction should not be an excuse to be lazy, to fail to build a story or a character, and that is what bad fan fiction does. So perhaps I may, sometimes, in my efforts to not fail into the trap of the lazy fic, give a bit to much detail.

The next installment is called (drum roll): Harry’s Quest 2: The Gamble of Gywdion, I hope you read it too! I have also made a collection of one-shots set in the same universe you can subscribe/follow to, starting with Cauchy gift fic, called (creatively): Harry’s Quest One Shots.