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Once upon a time, there was a prince who was rather prattish.

Because of his prattishness, he was cursed to become a bear.

This did not change much for him.

…

Once upon a time, there was a princess.

She did not know she was a princess yet, however, for she was the daughter of a blacksmith.

She would change everything.

…

In the middle of a sweet summer afternoon, Gwen took a walk in the woods. Home was always filled with the sound of iron striking iron, so because she was alone for once, she sang.

In the shadows of the trees, a mammoth bear crouched, its head cocked to the side as it listened.

…

“Merlin, listen. This afternoon, I heard a girl singing in the forest. I have a plan.”

“Kidnapping her?”

“No.”

“Kidnapping her father?” 

“No!”

…

Gwen’s father Tom was skilled in his craft. Unfortunately, the village their family lived in was rather poor, and often, his customers paid him in chicken eggs. These eggs were good for throwing at nobles (once prematurely rotten, of course), not for paying taxes. 

One would naturally assume that this would end up with someone in jail, and one would normally be right.

Tom would have said that finding a bear standing outside his door like a man was absolutely inconceivable, and he would normally be right.

This was far from a normal occasion. 

“Be gone with you,” he said.

“Tom? Who is it?” his wife called.

He had no wish for her to see what he was seeing, so he stepped outside and closed the door behind himself.

The two of them only spoke outside for a few minutes, but a deal was struck, depending on Guinievere’s decision:

If she were to agree, she would spend one year at the bear’s castle, singing for him every evening, and in return, he would give her father riches beyond their imaginations.

For the sake of her family, she agreed.

…

The longer she and the bear walked into the forest, the more dredge-y and ancient it became. Shadows danced underneath the leaves, and cracks sounded as though something was following them.

“I’ll protect you,” the bear growled, swinging his massive head from side to side. “I rule this forest.”

Gwen had a sharp knife tucked into the folds of her skirt, but she kept that information to herself for the time being. Maybe the bear’s intentions were noble - or maybe he was hungry for fair maidens.

“Do you have a name?” she asked.

For a while, he paused, and she thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he rumbled, “Arthur.”

The name sounded oddly familiar, but she could not place it.

“Have you always been a bear? Physically, I mean.”

“No.” Arthur did not seem to want to elaborate on his condition, and Gwen guessed that he was embarrassed.

An embarrassed bear.

Who would have thought?

“Where-” she started.

Before she could finish asking the question, the bear started loping ahead.

At first, Gwen thought he had tired of her already and had decided to abandon her in the middle of the woods, but then she looked up and saw what he was running towards.

Out of the tops of the trees, a tan castle poked, its spires reaching almost up to the clouds.

“ Oh,” Gwen gasped because it was a castle in the dreams of a little girl who wanted to grow up to be a princess.

Arthur was leaving her behind.

After casting one last glance at the woods behind her, she ran after him.

…

“Well, what do you know, she actually came even after seeing you..”

“Shut up, Merlin.” 

…

Up close, Gwen found that the castle was not tan but white and dirtied with ages of being hidden away. It looked as though it had been overgrown with ivy until recently as well. 

Hiking up her skirt slightly, she climbed the massive steps to the great wooden doors. Somewhere between the edge of the woods and the castle, Arthur had disappeared. At the top, she looked around for him.

“Hullo.”

The stranger almost received a black eye.

“Who are you?” Gwen demanded as he emerged from the shadows in which he had been lurking. She didn’t know how she didn’t see him - as much as the bear was burly, he was scrawny.

“I’m Merlin. I’m Arthur’s manservant.” Merlin grimaced. “He wanted me to show you to your room.”

“He didn’t stay around to show me himself?”

“He is a bear,” Merlin said as though that explained everything to him. He tugged on one of the huge wooden doors, and it opened for them noiselessly.

If Gwen had thought the outside of the castle was beautiful, the inside was opulent. The stone floors were covered in the thickest carpets she had ever seen (not that she had made the acquaintance of many carpets), and everywhere she looked, she found either a painting, an enormous, turn or some golden trinket.

Despite its magnificence, however, everything appeared worn on a second pass. It had been well taken care of, but it was still succumbing to its age. Which made her wonder from whom Arthur had gotten the castle in the first place.

Merlin led her up a staircase and through several long halls before stopping in front of a door that was identical to the main door to the castle in everything but size.

“Here.” Out of his pocket, Merlin pulled a silver bell. He started to hand it to her but took it back, frowning. With the red handkerchief tied around his neck, he rubbed a spot off it and then released it to her. “If you need anything, just ring this bell, and your wish will be fulfilled.” The corner of his mouth turned upwards in a half-grin.

She smiled back at him. “Thank you.” She liked him already.

“Oh, and one more thing.” Merlin’s face turned serious. “Don’t step into the garden after sunset. I could be dangerous. It’s for your protection.”

“Because of Arthur?”

For a second, Merlin hesitated. He opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say anything, the roar of a bear echoed throughout the castle.

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Sorry,” he said. “ Someone gets angry when he’s hungry. I’ve got to go make dinner.”

“You’re a manservant of many talents.”

“Someone ought to tell Arthur that,” Merlin grumbled. “He thinks I can’t cook.” Another roar came from somewhere in the castle below them, and Merlin headed in the direction from which it had come - taking his sweet time, she noticed.

When he was gone, she turned to the door.

Arthur - or maybe it was Merlin because he was the only one with hands between the two - had spared nothing. The room was as richly decorated as the rest of the castle, and when she ran a finger over the wood of the mantlepiece, she found that it had been dusted recently. She spun in a circle, and her eyes landed on the bed.

Silk sheets, which felt like water running over her fingers, and pillows stuffed with a substance that felt like a cloud instead of birds’ feathers. When she sat on the edge, the whole bed sank underneath her.

It felt nothing like her bed back home.

…

When Gwen descended to the first floor for dinner, she found that the castle halls were devoid of life. The dining room, however, was lit up with a number of candles that would have made her cry had she been offered them at her own home. She earned extra money for their household sewing and mending clothes, often working far into the night with only the light from one paltry candle.

The stew was good - Arthur was wrong about Merlin’s cooking skills - but after one or two spoonfuls, Gwen placed her spoon down.

She didn’t know whether it was the fact that she was eating with a silver utensil for the first time in her life or that the stew tasted nothing like her mother’s, but she couldn’t finish it.

…

Behind the door that led to the kitchen, Merlin and Arthur peered.

“You smell,” Merlin noted with a grimace. “Are you going to take a bath before Gwen sings for you tomorrow morning?”

“Shut up, Merlin. What’s she doing? I can’t see.”

Merlin pressed his eye back to the crack. “She’s stopped eating.”

“ Ha. I knew your cooking was bad.” 

“And yours would have been any better? She’s just sitting there now.”

“Should I go out and talk to her?”

“I don’t think that would really aid her digestion.”

“You seem to forget that the whole point of her coming here-”

“Shhh,” Merlin hushed him. “She’s standing. She’s picking up her bowl. Oh, she’s set it back down again. No, she’s picking it up.”

“Let me see.” Arthur poked his fat bear nose into the crack and tried to look out.

“She set it back down.”

The ring of a silver bell came from the dining room.

“That’s my call.” Merlin made to push open the door, but Arthur stopped him with his nose. “What?”

“When you’re done with whatever she wants…find the soap.”

Merlin grinned.

There had been a point when Arthur had resented the sort of respect being a mammoth bear had brought him. Now, he kind of wanted some of it back.

…

The first time singing for Arthur was awkward.

Merlin showed her to the garden and then abandoned her to sit on a stone bench. Not long after he had left, Arthur joined her. Thankfully, he didn’t try to sit on the bench with her and instead settled down a few feet across from her.

The scene was almost comical, and Gwen found it hard to keep herself from laughing. She disguised the noise with a sniff.

Lavender?

“Are you wearing perfume?”

Gwen hadn’t known bears could leave in a huff, but this one did.

…

That afternoon, she met with Merlin in one of the grand rooms, the purpose of which seemed to be to sit around on furniture too nice to sit around on and look at portraits.

Merlin did not seem to care. He propped his muddied boots up on the velvet-covered footstool and leaned back. “If you had to pick one of them, which one would you go for?” he asked with a nod at the portraits hanging on the opposite wall.

Crossing her arms, Gwen studied them. “I don’t know. Not the one on the far left. Too old.”

“Hmmm. I agree. What about the second to the right?”

His hair was blonde, and he stared at the painter as though the word duty were written in his bones. He did not smile like Merlin, but Gwen felt that he could have if someone had given him a reason to. “Not bad,” she said. “The one next to him doesn’t look so bad, either.”

To himself, Merlin snorted. “That’s Lancelot?”

“Lancelot? Lancelot who?”

“The fifth son of Lord Eldred of Northumbria if you ask me,” Merlin muttered. Then, realizing what he had said to her, he coughed. “I mean - a knight.”

“Oh. Who’s the other one? The blonde one.” 

Merlin grinned. “Arthur.”

Gwen did a double take. “ Arthur? You can’t be serious.” Then again, the portrait and the bear did have somewhat of a pretentious look about them both.

Maybe it was the eyebrows.

“What happened to him?” she asked.

“He got on the bad side of a nasty witch, though he had it coming.”

Gwen raised an eyebrow. 

“He did,” Merlin doubled down. “I would’ve cursed him myself if I’d thought of it first.”

“Why can’t you uncurse him?” 

“Well, you see-” Merlin looked as though he were going to say more, but a peculiar expression crossed his face. As he sat up, he went into a coughing fit.

Gwen pounded him on the back. “Are you all right?”

“Just fine,” he wheezed, staggering to his feet. “I’m going to make some tea. Do you want some?”

She nodded, and he went off to the kitchen. 

While he was gone, she stared at the portraits of Arthur and Lancelot. She wondered what had happened to all of them and whether the others were still alive. It was so weird to think that the young man on the wall was now a hunking bear. He could have been Elyan’s age.

At the thought of her brother, a pang went through her.

She hoped he was doing all right. He was always bringing socks for her to mend, and without her-

“Here we go!” 

Although it was impossible for Merlin to have properly brewed a cup of tea in such a short amount of time, he returned with a steaming mug and two teacups that were almost as fancy as the ware Gwen had eaten off the previous night.

She tasted the tea. It tasted dark, as though it had been steeping for a long time instead of the few minutes he had been gone.

She eyed him suspiciously.

Innocently, he sipped from his cup.

…

At night, Gwen lay in her too-fluffy, too-elegant bed and listened to the wind rattle the shutters of her window. Back home, on nights that were stormy, her mother used to sing to her and Elyan until they fell asleep. That was where the singing had started, she supposed.

It had only been a couple of days, but the homesickness was already starting to seep in. 

She thought about ringing the bell and talking to Merlin for company, but she did not want to wake him after he had practically spent the whole day with her after she’d sung for Arthur. 

Resolutely, she turned over and used one of the pillows to cover her head and muffle the sound of the wind.

…

For the next week, their new routine continued.

In the morning, she sang for Arthur, and for the rest of the day, she hung out with Merlin or worked on a sewing project with cloth that he had provided. 

The longer she stayed there, the more she saw Arthur as less of a bear and more of a human.

Except for the ears.

The longer she stayed there, the more she wanted to pet him.

…

“I don’t know what to do, Merlin.” Arthur stared down at the bowl of soup that Merlin had made for him. He should have been taking advantage of the fact that he had hands for a short while since it was night, but he didn’t feel much like eating.

“That’s not new.”

Arthur glowered at him. “She isn’t happy here.”

“Can you blame her? She’s been uprooted from her entire family-”

“I asked her before. And you’re one to talk, considering you wanted to kidnap her in the first place.” He tapped his spoon on the edge of the bowl. “I don’t know what to do, Merlin. I don’t want to keep turning into a bear every morning for the rest of my life, but I also don’t want to pressure her into staying here when she’d rather not.”

Merlin was silent for a moment, which was rather odd.

“Well,” he said, “there’s nothing that says she can’t go visit home for a day and then come back, is there?”

“...No.”

“Well, then, tell her she can visit her family.” Merlin sounded rather pleased with himself - something he’d been ever since the start of their scheme - and Arthur rolled his eyes at him even though it was a good idea.

Arthur didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it himself.

…

After Gwen was done singing for the day, Arthur paced a circle around the garden pathway, his paws making massive tracks in the gravel.

“Is something bothering you?” Gwen prodded.

Arthur seemed to be in a continual state of something-was-bothering-him (and it was usually Merlin), but today, it seemed worse than normal.

“Would you like to go home for a day?” Arthur offered gruffly. “To visit your family.”

Gwen blinked. “I…I do miss my family. But our agreement-” She would not want to let her homesickness ruin everything for them.

“You may return tomorrow.”

“I would like to, then, very much.” She held her hands in her lap even as her fingers curled in happiness.

She would have to ask Merlin to make some of his scones for them - Elyan would devour them all, she was sure.

…

Like a proper gentleman instead of a beast, Arthur escorted her back to her family’s home. It was no longer only slightly better than a shack but a proper house that didn’t look like it would blow over in the next strong wind.

She rapped on the door. While she waited for it to be opened, she turned around to thank Arthur for allowing to ride him like a horse (something that no doubt hurt his pride, she was sure), but he had vanished.

The door opened.

“What - Gwen?” 

Her family was overjoyed to see her.

“I’m glad you’re all right,” Elyan told her. “We weren’t sure we would ever see you again.”

“I do have to return tomorrow morning,” Gwen said. “I promised him I would go back if he let me come see you.”

For dinner that night in addition to the scones that Merlin had sent with her, their mother prepared a special meal of all of Gwen’s favorite home-cooked dishes.

“What’s it like?” Tom asked as they all sat around their sturdy wooden table that had been in their house for as long as she could remember.

“Well, Arthur - that’s the bear’s name - lives in a castle in the woods. It’s very lovely.”

Elyan passed a slab of butter to their mother. “What about the bear itself?”

“He’s…” Gwen thought about it. Arthur was quite difficult to label. Although he had shown her nothing but kindness, she knew very little of his past, particularly why he had been cursed to begin with. “He’s nice,” she finally settled with, “but I don’t see him as much as I see Merlin.”

“Merlin?”

“His manservant.” With her fingers, Gwen tore a roll in half to dip in her soup.

Manservant might have been the wrong term. Arthur was the prince of the castle, but Merlin was the one who ended up running everything. In the few minutes they talked after she sang for him, Arthur complained about it.

Frequently.

Elyan frowned. “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? The man has the bear - not the bear has the manservant?”

Dragging the piece of bread through the soup, she shrugged.

After a while, her family grew tired of hearing about Arthur and Merlin, and the conversation moved on to the local gossip. When the meal was finished, Gwen helped her mother clear the table and wash the dishes.

While they were drying, she stepped outside the front door to look at the stars and take in the smell of home.

After a few minutes, the door behind her creaked, and Elyan joined her. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” he asked.

“What about?”

“The bear. This thing that calls itself Arthur.” He cleared his throat. “I’m worried about you, Gwen.”

That was Elyan - he had always been protective during their childhood, and the tendency hadn’t faded even though they were both grown and starting to go on their separate paths.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” she reminded him. “He hasn’t done anything to hurt me.”

“That doesn’t mean he won’t. And what about his manservant - Merlin? Doesn’t the whole arrangement seem a little odd to you? What man sees his master turned into a bear and stays with him? What is he getting out of the arrangement?”

“They’re friends.”

Elyan made a soft harrumph. “Friends. All right, suppose they are. What is Arthur gaining from this whole thing?”

Crossing her arms, Gwen frowned. “I don’t know. I suppose he likes music.”

“A bear?”

“He wasn’t always a bear. I’ve seen his portrait hanging on the wall.”

“How do you know that isn’t the poor fellow who inhabited the castle before him? They could have killed him.”

That sounded ridiculous to Gwen, but she said nothing. 

“He forbids you from leaving the castle at night.”

“He said it’s for my protection.” Gwen rubbed her hands up and down the sides of her arm. It was growing colder now that the sun had gone down, and for a moment, she wished Arthur was nearby to keep her warm with his fur.

“Is it? What if he’s only trying to keep you there? What if sorcery is involved? He could be slowly stealing your life force or something.”

With a huff, Gwen rolled her eyes. “I’m sure I would know if he were doing that.” 

But now a small sliver of doubt had arisen in her mind. What was Arthur gaining from the whole thing? If anything, he was losing money on taking care of both her and her family, and all she was doing in return was singing for him.

She was sure there were at least a dozen other musicians in the land who could do the job twice as well as she could and for less trouble.

“You’ve got to see what he’s up to in that garden of his,” Elyan said. “He could be doing anything.”

“I’m forbidden.”

“You’re not his servant. You could at least see what he’s up to.”

Elyan was right. Surely there was no harm in looking. And if Arthur ever asked, she could own up to her decision to snoop and could give a reason for it.

“Seriously, Gwen-” 

“I’ll do it,” she snapped. “I can hide behind a tree or a fountain or something and see what he’s up to. And if I get caught, Merlin will help me out.”

“If he isn’t in on it,” Elyan muttered darkly.

Gwen had rather enough of the night. She turned on her heel and went back inside.

…

In the morning, Gwen said goodbye to her parents and her brother and left her childhood home (and the rest of Merlin’s scones) behind for a second time.

At the edge of the forest, she met Arthur.

At first, she thought that he had forgotten or decided to leave her be, but after peering into the darker bits of the woods for a bit, she spotted two round and fluffy ears poking up from the leaves.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Arthur asked as she climbed on top of him and settled in.

“Yes, very much. Thank you.”

She dug her fingers into the thick patch of fur at the nape of his neck, and he started loping towards the castle.

…

The castle was silent. 

As usual, Arthur had disappeared after their daily talk and walk in the garden. A few hours ago, Merlin had gone to bed after a particularly tiring day (according to him) of wrestling with duckweed in the garden. 

Even the mice that Merlin was always threatening to exterminate had retired for the evening.

Even though it was impossible for them to hear what she was doing, Gwen held her breath as she slipped out of bed and pulled a robe over her shoulders. Merlin kept the inside of the castle toasty warm, but the garden would be cooler. 

Her door creaked as she opened and closed it behind her, and she paused, biting her lip. After a few seconds in which nobody jumped out behind the large fancy urn that Arthur refused to let Merlin get rid of because it was a “family heirloom,” and yelled, “ What are you doing?” she continued down the hallway to the stairs.

She was tempted to slide down the banister, but she hitched up her skirt and walked down it, pretending she was a dignified lady.

At the bottom, she peered around. Although she wasn’t sure which one it was, Merlin’s room was on the first floor, but there were no signs of life.

The walls and decor looked much more daunting in the darkness without the lamps and chandeliers alight. She should have brought a candle from her room, she thought, but it was too late to turn back now. She would probably lose her nerve and crawl back into bed.

Outside, a lone cricket was chirping.

As she snuck around the outside of the garden, the grass crunched underneath her feet.

So far, she’d seen nothing to explain her ban from the area under the moonlight. No cults. No human sacrifices. No secret cheese-eating clubs.

It was turning out to be rather disappointing.

Under the leaves of one of the droopier trees, Gwen paused, putting her hand to the trunk. The lone cricket seemed to have followed her into that part of the garden.

For several minutes, she waited for anything to happen.

Just as she was about to call it off and return to her room, she heard voices.

“I’m tired, Arthur. I spent all day pulling out weeds - which you could help with, you know.”

“So I’ve heard. Half a dozen times in the last ten minutes, in fact.”

It was the same voice as the bear’s.

Except when Gwen peered out through the tree leaves, Merlin wasn’t talking to Arthur in bear form. Instead, he was facing her direction, conversing with a man with blonde hair who looked oddly familiar. Although it was human, it gave off an aura as though it weren’t truly there even though she was seeing it with her own two eyes.

“We’re not making any progress,” the man was saying. “ I’m not.”

In the darkness, Merlin might have rolled his eyes. “You have to give it time.”

“I’ve given it plenty of time - weeks.” 

Gwen parted the drooping branches of the trees with her hands to get a better look.

Yes, she did know him.

“ Arthur?” 

At his name, he whirled around, and they made eye contact.

The next instant, Arthur’s shape had been replaced by that of the bear. From behind his massive form, Merlin swore.

“ Gwen,” Arthur said, his voice full of anger, anguish, and regret.

What had she done?

“What’s going on?” she demanded. “I thought you were a bear.”

“He is,” Merlin said, stepping around Arthur and laying a hand on his shoulder. “I told you that a witch cursed him.”

“But why was he just human then?”

“The spell reverses at night as long as nobody besides us sees him.”

And she’d just ruined everything.

If she ever saw her family again, she was going to give Elyan a piece of her mind.

“What can I do to fix it?” she asked. “Surely there’s a way.”

“There isn’t,” Arthur snapped.

“Shut up, Arthur.” Merlin petted him on the head. When Arthur tried to snap at Merlin’s fingers, Merlin swatted him on the nose. “There’s a way. The witch who cursed him is named Nimueh. She lives in another castle East of the Sun and the West of the Moon. If you could go there and talk to her or trick her into releasing Arthur-”

“No,” Arthur growled. “It’s too dangerous.”

Merlin swatted him again but lightly. “She only cursed you because you’re a prat and you know it. She won’t do anything to Gwen.”

Arthur muttered something that sounded like sorceress sympathizer. 

Since the two of them would continue bickering through the rest of the night and on into the wee hours of the morning, Gwen cleared her throat, drawing their attention back to her. “How do I get to East of the Sun and West of the Moon? If Merlin and I went together-” 

Arthur shook his massive bear head. “No. As a part of the curse, Nimueh tied Merlin to me. If he leaves the grounds, I die.”

Nimueh sounded like a pleasant, easy-to-work-with person.

“There is another way,” Merlin said.

While Gwen had no idea what he was talking about, Arthur caught on immediately. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on, Arthur, you know it’s a good idea. Do you want to stay a bear forever?”

“No.”

“Then it’s settled.”

“No.” 

Gwen looked back and forth between the two of them. “What? What’s settled?”

“Nothing!” Arthur yelled at the same time Merlin said, “Your transportation.” They glared at each other.

Merlin turned to Gwen. “Would you excuse us for a moment?”

She nodded, and the two of them walked off about a stone’s throw to continue their heated discussion.

While Merlin gestured wildly, Arthur stood up on his hind legs and then dropped back down when Merlin poked him in the chest.

Even though the cricket had gone quiet a few minutes ago, she could barely hear what they were saying.

“-trying to send me to an early grave-”

“-would’ve done it in your sleep, not trying to save your blasted life-”

“-better than anything you’ve ever come up with-” 

-resent that, Mer lin-”

Gwen pulled her robe more tightly about herself and started tapping her foot.

“-your head-” 

“-stupid-” 

“Boys!” she yelled. “I’m going! You can either help me, or I’ll figure it out by myself!”

After an exchange of a few more tense words, Merlin and Arthur returned. 

She raised her eyebrows at them.

“Well, go on,” Arthur prompted Merlin sourly.

Merlin turned to her, an excited grin on his face despite the circumstances. “How do you feel about riding on a dragon?”

…

The dragon seemed about as delighted to see Arthur as Arthur was to see him - which meant both of them would have rather been on opposite sides of the world, and even that would have been too close to each other.

“Gwen, this is Kilgharrah. Kilgharrah, this is Gwen.” 

Gwen wondered if she was supposed to shake hands - claws? - with the dragon, but Merlin continued. 

“Kilgharrah, I want you to take Gwen to Nimueh’s castle - East of the Sun and West of the Moon.”

The words were packed with power.

Gwen had the feeling that it did not really matter whether Kilgharrah wanted to take Gwen to Nimueh’s castle. 

Before she could ponder it any longer, however, Merlin was helping her climb onto the dragon’s back. He took her hand in his and placed something in it.

Her silver bell. 

“You have seven days,” Merlin told her, squeezing her hand before he released it so she could put the bell into her pocket and hold onto Kilgharrah. “Good luck.”

She wished Merlin were able to come with her. Over time, he had somehow become like a second brother to her.

She smiled at him. “Thank you, Merlin.”

Arthur looked like he wanted to say something to her, but before he could make up his mind, Kilgharrah took flight.

…

There may have been a significant amount of screaming for the first few minutes of Gwen’s flight.

Fortunately, the only living thing that heard her was a groundhog in a clearing which promptly bolted (as fast as a groundhog could bolt) and didn’t emerge from its den for a very, very long time.

…

Although Merlin had made it sound like reaching Nimueh’s castle would have been as easy as a fifteen-minute flight on the back of a dragon, that was far from the case. After three days of riding on the dragon’s back, her leg muscles screaming in protest every time she shifted an inch to the wrong side, she started to think that maybe - just maybe - this was an elaborate prank concocted by Merlin and Arthur because she’d poked her nose where it didn’t belong. 

But then she remembered Arthur’s voice, and how upset he had been at the prospect of turning into a bear forever.

Merlin and Arthur were not lying. They’d been nothing but kind to her since she had arrived at their castle, and even if they did have ulterior motives…didn’t she also gain something out of this?

She realized that along with her home, she also missed talking with Arthur in the garden and sitting in front of a crackling fire, eating cookies with Merlin and gossiping about the smallest things.

She had a feeling that all of that would change if she did not return in seven days.

…

In a lonely castle, an anxious bear and an anxious warlock paced back and forth in the grand, empty halls, waiting for Gwen to return.

…

Gwen’s body was trembling with exhaustion, and her head was so foggy that she didn’t even believe she was seeing what was in front of her until she blinked several times and it remained in her vision.

A castle, almost - but not quite - as grand as Arthur’s with red flags shimmering from the parapets. It appeared deserted, but no castle was in the middle of the clouds in the middle of nowhere and wasn’t inhabited. 

Kilgharrah landed on the castle’s front lawn, and Gwen alighted. “Thank you,” she told the dragon, the first words she had spoken to him the entire trip.

The dragon did not reply as he flew off, leaving her to face Nimueh by herself.

The second her foot touched the first flagstone before the steps, the doors swung open, and out sauntered a woman.

Nimueh, she presumed.

She was wearing a red dress the same rich hue as the flags, and her hair fell down to her shoulders. It looked slightly wet and stringy as though she had been washing it before Gwen had arrived and only had enough time to quickly brush it through before answering the door.

Gwen felt a tinge of satisfaction at being a nuisance.

Maybe Arthur deserved to be a bear, but he did not deserve to be cursed into it forever. Everyone deserved a second chance - even if they were prats and dollopheads as Merin liked to say.

“I want you to release Arthur from the spell,” Gwen said, skipping a proper greeting. “Immediately.”

“I cannot do that. The spell has been made, and it cannot be broken - not even by Merlin.” 

Well, she didn’t have to sound so happy about it.

Nimueh reminded Gwen of noblemen and their wives who came through her family’s small village. Their faces were pale, and their noses were upturned until they looked like pigs. They did not stay long and complained nonstop for the few hours they were there.

She was being a little harsh in her assessment, she knew, but Nimueh had been harsh in her complete assessment of Arthur to begin with, so she felt justified.

“What do you want in return for his release?” Gwen asked. 

Nimueh held up three fingers. “Three tasks. Complete them, and Arthur will be atoned for. Decline, and Arthur and Merlin will be tied to their fates for the rest of their lives.” Her lips curled upwards at the last word.  “Well, for the rest of Arthur’s. Do you agree?”

Gwen did not understand, but she nodded. 

“Very well.” Nimueh raised her arms. “First, you must separate grains from each other within three hours. Not a single one must be mixed up. Then, you must get me a golden fleece from a ram. Finally, you must fetch me a pail of water from the River Styx.”

Before Gwen could ask her what any of those things or places were, the world around them shimmered and disappeared, taking the sorceress with them.

In front of her appeared a cloud.

No, it wasn’t a cloud. It was an entire mountain of grain. It would be impossible for her to get through a quarter of it, she realized, before the three hours were up - if her eyes didn’t quit on her sooner.

Putting her hands on her hips, she glared at the mound and tried to think. Starting to pace, she shoved her hands into her pockets.

She stopped.

The silver bell that Merlin had given her. What had he said?

“If you need anything, just ring this bell, and your wish will be fulfilled.”

Gwen shook the bell and waited.

At first, she thought that she had been wrong, and that the bell wouldn’t work so far from Merlin’s magic.

Then, black dots began appearing at the edges of the clouds. They poured over the pile of grain, and before her eyes, it started to shift.

First, this way. Then, the other.

The ants were an efficient army. Without her having to lift a finger to direct them, they sorted the grains of rice out into perfect piles.

Nimueh must have been watching her, for the second the last pinch of rice had been deposited in the proper location, the world shimmered around her once more.

She found herself standing in a field wet with dew and filled with tiny white flowers. At the far side of the grassy expanse, a herd of white rams were eating.

Gwen knew better than to try to wrestle one of them for its fleece. Even if she could lay a hand on one, she was not carrying anything with which to cut the material off.

With caution, she approached the herd, trying to spot the one with the golden coat. As she neared them, she drew their attention, and they began moving and jostling against each other, pawing the ground.

One snorted, and a puff of steam arose from its nostrils.

Ah, lovely.

It reminded her of Elyan.

Sheepy. Angry. Too much fluff.

As they started gaining speed coming towards her, she spotted a golden-fleeced ram in the middle. Before they could trample her, she rang Merlin’s bell once more. 

Although she half expected a pair of shears to appear in her hand, the sky darkened, and the clouds sank lower.

Out of their swirling mass, thunder boomed, and a lightning bolt struck the air close to the ground in between the herd of rams and Gwen.

Bleating, they scattered as fast as they could with their fleece hanging off them.

When she ran to the place where they had been standing, only a single golden piece of it remained. She scooped the material from the dewey ground and found that it was oddly dry. 

Two tasks completed. Only one more to go.

As she examined it, the world around her glimmered once more, the piece of fleece disappearing from between her fingers. The grass stayed the same, but out of it sprung a black river with a thunderous current.

Gwen could barely hear herself think above the sound of the water. It was moving far too rapidly and with too much vengeance. Even if she managed to approach, she once again did not have the tools to collect any of its water for Nimueh.

But she still had Merlin’s bell.

Without moving, she rang it and waited.

Nothing happened.

She waited a while longer, and the river continued to rage without paying any attention to her.

Placing one hand on her hip, she glared at it and rang the bell until its peals were echoing in her ears.

Still nothing.

Above her head, something screeched.

Shielding her eyes, she looked up to spot a small black dot circling above her head.

She sincerely hoped it wasn’t a vulture.

A second later she saw that it was not a vulture but another dragon - not Kilgharrah, but a smaller, whiter (and dare she say kinder) fire-lizard. In its mouth, it carried a small object, which it dropped to the earth a couple of feet away from her before it reached the ground itself.

A bucket.

She smiled.

She picked it up and approached the river. The closer she got, the more flecks of water it sprayed on her until she was blinking furiously to be able to see. At its edge, the bank abruptly dropped so that she could not easily reach into it without losing her balance.

Well, she would have to risk it, she decided. Arthur and Merlin were waiting, and she was running out of time to meet Nimueh’s demands.

Cautiously, she felt out the ground where the earth dropped away into water to make sure that it was sturdy. She didn’t put it past Nimueh to leave one last trap for her. When it didn’t give way, she knelt, holding the bucket in one hand and with the other grabbing onto the thickest clump of grass and flowers within reach.

As the bucket descended, the water fought to take it downstream, and she tightened her grip until her knuckles turned pale.

Just a few more inches, and she could get the rim of the bucket below the surface of the water. 

Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself a little farther over the edge.

The hand on the grass started slipping. She jerked the bucket through the water. At the same time, she toppled forward.

The water was icy and cold.

She fought to keep her head above the current and to keep her hold on the bucket, but the water was determined to push her into the river’s depths.

Still clutching the bucket, she went down.

Her lungs screamed.

Her eyes burned.

It felt as though her body were filling with water.

But at least she had a bucket of the river’s water, she thought with irony. After all, Nimueh had never said she had to take it out of the river.

One second, she was being pulled under the current.

The next, she was lying on dry grass, clutching her bucket and hacking water out of her body.

Fie, she never wanted to do that again.

When she could breathe properly, she rolled onto her back and stared up at the clouds. One looked reminiscent of a dragon or a generously feathered bird.

“Well, where is he?” she asked.

She’d sorted the grain, gotten the fleece, and retrieved a bucket of water. What more could Nimueh want?

When no answer came, she sat up and surveyed the land around her. Amid the thick shoots of grass, she spotted a lump of red. Scrambling to her feet, she ran over and knelt next to the body. 

It was Arthur, unconscious.

“Arthur? Arthur, wake up.” She shook him by the shoulder, but he barely stirred. “Arthur!”

“Five more minutes, Merlin,” he groaned. 

She hadn’t flown for six days on the back of a dragon and faced down a petty sorceress just for him to mistake her for Merlin.

Scowling, she slapped him across the cheek.

He bolted upright and looked around wildly before his eyes landed on her. “Gwen? Where am I? How did we get here?” His gaze dropped to his hands. 

“Nimueh released her curse.”

“She did?” 

Well, he didn’t have to sound so shocked about it.

Arthur scrambled to his feet, and Gwen followed. “I can’t believe it.” He turned in a circle. “She did.” He looked so happy that he didn’t know what to do with himself. “Gwen, I can’t thank you enough.”

She beamed at him. “You’re welcome. There’s only one slight problem, though. I’m not sure how we’re supposed to get down from here.”

As a parting gift, Nimueh had left them stranded in the field. On all sides, thick white clouds blocked their exit as far as she could see.

“When we go back home,” Arthur was saying, “would you do me the honor of allowing me to get to know you better?”

Despite her frigid, dripping clothes and her soggy hair, Gwen was glowing with warmth inside. “Of course. On one condition.”

“What is it?”

She looked him dead in the eye. “You promise me to never - never - get on the wrong side of a sorceress again. Or I’ll have Merlin turn you into a ferret.” 

“I promise,” he swore with a hint of merriment in his eye.

It was a little awkward now that he wasn’t a bear (Gwen still had the strange feeling of wanting to pet him), but that was all right. Gwen told him the story of her adventure until they spotted the speck of a dragon wheeling in the sky above them.

With the constraints of Nimueh’s magic no longer upon them, Merlin had left the castle and arrived to take them home, where they belonged.

…

Once upon a time, there was a prince who was rather prattish.

Because of this prattishness, he was cursed to become a bear.

But he did not stay a beast forever.

…

Once upon a time, there was a princess.

She stood with Arthur atop the steps of Camelot’s castle, their fingers interlocked. Gwen’s dress was white, and her hair was filled with pink flowers that were making it awfully hard for Merlin (who was officiating their marriage) not to sneeze.

“Bearly beloved,” the sorcerer began.

Arthur glowered at him.

Ignoring him, Merlin sniffed.

After they finished exchanging their vows, Arthur swooped in for a kiss. In the air, he spun her around, and Gwen laughed because she was home. 

The curse had been broken, and she was surrounded by her family - both by blood and newly found - who loved her. 

And they lived their lives happily-together-ever after.