Epilogue

Hi, everyone!

I very much wanted to post this last night. But I held off.

So, this is...kind of the end. But also the beginning, in a way, since there's going to be a sequel. I'm not sure how long it'll take to get my crazy imagination in order so I can start writing, but hopefully it will be soon because I'm really into Merlin right now! (yet again :D) In future any info on the sequel will be on my profile until the sequel itself is actually posted.

Warnings: I have a confession...I'm in love with crazy plot twists. So I apologize for anything in advance. Bear in mind that "all may not be as it seems". :)

Thank you again for all your follows/faves/reviews!

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

Please enjoy the finale of The Reasons Why They Don't Know Me!

He'd almost forgotten how beautiful Bernicia was.

The view from the highest castle balcony was truly stunning, even at nighttime.

The land of Camelot had its open places, but most of the country was covered in forests of various density. Bernicia's landscape consisted mainly of lofty highlands, with narrow strips of woodland running between towering moors. The land was as wild as its people (or perhaps the other way around). He'd missed the vast open hillsides, the stony brooks, the familiar touch of the never-ending wind.

He felt like he could breathe here.

Four months.

That was how long he'd been home now; four months.

At times it felt like he'd never left; like the ten years of wandering alone, drinking constantly, and fighting alongside the King of Camelot had never happened.

Then he'd meet an old friend in the market, or see a unfamiliar building along a familiar road, and it would hit him again like a physical blow; just how long he'd been gone. It especially hurt to see his old family home; all of the apple trees he remembered as saplings had grown into maturity. However, it did help to see that the eldest trees were virtually unchanged by only ten years.

Then, from people in general, there were the looks; speculative looks, confused looks, even angry ones. At first there had been speculation over who he was. Before long, as word had spread, it had turned into speculation over where he had been.

He told himself that he didn't care. To prove it, he didn't try to hide where he'd been. If someone asked, he told them. Not many people did, but when asked, he didn't whisper the answer.

The real whispering had started shortly after the stares. Rumors began to circulate, even more numerous now that they could be at least partly based on truth.

Been in the south, he has…Spent a couple years in Camelot, I heard…Drinks like a fish, they say…He was a Knight of Camelot? Ha!

He'd been afraid of words like "traitor" for a while. But that had mostly taken care of itself when he admitted, more than once, that he felt no loyalty towards Camelot or King Arthur. Not anymore.

"If I did, you'd think that I would've stayed there."

Still, gossip ran wild, even months later. And he did care.

What saved him then was the fact that he had much more pressing things to worry about. Like struggling to adjust to Bernician life again. Keeping away from the tavern. And dealing with his family.

His uncle had wanted to throw him in the dungeons initially (the bit about being a Knight of Camelot really hadn't gone over well; thankfully his father had managed to talk the fuming king out of it). His aunt and great-aunt had fussed over him intolerably. His eldest female cousin had tried to take his head off with a throwing axe. His youngest female cousin had, at first, been absolutely terrified of him. His other aunt had come thundering in from the next kingdom the minute she learned of his return and had scared him and the rest of the castle residents nearly out of their wits. He was just grateful that he'd already gone over this stage with his eldest cousin and the twins.

His father…what he had done to his father still hurt, though the older man made it more than clear that it didn't have to matter, that they could forgive and move on. He constantly trying to do so, but it was terribly hard to do so. The guilt of years did not fade away overnight.

Meanwhile, his mother had gone sporadically between scolding him viciously and…well, mothering him (which was nice). When she wasn't tending to his sister.

My sister.

She would survive, though it was unclear if she'd ever recover fully. Though relieved that she would live, it still pained him to see her now. Every time he saw her, spoke to her, she seemed so empty. And when he tried to feel through whatever empathic connection they had…she seemed empty there too.

He wasn't sure if anyone else noticed, but it was more than her agile mind and quick wit that seemed absent; it was something that shouldn't just be able to up and disappear. In her present state, he wasn't even sure that she noticed it, either.

He did. And it terrified him. For one thing, without it she would never seem quite like the sister he knew. And for another…

Best not to think about it too hard. It's nothing; I'm sure there's a simple explanation. Well, okay, when is anything ever simple with magic? Case-in-point: Merlin. But Merlin aside...

Maybe he should ask his mother about it. She'd know.

This evening, as he headed down a partially-open staircase in the direction of his chambers, a flickering torch in a corner caught his eye. While he was still gazing at it, the flames leapt up abnormally high and seemed to change color.

He jumped back so violently that he collided with the nearest wall. And when he looked at the torch again, it seemed perfectly normal.

Forcing himself to breathe normally, he continued on his way to his chambers. The whole way there he spent busily convincing himself that it was nothing.

Just a trick of the northern wind.

The End