“The two were married in a resplendent wedding and soon had the beautiful baby prince Arthur wished for. And yet, even with the queen of his dreams, Arthur couldn’t relinquish his suspicions. Just like he did as a teenager at school, he tried to control Guinevere, have her followed, and ensure that she loved him and only him. But still he couldn’t sleep easy, as if he’d known he’d forced her hand. By the time he flung into my cave, ranting for a spell to verify her faithfulness, he was an angry and obsessed man, his soul possessed by fear and jealousy. That day, I told Arthur there was only one magic spell to cure his plight after all these years. . . . He had to let Guinevere leave the castle at nights and do exactly as she wished.”

Merlin gave a rueful grin. “Arthur was apoplectic, of course. I told him that for ten years he’d tried to control his and Guinevere’s fairy tale, denying Guinevere her own story, only for him to be nearly driven mad. A man cannot force his own destiny. A man can only hold it back. All these years he’d been terrified that Guinevere did not love him, but the only way he’d overcome that fear is if he enabled the truth. To restrain Guinevere from finding her real true love—whether Arthur or someone else—meant neither Arthur nor his queen would ever be happy; neither of them would ever know if their love was real. The wound would reopen again and again, the two of them punishing each other over a fairy tale arrested from its true ending.”

The wizard drained the last of his wine. “Needless to say, Arthur found this all treasonous hogwash and left my cave vowing he was finished with me. Indeed, it’s what led him to steal the sex-switching spell from my cave. Soon Guinevere had fled with Lancelot, Arthur had put a death warrant on his own queen’s head, and I had to abandon the precious boy I’d raised from childhood, never to see him again.”

Merlin finally looked at Agatha, his blue eyes glistening. “Now Tedros is reliving his father’s story in front of our very eyes. Indeed, when he becomes king, he’ll inherit the death warrant on his own mother. Everything old is new again, my dear. Only this time you are in Guinevere’s place, unsure whether you can be her son’s queen, just as she was unsure of being his father’s. But Guinevere wasn’t strong enough to be honest with Arthur, even if she knew she couldn’t be happy at Camelot. By failing to be true to herself, she was as blameworthy as the king. But you are a wise, wise girl, Agatha, and Tedros is lucky to have found you. For the difference between you and his mother is that you’re willing to question your story as you live it—and thus stop history from repeating itself. You have a compass in your soul directed towards Good, even if it means setting your beloved prince free to the night and letting him test your love. Even if it means you may lose him at The End. Because neither you nor I knows what will happen, Agatha. Neither of us knows whether your doubts of being a queen are well founded or whether Sophie is Tedros’ true love or whether Sophie will destroy the ring. But unlike Arthur that day he came into my cave, you are willing to let go of the old and accept the unknown of the new. And that is what will keep Good alive, whatever Evil may come.”