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“So today I died,” Leon opened the meeting.
There was a collective groan from the other members of the small group.
This was not how Mithian had expected her afternoon to go. She was sitting in a small chamber with King Arthur and his husband Merlin, the Lady Morgana and her wife Guinevere, and Mithian’s own husband of two months, Sir Leon.
At Leon’s admittance, there seemed to be a contest of who’s could grumble at Leon the loudest, and Arthur won.
“Not again, Leon,” Mithian heard in the King’s exasperated voice over the others.
“Again?” Mithian interjected, incredulous. “Tell me, dear husband, exactly how many times have you died?”
“Not as many as Merlin,” was Leon’s defensive response.
Before Mithian could reply, Merlin interrupted with a defense of his own.
“That’s not fair,” Merlin complained. “You try fighting a bloodthirsty beast every other week and see how you fare.”
Leon looked at him deadpan and replied, “That’s literally what knights do, that is my job,” to which Merlin retorted, “Well try doing it without armor then huh!”
The conversation was spiraling out of control quickly, so Mithian opened her mouth to calmly get it back on track.
“How many times, dear?” she asked pointedly, and perhaps a bit loudly, but definitely not yelling, no matter what anyone else said.
Everyone looked at her, shocked, then slowly turned to Leon, who was trying to look innocent and failing utterly.
“Uh, less than ten, I think?” Leon replied after a moment.
Mithian took that to mean well over ten. She wondered what the other members’ death tallies were. Gwen would have just become immortal in the last year after her marriage to Morgana. She wondered if becoming immortal herself somehow would put her at risk of dying, even if it would only be temporary.
“Will my death rate go up now that I’ve joined the club?” she asked, trying to sound casual and not apprehensive.
“I can arrange for that,” Morgana replied, entirely seriously, as far as Mithian could tell.
That was not at all the reply Mithian had been looking for. She was relieved when Gwen demonstrated that she, at least, did not share Morgana’s enthusiasm for the idea, as she smacked her wife’s arm lightly with the back of her hand.
As much as she and Morgana had in common, having grown up in royal households as ladies, Mithian suspected Gwen was the only sensible one of the group and therefore rearranged her mental plans to seat herself next to Gwen whenever possible in an attempt to retain her own sanity. It might be prudent in any case simply to avoid any misguided assassination attempts by Morgana.
Luckily, despite Morgana’s comment, Gwen took Mithian’s question seriously. “When I joined the club,” she started in a reassuring tone, “I hoped I could keep living my life like normal, but I have actually died twice already, not counting tag.” While Gwen’s tone had remained reassuring, Mithian was decidedly not reassured. “I think the universe puts less effort into protecting you knowing that it won’t be permanent,” Gwen concluded.
“By the universe, she means me,” Merlin muttered loudly, plainly wishing to be heard.
While Merlin’s comment was not intended to be reassuring as Gwen’s had, it did have that effect, as Mithian had never needed to be saved by Merlin in the past, so perhaps she would still be able to avoid death now even without his protection.
Gwen pulled out and perused a sheet which Mithian could see was titled “Death Tally”.
“So the tally is two deaths for me, Leon definitely has more than 10, we estimate it as closer to 15 by now, if we count the deaths that happened before he knew he was immortal. Though only eight since he’s known.”
“Nine, counting today,” Merlin corrected. Gwen nodded and added a tally mark under Leon’s name.
“For Merlin,” Gwen continued, “well we don’t even count his deaths, we lost track at 58 in the first year we realized his immortality. Morgana is trying to catch up to Arthur. She’s at six currently and he’s at eleven or twelve depending on if you count the goose incident.”
The ridiculousness of that statement caught Mithian off guard, and before she could pause long enough to sense the tension in the room, she asked, “The goose incident?”
A near explosion happened, with multiple club members voicing their version of the story loudly enough that Mithian could not pick out a single one. She looked to her husband, hoping to share an exasperated look at the silliness but stopped short when she saw him just as invested in the argument as the others.
Finally, Gwen made her voice heard, reaching a volume unexpected from such a seemingly sweet individual. “STOP!” she commanded. “We agreed that a six month waiting period before deciding was necessary, and that involves NO discussions of it!”
The others did fall quiet at that, but going by Merlin’s and Morgana’s mutinous looks, it was hardly by choice.
“Anyways,” Arthur brought the discussion back around. “The point of this meeting was to inform you of the limitations of soulmate immortality. It has all the usual limitations: dragon-forged blade, complete burning, and voluntarily walking through the veil. Those would kill any of us except Merlin, who has survived all three. Gwen and you, however, should also avoid deaths by a few rare types of magical poison, any exposure to dragonfire, or dying by any means during the time when your spouse is temporarily deceased, as those are more likely to be permanent for those with soulmate immortality. Luckily, Gaius has developed an antidote that works on most of the magical poisons, so you can carry it around with you and take a drop if you think you’re dying of poisoning. And as for the dragonfire, there are only two dragons left in Albion, and Merlin is the last dragonlord, so that probably won’t be a problem as long as you’re never alone with Kilgharrah. But in general, you should probably try to avoid dying whenever Leon is on official knights business, just in case.”
Mithian couldn’t help but comment, “I was planning on avoiding death as much as possible anyways, though I appreciate the warning.”
“But where’s the fun in that?” Morgana asked in a dark tone that mimicked playfulness. “Does that mean you’re not participating in our game of assassination tag? I’m currently winning, with 13 confirmed kills, all my dear brother, of course.”
Mithian was aware that Morgana was just trying to invite her into the group activity, but something about her sly tone and too-wide smile made Mithian uneasy. Trying to maintain formality, she replied with a cordial “thank you for the invitation, but I think I’ll abstain for now.”
When Gwen agreed with her, Mithian was affirmed in her assessment of Gwen as the only other sensible person in the room. However, Gwen then added, “We try to stick to tried and true methods for tag, so we probably shouldn’t test anything before your first natural death.”
With that one sentence Mithian lost hope of resisting the absurdity the others seemed to have fallen into. If even Gwen was talking about participating in a lethal game of tag as if it were regular like a ball or a hunt, there was no way her own sense of normality would remain intact.
Still reluctant to give up, Mithian muttered to herself, “okay, I’m ignoring that.” Louder, she asked, “Is there any way to know for sure? We’re just assuming I’m immortal because Leon is, and we’re assuming that we’re soulmates. As much as I’d like to believe we are, what if there’s someone 300 years into the future that’s his true soulmate? How do you know for sure it’s me?”
The group looked to Leon, so Mithian did as well. Quietly, intimately, he answered her. “You now that pain in your leg from the riding accident you had as a child?” Leon asked. After waiting for her nod of confirmation, he continued, “Has it pained you at all since our marriage?”
It hadn’t. Mithian was surprised she hadn’t noticed it before. It used to pain her whenever she walked or rode too much, but even with all the activities being a visiting royal requires, she hadn’t had pain at all in the past weeks.
Leon must have read her face, as he continued, even quieter than before, “Also, you haven’t gotten any bruises from our, uh, nightly activities.” He was nearly whispering by the end, but by the repressed snickers from those around the table, Mithian assumed the others heard it.
Her hand absently reached up to touch her neck where the night before, Leon had definitely done enough to cause a bruise, but instead of feeling tenderness, she felt nothing out of the ordinary.
Arthur, the only one of the rest of them who wasn’t yet in a fit of laughter, continued the conversation as if it were perfectly civilized to discuss one’s nightly activities with members of multiple royal families present. “Yes, well, immortality also comes with the benefit of quick and complete healing,” he contributed.
Merlin also made a contribution, winking at Mithian and adding “It’s a bit disappointing sometimes, if you know what I mean.” He gave Arthur a thorough once-over, and Mithian could feel the last of her hold on mundane reality slipping away.
Arthur cleared his throat and declared, “Well, that concludes todays meeting. Next month we’ll talk about what to expect when encountering Druids and creatures of magic.”
Although the meeting was not what she had expected, Mithian thought to herself that perhaps she could learn to live with this new perspective. Thinking of how even the formerly practical Gwen fell into the absurdity, she realized it was likely inevitable and she may as well embrace it. She left the room thinking up ideas for assassination tag.