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Heavy is the Crown (Harry Potter) Chapter 75: Lore Drop (3)
🕑 Added 2025-07-20 17:43:18 +0000 UTC[Third person POV]
“So theoretically… I could have that power as well, right? The power to form strong bonds between man and beast?” Arthur asked, eyes gleaming with hope and curiosity as he looked between Sylvia and Merlin.
Before Merlin could respond, Sylvia wriggled out of her grasp and immediately extended her little arms toward Arthur, her expression one of clear demand—she wanted to be with him. Arthur couldn’t help but smile as he stepped forward and gently scooped her up from Merlin’s lap. Sylvia wasted no time settling into his embrace, her small body relaxing as she rested her head on his shoulder, letting out a soft, contented sigh as she closed her eyes, purring faintly.
Merlin let out a visible pout, clearly disappointed that Sylvia didn’t want to stay with her. She sighed in resignation before leaning back in her chair. “Yes,” she finally replied, folding her arms. “Eventually, you’ll gain access to that power. The potential lies dormant within you. And with Sylvia’s help, you’ll be able to assist others in forging those connections between men and beast alike. It’s a rare gift… one that strengthens ties not just between beings, but across hearts.”
Arthur’s eyes lit up further at that. He gently stroked Sylvia’s back as she dozed in his arms. “That’s incredible… What an amazing power to have,” he murmured, before turning his attention fully back to Merlin. “But… what else am I capable of? What is the true extent of the Pendragon bloodline?”
“It depends,” Merlin replied, her tone becoming more thoughtful. “The Pendragon bloodline is a unique one—unlike any other. Its traits don’t express themselves the same way in each person. It’s a living force, shaped by the soul of the individual who carries it.”
Since Sylvia was no longer in her lap, Merlin reached down and picked up Cosmo instead, placing the small creature in her lap and stroking his fur gently. She continued, “For instance, one person born of the Pendragon line might awaken the Eyes of the Dragon, a mystical sight that allows them to perceive the very threads of magic—seeing weaknesses in spells, illusions, and even wards.
Another might inherit the Strength of the Dragon, granting them raw, overwhelming power—the kind that could bring down a mountain with a single blow. And yet another could develop the Dragon Tongue, a rare and ancient talent that lets them speak spells into reality, bypassing incantations or rituals entirely. The list goes on—flame resistance, flight, enhanced instincts, healing… each person manifests their gifts in their own way.”
Arthur listened intently, his mind swirling with all the possibilities. “I see… but what about me?” he asked, voice quieter this time. “I don’t have those magical eyes, and I’m definitely not shattering mountains anytime soon. So what does that mean for me?”
Merlin chuckled softly and shook her head, her expression softening. “Arthur, you’re still only eleven years old. You’ve barely begun to grow into yourself—your body and your spirit are still developing. Most of these abilities don’t awaken until a bit later in life, usually around or after the start of puberty. So no, you haven’t shown any of those powers yet—but that doesn’t mean you don’t have them. You just need time.”
Arthur tilted his head skeptically. “So you don’t know? Or is it that you won’t tell me?” he asked with a teasing grin. “You’re Merlin. I seriously doubt there’s anything you don’t already know.”
Merlin laughed in response. “Alright, fine. You got me. It’s not that I don’t know—it’s that I won’t tell you. Where’s the fun in spoiling everything, after all?”
Arthur let out a satisfied hum, nodding in agreement. “Fair enough. It would be pretty boring if I knew everything ahead of time. I’d rather be surprised when the powers show up.”
There was a short pause before Arthur’s curiosity resurfaced once more. “Then… can I ask about the others? What about King Uther? Or… the original King Arthur? What powers did they manifest?”
Merlin straightened slightly, her tone shifting into one of reverence and memory. “King Uther awakened the physical might of a dragon. His strength was so immense, they say he could shatter castle walls with a single punch—stone and steel alike crumbled before him. As for your namesake… King Arthur possessed the same draconic strength, but in addition, he also awakened the Eyes of the Dragon. With both power and insight, he became one of the greatest champions this world has ever known.”
“Eh? He got two?” Arthur asked, eyes narrowing in confusion. “But you made it sound like you only get one ability from the Pendragon bloodline.”
Merlin nodded patiently, already anticipating the question. “That’s because you do—usually,” she explained, folding her hands in her lap. “Arthur… was a rare case. His second ability didn’t come from the bloodline itself, but from the deep and spiritual bond he formed with Seraphenex.” She spoke gently, hoping the explanation would settle his confusion.
Arthur’s brows knit together, his head slowly tilting to the side in further confusion. “Okay… but if they both had such overwhelming power—King Uther and King Arthur—then how did they lose? How were they ever defeated? That just… doesn’t make sense to me.”
Merlin's face softened, a bittersweet smile appearing as she folded her arms and leaned back in her seat. “Because even with all the might and magic they carried, they both still had one fundamental weakness that no spell or weapon could guard against…”
She paused for a moment, her voice quiet yet resolute.
“…They were still human.”
Arthur said nothing, but his lips parted slightly, eyes focusing on her with unspoken questions.
Merlin continued, her voice now carrying the weight of memory. “Of course, their humanity didn’t manifest in the same way. For King Uther, it was his body—he was strong, yes, unimaginably so. But he still grew tired. He could still be deceived. He could still bleed. During the war against the Northern invaders, he fought without rest for five straight days and nights. And on the sixth… his body gave out. He was mortally wounded. But before he succumbed to death, he embedded Caliburn—the sword—into the stone and declared that only one worthy of its power could draw it forth and become the next King of Camelot.”
Arthur swallowed hard as he processed that, but Merlin’s tone shifted again—this time, gentler… sadder.
“As for King Arthur…” she continued slowly, the sorrow deepening into something heavier. “His weakness wasn’t exhaustion. It was his heart. He was… too kind. Too noble for his own good. During his final battle, he stood face to face with Mordred—his own son. A child he had loved, and watched become twisted by hatred and betrayal. Arthur… couldn’t bring himself to strike him down, not completely. He knew that if he killed Mordred, he would never forgive himself. But he also knew that if he let him live, everything he built would be destroyed.”
She paused for a long moment, her voice quieter now—softer, but also more broken.
“So, he chose both… and neither. As king, he could not let Mordred live. But as a father, he could not live with the guilt of killing his own child. In their final clash… Arthur allowed himself to be stabbed, and in that same instant, he drove his own blade through Mordred’s heart.”
Merlin swallowed, her lip trembling ever so slightly. “A double suicide. A decision born of both duty and despair.”
Arthur remained still, stunned. His face was unreadable—his mouth slightly agape, eyebrows furrowed just enough to betray the swirl of emotion beneath the surface.
Merlin, on the other hand, shifted abruptly. Her sorrow hardened into something colder, her eyes narrowing as she leaned back into her chair with arms crossed. “Honestly… I thought it was selfish,” she muttered, tone edged with bitterness. “He didn’t even give me a chance to say goodbye.”
“I wasn’t there when he died,” she said, her voice now laced with venom “During the coup d'etat, I was imprisoned by that bitch and couldn't be by his side, by the time I finally managed to escape it was too late” Merlin grumbled.
Arthur looked at her weirdly and tilted his head, “I don't think I've ever heard you express such a strong hate towards someone before…”
Merlin scoffed, “I sincerely hope I don't have to see Vivian anytime soon.”
Then, almost as an afterthought, she muttered under her breath, “What in the world was I thinking marrying her?”
Arthur choked on air so violently he doubled over, falling from his chair with a loud thud as he started coughing uncontrollably. He pounded a fist against his chest as his voice broke through rasps and wheezing, “WHAT?!”
He looked up at her with wide, disbelieving eyes. “SHE’S YOUR WIFE?! The Lady of the Lake is your wife?!”
Merlin raised a single finger as if to deliver a calm correction, her face completely unamused. “Ex-wife,” she said firmly. “As in formerly. Like hell I’d stay married to someone that vile.”
Arthur gaped at her in stunned silence, his brain clearly struggling to recalibrate itself around this bizarre revelation.
Comments
Bryan Vargas
For what?! For not wanting to kill his own son?
ItsDragonking
arthur is a pussy al i got to say
ItsDragonking
the body one is the best
