[Third Person PoV]
Merlin felt a lump forming in her throat, She blinked rapidly, trying to stop the moisture gathering in her eyes, but a single tear slipped down her cheek anyway. Quickly, she wiped it away with the back of her sleeve and cleared her throat, forcing a shaky smile.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice trembling ever so slightly. "Just give me a moment to compose myself."
The charm, still faintly glowing from the magic, fell to her side as she stopped feeding energy into it. The illusion of the cherry blossoms began to fade—petal by petal dissolving into motes of light that scattered into nothing. The once-vibrant pink glow that had filled the room dimmed, leaving only the faint scent of spring in the air.
Without another word, Merlin turned and quietly walked out of the room. Her footsteps echoed softly down the hall, leaving the others frozen in stunned silence.
Arthur turned slowly toward Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel, his eyes wide and uncertain. "Did… did I mess up?" he asked, voice small and shaking.
Nicholas rubbed his chin, looking utterly perplexed. "Well, I'm not entirely sure what just transpired…" he admitted, shrugging helplessly.
Perenelle, however, sighed and shook her head with gentle amusement. "I'm sure she really loved the gift," she said softly. "She was just… moved to tears, that's all."
"Oh no, what should I do?" Arthur began pacing frantically, running both hands through his hair. "I didn't mean to make her cry! I just wanted to make her smile." His voice rose in panic. He had faced a golem made of steel, fought a demon that was the incarnation of fire—and yet the thought of having made Merlin cry was breaking his composure.
Nicholas crossed his arms and nodded sagely. "I say you give her some space. Space is good. Space allows reflection."
Perenelle rolled her eyes and promptly smacked him on the back of the head. "No, you dingus! You're supposed to go after her! You never let a girl walk away when she's in that kind of state."
"Ow! I was just giving advice!" Nicholas protested, rubbing the spot.
But Arthur didn't wait for them to bicker further. Determination set on his face, and he immediately turned toward the hallway Merlin had disappeared down.
He followed the faint sound of movement into the kitchen, where he spotted her by the counter, dabbing at her eyes. Her reflection glimmered faintly in the nearby window.
"So stupid," Merlin muttered under her breath, scolding herself. "How could I suddenly start crying like that? I'm a bloody Occlumens, for crying out loud…"
"Mel…?" Arthur called gently, his voice careful and hesitant, as if he were afraid to startle her. "Are you okay?"
Merlin turned her head slightly, catching sight of him peeking in from the doorway with a guilty, almost childlike expression. For a moment, her lips twitched upward in a weak smile. She sighed, then motioned him to come closer. "Yeah… I'm sorry for causing such a scene," she said, brushing her hair back.
Arthur stepped into the room, eyes downcast. "I'm sorry too. If I'd known it would—"
"Stop right there," Merlin interrupted softly, raising a hand. "Why are you even apologizing? You don't even know why I was crying." She gave a faint laugh, her tone wavering between embarrassment and fondness. "I loved the gift, Arthur. Truly. Far more than you could ever imagine."
"Really?" Arthur asked, uncertain but hopeful.
Merlin sighed, her shoulders relaxing. "Really. It's just that…" She hesitated, glancing toward the window for a moment. "Okay, what I'm about to show you isn't exactly something I've ever shown anyone else before."
"Not even the other Arthur?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Merlin chuckled softly and shook her head. "No. Not even the old Arthur." She tapped the side of her temple with her staff, and a pink spark flickered from the contact. "But… I think you deserve to see it."
As she waved her staff, the kitchen walls dissolved into shimmering petals. The air shifted—warm and fragrant. When the illusion settled, they were standing in a sunlit meadow surrounded by lush, rolling hills. The sky was painted in a gentle blue hue, and the wind carried a faint floral fragrance. Dozens of cherry blossom trees stretched across the horizon, their petals drifting lazily in the air like pink snow.
Arthur's breath caught. The illusion was so vivid he could feel the cool grass beneath his boots, smell the sweetness of the blossoms, and feel the breeze brushing against his face.
Merlin began walking slowly through the field, "You know…" she began, her voice quiet and thoughtful, "cherry blossoms aren't even my favorite flowers."
Arthur blinked. "Wait—what?"
She smiled faintly at his bewildered look. "I prefer roses," she continued, glancing back at him. "I like how they come in so many colors, and how, no matter the shade, they always manage to look beautiful—and smell almost the same. Consistent and dependable."
"Wha– I thought…" Arthur fumbled over his words, too stunned to process the revelation.
"Cherry blossoms," Merlin said softly, "were my mother's favorite. That's why they hold a special place in my heart." She stopped beneath one of the trees, raising her gaze toward the drifting petals.
Arthur's expression softened as he watched her. The light from the illusion danced across her face, making her appear ethereal—almost divine.
"My mother," Merlin continued, her voice growing more wistful, "was a nun. She rarely left the church, tied to her duties and her vows. But when spring came, she would make an exception. She'd take me here—to this exact place—to see the cherry blossoms bloom." Her lips trembled slightly as she smiled. "We'd sit on the grass for hours, watching the petals fall. Sometimes we'd have a small picnic, and she'd hum old hymns while I tried to catch the petals midair. Those were… some of the happiest moments of my life."
Arthur could only whisper, "I see… I had no idea."
He looked at her then—not as a powerful sorceress or a legendary mage—but as someone human, vulnerable, and heartbreakingly beautiful in her quiet grief and love.
She fell silent, gazing at the memory-made-real before her. The petals danced around her, framing her like a vision out of time.
Arthur did the same, stepping closer to where Merlin stood. The moment his eyes adjusted to the soft glow of the illusion, he froze.
In front of him, not far from where they stood beneath the falling cherry blossoms, was the back of a woman dressed in a nun's habit. Her posture was calm, graceful, her every movement filled with gentle care. She set down a woven picnic basket on the grass, the lid slightly ajar to reveal fresh bread and fruits. Then she crouched, scooping up into her arms a small girl — a younger Merlin, perhaps five or six years old.
The child giggled with pure delight, the kind of laughter untouched by sorrow or fear. Her short hair bounced as she squirmed happily in her mother's embrace, her little hands reaching up toward the drifting petals that danced in the sunlight. Each time she caught one, she proudly showed it to her mother as if it were a treasure.
Arthur and the older Merlin both stood in silence, captivated by the sight. There was something sacred about the moment — fragile and eternal all at once.
After a while, the woman lifted the basket again and began walking down the gentle slope of the hill, still holding the child in her arms. The younger Merlin clung to her mother's neck with both arms, her face buried against her shoulder for a moment before peeking up again to watch the petals flutter by. Then, she blinked — as if noticing them for the first time — and her eyes seemed to meet theirs.
A bright, innocent smile spread across her face. She raised one tiny hand and waved at them both, giggling.
Arthur blinked, startled by how real she seemed. Without even thinking, he found himself waving back, his heart strangely tight in his chest. For just a heartbeat, he could feel the warmth of that memory, the love that bound mother and child together.
And then — as quickly as they had appeared — the figures began to dissolve into a swirl of pink petals that scattered into the wind, carried away by the illusion.
Arthur let out a quiet exhale, his chest feeling heavy yet full.
When he turned toward Merlin, a teasing grin crept onto his lips. "Nice pigtails," he said softly.
Merlin groaned, rolling her eyes with a faint blush. "Shut up."
"I also couldn't help but notice you had two teeth missing," Arthur added with a chuckle. "How adorable."
"If you keep talking," Merlin muttered darkly, her cheeks burning red, "we'll see who's going to be missing a few teeth."
Arthur burst into laughter, nearly doubling over. "Aww, come on, don't be like that! Smile for me!" he teased, leaning toward her and flashing his teeth in exaggerated fashion.
Merlin gave him a side-eye and huffed, turning her face away as she walked ahead, her cloak swaying behind her. Arthur followed, still laughing under his breath.
As they walked through the shimmering illusionary field, Merlin's expression softened. "Knowing how much my mother loved cherry blossoms, I used to put on little performances for her," she said quietly. "Simple tricks at first — light shows, illusions, floating petals — anything to make her smile. She'd clap and cheer as if I'd just moved mountains. She used to say my magic was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. She loved my magic and because of her I loved it too"
Arthur listened in silence, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he heard the affection woven into every word. "It sounds like you really loved your mother," he said gently.
Merlin didn't answer right away. She simply nodded, her eyes glistening in the soft pink light. "How could I not?" she finally whispered. "After my father… took advantage of her, she never once showed me resentment. Not once. She could have hated me for existing — for being a reminder of him — but instead she loved me with everything she had." Her voice trembled slightly but didn't break. "She loved me like any mother would love her daughter"
Arthur's lips curved into a wry smile as he looked down. "Man… fathers are the worst, am I right?"
That earned a genuine laugh from Merlin — light, free, and honest. The sound carried through the illusion like a melody. She knew he understood. They both bore scars from fathers who had made their lives harder than they ever should have been.
Merlin reached out, looping her arm through Arthur's as they continued walking side by side. After a moment of quiet, she spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. "When my mother was on her deathbed… her last wish was simple. She wanted to see the cherry blossoms with me one last time."
Arthur's smile faded as he listened, his heart tightening again.
"I complied, of course," Merlin continued, her tone trembling. "I recreated this illusion for her — every petal, every breeze, every memory we shared here. She smiled as she watched it, said it was perfect." Her voice cracked faintly. "She… she passed away right as the illusion ended. She died smiling, with tears in her eyes."
Merlin fell silent for a moment, her grip on Arthur's arm tightening ever so slightly. When she spoke again, her voice was raw with quiet guilt. "Sometimes I wonder if I had kept the illusion going a little longer… would she have lived a few more seconds? A few more minutes?"
Arthur didn't know what to say — and perhaps there was nothing to say. Instead, he simply squeezed her arm gently, offering silent comfort. Words weren't needed; his presence was enough.
They eventually reached the top of the hill, where a simple wooden cross stood beneath the largest cherry blossom tree. A delicate rosary hung from it, swaying gently in the illusory wind. The petals drifted down like a shower of blessings, collecting around its base.
Merlin paused, watching as Arthur slowly stepped forward. He released her arm and placed his hands together, bowing his head in prayer. The gesture caught her off guard — simple, earnest, and profoundly respectful.
A faint smile curved her lips as warmth filled her chest. She raised her staff, and with a soft hum, she brought it down against the ground. The illusion shattered like glass, petals fading into light until they found themselves once again in the Flamels' cozy kitchen.
Merlin turned toward him, her eyes shimmering. "Your gift, Arthur… is by far one of the best I've ever received," she said softly. "It's like having a piece of my mother close to me again — a constant reminder that she's still with me somehow."
She leaned forward, brushing a few strands of hair from her face, and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Thank you," she whispered. "I'll treasure it dearly."
Arthur froze, his face instantly turning bright red. He stood there awkwardly, hands half-raised, then defaulted to what his instincts told him — giving two shy thumbs up with a sheepish grin.
Merlin laughed quietly, shaking her head.
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