“What manner of foul sorcery is this?” Lady Viviane asked in horror. The back of her head rested upon a silken bag. The rest of her body laid motionless in the docked floating boat grave before her, bobbing up and down on the rushing currents, held from speeding off by only a single line of rope.

“Hello, fair Lady,” Merlin said. “I apologize but I had only enough magics to resurrect your head, but I cannot resurrect your body. For that, we’d need much more help.”

Lady Viviane was speechless.

“And how is it that you were able to resurrect my head?!” she asked.

“Well,” Merlin replied with a shrug. “Let’s just say it runs in the family.”

“What does that even mean?” Lady Viviane screamed. “Whose family?”

Merlin smirked.

“Both of ours, in fact,” he replied. “Now, were you a pure blooded human being, I wouldn’t have been able to resurrect even a finger on you. However, as a daughter of Danu, you had enough residual magic left in your pineal for me to bring your head back from the clutches of death. I mean, I did have to conjure up a small amount of blood and let me just say, that is never an easy task. A truly formidable feat, if I might say so myself.”

Lady Viviane wiggled about in the silken bag. She was trying to shake her head, but all she could do was wiggle about.

“This can’t be happening,” she said. “Why, enchanter? Why did you bring me back without my body?”

“Well, to answer your first question, it’s because your story’s not done yet. These lands still need you to play a role,” Merlin replied. “And to answer your second question. Like I said, it’s tough. You know the saying ‘blood is thicker than water’? It’s not just about the bonds of family ties, but also the fact that—speaking from an alchemic standpoint—it’s got a lot of stuff in it that’s tough to make… I mean, even at my calibre, it’s… why only the Devil or God himself could accomplish these things with such ease. I’m just doing the best I can with what I’ve been given, and a head was all I could manage. There, I said it. Are you happy?”

Lady Viviane did not look happy. In facts, she had been crying for some time now.

The psychopomp looked suspiciously in Merlin’s direction.

Merlin looked back and pretended to cry.

“I know,” the enchanter shouted to the psychopomp as he wiped his dry face with the back of his hands. “I’m always terrible at these things.”

“It’s alright,” the psychopomp replied. “Take your time.”

“Thank you!” Merlin shouted with a wave, then looked at the teary head in the silken bag below.

“I know what will cheer you up,” he said to her, then produced a cute little rabbit from thin air and showed it to Lady Viviane’s head. He held it up by its long ears.

“That’s adorable!” she exclaimed.

Merlin then set it down on his hand. It hopped about his palm, then stopped to clean its face and whiskers with its paws, chittering softly as it wiped away.

Then, he stuffed the rabbit into a sack, one that was made of animal hide and quite rugged. Merlin then proceeded to slam the sack against the ground forcefully, again and again.

“What are you doing?!” she cried out and shook about in the bag. “Stop that this instant! Take it out!”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve hurt it!” she said as she sobbed some more. “Check on it, see if it’s alright.”

“Excellent, go on ahead!” he said, then proceeded to stuff Lady Viviane’s head into the infinite sack before cinching it shut with the top drawstring. “And watch your head!”