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With two older brothers, an older sister, and both of his parents still fit and fighting despite the fact they were well into their sixties, Prince Elric of Kent had very little in life to worry about, politically speaking. There was always someone better suited than he to go off to a handle a crisis, or entertain guests at feasts, or freat over the strength of their alliances. Instead, Elric was happy to train with the knights, to go off on patrols, to take up the lute, and (in general) to do whatever he so pleased at the moment. No one cared much for the third prince—he would never see himself on the throne. His eldest brother had two young children of his own already, and a third on the way.
Elric was more than happy to sit in meetings instead. He would study the situation, give counsel, and then leave the rest up to the people more versed in politics. There were dozens of people at court more qualified, more charming, and more polished than he.
Which was why he couldn’t understand for the life of him why his father sent him to Camelot for the summit arranged by the still-green King Arthur.
Only the spring before his eldest brother had travelled through Nemeth to the kingdom for the coronation. Upon his return, he’d spoken about how King Arthur seemed a great deal more open to cooperation than his father, Uther, had, but Elric still held his private reservations close to his heart. As a child and into his teenage years, he’d visited Camelot somewhat regularly and, being the closest in age to Arthur, always found himself alongside the stubborn and arrogant prince.
In private, there would be glimmers of kindness in (then-Prince) Arthur’s heart. Once in their teens, Elric witnessed Arthur sneak a bundle full of food to a curly-haired chambermaid on her way out of the castle.
But those moments would disappear as quickly as they appeared. Around the knights and minor nobles, Arthur turned nasty: sneering at servants, bullying the new squires, expecting his every whim to be catered to. He was both prince and only son and, therefore, Camelot’s golden boy.
In spite of it all, it seemed he always had something to prove, though Elric could never work out to whom, exactly, that person was.
Regardless. He was an adult now. He’d been king for a year; he was inviting the kingdoms for talks of alliances.
Surely, things had to be different.
Right?
The small party arrived in Camelot shortly before midday. The spring air was full of sunny warmth and, overhead, birds called to one another as they sailed through the endless blue sky.
Though it had been nearly eight winters since Elric had been to Camelot, the spirals of the castle were still just as he remembered—grand and imposing.
The horses came to a stop in the courtyard and as Elric’s footman opened the carriage doors, the sight of Prince—no, King—Arthur strolling through the courtyard greeted them. He looked older since they’d last seen each other (which was no surprise due to the time in between them and likely the fact he’d lost his father) but there was something else about him, too. The King carried himself straighter, his head high and chin raised. His eyes, though, looked weary. The look of a man who’d been through too much in a short period of time.
“Prince Elric, welcome to you and to your party. I trust the trip from Kent was smooth?” the king said. He smiled widely, but it didn’t meet his eyes.
“It was,” Elric confirmed as he stepped out of the carriage, his knees stiff and back aching. He bowed and looked up again and, he noticed, there seemed to be a few strands of grey woven into the king’s blond hair at the temples.
“Wonderful,” he said. A breeze blew through the courtyard and rustled the king’s hair. “We’ll get you settled in for the time being. I’m sure you’ll want to rest after your journey.”
Elric nodded. His own servants, as well as a few from Camelot, began to unload the trunks from the carriages.
“Merlin, here, is my personal manservant. He will show you to your chambers.” King Arthur clapped the shoulder of the man standing behind him. He looked to be roughly the same age as the king, with wide blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, and hair that stood up at the edges. Elric pursed his lips. It was a welcoming gesture, to be sure, to have the king’s personal servant show them to their rooms.
But it didn’t sit right with Elric how Merlin was frowning at the prospect. The servant ducked his head toward the king and whispered something in his ear, too low for Elric to pick up on.
King Arthur waved his hand. “Come on, Merlin. I can manage on my own for an hour.”
Merlin, still frowning, muttered something under his breath as he walked up to the carriage and hauled a bag from the back.
“Honestly, I swear he thinks I’ll die if I’m on my own for a day.” He shook his head. “Idiot.”
Elric frowned. Merlin certainly wasn’t the same servant he’d seen attending to Arthur the last time he was here, which wasn’t exactly a surprise given the years it had been. Still, a nasty bit of gossip flared up in Elric’s mind—back then, rumour had it that Prince Arthur couldn’t keep a servant for more than a few weeks before they were begging to be transferred to another part of the castle. For a while, the word was that the staff had taken to rotating through who would be taking care of him, instead of assigning one man to look after him more permanently.
If he went around publicly calling them idiots, Elric couldn’t say that rumour was any surprise.
“This way, Your Highness,” Merlin said with a nod of his head. His shoulders seemed tense; his back a knot of muscle as he hauled the bags.
Elric frowned as he watched the head of black hair head toward the castle doors. Meanwhile, King Arthur was laughing away at one of the jokes a knight at his side made. He was, it seemed, completely unaware of the stress his servant was under.
How unfortunately typical.
Elric followed Merlin with his own servants to the East Wing of the castle. Along the way, they made small talk about the weather (unseasonably warm), the road (free of bandits and fallen trees), and a tournament coming up in Nemeth in the summer.
Finally, they reached a small cluster of apartments at the end of a corridor. “This will be you,” Merlin said to Elric and opened the door. Inside, the chambers were large and sunny, the South facing window threw sunlight across the stone floor and painting adorning the wall. A four-poster bed sat opposite a fireplace and the wardrobe along the far wall was more than spacious enough to hold what Elric had brought for the next two weeks.
“I’ll have someone send up lunch for you shortly,” Merlin said. He started to set the bag down next to the wardrobe for Elric’s servant, Thomas, to unpack. As Merlin bent down, though, his left leg buckled underneath him. He sank to his right knee, dropped the bag, and grabbed at his left before he hit the floor completely.
“Are you alright?”
Merlin winced as he stood and Thomas rushed to give him a hand. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled as he massaged his finger against the side of his leg. “I’m alright, Your Highness. My apologies for your bag.”
Elric frowned in concern. “That’s just clothing, it’s fine. Should I send for a physician?”
“No, really, I’m fine. Besides, the court physician has already seen to it as much as he could. Shouldn’t be more than a few more weeks before it’s back up to strength.”
“Hm.” Elric crossed his arms over his chest. Merlin wasn’t meeting his eyes—Elric got the distinct impression that there was something about it that he wasn’t willing to share.
“So,” Merlin said as he stretched out. “Anything in particular I should tell the cook to send up? Or anything to avoid? You didn’t hear this from me, but the meat pie leaves something to be desired.”
“I’ll trust your judgment on that, then. You’re dismissed.”
Merlin made his way to the door, but as he passed Elric, the light fell on the side of his face and illuminated his cheekbone and the side of his eye.
What Elric had thought to be a shadow was clearly the last greens and yellows of a healing bruise.
“Merlin, what happened to your face?”
Instantly, he froze. His fingers reached up and skimmed the corner of what must have been a nasty black eye only a few weeks before. As quickly as he touched it, though, Merlin dropped his hand. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing,” he confirmed. “I’m just a bit clumsy, that’s all.”
Before Elric could follow up with anything, Merlin was through the door and the heavy wood banged shut in the frame.
Elric shot a look to Thomas, who was eyeing him back with the same concern wrought in his brow.
“I’ll keep my eye on him,” Thomas promised.
“Good.” Elric gave a frim nod.
Arthur, for all his annoyances, never seemed like the type to take it that far. But, then again, he never did seem to know where to draw the line. Would his anger get the better of him?
And for Merlin—who could he tell if it had been the king to strike him?
Elric shook his head as he went for a glass of the wine that had been left out for them. God willing, there would be a simple explanation for all of this mess.
The feast that night was a grand affair. Which was to be expected, really, as in Elric’s experience most feasts were trying to outdo the last grand feast. This was especially true whenever nobles were visiting from other kingdoms and, now, Camelot had nobility from across the land packed into the court.
Wine flowed, music echoed off the buttresses, and the steady hum of chattering punctuated by laughter filled the hall. A particularly pretty looking Lady from Oeria kept batting her eyelashes at Elric, who felt his face warm pleasantly in return, but according to the chatter Thomas had picked up on she was recently married (albeit somewhat unhappily, it seemed) and Elric wasn’t about to poke that bear with a stick.
Instead, he sipped the wine and stood beside an old count from Mercia who seemed to be waiting for anyone to stand still long enough to recount his glory days.
Elric hummed and nodded and awed politely when the story allowed for it, but his eyes kept drifting towards King Arthur and Merlin. The servant had not strayed far from the king’s side the entire feast. Even now that dinner was over, he still stood against a wall not five paces from where the king was dancing with some northern princess.
Merlin’s eyes kept flickering around the room in a way that Elric could only describe as paranoid. What was he afraid of? Elric tightened his grip around his chalice and turned back to the count. He tried to put the servant out of his mind, but it was becoming more and more difficult by the moment. Most, if not all, the other servants had been dismissed. They were off in the kitchens, helping themselves to the leftovers of the feast and their own barrels of mead. Or they were off to bed, or in the adjoining corridor dancing away, or doing literally anything aside from waiting around for a master who had no need for them.
At any rate, though, the party carried on. Elric drank. He did end up dancing with the Lady who’d been making eyes at him, but managed to sneak away before one turned into two. After that, he fell in with a group of men glued around a man who was recounting his pilgrimage—the destination of which turned out to be every tavern in the land.
At the end of it all, a sharp bark of laughter came from across the hall. Elric craned his head to see what the commotion was.
In the corner, a group of knights from Camelot and the surrounding lands were gathered around, some of them doubled over in laughter. In the midst of it all stood Merlin, too, his face flushed and a drink in his hand.
Good, thought Elric. He deserved to have some fun too.
One of Carleon’s kights—a handsome fellow with swooping dark hair and a full beard—slung his arm around Merlin’s shoulder, gave him a wink, and then let him go in favour of holding his tankard out to be filled with mead.
Out of nowhere, the king ct through the crowd. He came up in between Merlin and the knight and stood there, jaw tense, with a frown plain across his face.
Next to him, Merlin rolled his eyes. He said something, as well, but Elric was too far away to even begin to make out what it was.
The king scoffed and rolled his eyes in return. His arms stayed crossed over his chest and the frown stayed on his face, even as the rest of the group began to fall back into a pleasant conversation.
Elric didn’t miss the way that Merlin stayed a step behind the king the rest of the night.
In the morning, Elric woke early, as he tended to do regardless of the hour he’d stayed out until the night before. He groaned and wiped his hand over his face as he cursed his body. His head felt heavy and a persistent ache started at the base of his skull and radiated outward. Thomas had not yet risen either—the hour was still too early and so, for the time being, Elric was on his own.
He rose with a groan and shuffled across the room to the water basin. The cold water shocked his system; he shook his head as he jolted back to alertness. Frigid droplets raced down his cheeks. Outside, birds were beginning to sing. Elric silently cursed their cheeriness at this ungodly hour. Did they not know that half the castle would be hungover this morning?
It was hardly any time, though, before a light knock sounded at the door and Thomas slipped inside, chipper as ever, with his hands full of a plate of eggs, sausage, and toast that made Elric’s stomach both turn and jump at the same time.
“Here you are, Your Highness,” he said as he set it down on the table. Thomas made his way over to the curtains and drew them open. Light spilled in, hot and bright, and Elric scrunched his eyes closed with a groan.
“Everything alright?”
Elric sat in the chair and stared at the small mountain of food. “How the hell are you so cheerful this morning? I saw you drinking as much ale as that knight twice your size.”
“Oh! Here,” Thomas said. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small vial of a liquid that seemed both the colour and consistency of mud. “Hangover cure. Courtesy of Merlin.”
“Why is a servant brewing and passing out remedies?” Elric took the vial from Thomas all the same and held it up for inspection, even if he didn’t know exactly what he was looking for.
“He’s the apprentice to the court physician, didn’t you know?”
“What on top of being the king’s manservant?”
Thomas only shrugged as he moved to the wardrobe and began to rifle through it, picking out Elric’s clothing for the day. “If you don’t want it, I’m sure someone else will be more than happy to take it off your hands. I felt like death warmed over when I first woke—now it’s as if I slept with the angels.”
It seemed a mistake to have one man be both the king’s manservant and the physician’s apprentice. What would happen if he took a few days off? Or fell ill? Or vacated his post?
More than that—did they just expect him to keep working both jobs forever? The castle couldn’t be left without a physician. And with the way that King Arthur acted around Merlin, Elric doubted he’d be fine letting his manservant go either. It seemed they had set themselves up in an impossible situation and, at that, one which left no time for poor Merlin to rest. They would work him to death at this rate.
Elric let out a small sigh and unstoppered the vial. The scent was nasty and made his stomach backflip once more. “Well,” he said to Thomas and raised the glass. “Bottoms up.”
Here was the thing—Elric treated Thomas well. He made sure he had good wages and time off and kept his ears open about how the man (even though he was just barely a man) was feeling.
But that didn’t mean he ever fancied trading places with him.
Servants had long hours. They got the ends of feasts. They were busy nearly constantly and their work required rigour and skill.
So, no, Elric never envied them.
But they certainly shouldn’t be treated badly —not the way that Merlin seemed to be.
It was an oddity, though. Around Camelot, the servants, in general, seemed happy and well-fed and even Thomas reported he only heard the most typical of grumblings about the job, but he hadn’t heard any serious discussion of the state of their castle.
And then there was Merlin. He didn’t seem to fit in, no matter how Elric looked at it. The first few days in Camelot blurred into a week, and in between the talks of alliance building and trade and defence, Elric understood less and less about the king’s manservant.
One morning, when Elric was once again up much too early, he ran into Merlin scurrying through the palace corridors with a bundle of papers in his hands.
Merlin gave him a polite nod as he headed down in the opposite direction, but after a few strides a resounding clatter rang off the stone arches. “Ah, damn.”
Elric turned. The papers that had been in his hands a moment ago were spread over the floor. He knelt down and began to gather them, too.
“It’s alright, you don’t have to,” Merlin said as he scooped up the parchment in his thin arms.
“It’s no trouble. I couldn’t sleep anyway—I need something to do.” Elric picked up the last paper and handed it to Merlin, but not before he caught a glimpse of the writing on the page. It was slanted, but neat, and it was also seemed to reference the highly secret defence plans they’d made yesterday.
“It’s for Arthur,” Merlin added quickly and more than somewhat defensively. “Just some thoughts on how to move forward with these things in the coming days.”
Elric nodded and kept his face expressionless. “And, King Arthur, does he normally get you to do these types of things?”
Merlin shrugged. “It’s not a problem. I don’t really do much.”
“I’m sure you do more than you give yourself credit for.” Having a servant act as an advisor… Elric shook his head. What was King Arthur playing at?
A faint flush rose in Merlin’s cheeks. “It’s really nothing.”
“Well, I hope you’re getting paid for doing all this ‘nothing’.”
“Ha, as if.” Merlin shook his head. “Thank you for the help, Prince Elric.” He took off down the hall once again without waiting to be dismissed (which, if he was being honest, Elric wasn’t even sure he had the power to dismiss him but it would be more proper).
Elric scratched his head. Merlin, Merlin, Merlin.
Elric wasn’t one to eavesdrop. He wasn’t. Really. When he was young, his mother taught him it was impolite and his sister was never one to shy away from clapping him around the ears if she ever caught him around the corner as she talked with knights about the spring flowers or the other ladies about which knight was the most handsome.
But, despite that, castles lend themselves to eavesdropping, even if it is unintentional. All the dark corners, the shadowy corridors, the echoing halls…it was hard to avoid overhearing certain things and, if one wanted to ensure total privacy, then one had to go to lengths to be out of earshot.
King Arthur certainly did not.
It wasn’t a deep conversation (at least Elric didn’t think it was deep) but it seemed intense and private nonetheless.
“Really,” the king said, his voice sharp. “Really, Merlin. You’re going to do this now?”
“All I’m saying is that you don’t have to. Not if you don’t want to. Not if you’re not completely sure. It can always wait—”
“You’re an idiot, you know that, right? Sometimes I wonder if there’s a brain in your head at all.”
“Sure, sure. But, you don’t have to make the announcement. I’ve been thinking lately and it could bring strife. What if the other kingdoms don’t agree? I don’t want to be responsible for causing a war—”
“Merlin. We’ve been working on this for months. You really think I would walk back now? That I’m not a man of my word?’
“No, it’s not that, but Sire—”
“Merlin.”
“Arthur.”
“We can discuss this later, in private. Unless you’d rather muck out the stables?”
Elric, who had been frozen still at the far end of the corridor, frowned. Making his manservant muck out the stables? That was hardly the job of someone of that rank. Although he had no clue what the two were speaking about, it wasn’t hard to pick up on the fact that both of their emotions seemed ready to boil over.
“You wouldn’t.” Merlin sounded at his wit’s end.
“Do you want to test me? I would.”
“Fine,” Merlin grumbled. “I’ll drop it. For now.”
“Get back to the kitchen, alright? We’ll both do our jobs for today.” At that, King Arthur’s voice did seem to soften. “I have confidence in this.”
A door creaked opened and a Lord and knight came into the corridor, loudly discussing the outcome of a game of cards. Apparently, the lord owed the knight five pieces of silver. It didn’t matter, though, because all they managed to do was to drown out the end of Merlin and King Arthur’s conversation.
Elric rolled his shoulders and shook his head. Mucking out stables, offering advice, working with the court physician… was there anything that Merlin didn’t do? And, on top of it all, he was being called an idiot regularly? It was really, truly wrong.
As the rest of Elric’s time in Camelot passed without further incident, he was beginning to think that maybe he’d gotten it wrong, especially that first day. Maybe Merlin really was clumsy. Yes, the king could be a righteous prick, but maybe Merlin thought it was worth it for the wages and security. He couldn’t begrudge anyone for that.
On top of it all, Thomas had heard from the other servants that King Arthur and Merlin’s relationship was not something to be meddled with. The two were always together—the king and his shadow.
Elric didn’t love it, but he had learned, as a royal, there were things to let go of in life. Somethings that couldn’t be changed, even if he felt they were deeply unfair.
That was, of course, until one night. They were due to leave Camelot in a few days’ time and, the next day, the king had some sort of announcement he wished to make. There were whispers of anticipation (of course they were) and Elric was certain that he would make some gold off a bet with a knight (there was no way that King Arthur was going to announce a marriage).
Elric was leaving dinner. Thomas had already been dismissed; there wasn’t more than a small handful of people still lingering about in the hall and those that were still there were getting ready to call it a night.
On his way out the door, Elric glanced back. King Arthur and Merlin were standing in a corner, far away from the rest of the crowd that was still chattering away. The shadow from the alcove cover most of their bodies—the candlelight did not reach them there.
The king was sipping on wine and, as he drank, he was leaning in closer and closer to Merlin.
And then he finished the chalice. Tipped it up and everything. He set it on the windowsill and leaned closer to Merlin, whispering something in his ear.
As he pulled away, a smirk across his stubborn face, one of the king’s hands wandered. It was a quick movement, but quite unmistakable. King Arthur groped Merlin’s bottom.
King Arthur didn’t give Merlin a second glance as he walked over the rest of the group. He raised his arms wide, clapped one of his knights on the shoulder, and easily joined in the conversation as if nothing had happened.
Elric glanced back toward Merlin. The servant gathered the empty chalice and an armful of dishes. His face burned red all the way down to his neck and up to the tips of his ears.
Elric swore under his breath. He pushed the door open and left the hall, anger bubbling hot and wild in his core.
That was what happened when he ignored his gut. He’d known something wasn’t right there—that wasn’t a typical relationship between master and servant—and he’d failed to act. Merlin, the poor soul, needed a way out of there. That much was clear.
King Arthur, on the other hand, hadn’t changed at all since he was a boy. He was still as entitled and arrogant as ever. God help the kingdom.
It was difficult to find a moment when the king wasn’t either keeping Merlin glued to his side, or sending Merlin off to do some ridiculous task that definitely wasn’t within the scope of his duties, or staring at Merlin from across the room, but Elric did manage to catch the man the next afternoon just after lunch.
“Merlin! Just the man I’ve been looking for.” They were in the hallway just outside the kitchens.
Merlin, who had a tray full of food (undoubtedly lunch for the king) paused in his tracks. “Me?”
Elric smiled as he tried his best to keep things light and friendly. “Are there other Merlins?”
“Well, I suppose not.”
“Yes, well.” Elric swallowed uncomfortably. Why did this have to be so difficult? He’d planned out what he would say with Thomas, but the words seemed to stick in his throat. “Um, so, the thing is that you seem good at your job. Competent.”
“Er, thank you?” His knuckles whitened around the edges of the tray.
“And, if I may say so, undervalued.”
Merlin let out a small chuckle. “I’ve been saying that much for years, now.”
“So, I’ve been thinking, if you’d like to be, well, be valued, there are positions available in the Royal household of Kent. I can’t say that your rank would stay the same, but we do offer generous wages and plenty of time off, especially around feasts. My manservant, Thomas, would be happy to speak—”
“I’m flattered, really, but I’m not interested in any other positions at the moment.” Merlin’s smile was painfully fake. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” He started to walk away, but Elric reached forward and wrapped his hand around his bony wrist.
“Merlin,” he said, soft. “I’ve seen the way that he treats you. You deserve to be safe. Protected.”
“I—” Merlin’s mouth opened and closed again. “My place is at Arthur’s side.”
“Do you believe that? Truly?” Elric frowned. “Or did he tell you that?”
“Merlin! There you are, I’ve been—”
Luck, it seemed, was not on Elric’s side. The king stood at the corner, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open. His gaze darted down to where Elric’s hand rested on Merlin’s wrist. In an instant, his brow furrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down.
“I’ll thank you to let go of him.”
Elric dropped his touch. As a prince, he was safe. But as a servant, Merlin might not be.
“Arthur,” Merlin started, “it’s fine. It’s nothing.”
“Prince Elric. Our kingdoms have been long allies—”
“Arthur.” Merlin stepped in front of Elric, directly in between the king and him. “I am fine. Prince Elric was simply making sure I am happy in my position—” Merlin glanced over his shoulder before turning back to the king— “which I assured him, I am. Now, if you both don’t mind, I do have a job to do.”
“Right.” Elric tensed his jaw. There was no way Merlin could say anything, not with the king right there. But Elric couldn’t do as he pleased, either. There were rules, decorum, hierarchies… all sorts of systems he was helplessly bound by. If he came back after causing a rift between their two kingdoms over a servant he hardly knew, Elric was certain his father would disown him. Or, at the very least, send him on to some far northern court that never saw the sun and remained blanketed in snow for months on end.
“Fine,” King Arthur all but spat out. As he turned down the hallway, he gave Elric a last, sharp look.
Elric pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He couldn’t wait to go home.
A foul mood hung like a cloud over Elric’s last few days in Camelot. At least the king’s anger seemed to dissipate following their confrontation in the hallway—now, whenever Elric met his eyes, the king ducked his head down and his cheeks flushed lightly pink, as if he were embarrassed about the whole ordeal. Which didn’t really make sense. Why would the king suddenly change his mind now?
Elric couldn’t figure it out. No matter which way he looked at it, something didn’t make sense. There was a piece of the puzzle (an essential piece) that Elric didn’t have and, until he had it, he doubted that anything would make sense.
Still. He’d asked Thomas to pass along the message that his offer of employment still stood, if Merlin should ever decide that he wanted a change of employment. Elric could only hope that the man would take it.
On the morning of the second to last day, the king finally held the meeting in which he’d be making an announcement. The announcement. The rumour mill had been on fire, recently, with every possibility of what it could be.
Elric settled into his seat around the table. Chatter buzzed through the hall. Something in the energy had shifted—the room was electric, nearly alive.
“Thank you for gathering this morning,” King Arthur said. His voice was steady, loud, and clear. The chatter died instantly. Every eye in the room was surely locked on him.
“I’ll keep this short,” he continued. “As there is not much to it. Simply put, magic is no longer outlawed in Camelot, effectively immediately.”
Elric jolted straighter in his seat. Magic, in Kent, wasn’t outlawed, but it was still not exactly welcomed. Camelot, on the other hand, was famous in the land for their outright hatred of anything that glowed.
The rest of the room seemed to be thinking along similar lines to Elric. Everyone was murmuring to those next to them—whispering, gasping, muttering. An old count from Camelot loudly swore.
King Arthur simply raised his hand and the chatter stopped once more. “I understand there will be many questions. We have the whole day ahead of us to discuss this, and I will call a recess when I am done here so everyone has a chance to reflect before coming to the meeting. But know this: this decision was not made lightly. This is a result of nearly a year of planning, a year of discussions, a year of pouring over old laws and books.
“Moreover, this is not to say that magic is not dangerous. Magic still remains a great threat to the kingdom. I am not underestimating its power or discounting its worth.
“If we are to move ahead as a kingdom, we need someone with magic on our side. Someone to guide us. Someone to advise us. Someone to defend us.
“Therefore, it is with great honour that I announce Camelot’s Court Sorcerer—Merlin of Ealdor.”
From the side, Merlin stepped forward. He gave a small wave at the table of nobility. His clothes, Elric noted, were nicer than the ones he’d worn yesterday. Simple, yes, but of a much higher quality.
Heavy silence hung over the hall. No one, it seemed, knew how to react or what to say.
Until a knight of Camelot let out a heavy whoop. He jumped to his feet, clapping and cheering. The rest of the knights followed suit. In a moment, thunderous applause rang off the stone walls. Around the table, everyone was standing and those of Camelot, in particular, were beaming.
Merlin stood, flushed, at the front looking out at all of the room.
Next to him, King Arthur beamed too. More than anyone else. His eyes didn’t leave Merlin.
Merlin turned his head. His smile was shy but wide. He was only looking at King Arthur.
And there it was. The final piece clicked into place.
Merlin was a sorcerer and a powerful one, at that, if he’d been granted such a position. He and the king were on more equal footing than Elric had ever known.
Even if King Arthur could be a prick, it was clear he was a caring prick.
The next day, Thomas and Elric packed in silence. The excitement (and political discussions) of the previous day had certainly taken their toll. While most were happy with the announcement, some stogey old Lords certainly weren’t, and Elric pitied how meetings with that lot would go moving forward.
Elric dropped a tunic in his trunk and sighed. The journey home wasn’t too long, but he didn’t fancy being cooped up in a carriage on a beautiful spring day like this. And, if the events of the last few weeks were anything to go off of, he had a feeling that the trip to Camelot would be one he’d be making more frequently in the coming years.
“By the way, you might not want to make any more bets against King Arthur’s relationship status,” Thomas said casually as he folded a pair of breaches. “You got lucky this time, but in the future, you might lose your coin.”
“Oh?”
Thomas nodded. “Or, well, you might be alright. He’s not going to be marrying for any political alliances anytime soon.”
“Isn’t he, now?”
“Guinevere, lovely woman and quiet close to both of them, says that Merlin and King Arthur are involved. ”
Elric stopped what he was doing. For a moment, he stood there, unmoving. “Involved?”
“And quite annoying about it all, too.”
“Hm.” It was true. They wouldn’t leave each other’s sides. They were constantly staring, constantly whispering, constantly bickering.
Elric was the idiot all along.
King Arthur might still be arrogant, in some ways, but it wasn’t of the brash and uncaring attitude that he’d had when he was younger.
He was arrogant and annoying because he was in love. Elric had missed what was plain as day.
“I’ll take it Merlin turned down our offer of employment, then.”
Thomas laughed. “He said he’d consider it.”
“Well then.” Elric shook his head. Camelot had a way of continuing to be exactly the opposite of anything he’d ever expected.
And, it seemed, the coming years wouldn’t be short of surprises.
Elric needed only to be ready for the unexpected.
As they left, Elric turned in the carriage for a final glance at the castle, the king, and the sorcerer. They stood close together, shoulders touching. Merlin’s hand rested lightly over King Arthur’s and King Arthur’s gaze fell toward Merlin’s lips.
Behind them, the castle rose up to the blue sky. Sun beamed down. Birds sang and the wind held the promise of summer.
Bright days were ahead for Camelot. Of that, Elric was certain.