In a land of myth, and a time of magic, the destiny of a great kingdom rests on the shoulders of a young boy. But that is not the case in this story. One might think a sure and infinite doom was to be fallen upon Camelot one excruciatingly sunny autumn morning. The guards of Camelot stood stoic in the positions outside the main gates as usual. Their scarlet clad armor and their swords at the ready. The lands were almost barren of people whom were making their way to the arena, for today was a great jousting match. No one was to miss it.
In strode a young woman in a long, billowing indigo riding cloak. Upon reaching the two men, she pulled back her hood, revealing a pale but pretty face. She had high cheekbones, striking green eyes, and long black hair that came in waves. Her lips were dark and pouty, but soon burst into smile.
"Good morrow, gentlemen." She spoke.
"What business do you have in Camelot?" retorted a guard.
"Seems the joust has an effect on people of all villages," she spoke cool and confident. "May I pass through?"
"Enjoy the match," the other guard spoke, leading her through the gates before returning to his rightful position.
Camelot. An ancient city of magic, restored over two decades ago by the great king Uther Pendragon. As the woman tread over the cobblestones, she gazed upon the stone buildings. High in the sky poked the castle towers, and little red and white decorated flags blew harmlessly in the light breeze. No people in the streets. The vendors left their wooden carts barren, closed up, and burlap sacks tied shut. The woman took this as an opportunity to check out what all happens in daily Camelot life. Judging by how many things seemed worn and old, she could tell who sold the most grains, who sold the least fruits. She laid a golden coin inside the drawer of a cart she thought looked in the shabbiest shape. She at least had to surprise someone today. One never seems to find a good Samaritan nowadays, especially an anonymous one.
The woman made her way to the arena, fighting to find a seat. None. No seat was available. She walked around and around, peering deep into the arena for a seat, not watching where she was going, and bumped into a young man.
"My most fond apologies!" she exclaimed.
"Oh, not it's alright. I should have been looking where I was going as well," the boy helped the woman to her feet. "I'm Merlin." He held out his hand. The woman looked deep into his eyes as if trying to read his mind. She took his hand.
"Thank you, Merlin."
"You look as if you haven't got anyone with you. Are you meeting up with someone? I could help you find them, you look very lost."
"I uhm, haven't got anyone here. I came alone."
"Great! I mean, well, not great that you're lost, but you should come sit with me and my friends! We have great seats! I'm sure you'd be welcomed," Merlin smiled. The woman looked back over her shoulder as if to see someone behind her, but there was no one.
"Come on!" Merlin smiled again, a white toothy grin, and beckoned her to follow him. She rose her hood up and followed him. He seemed to have a spring in his step as he walked. Around the arena they went until they climbed the steps over where only the royal families could watch. The woman was confused. Why were they over here?
"You wait here. I'm going to tell them I've brought a guest. They don't really like surprises." Merlin told the woman, and then crept around the corner.
"Arthur, I've brought a friend." She could hear Merlin's voice.
"Honestly, merlin. Do you really think you can just bring anyone over here? Is she even of royal blood?" a cocky voice answered back.
"I uhm, I didn't ask," Merlin's voice shook. The woman climbed up and rounded the corner. Merlin knelt down by a young, handsome, blonde man. Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot.
"Your majesty," she gasped, removing her hood, and bowed her head.
"Are you this friend of Merlin's?" he retorted, but a softer tone in his voice now.
"I do believe so," she smiled. She took in the entire scene. These "friends" of Merlin's…they were the royal family. Here she saw the Lady Morgana dressed in emeralds, Morgana's handmaid Guinevere, Prince Arthur, and Merlin. Set higher in the stands guarded by many armored men was King Uther. Arthur was still attentive to her.
"Please. Sit." He said, a bit of caution in his voice. "I didn't catch your name?"
"I'm sorry. My name is Malta. Malta du L'Oran."
"Arthur Pendragon," he took her hand daintily. "M'lady."
She sat between Merlin and Arthur for the match. One by one, men were knocked off of their horses, the crowd applauded, the crowd jeered, the crowd booed, and the crowd cheered. The longer the matches lasted, the more time Merlin, Malta, and Arthur spent chatting away. Malta had traversed from a faraway village through the Alpine Villages of the West.
"You must stay for the feast," insisted the Prince. He flashed a dazzling pearly smile.
"Of course, I shall. I wouldn't miss it. Merlin, you are coming, too, yes?" Malta asked.
"I am?" Merlin asked confused.
"Arthur?" asked Malta.
"Yes, Merlin, you are," Arthur responded.
"Well, when you invite a lady to dinner, sire-"
"Shut up, Merlin!" Arthur spat.
"Sorry, sir."
Malta blushed a slight pink color. The Lady Morgana and her maid Guinevere approached.
"Please, I beg of you, do not be harassing the newcomers, Arthur. God knows what's happened to this poor girl," Morgana took Malta into her arms.
"Oh no, I'm fine," Malta smiled. "You must be Morgana? The King's ward?"
"Oh, all the formalities. Yes, my name is Morgana, this is my maid Gwen," Morgana introduced.
"Please to make your acquaintance," Gwen smiled.
"This is Malta," Arthur spoke.
"I do believe the girl has a voice of her own," Morgana responded. "Honestly, don't let him boss you around. At least not yet. He's still got a few years ahead of him before he can tell us all what to do."
"For now he's just a royal prat," merlin laughed. Arthur gave him a stern look. "Just making a joke, sorry." Malta laughed.
"No, I find it funny. You should smile more, Arthur. Don't want to scare your kingdom away from now, do you now?" Malta winked.
"Are you pulling jokes on me now? Merlin, have you been teaching our guest to rag on me now?"
"No, sir. I do believe that humans have this wonderful quality about them where they can think for themselves," Merlin laughed. Arthur pushed the back of his head down.
"Anyway, before this interruption, we were off to the feast. Morgana, will you be joining us?" Arthur straightened himself up.
"Yes we will be. Come, Gwen, we've got dressing gowns to fit. Would you like to join us, Malta?" Morgana invited. Malta looked at the boys, then back at the girls. Merlin motioned for her to go on with the girls. She smiled and scurried off with the ladies.
Malta was led up spirals and spirals of staircases until she reached Morgana's room. High into the castle she went, each stone step a little achingly higher than the last. The wooden door swung freely open, and Gwen held it open for the two ladies.
"First thing's first, we get you an evening gown. Gwen, find something blue. That color seems to suit her better," Morgana asked.
"Yes, Morgana," Gwen flew to the closet and fingered through the dresses. She pulled out a lacey blue one. "How about this?"
"I forgot I had that one. Here, try it on," Morgana said and Gwen handed her the dress. Malta thanked Gwen and crept behind the changing wall. She tripped herself of her day dress and her blue velvet riding cloak and slipped on this new dress. It was made of pure silk, hugging her curves quite nicely. It's laced designs danced around her chest, cutting low, but high enough to keep secrets. Under the arms were folds of material that attached to cuffs on her upper arms, giving her the illusion of a butterfly.
"I need help fastening the back up?" Malta called. "Gwen, could you help me?"
"Of course," Gwen rounded the corner and helped fasten her up. "Malta, you look beautiful. Come, show Morgana." Gwen led Malta back into the room, in front of Morgana and a mirror.
"Gwen's right, this is beautiful. My gift to you, you may keep it for yourself."
"Really?"
"Absolutely! It would probably look better on you than me anyway. And you're sure to impress Arthur," Morgana winked.
"What ever do you mean?" Malta asked quizzically.
"Oh, don't act so surprised. I've seen those looks he gives you. He's totally interested. But play hard to get. You don't want him to think that just because he's a prince he can have absolutely everything he wants. "
"Hmmm, I always try and watch my manners. I would hate for the Prince to banish me form his kingdom," Malta winked.
"You should lose the innocent girl thing. That can only strong a long a boy for so long," Morgana said.
"Excuse me?"
"You'll figure it out," Morgana giggled. "Gwen, do you have a red dress in there? Preferably one I haven't worn yet. I like surprises." Morgana dressed in a corset-style red velvet dress with silver rhinestone down the side. Her train was small, but wide enough to give her plenty of room to walk. Gwen dressed in a dressier maid's outfit.
So possibly Morgana had figured her out. Malta wasn't a typical innocent goody two-shoes girl. Why was it that she had left her village? Why would one travel all this way to Camelot just to witness a jousting match?
At the appropriate time, the three ladies found their way down to the dining hall. King Uther was already seated at one end of the table, followed by the Knights, and lastly Arthur. The men rose when the woman came through the door.
"Ladies, have a seat. It is great to dine with you all again. Ah, who is this?" Uther spoke. Malta stepped forward.
"My name is Malta du L'Oran, I come from a small village west of the Alpine Villages," Malta spoke formally.
"Ah, it is good to make your acquaintance. Please, have a seat." Malta strode down and sat by Arthur's side.
"Malta, you look…lovely," Arthur choked.
"Why thank you, you're not so bad yourself," she said, then sipped wine from her goblet. Arthur smirked. Morgana gave Malta w ink from across the table. Through the feast, Malta added flirty ends to her conversations with Arthur, nudging his elbow now and then, but always left a hint of mystery behind her coyness. Her plan was finally unfolding. The plan she hadn't informed Morgana and Gwen about. Once the feast was over, Malta rose from her seat. Arthur rose as well.
"Sir?" She asked.
"Might you join me in an evening stroll along the lake?" Arthur asked.
"She'd be honored to," Morgana smiled. "Granted we come along?" She gestured towards Merlin and Gwen.
"Fine. I shall meet you all down by the docks in a half hours' time." Arthur then left the room swiftly.
Thirty minutes later, everyone gathered down by the docks. They walked through the cool grass and talked of things of their villages. Malta let Arthur do a lot of talking. His knowledge of her had nothing to do with what she was scheming. Malta was very playful. Her levels of sarcasm were sky high and she was quite a tease. Arthur could play at this game, too. The both of them became so that insults were just a matter of flirtatiousness.
"Can we stop and sit down? This dress is aching me," Morgana complained. Outside of the stable was a stone bench and table they all gathered at. "This dress is such a pain to wear. Although it does make my breasts look rather nice. Your dress very well flatters yours, Malta," Morgana winked. "Don't you think, Arthur?" Malta's green eyes locked with Arthur's ice blue ones. His eyes stayed fixed on hers, as if boring to the core, not daring to look down. "Arthur?" His eyes dropped, for but a second, but once Malta had noticed this, she knew her plan would follow through.
"It is not gentleman-like for me to say, Morgana. I might say, you've been quite vulgar this evening. Malta is not a bad influence on you, is she?" Arthur tried to cover himself with a laugh.
"And what if I am a bad influence?" Malta smirked slyly.
"Then we will have to go to extreme matters," Arthur responded, their eyes fixed upon one another's again.
"This would seem like an appropriate time to head inside," Merlin piped in. Their stare still did not break.
"Merlin's right. It's getting quite chilly outside. Wouldn't want any of you to catch cold," Gwen said, rising.
Merlin took Arthur's arm. "Will you come with me to see Gaius before bed, Arthur? I have just remembered he told me he wanted to see you at nightfall," Merlin said.
"Until tomorrow, Malta," Arthur said, his voice cold and stern.
"We'll see," Malta whispered under her breath.
Once everyone was back in the castle, Malta pondered about where she was to sleep. "Perhaps one of the royal bedrooms would suffice? I would offer you to stay in mine, but I often have night terrors, and I would hate to wake you in the night with them," Morgana had said. Malta decided she knew exactly where she was staying tonight.
She strode up through the castle, her fingers dragging along the wall as if she could tell exactly where she was going. Malta whispered things under her breath as she walked. Then she reached her destination. She stood outside of Arthur's chambers, pushed the door ajar, and peeked inside. There was no one in there. If this is where she was staying tonight, she might as well make it a little homier.
"Pour créerun pétale" she whispered, holding her hands in front of her. Hundreds of red roses burst through the cracks in the wall, scattering its red petals along the floor and filling the hallway with the aroma.
"Sorcery!" cried a voice at the end of the hall. A guard had witnessed her conjure up the flowers. Malta ran as fast she could to keep up with the guard. There was no one treading this end of the castle except for her.
"Pour effacerune mémoire!" she cried. A burst of white light emitted from her hands and hit the guard in the back of the head. Malta ran to his side. "Sir, are you alright?"
"What happened?" he grumbled.
"You fell when you were walking down the corridor. Must have tripped over a crack or something. Here, let's help you up and get you brushed off. Here we are. You're alright," she smiled.
"Thank you for your kindness, miss," the guard said, and went off on his way.
Malta hurried back toward Arthur's room. She had to sneak in there before he got there, otherwise things might not go just as they were planned out to be.
Malta entered Arthur's room. It was dark with just the pale moonlight spilling through the curtains. She stripped herself down to just her white silk slip. Her long black hair was loose. She crawled up onto Arthur's four poster bed and opened up the maroon curtains. Any minute now. Any minute.
Arthur burst through the door.
"What are you doing in here?" He swallowed hard. He was clad in his armor and chain mail.
"I've got no place to sleep," she said slowly.
Arthur tried to avert his gaze. "Someone heard a guard speaking on sorcery, so all the men lined up to search. We didn't find anything. You didn't see anything, did you?"
"How could I? It's so bloody dark in here; I can't really see a thing. Pourallumer une bougie," Malta enchanted. All the candles in Arthur's room caught fire.
"You. You're the sorceress," Arthur drew his sword.
"How could I just hide something like this from you? After all you played along so well," she crawled closer to him, the skin on her leg revealing more. He pulled his sword completely from its sheath and held it close to her jugular.
"Do you know what my kingdom does to your kind?" Arthur said shakily, trying to hardest to hold his sword still.
"You're not going to kill me, Arthur?" Malta said sweetly.
"…No," Arthur breathed.
"Ah, but I do like this. Very dangerous. I may not show it, but I'm definitely the dangerous type," she reached down and slid her index finger down the length of his blade, drawing a little blood, then sucking on it.
"I….I don't understand," Arthur croaked, wide-eyed, and sheathed his sword. Malta pouted.
"There's nothing to understand," she slid off of the bed and approached him. She ran her finger over his soft lips and trailed it down his neck. Arthur swallowed hard. "Let's get you out of this chain mail, shall we?" She winked. "Pour supprimer…" His metal protection had disintegrated.
"My mail, what have you done with it?" Arthur cried. He was left standing in his sweaty undershirt which clung to his back and his riding shorts. He wanted to move, to do something, but he seemed to be stuck to the very ground he stood on.
"Where it is now, it does not matter," Malta leaned in and pressed her lips firmly on his. That's all it took. He hungrily kissed her back, forcing his tongue into her mouth. She gripped tightly at his delicate blonde locks and tugged. Egging him on more, he picked her up by the waist and laid her down on the bed.
"Have I won now, Arthur? Have I?" she laughed sulkily.
"No. And I am the heir to this throne, and I will not be toyed with. You will call me "sire" like the rest of the lower class citizens of my kingdom, do you understand?" He pulled on her lower lip with his teeth.
"Mmmm…yes, your…majesty," she breathed. She was no longer the dominant one in the room. She left a trail of kisses from his lips to his ear, on which she nibbled. His body tensed and he held onto her tighter. Smirking to herself, she continued to kiss him down his neck down to his clavicle. There she bit down hard and sucked, leaving a now bruising love bite.
"Dammit," Arthur groaned, reaching to where he had just been bitten. "You'll pay for that one. Apologize immediately."
"I'm sorry," she smirked.
"'I'm sorry' what?"
"I'm sorry, sire," she bit at her bottom lip. His hands were at her waist, running up and down the smooth material, He slowly moved his hands over her breasts and felt. They were soft, not too big, and not too small. Her nipples poked through the thing fabric, and he flicked at it. A soft moan escaped her lips. He looked up at her with the same icy blue stare from earlier. Her serpentine green eyes clung back to his. He slid his hands up her slip and cupped her breasts in his hands. The difference of texture form his manly calloused hands to her soft, delicate flesh were about as opposite as can be. He rolled her nipples in between his fingers and gave each one a pinch. He longed to rid her of her slip, to see those perfect breasts up close, to nibble on them with his teeth, and to leave his own love bites along them.
As almost reading his mind, Malta leaned forward and pulled his sticky shirt off of his back. His skin glistened with a film of sweat, to which she did not hesitate to run her hands down, lightly scraping her nails into his flesh. Arthur grabbed at the ends of her white slip and lifted it up over her head. Her hair fell back down in perfect place, shielding his eyes from the entire view.
"Move your hair," he demanded.
"No," she said.
He seized her by the throat. "I am the one who is in change, and you will follow orders. Do you understand?" He smiled sexily.
"Yes, your highness," she giggled, lifting her black locks away and revealing her perfectly perky breasts. He kissed down her neckline, over her clavicle, and down over each soft orb of flesh. He nipped with his teeth, causing her to dig her nails into his sheets. She bit her tongue, trying to stay as quiet as possible. When he was done teasing her breasts, he kissed down her stomach and swirling his tongue into her navel. This caused her to jump in surprised and grab back onto his hair, which he seemed to like a love. He kissed all the way down to the lining of her white lace panties.
"No, sir, I cannot let you yet," she said, stern.
"Why not?" He furrowed his brow. There was just something about his questioning eyebrows that made him that much sexier, more manly.
"Because I have yet to please my prince," she winked, pushing him off of her and climbing on top of him. She sweetly kissed him on his soft, pouty lips once more before dragging her nails gently over the soft hairs on his chest, flicking each one of his own nipples playfully with her tongue, and then pulling herself straight down to his pelvic region. She bit down hard on his hip bone, sucking hard on it, leaving yet another love bite. She felt that he would have scolded her for this one, but he held his tongue. She carefully unlaced the ties that held his trousers up. Them, teasingly, she pulled his shorts down with her teeth. An apparent erection sprouted beneath his undergarments. Malta ran her finger over his length, causing him to twitch. She softly rubbed him through his garments; he was hard as a rock. She felt down his length, and he was a lot bigger than she thought he'd be, but not too big. Perfect size. In a second's notice she yanked down his briefs, letting him spring free. She dropped down, pulling his trousers and briefs from around his ankles to the floor. She crawled back up, took him into her hands, bent her head down, and lightly ran her tongue over the tip. She could feel the shiver run through his body. She then wrapped her dark, pouty lips over his spongy head and sucked ever so lightly. He tightly gasped in for air. Swirling her tongue around the head, she sucked up and down. She would take him deep, as far as she could until she gagged on his length.
"Look at me when you do that. It's really sexy," he growled, his voice much deeper than usual. He sat up, watching her intently as she performed down on him. Fixating that same intense stare into his eyes, she took him all the way down. Her eyes frustratingly watered as she gagged hard on him, drawing up with a string of saliva falling from her pretty little mouth. She spit hard down on him, using her own saliva as a lubricant and wanked him with her delicate palms. He moved a hand down and placed it on the back of her head, guiding her underneath him, to which she took his precious stones into her mouth and gingerly suckled on them, flicking at the with her tongue. Arthur moaned louder at this, and held fast onto her hair.
"Oh…God…that's enough," he pulled her up and placed her gently down on the bed. Her quickly ripped her panties off her and pushed her legs open.
"Oh, Arthur!" she squeaked. He buried his head down below, flicking her clitoris with his tongue. He encircled his tongue around her lips, which were already wet for him. His nose buried deep, he was intoxicated with her scent, which only drove him wilder. Malta didn't even bear to hold back her moans this time. She flung her head back in ecstasy, snatching fast to the blankets under her. He was now lapping more frantically, and rubbed her clit quickly with his fingers. She gripped quickly onto his hair, pulling him up from her.
He grabbed her face fast, pulling their mouths together. Malta could taste herself on his lips, which did didn't mind. Arthur was pulling himself back up to her level. Malta took a good look at him. Before her, was Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot, stark naked. It was about to happen. The moment she had been waiting for was right about to happen.
He took her delicately into his strong arms, propping her head up onto the pillow before positioning himself over her.
"My prince…" she moaned, and in one single thrust, he entered her so swiftly. They both moaned out loud in pleasure. Gripping tight to her hip, Arthur pumped more harder and furiously into her. Beads of sweat were growing along his brow line. Malta bit her lip hard, hoping that it would calm her squealing. She did not want to wake the whole city of Camelot with her sin.
He seized her wrists, pinning them above her head, and leaned down, kissing her with such force, such passion that even from a kiss alone a moan escaped her lips. He held her down with brute force, nibbling at her neck and taking this opportunity to mark her with love bites in revenge. Malta picks up his face in her hands, the same deep stare again. Only this time, his eyes are dark and filled with lust. He wracks himself in and out of her deep love canal, keeping the hold on her eyes, until he shut his lids hard, draws in a deep gasp for air, and pulls out of her just in time. He shoots himself, spattering himself over her breasts and collarbone. They both breathe heavy, gripping the sheets they both lay on top of. Malta takes two of her fingers, wipes up his seed and licks it off her fingers. The same stare.
"Sire…I….," Malta stops.
"No apologies," he tosses her his dirty shirt from the floor and helps clean her up.
Arthur finds another pair of loose fitting slacks to wear, and finds a baggy cream-colored shirt for Malta to wear. She blows out each of the candles she conjured flames to, and draws the curtains of his bed shut. They both crawl beneath the scarlet quilts, holding together tightly. Arthur's strong arms holding her small, fragile body against his.
He kisses her on the top of the head. "I will never forget this," he whispers and falls into a deep sleep.
Malta lie there, awake, for hours. What was this feeling that panged her deep in the chest? No. She came to Camelot for one reason, and now she must flee before anyone notices she's left. In the middle of the night, she squirms out from Arthur's clutch. It's almost heart breaking to see him lying there, so vulnerable. She leans over and plans a tender kiss to his forehead. "Goodnight, my prince," she whispers quietly. She collects the new dress Morgana gave her and her blue velvet riding cloak. Should she leave a note? Malta finds a scrap piece of parchment and discovers a quill and ink bottle in his drawer.
Dearest Arthur,
My most sincere apologies, but I received emergency notice and had to leave my village at once. Perhaps one day we shall meet again. I will never forget this.
Malta
Once she seized her horse at the gates of Camelot, she rode off through the forest. She conjured an orb.
"Did you retrieve what was needed?" spoke an old voice from the orb.
"Yes. I am have been taken by the young Pendragon. Once again, our kingdom will live."