"The kingdom is safe, Merlin." Gwen linked her arm through his as she and he walked through Camelot's dim autumn corridors. "Surely, now it's safe to love?"
"No," Merlin said, and a shadow passed across his face like a swift fleeing south for winter. "Not for me."
The King seemed merry that year, and ordered many feasts in honour of the new peace, and the growing trade between neighbouring kingdoms. Arthur ate, and drank, and jousted, and accepted apples and handkerchiefs from the many young ladies of his court and his allies', and seemed content.
Everyone said it would not be long before Camelot saw a wedding, and the start of a new generation of Pendragons.
A winter wedding, they said, when Arthur dined three times with a daughter of Cened's kingdom. It will be at Imbolc, they said when Arthur danced at Yule with a beautiful distant cousin. Ostara was the time, they said at last, after a dozen princesses were sent spring blooms. But summer drew near and still the King retired to his chambers alone.
But this was not quite true. "Merlin!"
Arthur's bellow made the goblets rattle. "Sire." Merlin left the table where he sat polishing the King's belt buckles, and walked mildly through to the bed chamber.
Arthur stood by the window. The casement was open and the scent of bluebells wafted into the room, carrying with it all the joy and yearning of first love. "Do you smell that, Merlin?" Arthur demanded.
"Bluebells," said Merlin. "Some harebells, too."
"It makes me chafe," said Arthur. "Chafe!"
Merlin waited. The King never complained unless he already had the solution.
"We'll ride out tomorrow," said Arthur. "The knights. We'll make a tour of the border, get some fresh air, hone our hunting skills."
He swung round and faced his servant. "This peace has made us all sloths. We need to shake off this laziness and get out into the world again."
Merlin, who had worked since dawn with no supper said, "I'll get your gear." He turned to go about that task, but Arthur stopped him with a raised hand.
"It's not a mission," he said. "It doesn't have to be tonight. You can do it in the morning."
Instead of breakfast, Merlin thought. "Right," he said.
Arthur waved him over. "Beltane" he said. "The May magic. What do you make of it?"
"It's a tradition," said Merlin cautiously. He adopted the careless tone he used when talking about magic, and the old ways. "Some people say that on Beltane night, new fires are lit to sustain the new life that springs up all around at this time of year. Heart fires," he added, for Arthur was blessed with a literal mind.
"It's all nonsense though?"said Arthur.
"A bit of fun," said Merlin. "After a long winter and a spring spent planting, people want to let their hair down."
"Right, right." Arthur wandered over to the table and poured ruby red wine into a goblet. He came back and put the cup down on his desk, and looked at it.
There was already a brimming goblet at his place. Arthur frowned.
"Heart fires," he said. "Explain."
Merlin's gaze went to the window, and the stars wheeling in the sparkling sky. "There are some who believe-"
"It's all right. Spare me the disclaimers."
Merlin glanced sideways at Arthur and smiled his slanting smile. "The heart fire is the flame that drives every man. And woman. It is the passion that burns bright in all that they do best."
"Humph."
Merlin saw a meteor, a streak of glory and defeat. He sighed lightly. "For you it might be fighting," he said. "Or hunting."
"What?"
"Your heart fire."
"Oh. What's yours?"
Merlin dropped his gaze from the window. "It's not for me to say what I do best," he said.
"Huh. Just as well. Be a pretty short list." Arthur pushed the second goblet across the table. "Drink it."
Merlin blinked.
"Oh go on. I've poured too much, that's all. Don't get all excited. It's not a holiday."
Merlin lifted the goblet, bowed his head in thanks, and put the silver to his lips.
"Cheers," said Arthur, to nobody in particular.
Merlin's dark eyes gleamed at Arthur over the rim of the goblet.
"You'll sort that out, then?" said Arthur when the wine was gone.
"Sorry what?"
Arthur waved a hand. "Beltane. New fires. Let the kitchens know I will throw a feast in honour of... General renewal."
"All right. Yes."
"All of Camelot will celebrate," said Arthur, and Merlin had never seen him look so miserable. Arthur held out his empty cup to Merlin. "Oh. By the way. I will be receiving the Sultan of Faria, and his daughter tomorrow. See to it that they have the best guest quarters. The Sultana in particular." Merlin took hold of the cup. Arthur had forgotten to let go of it.
"There will be more talk of marriage," said Merlin. His hand was still on Arthur's cup, and Arthur's hand.
"I preferred it when there was talk of war," said Arthur. He glanced down, and released the cup, shaking his head.
Merlin stepped to Arthur's side, reached for his shirt laces. "Let me help you with that."
But for once Arthur did not require Merlin's assistance. "I can undress myself," he said. "I'm not totally helpless."
"No sire. Not totally."
"Oi!"
"Will that be all," asked Merlin.
"Yes," said Arthur, "that will be all."
