The Kings homes planet of Camelot sat in the heart of the Albian Nebula. It was known throughout galaxies for its idyllic climate- always summer, except for its short winter through the month of Samhain, which tended to cover the plant in picturesqeue layers of icy snow. The planet was covering in a rolling landscapre of beautiful forests; lakes and misty peaked mountians that soured about the villages and towns. It was a plac ethat people came to for a quiet life and its citizens lived well and in harmony with each other, untouched by the troubles of all of the other galaxies beyond Albian's respected borders. Above the trees levitated a large white castle, anchored to the ground by hydrolyrics. In this castle, sat the Nebula's King; famous for his iron fist and desire for peace- the man was a enigma.
Uther's empire had not been inherited: he had won it in his youngers years from the grasp of poverty and treachery, and an aging, greedy king who couldn't see any further than the end of his own nose. He had fought long and hard, not only to release the galaxy from th grasp of such a cruel man, but also bring peace to the planets therein, and to make peace with the neighobouring territories: Escetia, Mercia, and beyond. Unfortunately, Uther inherited a war with these places, and peace seemed like a distant dream. He looked at the gilded image of Ygraine on his desk; it had been her dream, and he had been glad to carry it forward for her, but the times were changing and 'peace' was starting to mean something different.
Aeons ago, small factions of humans who had been exposed to radiation from the dward planet Ogof Grisial started to display...powers. They could move objects without touching them, make things appear and disappear, and cast illusions to warp your mind into seeing whatever they wanted. Common people called it magic. As time passed, they bred, sharing their poisonous powers and becoming stronger with each generation until rumour came to Uther of a power so great it could uproot everything he had ever fought for. So he did the only thing a king at War could do. He destroyed it. And nothing happened. People called it collateral damage or spoke of rebels, and Uther saw a chance to extinguish a growing threat. With his own fleet of privateers who wore no royal colours noe royal sigil, Uther removed the alien threat one planet; one city; one village at a time.
He had risen to greatness, fighting every step of the way, and he expectd the same of his son.
He shook his head. Arthur was too soft, had been too sheltered at Ygraine's request. This latest escapade was evidence that he needed to learn responsibility. The king now sat at his desk, idly flicking through the SpaceNet it's thin transparent bulk catting a blue light across his face as he unfolded it, he glanced at his watch, checking the time and sighed in impatience. Arthur was late. As ususal. Uther had requested meeting with his son more than an hour ago after having seen the bill that his son and his girlfriend: Sophia, had managed to rack up at the most expensive bar in the entire nebula the night before. Photos of the two of them were splashed across the news, religating the stories of Athru's charity work to brief mentions and thumbnail portraits of his son's careing face bent over a small child. Uther sighed. His son was a public relations nightmare.
Eventually, Arthur swaggered in through the automatic door with a quite shoosh.
"Father, you wanted to see me?" he asked, reclining in one of Uther's chairs plush leather chairs. Real leather was hard to come by, and so that made it be very expensive. He looked pale with deep dags under his eyes, and although he spoke confidently, Uther could tell, his son was masking a hangouver.
"Arthur. Have you seen this?" he pulled up a less-than-flattering photo of his son, Sophia hanging off his arm, from the bar last night.
"Not my best angel" Arthur jokes.
"There's nothing about your visit to that freaking refugee camp! It is all about you getting drunk with Sophia. Do you think I send you there for fun?" Uther spat stormingly.
"I don't think refugee camps are meant to be fun father." Arthur replied with the smirk wipped off of his face.
"But they are ment to make you look good!" Uther shouted slamming his palm on the disk. Arthur scoffed and muttered:
"And show support to our least fortunate constutuants but who cares about that..." which Uther ignored.
"Son you are royalty. And as such you have responsibilities. You're too old to be out drinking with your flozies. It's time you became a vespectable man!" Uther continued.
"I'm respegtabale enough." Countered Arthur.
"You crashed your spacecraft last niught!" roared the King. Arthur looked confused.
"No-one got hurt. And I can buy another. That's what the taxes are for." Arthur raisoned. Uther went purple in the face.
"Taxes insure the security of everone in our realm they are not for your...you...toys!" He exploded with spit flyigng from his mouth as he shouted. Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed.
"Fine. I will pay for it myself."
"I wouldn't bother." Uther said with a smirk and Arthur frowned narrowly in confusig.
"Why? I need a craft, I can't be stuck here." Arthur said shardly and Uther's grin widened.
"Don't worry, son, you'll no be stuck here." He said. Arthur gulped. He had seen that look on his father's face directed at errant courtiers, but never himself, and it never bodied well.
"You'll be going back to Tintgel in two days time for a month to learn some responsibiilty, you'll be king of the Nebula one day Arthur, you can't act like this then." Uther explinaed decisievely. Arthur gapped at him opening and closing his mouth like a stareater.
"Why? No!" He finally sputtered out. The king did not look impressed, but Arthur continued headless:
"I have a gala this weekend, next weekend there's a benefit for my chairity so I need to be there, after that I promised to take Sophs on a ski trip to Jupiter 2 and you know she'll get so sulky id I don't do it-" Arthur was cut off, by his father.
"I do not care fot your frivollites will go to Tingatel. Morgana will take over your duties in your absense." Uther said firmly with a face like the thunder storms of CRT1, a large black volcannic planet on the border with the Mercian Neubla, where thunder raged and Lave flew contasly.
"Morgana! She will take ant oppurtunity to embarrass me in the most public way she can!" Arthur shreiked, thought he would deny his voice ever went that high.
"That is enough!" Uther slammed his hands on the dask in front of him and stoodup towering over Arthur who pressed his lips into a tight line, looking equally as angry as his father oppostite him did.
"I am your King! My word is final. You will stop making a mockery of the Pendragon name! You will show respect for the galactic empire I am uniting and its royal house." Uther retoted as he swept out of the throne room with a slam of the door.
The suns still burnt down on the dessert of Tintagel and the people who inhabited there. Merlin was sitting in the main office of the camp processing the records of more orphans; his work occusaionally interrupted by someone dropping by to ask a question or a particularly persistent cat demanding attention. Merlin had never given a thought too question the cats, but according to Gwen, their presence was unnatural, and had only started at about the time Merlin had arrived. He chocked it up to one of the peciliatitires of his powerful magic and thought little of it now, besides, the animals were cute and kept away the pests like the wildoren, a type of giant baby rat that existend on this planet. Just as he was finishing up, the satellite phone on his deask gave a brittle twill. Merlin hoped this didn't mean more people would be arriving they were already pushed to breaking point despite the royal endorsement taking effect recently since Arthur's visit. He picked it up.
"Hello" he answered it. A tinny voice was on the line, a sure sign of an intergalactic call from another planet. This peeked Merlins interest, most of their calls came from spcaeships looking to unload there desperate cargo.
"Mr Emrys. I am Catherine the Galactic Highness's King Uther Pendragon of the Camelot Nebula's Royal secretary." Came the reply.
"Okay?" Said Merlin. He paused unimpressed and waiting for her to continue. She did so.
"I am calling to arrange the arrival of Prince Arthur." She continued.
Merlin scoffed.
"You're a bit late, your royal space highness has already been. Or did he not get the right photo of him doting on some poor children and need more photos to distract from his drunken antics?" He answered. Catherine cleared her throat.
"His majesty will be returning to your camp. He has expressed a desire to return and help out the most needy for a period of time." She explained. Merlin grew suspicious. He narrowed his eyes at her down the phone.
"...How long?" he asked.
"A month. His Highness is very invested in his charitable works: he's a very generous man" Answered Cathrine professionally. Merlin could here her smitten undertones. Merling's heart sank threw the floor.
"Please insure appropriate accommodations are provided, the Prince will of course be accompannied by a mameber of his security team who will be staying with him during his stay." She continued saying.
"Of course he will" Merlin muttered quietly under his bredth, but Caroline apparent did not hear him, or chose to ignore him.
"I assume this isn't a request I can say no to?" he asked hopefully, without too much hope.
"He'll arrive in wo days time on Wednesday!" replied Catherine with a fake smile in her voice. Merlin sighed as there was a click and the line disconnected and he was left listening to the faint hum of radiation that permeatered the line on all intergalactic sat phone calls.
"My Wednesday, or your Wednesday?" Merlin asked aloud, replied to only by the same hiss of radiation down the sat phone link. He sighed. It was going to be a long month.