A/N: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand now my tama doesn't look like a party favor anymore. Anyway, I decided to make the first chapter this one and the previous one the prologue. :3 there now.
Chapter One
The sun rose up over the hills of Camelot's borders. There was a nice breeze flowing through the blades as they seemed to dance to the early morning spring music that filtered through the trees of the nearby forests. This was spring in Camelot and it was a good day. Outside of Camelot, near the borders, were skeletons of buildings overgrown with vines and various other bits greenery. These buildings were said to have been there when humans had huge cities and moving vehicles that needed no horses. Now, however, forests grew around these man-made structures and made everything green and lovely.
The kingdom of Camelot, most importantly that of the village and castle of Camelot, lay nearby to the old forgotten town. Only the animals, deer and rabbits and other creatures, inhabited it now. It was the same as it had been since several years ago, though it lay in a sorry state from the warring nobles trying to take the throne as king. Every man had tried the sword stuck inside the stone that lay in the middle of the town, but none could move it. So it stayed, looking dirty and in sore need of repair.
That is, until a young man appeared in the town, his name taken from the oldest of the oldest legends. They watched in awe as the young man, almost girlish in appearance, walked over to the sword and lifted it from the stone with hardly any effort at all. He had an older man beside him the entire time; a wizard named Merlin who seemed to be advising him to take the sword.
"If you take the sword, Arthur," he had said to the young man, "You might no longer be human… especially if I retrieve Avalon for you."
The young man, determination in his bright blue-green eyes, simply nodded and took the sword, holding it high over his head as the dirt and grime seemed to lift off of it, the sword shining brightly in the spring sun. Arthur Pendragon he claimed his name to be. The nobles wouldn't hear of him becoming king, for they each had a right to the throne. He had the direct blood line of the former king, Uther Pendragon, at his disposal and yet they would not acknowledge him for he was a bastard, his mother the lover of their king.
And so these nobles went to war against him. He had no need, however. He walked across the battle field, fearless, and offered the sword to the nobles who were against him. They considered this young man, and his offering, before declining the sword and pledging themselves to him. The boy, now considered a man despite how young he was compared to these seasoned knights and soldiers, seemed quite surprised by these turn of events and took them at their word.
And so, he rebuilt the castle that had been slowly decaying from disuse and took it as his home. There, he built up his advisory counsel, his knights, and the men soon decided he should have a wife to bear sons with. Arthur had said he would choose a bride when he found her, and so the knights took him at his word and continued on their ways. A woman came to Arthur then, a beautiful woman of a very small stature, but a beautiful face. It was just as well, for ever since Merlin had given the new king a scabbard for his sword, his face had not even grown so much as a beard. He too was very short, like a child compared to his knights, and so the queen's small stature and youth would not be a hindrance to the young man.
Lady Gwenivere was her name. Her bright blue eyes were like cool lakes, framed with dark lashes, her hair as dark as her lashes, her skin like milk and her cheeks and lips rosy. She was truly a fair woman; the perfect match for their fair king. And so Arthur married the young Gwenivere and took her land of Leoness into his kingdom.
It was on a fine spring day, much like the one he had pulled the sword from the stone on, that Arthur found himself gazing out the window of his study and remembering his childhood. His long blonde hair was pulled back into a braided bun at the back of his head, held together with a dark blue ribbon that matched the tunic he wore over his white shirt, gold trimming on the edges made strange patterns all over it. He remembered being a child, running about with his father, Uther, when he would come visit his mother. He remembered his mother's happy face when his father came around. His sister Morgan, however, never seemed to be very happy. She would always stare at Arthur with disdain, as though he were never to be trusted. He hardly knew why, though now it seemed easier to think she did not approve of his being there for he was not wholly her brother.
All day his head seemed to be stuck permanently in the clouds. He eyed his mirror with some coolness about his fair features, not entirely caring how he looked except for minor things. He really was entirely too feminine. If he were more masculine, he might have more of the men following him instead of having to prove to them that he was a good king before they would even acknowledge him.
Something flashed behind him in the mirror. He frowned and turned around to look, seeing nothing. It had been blue, whatever it had been. He turned back to the mirror and fixed his circlet before heading for the door of his chambers. Once more, there was a flash of blue, as though something tall and blue had moved very quickly out of the corner of his eye. He frowned more and walked out, his cloak pinned in place.
They had recruited a new knight, based upon his bravery in a battle that should not have occurred in the first place. It had been a minor discrepancy that had turned very ugly between two knights. Lancelot d'Lac had been passing by, his long black hair disheveled and his general appearance pleasant but dirty. It seemed the man had been on the road for a long time. Arthur had attempted to stop the fight, but being so much smaller had just then become a severe handicap. Lancelot, a man so much taller than Arthur and lanky, picked up a simple post from the ground, one that had been intended to be planted into the ground, and wielded it with the utmost grace of a seasoned swordsman. He had so greatly impressed Arthur that Arthur had immediately taken him in as a knight.
Lancelot walked past Arthur and bowed his head to him. "Good afternoon, m'lord," he said, his French accent light, but still present.
Arthur smiled faintly and bowed his head to him. "Good afternoon to you as well, Sir Lancelot. Please, tell me if you have seen anything strange as of late?"
"Whatever do you mean, my lord?" asked Lancelot, his pale blue eyes wide with surprise.
Arthur frowned and rubbed his head. "I don't know," he said softly, "I saw something just now inside my chambers. It was very fast, tall and… blue."
"Perhaps my lord has been working too hard? A day off would be all right, for you have us to deal with Camelot while you are not able," said Lancelot, frowning faintly. He smiled a little and relaxed some more. Arthur noticed the man had taken to growing a small bit of hair on his chin, but shaved everything else. "My king, you seem more troubled by something else than the strange spectre you were startled by in your chambers. What bothers my lord?"
Arthur shook his fair head and looked out to the light of the day, the prosperous village and the many people milling about. "I do not have anything that bothers me, Sir Lancelot," he said, his voice soft and careful, "I only have this strange feeling something has come to me that I have forgotten, but for the life of me I can not remember."
Lancelot regarded his king and nodded to him. "Perhaps Bedivere would be a better counselor to my king than I."
Arthur turned to Lancelot and smiled. It was like the smile of a beautiful woman, one that caused Lancelot to feel very strangely when he was witness to it. Arthur did not smile often and when he did it was as though the sun had come out more than ever. The queen and the king were like night and day compared to each other; she with her long dark tresses and pale complexion and he with his bright hair and almost glowing appearance. It was though the sun had indeed married the moon.
Lancelot and Arthur bid each other good day and each went their separate ways as Arthur continued to feel as though he were being watched from behind the entire time. If he looked out of the corner of his eye, he even could swear he saw a tall, lanky man in a blue kilt standing there. This unnerved him even more. Who was this fellow and why did he seem to be everywhere? Perhaps he really was haunted by a spirit of some sort.
He watched as his nephew Gawain helped to train some of the men in a particular way of fighting. Morgan had at least done something that had not made him feel unwelcome. She had born sons and allowed them to come to him to become knights in his kingdom, but would not come to see them unless it was a dire need. Gawain tossed the men with some effort, his build strong, but as tall and lanky as he could be. His long red hair, bright in the sun as well in the dark, was pulled back into a ponytail, a simple circlet holding the rest of his hair down on his head. Gawain lifted himself from the ground and laughed boisterously as he dusted his sweaty body off and clapped a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Oi! Oi! You should try not to lift me up so much as just roll me over your back. You saw how I did that. Now, you try it again and, this time, don't allow me to toss you!" He laughed again and Arthur moved away from his window.
Arthur stopped as he saw something in front of him. It was faint, but it was most definitely the same man he had been seeing all day. He pulled his sword out immediately and held it up towards the strange spectre. "You! Who are you and why have you been following me around!" he shouted.
The man was very handsome, though his grin was like that of a devil rather than an angel. He was tall and muscled, but lanky in build. He bore a strange tattoo on his right arm that looked like a great big elaborate arrow that ran down the length of his forearm. It was an outline with many swirls inside it as it seemed to wrap around his arm in swirling tendrils and an empty space inside the arrow of another arrow. There seemed to be another going across his chest, though it was mostly hidden underneath his white shirt, his blue kilt belted at the waist and the rest pulled around his shoulders and pinned with a small silver pin as though it were a cloak. He was very dashing to say the least!
Arthur, however, was not pleased when the spectre remained silent, the man smirking at him as though taunting him. "Speak or I shall call upon God to help me rid this place of you!" he snarled.
The ghost disappeared at that. Arthur ran over and looked around to make certain it was not a real person who had been before him. When he found no trace, he walked back up to his chambers, rubbing his face. Was he going insane? He could swear he knew that man, but could not for the life of him remember where he had seen him before!
Gwenivere was in their shared quarters, her child like face smiling faintly at him as he entered. "My lord, you look unwell," she said after a moment, frowning faintly as she moved toward him. She placed a hand on her husband's chest and he moved her hand aside.
"I need to be alone," he said.
Gwenivere watched him with a solemn face, saddened that her husband would not confide in her. Indeed, she kept the darkest of his secrets for him and indeed was a wonderful source of relief when he felt he could not handle something. She nodded slowly and kissed Arthur's temple before walking out.
A bright flash occurred not far from Arthur. He rubbed his eyes and looked around for the source of it, frowning when he found one. Could it have been his sword Excalibur? Or perhaps it had been Avalon?
"So, the boy grew up into an even prettier boy," said a man's voice, an Irish accent prevalent in it.
Arthur looked around and found the source leaning on the closed door. The man smirked faintly and moved away from the door. Arthur stood up and glared coldly at the spirit. "Who are you and why do you haunt me?"
"Haunt you? Hah!" said the spirit, chuckling as he moved closer. "No, I'm not haunting you. In fact, I'm here because I believe I wanted to see what became of that little boy my eyes frightened so."
"Who are you," said Arthur. He was becoming very irritated with this game.
"Ahhh, you should know me," said the spirit, smirking deviously. He put his hands on his hips and walked around Arthur. "By the way, I've been wondering something. I've been watching you for a while now, lad and something very obvious has been bothering me."
Arthur stood his ground, closing his eyes so that the man's walking around him wouldn't bother him so much. "What has been bothering you, sir?"
The man's voice in his ear sent odd shivers down his spine, like the sound of a lover's voice. "What is a woman doing in a man's position in both throne and the marriage bed?"
