Hope you all had a great NYE - happy 2012 :)

CHAPTER 4

Camelot.

The court had barely time to celebrate Arthur's coronation before it was swept up in a frenzy of packing luggage, gathering supplies, hunting down men and horses, and general preparation for the new king's tour of the kingdom. As was customary for all new monarchs, Arthur was to embark on a fortnight-long journey to all the corners of his realm, greeting the noblemen who inhabited the vast estates, and dropping in on small villages to establish himself as Uther's replacement.

They had been travelling for about half a day, those on horseback (the king and queen, the knights, and various other royal dignitaries) leading those on foot in a mile-long procession that snaked through the green forests of Camelot. Merlin had been permitted to ride, but was positioned towards the back of the noblemen in their striking scarlet uniforms and gleaming armour. He had hoped that Arthur becoming king would boost his position at court, but so far, he was still stuck with the same servant duties he had always had. He still carried the title of 'manservant' – only now it was for a king, not a prince – and the job had as few perks as ever. Gaius had remained behind, declaring resolutely that he was too old to be, in his words, "gallivanting around the countryside". Merlin had smirked, but now he wished he too had remained at home. He would have enjoyed the few days of peace, with the king and knights gone. Only Uther remained, and he mostly stayed shut up in his room when he wasn't advising Arthur about something or other.

Their first stop was Cafton, a town not far from the court of Greyfell, the noble household with whom they would be staying that night. It was an honour for any family to be asked to house the king and his company, but Merlin wished he could warn the Greyfell family of what they had let themselves in for. He was sure they hadn't counted on the king bringing with him hundreds of soldiers and servants, as well as the various horses and carts full of provisions. He just hoped that the castle at Greyfell was big enough.

As expected, the king and his procession were met with cheers of delight as they wound their way through the streets of Cafton. Arthur was popular with most throughout the kingdom – a combination of his good pedigree, his proven leadership, and his handsome features – and men and women left their houses to line the streets as Arthur and Gwen rode past.

"Where's the princess?" one woman cried out as the king and queen passed her. Princess Aurora hadn't yet been officially presented to the kingdom, aside from the ceremony after her birth, and people were eager to catch a glimpse of the king's only child.

"Good point, actually," Merlin said, riding alongside his master. Arthur rolled his eyes but didn't order him away. "Why isn't Aurora here?"

"It's not safe, Merlin," Arthur answered shortly, and spurred his horse on.

Gwen smiled sympathetically at Merlin. "She wanted to come. Arthur did very well to resist her, actually."

Merlin laughed loudly. "Arthur only gets soft around two people, and that's you and the princess."

"She's probably causing some sort of havoc at the castle," Gwen sighed. "I wouldn't be surprised if Uther's ready to throw her off the battlements."

"We both know that Uther dotes on her. He loves having a granddaughter."

"Makes up for all he lost with Morgana," Gwen said grimly.

"Don't talk about her," Merlin replied sternly. He smiled broadly. "Come on, this is your chance to show everybody what a wonderful, gracious queen you really are."

"Oh yeah?" Gwen laughed, and sat up straight in her saddle, her head held high. "How do I look?"

Merlin looked her up and down, appraising her with a raised eyebrow. "Well…" he pursed his lips. "You're a lovely sight to behold, Queen Guinevere –"

"Thank you, Merlin," she smiled.

" – but I don't think your subjects would be too impressed with the way you treat your servants."

"What do you mean?" Gwen asked, looking confused.

Merlin shrugged dramatically. "Obviously, I'm just a lowly manservant. But if you ask me, my many years of servitude under you and your husband, the beloved king of Camelot, surely means that I am entitled to something more?"

Gwen rolled her eyes, and relaxed her position – she was a keen rider, but hated having to sit up straight all the time. "And what exactly do you require, good sir?"

"Ooh," he sighed in delight. "How about…my own quarters? It's a little demeaning having to share with Gaius. And how about Knight status? I've saved Arthur's neck more times than the rest of them put together. And I would appreciate not being insulted every time he sees me."

Gwen laughed, her dark eyes twinkling. "I'll see what I can do, Merlin. But you know, I myself have no authority as a humble queen. I've told Arthur not to be so mean to you, but you know what he's like."

"Tell me about it," Merlin lamented. "I've had it for years."

They looked up to see the king trotting majestically back towards them, smiling down at the last few people who had come to see the procession on the outskirts of the town.

"Here we go," Merlin muttered grimly, before raising his head to beam at his master.

"Alright, Arthur?" he greeted him, and Gwen could barely contain her snort of laughter.

Arthur eyed them suspiciously. "What's going on? What's so funny, Guinevere?"

"Nothing, Arthur," she smiled at her husband. "How much further is the castle?"

"Not too far. Why, are you tired?"

"A little."

"We'll be there soon, I promise. Merlin?" Merlin's attention – which had been averted towards a cluster of knights fighting – on horseback – over a handkerchief that had been thrown by a pretty girl in the town square – snapped back to Arthur.

"Yes, sire?"

"Why are you still here?"

"What?"

Arthur sighed deeply, reminding Merlin somewhat of a very angry bull. "You were told to ride behind the knights. Surely you don't think it's appropriate for the Greyfells to see Guinevere and I arriving on either side of a servant?"

"Of course not, sire," Merlin answered, and pulled at his reigns to turn his horse around. "That wasn't exactly your attitude when I had to save your backside the other day," he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, sire."

"Merlin…" Arthur warned him, his eyes narrowed.

Merlin bit his lip. "Um...I was just saying how I will take the south side. Of the procession."

"Right. You do that."

Merlin nodded, and spurred his horse into a canter. He caught Gwen's eye, and it was clear that she was trying not to laugh. Though he regularly complained about his master, he was happy for the both of them: happy that they had found each other, happy that they had overcome many obstacles in order to be together. They had all been through so much, but finally it seemed that everything was working out for the pair of them. Arthur was king at last, worshipped by the commoners and respected by the noblemen and the leaders of foreign kingdoms. Gwen herself was more popular than any of them had ever dreamed – her fairy-tale story had been told throughout the realm, and she was beloved by everyone, even those who had doubted her ability to marry a prince. And then there was their daughter, Aurora, happy and healthy, and the apple of her parents' eyes. She was stubborn, like her father, but had her mother's kind heart.

"Merlin!" he heard Arthur's voice calling him, and ground to a halt. Turning in his saddle, he squinted through the sunlight back down the procession line to the very front.

"Yes?" he shouted in response.

"You'll be sleeping in the stables!"

The knights all laughed, and Merlin turned away from them. Yes, they had all come a long way since Morgana had been driven out of Camelot, but nothing had really changed at all.

The sun was setting behind the great grey tower of the castle as King Arthur's procession wound its way up the steep hill towards it. Arthur rode ahead, his scarlet cape standing out against the muted colours of his company. He glanced up at the tower, where a large flag had been raised in his honour, bearing the Pendragon crest. Catching sight of two figures standing in front of the great entrance doors, he smiled broadly and hurried to meet his old friend.

"Pellean," he greeted the duke, dismounting from his horse and going to embrace him. Pellean Greyfell's bearded face smiled at him, his grey eyes wrinkled as he beheld the king.

"Look at you, Arthur," he appraised. "Who would have thought you would turn out to be such a popular young king?" He laughed, his booming voice echoing off the high stone walls. He looked past Arthur, at the snaking line of people still making their way up the hill. "I see you brought your entire court with you."

Arthur looked a little sheepish. "I apologise, Pellean. I should have made it clear how many I intended to bring with me."

"Nonsense, your highness. We've more than enough room."

Arthur smiled gratefully. "It's been too long, Pellean. It's good to see you again."

"Must have been at least ten years," the duke agreed. "Remember how we used to be? Hunting every day, and when we weren't hunting…jousting! Oh, how I hated it when you beat me."

Arthur chuckled. "You put up a fair fight, if I remember. But then you refused my offer of becoming one of my knights."

"Ah, alas," Pellean sighed. "I was not cut out to be a knight of Camelot, Arthur. All that bloodshed…" he shuddered. "No, I'm happy here, far away from it all."

"Well, you'll always be welcome in Camelot, if you ever change your mind."

"I am grateful, Arthur. But how dreadful of us! You have yet to have been introduced to my wife, and I yours. Sire, this fine woman beside me is my dear wife, Elaine."

The thin, red-haired woman curtseyed low, but Arthur took her hand and brought her back up.

"I'll have none of that," he pretended to scold, bowing low and bringing her pale hand to his lips. "It is I who must be thanking you, Duchess, for allowing me to stay in your home."

"It is an honour," she said quietly.

Arthur released her hand and turned away from the duke and his wife. Gwen had caught up, and her maidservants helped her dismount next to Arthur's horse. They trailed behind her as she hurried towards the group standing outside the castle doors.

"Pellean, this is my wife and queen, Guinevere," Arthur said proudly, as the duke copied Arthur's bow, taking Gwen's hand.

"How wonderful to finally meet the girl who tamed the prince!" Pellean joked, nudging Arthur with his elbow. "Your letters didn't lie, Arthur – she's a beauty."

Gwen grinned at her husband, who blushed.

"Of course she is," Arthur smiled back, looping an arm around her waist.

"Guinevere, this is my own wife, Elaine," Pellean said, gesturing at the woman by his side. Gwen smiled kindly at her, and she returned with a shy smile of her own.

"Shall we take this little gathering inside?" Pellean suggested in his booming voice, glancing at the hundreds of people slowly making their way towards the castle. "Arthur, please invite your men – and women – " he winked at Gwen – "inside the castle. They must be exhausted from all that travelling. I'll send someone out to help them settle."

Arthur nodded, and Gwen was swept up by Pellean as he and the duchess led her inside the heavy castle doors. The king hurried back towards his horse, where a crowd of knights were now dismounting.

"Leon," he said to the nearest of his friends. "Make sure all the horses are put away for the night, and the servants have somewhere to sleep – the duke is sending someone out to help you. You lot," – he gestured towards the knights – "are all invited inside. Pellean's known for putting on an excellent feast."

Leon grinned, excited at the prospect of a decent meal after their day of travelling. "Yes, sire. We'll be with you right away."

Arthur returned to the castle to find Pellean, Elaine and Guinevere sitting beside a large, crackling fire. Servants passed by him, nodding their head towards him absentmindedly as they hurriedly carried out their duties. Guinevere smiled as he entered, and both the duke and duchess rose from their comfortable seats.

"I was just telling the queen how sorry we were to have missed out on your wedding," Pellean explained as they all sat down again.

Arthur nodded emphatically. "I was disappointed not to see you there, Greyfell." He frowned at his old friend.

Pellean shrugged in apology. "There was no way we could have left here. Still picking up the pieces after that fiasco with Morgana…"

"Let's not talk about that," Arthur said quickly. "She's gone now."

"But still," Pellean continued, leaning towards him. "They say she's still around, Arthur. They never did find her, did they? You've got to be careful."

"I will be," Arthur said shortly.

Gwen coughed, and the men drew back in their chairs, as if the exchange had never taken place.

"What were we saying?" Pellean boomed, looking away from Arthur. "Ah yes, your wedding. You received our gifts?"

"We did, they were lovely," Gwen replied, glancing at Arthur. He too was turned away, his eyes focused on the dancing flames in the fireplace. "And we didn't see you at the christening, either."

Pellean's jaw clenched, and his wife took a deep breath. Gwen got the distinct impression she had said something wrong, and Arthur's attention left the fire.

"Er, yes," Pellean said, looking a little uncomfortable. "We were…otherwise engaged…"

Elaine suddenly stood up, and before the men had time to rise with her she had fled the room, her hands covering her pale face and her red hair streaming out behind her. Gwen gasped.

"Is she alright? What have I done?"

"Don't worry, my queen," Pellean assured her, looking anxiously after his wife. "It's not your fault. I'm sorry – I should go." He bowed low towards them both, and then hurried after his wife.

Gwen looked up at Arthur with a worried expression. "Was it something I said?" she asked, replaying the conversation they had just had.

Arthur put a comforting arm on her shoulder. "You wouldn't have known. Pellean and Elaine lost their infant son at the same time Aurora's birth was announced. They were still grieving when we had the christening."

Gwen looked aghast. "I'm such an idiot. How awful for them…I didn't know."

"I didn't tell you," Arthur explained. "I didn't want to worry you."

"The poor little thing…how did he die?"

Arthur shook his head sadly. "He didn't die, Guinevere. He was taken."

Gwen sat down heavily, contemplating Arthur's words. "Taken? By whom?"

He shrugged, and settled into the seat beside her. "They don't know, but it was probably bandits. Apparently there was a group operating here at around the same time."

"I didn't even know they had a son. I wish you had told me. Then I wouldn't have made such a stupid comment."

"Like I said, I didn't want to worry you. I didn't want you to think that Aurora was unsafe."

Gwen thought of her daughter, and the duke's son. They would be about the same age now, give or take a year. She suddenly felt very homesick, and wished she were back at home in Camelot, with Aurora in her arms.

Malcourt.

Drystan clung to the tree trunk as he swung his legs up onto a higher branch. He had finally – finally – been allowed out of the castle by himself. Yes, he was under strict orders not to go beyond the big pine tree that stood at the edge of the path, but he was one step closer to the freedom he craved.

Living with Morgana, Drystan hadn't had an unpleasant upbringing. On the contrary, she had bestowed upon her adoptive son every piece of knowledge she thought necessary that the seven-year old know, and had kept him well-fed and comfortable. He wore clothes that resembled the tunics of young princes – made from whatever materials the witch could lay her hands on in her trips out of Malcourt – and he was surprisingly well-mannered, given his unconventional home life. But he was terribly lonely. As he had grown older and more able to look after himself, Morgana had stopped spending all of her time with him. Her journeys away became more frequent, and when she was at home she stayed shut up in her bedroom, practicing her magic.

Drystan had had to occupy himself with his own games, spending whole days fighting imaginary dragons in the castle dungeons, or taking part in imaginary duels with an opponent of his own invention. Most of these came from Morgana's stories – the time when she was most attentive to the young boy was at night, when she would tuck him into his small bed and tell him tales that made his hair stand on end. Chilling encounters with old, wrinkled wizards and ruthless kings determined to prevent the heroine (for Morgana's stories always featured a young, orphaned girl with no one to turn to) from returning to her rightful home, filled the boy's imagination, so that the characters in his own games became very similar to the ones in he was told about at night.

Right now, for instance, he was a great Dragonlord, flying so high with his beast that he skimmed the tops of the trees. He nestled into the crook of a thick, sturdy branch, and pretended that this was the hollow at the nape of the dragon's neck. He peered out through the green leaves of the pine, imagining that he was flying, flying away from Malcourt and the cold castle that was his home.

Then he remembered his mother, Morgana, the only other person he knew in this world, besides his imaginary friends and enemies. Yes, she was strict and overprotective, but they were all each other had. He sighed; he supposed she could come, too.

The sound of horses' hooves distracted him from his game, and he pulled himself up so that he was standing precariously on the branch. He was just about tall enough to see through the other branches, and squinted into the distance. Though the spring sun shone brightly through the fluffy white clouds, the dense woodland meant that he couldn't see very far. He waited impatiently for the sounds to get closer, and then a scene of wonder appeared to him. He was suddenly able to see the characters from the stories: the handsome man dressed in royal colours, striding majestically at the front on a pure white horse. Beside him rode a pretty woman in a long dress, and behind them a never-ending line of knights in silver armour, and men and women dragging carts full of goods. The horses seemed far healthier than Morgana's, who he wasn't allowed to ride anyway. From his secret position in the branches of the tree, he was able to get a good look at the faces of the people as they passed beneath him. The man in front was wearing a gold crown, so he must have been some sort of prince or king. His face was serious but didn't look cruel, not like the royalty he had heard about in Morgana's tales. The woman too wore a delicate gilt circlet on top of her long dark hair, and she was laughing at something the man had said. She looked too kind to be the cold, cunning princess he had been told about.

Without thinking, Drystan slid down the branches of the tree until he landed with a soft thud on the pile of leaves below. He stayed hidden in the tree's protective shadow, but the procession was close enough that he could hear the words exchanged between groups of people, be they on horseback or on foot. One of the knights had twisted himself in his saddle so he was facing backwards, and was shouting something at a skinny, dark-haired young man at the back of the group of riders.

"Get a move on, Merlin!" the knight laughed. "We're nearly there, and if you don't hurry up you really will be stuck with the stables for your bedchambers!"

The other man shook his head, but evidently wasn't perturbed by the knight's mocking.

"I don't think the king was joking, Gwaine," another knight joined in. "I wouldn't be at all surprised if that's where Merlin ends up tonight."

"At least I wasn't born in a stable, Percival!" the man named Merlin countered, and the knight scowled.

"You dare talk to a knight like that?" Gwaine threatened, but Merlin didn't seem frightened by the expression on his face.

The line of men continued to snake through the woods, until the last few stragglers with wooden wagons and carts passed by. Drystan was daydreaming, imagining what his life would be like if he too were a knight, when something caught his eye. He glanced at the wagon closest to him, which had a small, square hole cut into the side. The face of a young girl, framed with dark curls, peered through this gap from inside the wagon. A thin gold band rested on top of her head, and it was this that had caught Drystan's eye. Wanting a closer look, he stepped out from beneath the tree's branches, and made eye-contact. She looked a little alarmed at the sight of the small boy suddenly appearing from behind a tree, but she made no sound. Drystan wondered what she was doing, shut up in the small wooden wagon. It didn't look very comfortable, and judging by the several inches of silky fabric that he could see draped around the girl's shoulders, she seemed used to comfort.

After a few seconds of eye contact, the girl raised a small finger to her lips – he was to be quiet, he was not to say anything. He nodded, and the wagon passed by him. She was out of his sight as quickly as she had come into it. With only a moment's hesitation – during which he seriously considered running after the wagon – Drystan darted back into the cover of the tree, and waited until the procession was out of sight.

That night, he refused a story from Morgana, claiming exhaustion. Instead, he thought up his own tale, of a young princess locked up in a wagon, and a lonely boy from the woods who would save her.

So Aurora and Drystan have met, albeit briefly...their relationship will become more important later on.

Let's make a deal - I'll update more quickly if you review. Okay? Cool.

A xo