I don't own Merlin.

1490 Years Ago...

"Now being of age, and in absence of an heir apparent, you shall henceforth be Constantine, Crown Prince of Albion."

Cheering followed Gwen's announcement as the young man rose and turned to face the crowd that filled the throne room. Gwen watched with a small smile as Constantine acknowledged the crowd and went to walk among them. She'd regained her appetite within a year of Merlin's return, though she was not at her best. She was thin and there were faint shadows below her eyes for her sleep was still sparse. But despite that, she was still ruling fairly and well as queen regent.

Nodding to the courtiers, Gwen descended from the dais and walked to the side of the only person clapping less than passionately.

"Come on Merlin, he'll make a good king."

"I know, but he just doesn't seem...right. You know?"

"No one's good enough for you, are they? Constantine's a good fighter, he's clever, and he's shown all the marks of a fine ruler. Besides, he's from a noble family that's not from Camelot, so he's an excellent diplomatic choice."

"Hmph," Merlin shrugged noncommitally.

Gwen shook her head, smiling. "I had to pick an heir sooner or later, no one lives forever."

Merlin smiled too. "You are getting a bit old."

"Hey!"

But he had a point. Grey hair had started to appear at Gwen's temples, and Merlin's brow showed the starts of lines. Percival and Leon had both taken positions as advisors in favor of less frequent fighting. As for Gaius, the old man had persevered as long as he could and Merlin now acted as the court's physician as well as its sorcerer.

"Well, I'd better get ready for tonight." Merlin turned and started to leave the hall.

Gwen walked with him, "Royal socks to wash?"

"What?"

"Oh...Nothing, just something we talked about when Arthur was named Crown Prince."

"How do you remember that?"

"Just stood out, I suppose." Gwen shrugged. "Anyway, I'll see you at the feast. And try to look happy."

"I'll do my best."

Merlin walked to his chambers. They were the same as those he'd once shared with Gaius and the only change he'd made was the large and impressive collection of books on magic. He'd done a lot to restore and expand the collection in the Royal Library as well, working with Geoffrey (and later his successor) as well as the librarians in other courts.

Not that they horded the books they found. More often than not books had been confiscated but not destroyed during the years when sorcery was illegal. When Merlin or the others found such books, they tried to find those they'd been taken from and return the property. The most important thing for reestablishing magic was to make the information on it available.

Merlin washed his hands and walked to his work bench, working a curative potion that was finished brewing. Constantine would be alright, he supposed as he measured the next ingredient. He was a promising knight, and not hair-brained or ignorant. Merlin frowned as he stirred the concoction. He still couldn't help having his doubts about the boy. Merlin scoffed at this. He was getting older. Of course, he was only a couple of years past forty, but his increasingly sceptical outlook gave him pause.

Corking the potion and labelling it, Merlin set the finished potion aside for later delivery, then went to wash up before the feast. He straightened his shirt and pulled on the robe he wore to formal occasions. Peering at his reflection in the faded and speckled mirror above his wash basin, Merlin rubbed his chin. Maybe he should grow a beard...

Thanks for reading, thanks to my beta, and as usual any reviews are warmly received and greatly appreciated.