WORDS TO DARE SAY
When he opens his eyes, Arthur heaves a contented sigh before realizing he does not know at all where he is.
He feels clean, is wearing a fresh linen shirt, lying in light sheets smelling of lavender. When he runs a hand through his hair, absent-mindedly, he finds it smooth. His muscles are rested, the wound in his thigh soothed and only throbbing distantly, fatigue and fever from the past days gone.
This room is bright, taut with sandy brocade curtains and the sun streams through the open windows, warming the wooden table on which are stacked neatly folded clothes, next to an ewer and a silver cup.
He props himself up against the soft embroidered pillows, savoring the comforting feeling for a few minutes ... before remembering that he is on the run, Camelot has fallen, his father is a prisoner and his sister has betrayed them.
His eyes darken, his gaze search for his sword and someone knocks on the door.
- "Come in", answers Arthur with a frown.
He was expecting to see Gaius or Merlin, or perhaps Sir Leon with an explanation on how he got to this room, but it's a short gray-haired man who enters, dressed in a sober but elegant dark blue surcoat. He smiles at the prince and comes to the bed serenely, his hands in his back. He has weathered features, a bushy mustache and the cozy padding of a man who enjoys good food and spends more time in councils than on the training grounds.
- "Hello, Arthur", he says pleasantly. "Welcome to Nemeth."
The prince sits up when he recognizes him and tries to get off the bed.
- "Your Majesty. Let me ..."
King Rodor gestures to put an end to unnecessary formalities.
- "Don't, Arthur, you're still recovering from your injury. I know what an ordeal you've been through", he says in a more serious tone. "Your knights gave me a detailed report. It is a tragedy and my heart bleeds for my old friend Uther Pendragon. Of course, you will have my full support to reclaim your lost citadel."
The young man nods with gratitude.
- "I'm sorry we meet again in these circumstances ..." he mutters darkly. "So many lives were and will be lost because of Cenred ... and my sisters."
Rodor reaches out and paternally pats the prince's shoulder.
- "Take heart. And have some rest, I'll fetch the physician, tell him you're awake. He only left your chambers for a moment. You've been sleeping for three days, you know."
Arthur pulls a face.
- "Three days! What a waste of time ..."
The king chuckles kindly.
- "No, actually, on the contrary. You'd never been able to fight and regain your kingdom in the state you where in upon your arrival. And your men may be brave like lions, they were exhausted at the time."
He joins his hands again in his back.
- "If the physician deems you well enough to be up, will you dine with us tonight?"
Arthur nods politely.
- "It will be my pleasure."
- "Your knights will share our table, of course", the king continues obligingly. "I've seldom met a man as intelligent and dedicated as this young Lancelot. As for the others, any ruler would be fortunate to have them in the ranks of his army."
The prince beams, even though he knows he should correct immediately Rodor's assumptions.
His company is composed of a only one knight - the rest being the patchwork of a physician, two servants and three tramps. All with unwavering loyalty to him. All equally precious to him.
- "Thank you, Your Majesty. Camelot is indebted to you and we will not forget about your kindness."
Rodor's round face shows his compassion.
- "No need to mention it. You would have done the same for Nemeth."
He looks like he's trying to find something to say to cheer up Arthur and his face brightens up suddenly.
- "Oh! How unmindful of me, I was forgetting to tell you. You'll be pleased to learn your young brother is doing a lot better too. Mithian adores him and I have to say the whole castle is smitten by his good nature."
He nods thoughtfully.
- "Whilst he might be pitied over his daughters' deeds, Uther Pendragon was certainly blessed with his sons' hearts. I'm glad you seem to share such a bond with the lad, despite his… condition. I can understand why a man as proud as your father would not bring him forward in Court, but I found myself rather pleased that you don't show the same distance. If I may ask, is he the son of a courtesan? He looks a lot like your sister Morganaa, so I … "
He pauses at the prince's bewildered stare.
- "What "brother"?"
- "Well, Merlin, of course!" exclaims Rodor agreeably. Then his eyes widen with surprise. "Is he not? He's been begging all the time to be allowed to see "Arthur"! I mean, familiarity with a Pendragon … and the care the others of your party have for him let me think he was ... important ..."
A fond smile creeps on Arthur's face.
- "Oh, he is important", he snorts. "But he's not my brother, he's my manservant. I ... I guess he is - a bit - like a younger brother", he adds after a thought.
And it feels like saying these words - and why on Earth did he say them now, here, to a man he barely knows? – takes away an invisible weight in his chest.
The king's look is indecipherable.
- "I'm sorry for the confusion", says the prince softly. "Sir Leon is the only one in my escort who's of noble blood. Merlin is Gaius' grand-son and the others are commoners."
Genuine deep blue eyes lock with Rodor's patient gaze.
- "There're my friends. They're brave, loyal, humble and each of them would give his life for Camelot", he continues earnestly.
And I don't care what people think. I won't deny them. They are worthy to sit at the table of a king.
The man tilts his head to the side again and smiles kindly.
- "Oh, there's no need to complete your thought aloud, Arthur", he says. "I understand, probably more than you can imagine. My best friend was a stable boy, when I was your age. The man was born following the knights' code."
Arthur hesitates.
- "What happened to him?"
- "An arrow, during a siege. Loyalty goes along with sacrifice, for such noble souls."
The king takes a few steps toward the door, then turns around one last time.
- "May I ask you something, Arthur?"
The prince signs yes.
- "Does he know? Merlin. Does he know how important he is? Did you tell him?"
Arthur shakes his head and darkens.
- "No", he replies huskily. "It's not ... it's not something I can tell him. It wouldn't be fair…. and it'd be dangerous ... And my father..."
If his father had heard what he said earlier, he would have banished Merlin beyond the Great Seas of Meredor before the end of this conversation.
King Rodor nods.
- "I understand", he repeats. "But… Arthur, do not wait until death scythes him away to acknowledge this selfless friendship. Life is short and age will teach you that fidelity can be paid for, but devotion can never be bought. You're a fortunate man to have won the heart of these people.. and you will be a wise leader if you honor them."
The king of Nemeth takes his leave after these words and Arthur contemplates the wooden door for a long time after he's gone.
Someday ... when they will be back in Camelot ... when his father will have given up getting rid of Merlin ... when the world will be a better and fairest place ...
When he is king...
Then he will remember Rodor's words.
For now, he buries them deep within his heart and smiles warmly at Gaius when he comes back. The old man checks the wound and tells the prince he could not be more pleased with the progress of his recovery. Later, Lancelot and Sir Leon show up in the chambers, both rested, refreshed and dressed almost identically with tunics of good fabric lent by the captain of the guard. They have maps with them, but the physician forbids them to lay the scrolls on the table and to start talking the prince into battle plans.
Then Gwaine pops up, flashing his cheeky smile and with a daisy at the corner of his lips, followed almost immediately by Percival and Merlin who lets out a cry of joy on seeing Arthur awake and who almost climbs on the bed in his exuberant glee.
Arthur is glad to see everyone is fine, even if all the fuss makes him a little dizzy. Gaius shoos them out after one hour and the prince goes back to sleep gratefully. By late afternoon, he feels strong enough to go outside and accepts the physician's help to get dressed. Merlin – now, this is odd - is nowhere to be found. The old man smiles enigmatically: apparently the prince has a serious rival.
With the help of Gaius and a cane, Arthur hobbles down the stairs to the gardens. Before he's even there, he can hear Gwaine's guffawing and Merlin's uncontrollable giggles. He steps under an ivy interlaced arcade, finds himself walking on round slabs across a thick emerald lawn. The courtyard is much bigger than he expected: a large crooked oak shades it, clawing its strong gnarled roots into the ground. A luxuriant tangle of roses climb and cascade on the blond old stones. There is even a pond with water lilies, surrounded by thick green shrubs, the rich scent of honey and myrtles in the soft warmth of the evening.
A ray of golden sunshine tickles his cheek when he sits on the bench at the foot of the tower. Under the oak, Lancelot and Guinevere are reading a book together, probably holding hands behind a fold of the blanket on which they are seated. Their two heads are so close to each other the loosen tendrils of hair on the girl's forehead almost brush against the young man's bangs. Percival and Gwaine are playing ball with a bundle of cloth - and the giant hopping on site is wearing a beige surcoat a little too small for him, whilst his friend is swinging to and fro in a leather jacket a little too big for him.
And then there is ...
Merlin, his dark hair tousled, sparkling blue eyes matching his cobalt tunic, a ribbon to which is attached a cork dangling from his arm, chased after by - Arthur should have guessed – an exhilarated black kitten.
And someone else. A cream silk dress twirling graciously, long glossy raven curls flecked by pearls and tiny white flowers, cheeks glowing pink with the excitement of the game, a swirl of innocent giggles.
- "Arthur!" whoops his manservant when he turns and sees his master.
He picks up the kitten and runs to the prince who braces himself for yet another meet-my-new-best-friend-the-cat moment.
To his surprise, the young person he does not know follows closely.
On the bench beside him, Gaius hides a smirk.
- "Arthur, you're up!" chirps the boy. "Does it still hurt? Do you want something? I can fetch you a drink, the kitchens are very close."
The prince shakes his head, charitably pats the head of the kitten struggling in Merlin's arms.
- "I'm fine. Let go of the poor creature who did nothing to you, Merlin. You loathe hunting, but I think deers are much happier to be put down by one swift arrow, rather than tortured with cuddles for hours like your cats."
- "I think both parties benefit in here", says an amused voice. "If they hated it this much, they would disappear, the castle is huge."
Arthur looks up and in the sun haze, he meets a diamond-shaped face, big amber eyes shaded by long eyelashes, dark eyebrows arched ironically, roseate lips curling into a mischievous smile.
- "Good evening, Your Highness", curtseys the girl. "I am delighted to see your health is better."
- "This is Mithian", tweets in Merlin, proudly. "She's a real princess."
- "Obviously", gasps Arthur after a good fifteen seconds pause.
Then he frowns and blushes furiously, turning his head away - which does not help because his eyes fall on Gaius whose shoulders are wriggling with totally inappropriate silent laughter.
It is really hot for a summer evening.
- "Mithian has tons of cats", twitters a delighted Merlin. "She also owns a crossbow and Sir Leon said she has a keen eye and she beat Gwaine in a horserace."
- "I see you've had a good time during these three days", scoffs the prince, staring at the tips of his boots.
He jumps when she crouches down suddenly, her cream dress sprawling around her in the lush grass, and looks into his eyes very seriously.
- "We were anxiously waiting for you to wake up", she says firmly. "But these few days off were important to lift the spirits of your men, before the time of fighting would resume. Getting back Camelot will not be easy."
Arthur swallows.
It may be because Mithian's words make sense.
Or perhaps because her tightly laced corsage gives very suggestive cleavage.
He looks up and sees that Percival and Gwaine are now approaching. Under the oak, Lancelot has closed the book and Guinevere is rolling the blanket.
Merlin frees the kitten and leans to help his master up.
- "Come, Sire. We'll show you what we've done while you were snoring."
It is Gaius who supports Arthur, in the end, for the servant's ribs are not yet strong enough to be used as a crutch for a man of the prince's built. Mithian follows them without a word to the room where the Camelot refugees have established their headquarters, and where they find Sir Leon who welcomes the son of his king with a broad smile.
Three days he slept.
In three days they drew the access points of the citadel, pulled bits of wool on the maps, planted daggers at key locations, gathered chain mail coats of their sizes, polished their helmets and sharpened their swords. They know which horses will take them to the battlefield, they met those who will face the enemy at their side, have trained with them. They are only waiting for their lord's orders.
Arthur nods approvingly, a lump in his throat.
Loyal, humble, organized.
These are his people.
- "For the love of Camelot", he says with a croaked smile.
- "For the love of Camelot", they answer without hesitation, standing around him.
Somewhere, mingled with the deep pitch of the men, he hears two female voices.
Three more days pass at the speed of light and it's already time to leave. Arthur got so used to the pace of their life in Nemeth, it feels like he always had lunch with King Rodor, discussing with him like it has never been possible with his own father; always sparred on the training ground in the midst of simple men who volunteered for the Camelot rescue mission; always spent his evenings in the garden, sitting on the bench whilst listening to Merlin's giggles as he plays with the cats and Mithian's cream dress sweeps on the lawn.
Guinevere and Lancelot timidly approached him, the first night he was up, after dinner. He did not need to hear what they had to say to understand. He reached out, friendly squeezed his friend's shoulder, smiled at the maid who lowered her eyes, gave his blessing and promised he would bring the best wine of Camelot at their wedding - when they would be home again.
- "Are you upset?" Merlin asked while helping him to undress for the night.
Arthur shook his head - and dispelled the last twinge inside him, like a strand of wool drowning in water.
- "A man must know when to step aside", he replied. "Guinevere deserves to be happy and I'm not ... not ready. Not strong enough to confront my father and marry a maid ... not passionate enough either. I ..."
He pondered about it, tried to be as honest as possible.
- "I do love her, I think. But not like him. Not to the point I'd sacrifice everything for her. Not enough."
Merlin nibbled his lips.
- "And then ... she likes you, but not as a husband. It's because you're a bore."
Arthur threw a pillow at him, but he felt his heart lighter after this.
The day before they left for Camelot, he went to the ramparts to fill his lungs with fresh air and contemplate the beautiful view. The sparkling river at the bottom of the plain of Nemeth, the mountains of Asgorath with the setting sun glowing on their ridges, the wheat fields and green forests, this country bathed in peace and wealth just on the edge of Camelot torn by war.
He did not notice her leaning on the crenels next to him until that blasted kitten came to rub against his elbow, purring.
- "Merlin, what did I say about ..." he exclaimed, turning, and then the words crumbled on his tongue when he saw it was not his manservant.
The princess smiled, propping her cheek in her palm, looking at him with amusement.
- "He's in the armory where you sent him earlier", she said.
The black kitten staggered on the stone ledge and Arthur vaguely scratched it under the chin to give himself countenance. The evening breeze bristled the blond wisps on his nape.
- "What are you looking at?" Mithian asked very gently, very seriously.
- "I'm thinking about Camelot", replied the prince slowly. "About my people who will be caught again in the fighting. About my father ... I don't know if he's still alive. About ... my sisters. My sister. Morganaa."
He snorted bitterly.
- "I don't understand. I didn't get it when I saw it and I still don't understand. Why she ... why did she have to betray us, to throw the kingdom into the hands of Cenred..."
He inhaled deeply.
- "Perhaps it would have been easier if she'd tried to kill our father on the first day. I tried. ... It helped with my anger, even if didn't solve anything."
- "Did you forgive him? Your father. I ... I mean, I don't know what caused this hatred, but it seems to me ... I, well, for me, my father is ... well, it's not - possible to be happy with such a ... such a ..."
Arthur took some time to look at the features of the young woman concentrating to choose the right words.
- "It's not surprising you get along so well with Merlin", he finally whispered. "That's what he said too... the fool. My father despises him, and yet ... Merlin tried to save his life. He would do it again if necessary."
Mithian smiled softly.
- "It is for you, Arthur. It is for you that he does it all."
The prince shrugged.
- "Why?"
The night was falling and when he turned his head toward her, her eyes shone in the darkness and the breeze stirred her long raven curls.
- "Because one day you will be a great king. Because he knows it. And because he loves you. This is your strength, Arthur. It is the same for each of your men here, for those of our soldiers who have stepped forward to be part of the forces that will deliver Camelot. You know how to draw people together for a cause greater than their selfish goals, you ignite in them the desire to live, to stand up and fight. You were born to lead and to bring peace - not only to your country but beyond the borders of Camelot until the five kingdoms are one."
And to that, he replied nothing because he did not what to say.
Because he did not dare to believe it.
Mithian picked up the little cat and snuggled it in her arms.
- "My heart will be with you tomorrow and in the coming days, Your Majesty. Don't get hurt."
He smiled – sincerely, this time.
- "I'll do my best. This is war, Princess."
She nodded, curtseyed, stepped aside and spinned back to him suddenly.
- "When ... when Camelot's yours again, when the realm's at peace... could you ...would you ... will you come back to Nemeth?"
Arthur shook his head.
- "Probably not before months - perhaps more than a year. We'll need to rebuild, there'll be a lot of work to do and ..."
She interrupted.
- "So ... can I come to Camelot?"
She looked almost pleading. He smiled again, reached out and patted the tiny ears of the kitten.
- "You'll be welcome to", he said kindly, easily. "Merlin will have no rest 'til you've seen each of the hundreds of cats that are his friends. And my father will be quite pleased to meet you. I'll take you on a hunting trip this time. I'm sure my crossbow skills are a match to yours ... "
He did not add: "and I will miss you. You, your father, the garden blossoming with roses. These three days when I could be true to myself even though the world had collapsed around me. Thank you, Mithian", but maybe she understood because she smiled and took the arm he offered her to go down the stairs.
At dawn the next day, when the riders depart through the lower town, a long column of Nemeth's green cloaks and Camelot's red tunics, the king turns to his daughter and notices the tears clinging to her long lashes.
- "You fear for their lives, my child", he says softly.
Mithian shakes her head, tightening her lips and frowning.
- "If I were a man, I could go and fight with them", she whispers.
- "A battlefield is no place for a woman", gently scolds Rodor, placing his arms on the fragile shoulders of his daughter.
- "Guinevere is with them", argues the princess in a muffled voice.
The king sighs, then nods thoughtfully.
- "Guinevere is different. There is a strength in her, which is not that of an ordinary girl. Like ... I don't know. Don't compare yourself to her, Mithian. Your destinies have nothing in common."
Yet their paths have already crossed and it will happen again.
Like the mirror reflection of two stars blending together in a pond when one's throws in it a coin.
oOoOoOo
Arthur gives a last glance to the celestial vault studded with a billion gleaming diamonds and goes back to the center of the large room, in the castle in ruins where they established their quarters for the last night before the attack on the citadel.
The Nemeth soldiers have settled in the floor below and they hear their distant voices and the quiet rattle of their mail coats.
- "Do you think they can see the smoke from Camelot?" Merlin asks, putting a log in the fireplace.
- "If it's the case, I hope it gives them the creeps", grunts Gwaine.
Gaius is checking his medical supplies next to a massive pillar. Arthur raises an eyebrow, intrigued, pulls the dusty cloth covering the table in the middle of the room, and contemplates the round surface engraved with runes.
- " Here! Come and join me", he calls.
They obey, sit around the table, their interrogative eyes staring at him.
He smiles.
- "This table belonged to the ancient kings of Camelot ", he says. " A round table afforded no one man more importance than any other. I once asked Balinor why a society who hated the privileges of nobility had chosen such a pompous name as Dragonlords. He said the ancient kings, who lived in the days when beasts of fire walked among men, believed in equality in all things."
They listen carefully as he speaks.
The night is solemn.
All different, all equal.
Arthur, Merlin, Guinevere, Lancelot, Percival, Sir Leon, Gaius, Gwaine.
A prince, a servant, a woman, a literary man, a brawny farmer, a very proper knight, a scientist, a tramp with a generous heart.
Like a sample of mankind.
With their weaknesses and their faults.
With their strengths and hopes.
Together.
It is time.
Arthur takes a deep breath.
- "Without each of you, I would not be here. I ... I am proud to build the world with you all."
He turns to his left.
- "Lancelot, you taught me the values of a knight had nothing to do with a title. That a man should fight with honor for justice, freedom, and all that's good. Thank you."
His eyes gently smile at the woman sitting next to his friend.
- "Guinevere, you made me look at who I really was and showed me how to choose who I wanted to become. Thank you."
His gaze moves next to the blond knight.
- "Leon, you fought for my father, for Camelot and for me. It will be an honor to fight alongside you as equals. Thank you."
The chair creaks when the bearded young man squirms to hide his emotion.
- "Gwaine, you taught me there's always hope as long as we can still get up – and that a tankard of mead shared with a friend is worth more than a pile of gold coins. Thank you."
The giant does nothing to hide his own tears.
- "Percival, the strongest man in the world - and the most humble. You're always there for your friends, no matter what. Thank you."
Arthur leans to lock eyes with the old man who doesn't dare lifting his hoary head.
- "Gaius, if the gods allow me to reach your age someday, I wish I can look back, then, and see I have served my people tirelessly, as you did. Thank you."
Everyone's sniffing, more or less discreetly, and the prince himself feels the moist in his eyes.
He squares his shoulders in his chainmail coat and turns to his right.
The cobalt orbs are there, looking up at him, radiating with pride.
- "Merlin ..."
He does not get to finish his sentence.
- "Thank you", whispers the boy.
And there is nothing to answer to this, so the prince quickly shoves his sleeve under his nose and lets go of a strangled chuckle.
- "I'll do something that my father won't approve of", he announces. "But the people will deem it right."
And in front of the hearth where a clear fire burns high, he makes Lancelot, Gwaine and Percival Knights of Camelot.
A world had ended and it is the birth of a new one.
TBC
Now. Brace yourself, for what's coming won't be pretty.
Next chapter : LONG LIVE THE KING