I'd like to thank Nance. Not only does she proofread, she is the costume designer as well. If the clothing is described down to the thread then those words are probably more hers than mine. Also Dobie and Wil1969 for helping me smooth out some minor hiccups with the flow of this chapter. I Love you, ladies!
Anyway... no wedding this chapter. Next one, though! I promise! Thank you so much for all the support you guys give me through your favs, follows, and comments! LOVE YOU! *smooches*
Sebastian's words rang true in Merlin's ears after he'd made his way back to his chambers from bidding Mithian a goodnight. He'd stared at the bed for a while, challenging its fluffiness and debating on whether or not he could cast a spell on it to make it feel more familiar. It didn't take him long to realize the futility of that idea. There was no way he could ask Mithian to sleep on the floor or even something similar to the small cot he called his own back in Camelot. She was a princess. If he was to be her husband, he realized he'd have to get used to the idea of sleeping in a real bed. For the first time, he felt giddy at the idea of actually getting married.
He wasn't even sure how long it had taken him to fall asleep, but he was awoken the next morning by a scrawny boy, whose teeth seemed too big for his face. The boy placed Merlin's breakfast on the table and drew open the curtains before informing Merlin that the king's personal servant would be in to see him shortly. Merlin didn't get a chance to question the boy as he had already scurried out of the room.
He'd barely sat down to eat, staring at the plate filled with succulent fare fit for royalty, when the wispy, white-haired man with the ponytail was upon him. Rodor's manservant seemed extremely put off from losing a whole day to prepare Merlin for the wedding. However, he had maintained an air of cool politeness and didn't utter a word about Merlin having disappeared the day before. Darvell – Merlin finally recalled the man's name – rushed him through breakfast before bringing in a tailor, followed closely by the same boy who'd woken him. The boy's arms were filled with clothing that Merlin soon found out had belonged to Rodor's sons, including some that had once been Balinor's. There was no time for an outfit to be specially made. Darvell didn't hold back his displeasure at the thought of Princess Mithian marrying someone wearing castoffs, even if they were all of finer quality than Merlin had ever dreamt of wearing.
Merlin was forced to change clothes until the best combination of items was found. The trousers were the easiest piece to fit, comfortable and a deep reddish-brown color. The shirt was softer than any Merlin had ever worn and probably one of the purest whites he'd ever seen. He realized that this was of a different type of silk than he'd come across before, or rather that he needed to take lessons from Nemeth's head laundress in how to keep the satiny texture from stiffening and the color from fading. Next, they had him try on a few doublets, only to find that Merlin's arms were a bit too long for most of the sleeves. The doublets were quickly changed out for a dark blue leather jerkin with gold trim around the neck and arm holes. The buttons were made of polished horn that felt foreign and rich.
In the middle of it all, a scholarly tutor was brought in to grill Merlin on various points of etiquette. Merlin passed with flying colors. Just because he rarely adhered to the protocols of the Court, didn't mean he was ignorant of them. Quite the opposite, in fact. Merlin smirked, knowing that he'd had to learn them all in order to throw them out the window in the most annoying manner possible when it came to serving Arthur.
At one point, Merlin thought he'd heard a ruckus in the hallway outside his room. However, when he tried to investigate, he was promptly stuck with a sharp pin that the tailor was just putting into the white tunic Merlin was wearing. A few moments later, Sebastian strolled in and gave Merlin a once over survey. There was a darkening red mark on his cheek that vaguely resembled a hand print.
"What happened to your face?" Merlin asked curiously.
"Women," he huffed as if that was more than enough explanation. But, being who he was, the burly lord had to add at least one more grumble to the statement. "They don't know how to take a compliment."
Darvell rolled his eyes and muttered something about Lord Sebastian's own issue of not knowing how to take a hint.
Either Sebastian hadn't heard, or simply ignored the manservant. Merlin assumed it was the former, since he was certain Sebastian would have had something to say if he had heard the implied insult.
"King Rodor wants us to join him for lunch. I suggest you get changed out of that fancy outfit. Wouldn't want to give the princess a sneak peak before the wedding."
Merlin tried not to laugh. His arms were stretched out and he was attempting to hold as still as he could while the tailor put the last few pins in.
"Since we are almost finished here, My Lords, I shall go see to His Majesty." Darvell didn't wait for an official dismissal from either man before he left the room.
The scholar nodded politely and informed Merlin that they would continue their lessons later that afternoon, before following the king's manservant. The tailor quirked his mouth back and forth, still filled with pins. Finally, after Sebastian had cleared his throat at least three times, the man threw up his hands and began carefully undressing Merlin with the help of the boy.
"These will just have to do. I suppose," he sighed mournfully. "At least, when these are ready, you won't quite look like a peasant anymore."
Gratefully, Merlin attempted to grab his normal clothes, only to have the boy with the big teeth shove the outfit Merlin had worn two days before into his hands.
"It wouldn't do well for you to attend a meal with the king looking like a servant, M'lord."
Merlin rolled his eyes and bit back a groan. The clothes were all wonderful, but he felt out of place wearing them. Just another thing he would get used to, he supposed.
He trailed along behind Sebastian toward the Dining Hall and nearly ran into the other's back when Sebastian stopped short, just inside the door. Squeezing around his father's cousin, Merlin shook his head in confusion, wondering what would have caused the man to halt so abruptly. Then, he saw his mother already seated at the table. Hunith was giving Sebastian a wide-eyed glare, before turning toward her son with a smile.
"Mother," Merlin reached out and took her outstretched hand.
She looked amazing. Her customary headscarf was gone. Her hair had been brushed until it shone, and then plaited into a single intricate braid down her back. She wore a simple yet elegant sage green satin gown, with tight long sleeves. Her cheeks were still slightly flushed from the whirlwind of recent events.
"Um…Have you met Lord Sebastian?" Merlin turned to introduce her and noticed the guilty way in which Sebastian refused to make eye contact.
"We had the pleasure of making each other's acquaintance in the hallway outside your room earlier," Hunith stated with a tight-lipped smirk.
Sebastian's teeth were clenched so tightly, Merlin could see the veins on the large man's neck bulging from the strain. He finally met Merlin's eyes and attempted to smile. "Your mother, eh? Figures." He then shook his head and let loose with a full belly laugh. "That twat cousin of mine always did have good taste."
Hunith was a gentle and kind woman, but Merlin now knew exactly how Sebastian had received the handprint on his face earlier. It wasn't the first time he'd known his mother to have been pushed too far from a lecherous man's advances. And knowing her the way he did, he was surprised that a slightly bruised cheek was all Sebastian had been given for his efforts.
"Lord Sebastian, I do not appreciate that sort of language in front of guests," King Rodor warned from the head of the table.
Mithian was sitting at her father's side, trying desperately not to giggle. She must have known about the altercation from Hunith's perspective and had also put the pieces together. Merlin politely addressed the king and looked at the layout of the table. There were two open chairs, one next to his mother and the other next to Mithian. He was satisfied that Hunith could take care of herself, so he chose to slide into the seat next to his intended bride.
Sebastian glared at him before reluctantly dropping into the one beside Hunith.
"This is certainly going to be an interesting wedding," Mithian whispered to her beloved.
Biting his tongue, Merlin could only nod in agreement as he watched the awkwardness unfold between his two living family members.
Gwaine was sober. That was the worst part of the ride toward the Eastern Garrison and some of the others had begun to take notice. His temper was short and his responses were more biting and less playful than normal. Gwaine cursed his best friend for putting him in this position. Mordred rode near the front, not far behind the king. The idiot was riding backward in the saddle — "melding" it, as Leon had suggested he do. The poor kid was so far beyond gullible, doing anything to try and prove himself.
Gwaine didn't know much about Mordred's life before Ismere, only that he'd been working with the slave traders that were supplying Morgana with men to work in the mines. It wasn't as if they had actually been mining for something worthwhile, he rolled his eyes remembering the odd creature who had healed him. He had a feeling that creature was what Morgana had been searching for. Merlin might know for sure. He made a mental note to ask his friend…if he ever saw him again.
Arthur seemed to have been familiar with Mordred from even before the boy had saved him from Morgana. How bad could he be? Gwaine began to tick off the few things he did know about the lad. He was an orphan — but many of the knights were in some form or another. He'd never been on a horse before Arthur had begun training him as a knight, or if he had it certainly didn't show. Although, Mordred did seem to have an oddly natural rapport with the creatures and with nature…it was almost druidic. Not that Gwaine knew much about the druid people. His own experiences had been limited, but they seemed friendly enough for forest dwellers.
Maybe that was Merlin's concern. The druids were magic users of a sort. But, Arthur had formed peaceful relations with them in recent years, so it wouldn't make sense for Mordred to hide it if he was one of them, would it?
He shook off the thought and continued his evaluation. Mordred knew the basics of how to use a sword, even though his skill improved greatly under Arthur's tutelage. That was something weird, he realized. Arthur treated Mordred as if he were his son. That wouldn't make sense. The king would have been only about fifteen, or maybe even younger when Mordred was born. It was possible, but under Uther's strict regime, Gwaine seriously doubted if it would have happened. Even if it did, the late king would have probably killed the infant the moment he was born. Aside from having blue eyes, Mordred and Arthur also looked nothing alike.
Where he'd come from was a complete mystery to Gwaine. The knight began to realize that when anyone would ask about Mordred's past, the young man did everything he could to avoid answering. It was odd, to say the least. However, Gwaine kept most of his own history hidden, as well, so he couldn't really fault Mordred for that. As hard as he tried, he just couldn't see what concerned Merlin so much.