Hello again, everyone! I've got a bit of a fluffy chapter here for you. With this chapter, I want to open my inbox to suggestions from all of you. The bottom line is, Merlin and Rowan have lots of adventures, and I hardly have enough ideas to write all of them! I would love to hear ideas and prompts that you guys want to read! I can't promise that I would write on them straight away, but I can promise to mention you as the supplier of inspiration when I do post the chapter with your idea in it.
I hope you all have a lovely day~

Title

"Arise, Sir Rowan, as a knight of Camelot," Queen Guinevere was speaking with the form and power expected of her position, but there was also an undeniable note of pleasure in her tone.

As for Rowan, it took every ounce of his self-control to stop himself jumping up from where he was kneeling. He had been waiting a long time for this. Though he was still young, even for a new knight, he could not help but feel that he had truly earned it. He got his feet under him and heard a few cheers from the small crowd that had come to see the ceremony. Next to him stood his fellow knight, Sir Merrick, who looked about as giddy as Rowan felt. Rowan caught a glimpse of his father standing near the queen—the man was positively beaming, despite the probable impropriety of the show of emotion given his position in the court. Rowan knew that the moment he was out of the spotlight, he would be dragged into an embrace with that man.

Queen Guinevere dismissed the spectators, and as soon as they started to split, the court warlock acted true to Rowan's suspicion and threw himself at Rowan. Despite expecting it, Rowan still almost choked on the suddenness and the force of it. However, he was smiling, and he easily slipped his arms around the older man's back.

"I am so proud of you, Rowan," Merlin said, pulling away and squeezing Rowan's shoulders.

Rowan raised a teasing brow, "That's Sir Rowan."

If it was possible, his old man's grin grew even larger, and he laughed, "Of course."

His father clapped him on the shoulder good-naturedly and departed his company just as Merrick joined it.

"So, how's it feel to you? We're knights now," Merrick's eyes sparkled as he spoke.

"Honestly, it still doesn't quite feel real," but Rowan smiled all the same.

Merrick half-sighed and half-laughed, "Leave it to you to say something all melancholy-like."

"Well, you've seen who my father is, haven't you?" Rowan and Merrick shared a laugh at that.

Tonight, they would be the guests of honor at a feast that was going to take place in an hour or so. Rowan was excited for that, as well. Despite the fact that his father was the court warlock, Rowan did not actually attend many feasts, and when he did, it was not in a position of honor. Merrick had probably attended a lot more feasts in his childhood as a lord's son in an outer estate than Rowan had attended in his whole life. Not that it much mattered. In any case, after enough people had come up to them to congratulate them or make other small talk, a servant informed them that it was time to head to the feast hall. Rowan and Merrick happily complied.

The dark hours of the evening found Sir Rowan stumbling- half drunk and fully exhausted- through the corridors to his chambers. He had just bid goodnight to Sir Merrick and was now struggling to keep his feet headed in the right direction. Just as his feet tripped over each other and he was about to topple to the floor, he felt someone catch him and hoist his arm over their shoulders, encouraging him to lean on them to support himself.

"Evening, Sir Rowan," a mirthful voice filtered through his ears.

Rowan, knowing exactly who he was leaning on without opening his eyes- which had squeezed shut in anticipation of his fall- answered with a slight smile, "Hello, Father."

Being in close proximity to the court warlock was already making Rowan feel more coherent. Rowan could not be certain that the man had not used any magic to bring this feeling about, but he did not think it was so. Slowly, the pair moved together down the hall.

When Rowan stumbled again, nearly causing them both to crash, Merlin laughed, "I think you've had quite enough revelry tonight to last all week if you're more clumsy than I am, my boy."

"'m not drunk," Rowan protested, trying to force his eyes to open and his legs to move, "just tired."

"Uh-huh," he could sense his father's grin, "sure."

Purposefully ignorant of his father's sarcasm, Rowan hummed in agreement with his words, "Aren't you tired?"

The court warlock had performed several feats of magic during the feast, after all, and though Rowan knew that it would take far more than that to actually exhaust the man, it had ultimately been a long day for both of them.

"Yes, but some of us have the sense to not get drunk in public."

They passed through a doorway, and Rowan recognized his chambers. His father half-led, half-dragged him over to his bed and sat him down on the edge before beginning to remove his ceremonial armor. Rowan hardly helped the process at all; he was too busy falling asleep. However, he could not shake the sudden feeling that something was not quite right in this scenario.

"So," his father's voice brought him halfway back to proper awareness as the weight of his spaulders disappeared, "you're a knight. How does it feel?"

"Mmm… nice," Rowan muttered in response.

"Nice?" the court warlock laughed incredulously, "You've only been waiting.. oh, half your life to be bestowed a knighthood, and now that you've got it, all you can say is 'it's nice'?"

Rowan opened his bleary eyes to throw a dirty glare at his father, who only laughed all the harder for it. The court warlock proceeded in gently removing Rowan's vambraces and gauntlets. Rowan felt his body sagging into a severely hunched position, but he simply did not have to strength to combat poor posture.

"If you're not going to do me the courtesy of conversation, you could at least stay awake while I'm doing this."

Rowan shook his head in an effort to wake his brain. His father straightened his shoulders for him, and he managed to hold the position until his breastplate was removed.

Rowan finally realized what was so strange about this situation, and commented, "You've never.. done this before."

A small chuckle and the words, "Not for you, no," were the reply.

Rowan tried to focus and think, but it was terribly difficult when his brain wanted nothing more than to shut down for the next several hours. He offered a confused look to his old man, trying to express that he wanted further explanation. He knew that the warlock would be observant enough to catch it even while focused on withdrawing pieces of armor from Rowan's person.

"It is a knight's privilege to have his armor seen to by someone else," humor sparkled in his blue eyes, "and that is precisely why servants and squires exist."

When he burst into uncontrollable chortles, Rowan realized that he must really be tired. He was a little bit concerned about himself, but his own mirth quickly chased away that concern. His laughter slowly faded. Rowan watched as his father knelt in front of him and began to remove his greaves. That was when the realization hit him.

"You have done this before."

Rowan vaguely recollected that his father had been the king's servant before he was the court warlock. He was not entirely sure why he had not already made the connection—of course the man would be familiar with a knight's armor, would have worked with it a thousand times before now.

"More times than I could count," his father smiled, "and now that you're a knight, I get to share my expertise," he grunted as he pulled off Rowan's boot, "with you."

"That sounds nice," Rowan mumbled as he began drifting off again, hardly noticing that both his feet were now bare.

Hearty chuckles freely escaped his old man as he made his way to his feet and then affectionately ruffled Rowan's hair. Rowan drowsily swatted at the man's arm, but he was paid no mind. He felt his father's gentle hands on his shoulders, guiding his body to lie properly on the bed. Rowan was so tired that he could not even move against gravity anymore. He could sense that his father was still smiling- perhaps even snickering- as he pulled the blanket up to Rowan's chin. It felt both strange and somehow right to have his father tuck him into bed. It had been years since he had last done so; Rowan was a grown man, after all. Today, however, was a special occasion. Today, Rowan had received his knighthood. Tonight, Rowan was so weary that not only could he not protest his father's help, but he welcomed it. He could not deny, either, that some small part of him had missed this.

Rowan was very nearly unconscious when his father placed a soft kiss on his brow and said, "Sleep well, my boy."

And Rowan thought that maybe there was some part of his father that had missed this, too.