AN: FOLKS *claps*! Well it has been a time and a half! Fall semester has been going well, though I really regret taking physics and miss my job as a camp counselor. I am in a history class I enjoy a lot and have been placed in a pre-school for an observation lab. Hopefully ya'll enjoy!
Merlin didn't exactly know how he had managed to get into this situation, but it was far better than cleaning up after Arthur. He wasn't in a tree this time, but he was doing something ridiculous with Prince Richard again. The boy had cornered him before dinner, dragging him away to his rooms to help make a "very important decision" about which fancy robes he should wear to dinner—this decision somehow involved Merlin being covered in robes and cloaks with multiple crowns precariously balancing on his head. Merlin had been brought in as an objective outside party to help Princes Jason and Damian convince their younger brother that he couldn't wear his harvest festival robes because it wasn't a harvest festival, and the ancient etchings that covered it may be too bold on the only second day of Camelot's visit. Prince Damian was now wrangling his brother into an equally ornate, less obviously magic outfit. Richard whined the whole time, letting his body go limp and wriggled against the outfit he did not want on his body.
"He gets in these moods from time to time." Jason scoffed as he helped uncover Merlin from the pile of clothes that had been thrown on him. "Especially if his magic lessons aren't going like he wants."
"My magic is fine!" a spare boot flew into Jason's face.
"His magic is not fine."
Richard huffed, finally becoming more cooperative with his brother's attempts to dress him. Merlin held one last crown in his hands, turning the smooth silver band over and over in an attempt to look occupied and not confused. Though it probably did very little to help in this situation.
"I just don't know why it won't work."
"What spell are you stuck on?" Prince Damian was now smoothing his younger brother's rumbled hair as Prince Jason returned the strewn about clothes to their proper places in the dresser.
"All of them! I try a transformation spell, it doesn't work. I try to levitate something and it stays where it is. The only thing working right now are some potions—and those are so hard."
"Just because something is hard doesn't mean it's not worthwhile."
"I know that, but potions take to long for me to use them in combat."
"I thought you wanted to be a healer?" Prince Jason spoke up.
Richard hesitated, glancing over at Merlin. Merlin didn't know anything about Richard's interest in magic. The boy had only shown Merlin some base level spells and incantations—Merlin had not been able to show much interest in the magic happening around him for his own safety. Healing was a skill that Merlin had practiced some of, but most of his skills came from learning under Gaius.
"Well…I wouldn't be able to help Father if I'm not good at combat." Richard sounded rather sheepish, and the loud slam of Prince Damian's hand on the wall beside him explained why.
"You are not helping Father in that capacity."
"But Dami—"
"When you grow up you are going to be the court sorcerer, and you will study arcana and healing for the good of Gotham. Understand?"
"Damian, he doesn't mean—"
"Do you understand me, Grayson?"
There was a strange intensity in the interaction—Merlin knew siblings argued and squabbled, but this felt never different. It almost seemed that if Damian didn't not get the answer that he wanted something bad might happen. Richard nodded, fidgeting with the hem of his short cape behind him. Jason rolled his eyes and placed himself between his two brothers.
"Alright, alright we get it. Now, someone needs to make him look presentable and it certainly isn't you Sir Always Wears What Father Wears. So, shoo and let Merlin and I work our magic."
After Jason had all but forced his older brother out the door and pressed his back against it as it closed. He glanced between the two sorcerers before him, a small smile dancing across his face.
"I'm sure you've already figured this out, but our family sure as the flare for the dramatic."
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Despite Morgana's apprehensions about marriage, she would be lying if she said she wasn't delighted to see the sharply dressed prince outside of her rooms with a bouquet of fresh wildflowers. The causal clothing Prince Terrance was wearing contrasted heavily with the formal attire Morgana had seen if in at the banquet only a day ago. In fact, she probably looked very different as well. While she wasn't certain what surprise Terrence had prepared, she was told that she should try to look discrete as possible.
"These are simply gorgeous, your highness." She gathered the flowers against her chest, Terrence smiling and bowing towards her.
"But not quite as beautiful as you." His smile was radiant. "I do hope what I've planned for this evening will be enjoyable."
"I must say, my curiosity is piqued at this surprise you've planned."
"Well, as you must know, living within the confines of a palace can be a little stifling. So, I figured we'd go somewhere where we can relax a little more." He paused for a second, as if considering something. "With precautions of course, I've arranged for some safety measures if that puts your mind at ease."
"I assure you your highness, I feel completely safe by your side." She turned as she spoke, handing the gathered flowers to Guinevere who stood just behind her. Gwen raised an eyebrow, teasing her for the sappy interaction she was witnessing.
"Before I forget," Terrence reached into his pocket and retrieved a letter, "I was instructed to pass this message along to the Lady Gwen as soon as possible." Gwen took the letter from his hand, her look of confusion turning into one of excitement as she inspected the letter closer. "Well, shall we be off?" He offered his arm to Morgana, the young woman wrapping her arm around his softly. He was definitely strong; she could feel the muscle through his clothes.
"Who was that from?" She asked in a hushed tone as they made their way down the corridor. Terrence leaned closer to her, whispering in her ear. Morgana gasped, tightening her grip on his arm. "Oh, Gwen will be delighted, it's all she's talked about!"
"She's not the only one. His father's been trying to get him married for a good year now, but nothing as seemed to really click."
"And it would be alright?"
"What would be?" Terrence asked as he led her down a rather remote hall towards an unnoticeable door.
She hesitated. "For a servant to marry someone in a noble family?"
Terrence opened the door, the setting sun peaking in as he showed Morgana an exit from the castle close to a small trail that led into the woods. A guard stationed outside the door nodded as the prince lead his betrothed outside. "In Gotham your station is probably the least on anyone's concern."
"That must be nice." Once again, they were side by side. Morgana leaned on Terrence more this time, letting him place a hand on her waist.
"It is. It's the only reason my family is together, the only reason most of the siblings are safe." She looked up at him. It was known that the king of Gotham was incredibly philanthropic, but the king also kept an air of secrecy around his children. "All of us but Damian are adopted, and Tim's the only one with a significant background. If it wasn't for Bruce…I don't want to imagine what my siblings would have to suffer through."
"Your father seems to have a good heart. And I understand, losing my father was difficult, and I can't imagine what my life would look like if he and Uther hadn't been friends."
Terrence nodded. There was something about him that seemed different from the other young men she had interacted with. For one thing, his station was probably technically higher than hers, yet at the same time they were in the same boat. He was a prince, but he was not truly the son of the king. His title, his claim to power came from the kindness and charity of the monarch. It was something he could lose, just like she could. Arthur didn't have that threat. He was the son of the king, he was destined to rule, to have power—it was his birth right. And to Morgana it felt like she was constantly having to walk on eggshells to ensure she didn't fall from King Uther's grace and doom herself. It had nearly happened before. But did Terrence feel that way? From what Morgana had seen of the Wayne family, there wasn't any of that tension. Maybe Prince Damian would be haughty, but there did seem to be a genuine care amongst the family…and not just because they were the children of a dead friend.
"Morgana, I understand that…well, there are expectations placed on both of us." Terrence stopped, turning to face her in the middle of the path. "I'm the eldest, so even though I'm not a direct descendant I am still a member of the royal family. Both of our fathers want to build strong relationships between our people so we can avoid bloodshed, and I agree. I am willing to do anything to protect my people, to protect my brother. But that doesn't mean I am comfortable with…with…" He paused, lifting an arm to rub the back of his neck.
"Betraying your heart?"
"Yes. I think you're absolutely wonderful. Gorgeous, smart, kind…and if our fathers believe marriage will benefit both our kingdoms I have to agree. I owe so much to my father; I can't let him down. But I also can't let you down. If there is—"
"Terrence—"
"Terry is fine." He blushed and laughed at himself for interrupting her.
"Terry, I understand. I have a duty and responsibility to my kingdom as well. And I think you're wonderful too. It's good that we both understand this, and I believe that if marriage is the step that will benefit our kingdoms…we should take it."
He sighed, relieved at her agreeance. "I'm not asking for you to love me, Morgana. And if you decide that this is not something you want to do, I will be the first to support you against their majesties, but I do think we can do something good here—for both of our peoples." She grasped his hands, smiling as his cheeks turned redder at her touch.
"Of course. And besides, if I stay in Gotham, it will be just that much easier for Gwen and Lord Roy to pursue each other." Terry threw his head back, laughing heavily at the mention of his friend's romance.
"Of course! We're not getting married for each other, but so our friends can get married."
They resumed their walk-in jovial moods, both leaning against the other more and talking amiably. Terry promised the surprise was well worth the walk, that he and his siblings liked to go where they were going to enjoy the afternoon—but they would be alone as he had put them all under threat of death if they were disturbed. They traveled through the woods, Terry pointing our local flowers and trees that his younger brothers had attempted to climb and usually fell out of.
The trees began to clear as they came upon a small lake surrounded by small shrubs. The ground began to turn into a finer, sandy material. It was gorgeous. Small lanterns were strung in the branches of trees surrounding the clearing. There seemed to be a small picnic set up for them close to the edge of the lake. She smiled, this seemed very genuine and she was surprised that this was the future-monarch's idea of a first outing.
So, they sat together, sipping wine, sampling some of Gotham's finest pasties, and exchanging stories from their childhood. Morgana felt relaxed, like the pressures of court life existed in some far-off world. She knew they would have to go back to it eventually, but for now they were just two people sitting by a lake as the dusk approached. Terry kicked off his shoes, beginning to wade further into the lake.
"Going for a swim?" She called, swirling what was left in her glass as she watched."
"Not exactly. Care to join me?"
"I'm just fine out here…Terry, no…Terrence!" She shrieked in laughter as the man tried to scope her up and bring her into the water. She ran, laughing as he implored her to just dip her feet in the water.
He finally caught her and slinging her over his shoulder Terry carried her into the middle of the water. It came up to her thighs and Morgana pouted as Terry seemed to glow in his supposed victory. The lower half of her dress was soaked, but luckily, she had managed to kick her shoes off in the playful struggle. As Terry turned in a triumphant circle, she gathered water in her hands and threw it against his back. He froze, whipping around to see the delighted grin on Morgana's face.
The battle began shortly after.
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Arthur had just finished having a meeting with his father to discuss their plan of attack for the next day. More like he had just finished listening to his father rant about the issues he found with Gotham in only a day. Dinner had gone uneventfully enough, but that didn't mean that Uther was pleased.
The focus of this rant had been the 'softness' displayed by King Bruce and the issue with his adopted children. The meeting the two kings had after dinner had apparently been interrupted by the youngest prince. A nightmare had awoken him and he couldn't be comforted by anyone but his father, And of course, his father comforted him. The man held the boy tightly and let him cry, wiping away his tears and rubbing his shoulders gently. The boy had blubbered for minutes, his father putting everything on hold until his tears had stopped flowing.
His father through it completely ridiculous. That was the nurse's job. What made it even worse to his father was that the boy was not the king's son. He was some street rat that Bruce had picked out and tried to polish into a prince.
"He may have tricked everyone else, but it's obvious that several of those brats he keeps around don't belong."
Arthur didn't entirely understand the issue. Yes, it could be annoying to have a meeting interrupted, but Richard was only a child, and children needed to be coddled and comforted from time to time. And wasn't it a good thing that King Bruce loved his children? Arthur didn't understand how his father could find fault with the man's empathy. Their discussion had taken longer than expected because while Arthur knew arguing with his father was nearly impossible he felt he needed to stand up for the little boy who wasn't there to defend himself. This had sparked an argument that ended with Arthur giving in to simply try to keep the peace.
Now he was walking on his own. He was tired, but not the king of tired that encouraged sleep. He told Merlin to not wait up as he would be walking for some time. He traveled the halls, trying to distract himself from the arguments still in his mind by familiarizing himself with the castle. His attention was drawn from a tapestry hanging on the wall depicting a festival as he heard hushed voices approaching where he was from his left.
Arthur could really only pick out one voice that sounded like it was scolding along with another voice grunting and mumbling. The voices were accompanied by scrapping and clanking of metal.
"…time and time again, I've told you, and what do you go and do? Nearly get yourself killed again! It's like you're trying to kill me in the process."
"Argh...Alfred…"
Arthur came face to face with the king's advisor essentially carrying a man in dark armor. Arthur had only met the man today, but he had gathered that everything that happened in the castle went on under the supervision of Alfred Pennyworth. From the general maintenance of the castle, foreign affairs, and even the care of the royal children. He had the armored man's arm slung over his shoulder, the man doubled over and clutching his side. The armor he wore was dark, but Arthur could see blood dripping down the man's side as he labored to keep himself standing.
The armor looked sturdy, but it was light and flexible. The metal had been painted over with a black with chips and scuffs revealing the original cover. A helmet covered the man's face, with sharp horns jutting out of the top. A tattered cape slid across the ground behind the man, a sword clanking against his side. Most noticeable to Arthur, however, was the sliver-crested bat etched on the man's left breast.
"Well are you going to stand and stare, or help me?"
Arthur was snapped out of his stupor by the question. Of course, a man was injuried and he needed help. He slung the man's other arm over his shoulder. The man groan as he adjusted his weight, but he let the two men take over carrying his burden. Arthur followed Alfred's directions, twisted, and turning through the hallways slowly. The reached a sealed door, Alfred managing to get the door open. There was a set of twisting stairs that the trio managed to climb together, Alfred continuing to chastise the man's recklessness.
Arthur felt his stomach drop as they entered into the study of a sorcerer. Zantana stood from the desk he had been working at as they entered the room. He sighed, closing the book in his hands and striding to open a cabinet hanging on the wall.
"I have some supplies prepared already; the table should be cleared."
Arthur helped the man be laid on a cleared table towards the center of the room. Alfred began to remove the man's armor so his wound could be treated. Arthur took a step back, examining some of the blood that had gotten on his clothes from having the wounded man pressed against his side. Zantana was preparing small jars and gathering bandages. Arthur felt his jaw drop as Alfred removed the man's helmet and his face was revealed.
The man's face was twisted in pain, but it was impossible to deny that it was the king of Gotham bleeding on the table.
AN: Thanks for reading! I hope you have a great week and I hope to be back soon with more updates. Leave a review and see you soon!