The construction of the shrine began immediately.
To Arthur, it felt like a gamble. Skilled workers were being taken from their jobs, forging weapons and fortifications, for the purpose of building a shrine to a goddess many were yet uncomfortable with. It would be lavish. Arthur feared anything less might not save his people, and he could not afford to insult the Triple Goddess any further besides. Luckily he found a surge of Druid volunteers. In fact, he could not help but feel almost grateful for the task; prior to this moment he had observed a certain unease in the streets between Druids and men. While a good number of the Druids had stepped up to be in his armies, eager to prove they would be a valuable asset to Camelot, others regarded him and his people with open distrust. Magic had been allowed once before in the kingdom, and that era had ended in slaughter, so Arthur did not find their wariness unfounded. However, the construction of the temple seemed to be exactly what was needed to placate the Druids new to Camelot.
The building came along far quicker than Arthur had anticipated. Under the care of several of the more powerful Druids, sheets of dark rock seemed to slide right out of the ground, forming walls and columns with apparent ease. It was a relatively small temple, as the Disir had stipulated it be within the castle walls, but it was spared no luxury. Some of the castle's treasury went towards gilt leaf which traced symbols several Druids had etched in the nine columns which lined the back and two sides of the temple, three at every side. There was no door, merely an entryway into which several craftsmen had begun to carve miniature murals.
The entryway opened into a small chamber. It was dark, lit only by the light spilling in from the front, but Arthur had ordered several braziers be crafted out of iron and gold. A table had been constructed by several Druids, pulled out of the earth from the same shale as the building itself. This was tucked into a curved extrusion which would serve as the altar itself. More artists were busy making three statues- the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone. They would reside in the niche, under three moons- two silver crescents, and one, golden, full.
Likmus watched the activity outside, at first apathetic, then with gradual horror. He had initially assumed that the poor idiots were building some useless thing to help them in the upcoming battle. An arsenal, an infirmary outside the castle. They were probably that dumb. But as more of the structure arose, he grew suspicious, and began to watch more closely. The pillars were erected, and suddenly, he knew, but the panic hadn't set in yet.
"Do you really think a shabby temple will save you, Arthur?" He laughed to himself, shaking his head wonderingly.
The panic didn't set in until Arthur came into his chambers a couple of days after construction had begun.
"My lord." He was quick to bow, to show subservience in any way he could. It was a game, really. How odious could he be, when really, he was the one with the power? It was difficult to keep a straight face.
"I have great news, Likmus." Arthur was smiling too, a strange half-smirk that the Druid didn't understand. "I'm afraid I won't be needing your services anymore."
"M-my lord-"
"I won't kick you out of your chambers, of course. You can take as much time as you need to find suitable lodgings." He spoke so calmly. So cheerfully, like a man discussing fair weather. How could he be so placid when Likmus himself was boiling inside? "You have been of help to me, and I will happily compensate you for your services."
"B-But... what about the spell? It's almost-"
"I have no use for it anymore." Arthur spoke respectfully, but in Likmus's ears he sounded gleeful. And suddenly the Druid understood. He had seen the small party leave, and he had noticed their lack of weapons. He had written it off as a combination of their boundless stupidity and their ill-placed faith in the great Merlin's power. But now he realized where they had gone. They had been to see the Disir.
With a great effort, Likmus wrenched up a smile. "How... fortunate."
The king nodded, gave that crooked smirk again, and turned to walk away. Likmus sucked in a breath, ready to scream, ready to rage as soon as the spoiled, stupid, stupid bastard left- and Arthur paused.
"As far as the disposal of the... erm... materials..."
"Consider it handled, my lord," Likmus said, using his best toadying voice even as his hands flickered between balled fists and shaking things with fingers spread out wide, the veins bulging over tension-whitened skin.
"I won't forget all you've done for me, Likmus." It was meant as a peace offering, a pitying favor in the future, perhaps, but Likmus's smile in response was genuine.
No, Arthur Pendragon. You won't forget. You'll never forget. Not until the day you die.
And that day would be soon.