Jab, back, jab, back.
Callum grinned as he went over the basic fencing drill in his mind. The feel of the sword hilt in his palm was as soothing to his broken soul as a poultice on a flesh wound. The young boy was standing outside in the training area, dawn light drenching over him. Callum knew it wasn't right for him, a mere servant, to be handling a sword… but, oh, he did so love it!
Odin, his master, would have him flogged for having the nerve to take a knight's weapon from the armory…
Callum stopped jabbing and started full on swinging the sword. He hated Odin… he hated the king more than words could ever say. Callum's mother had died giving birth to him… and his father had hated him for causing her death.
His father, owing more debts to the king than money could ever pay, had given away his only son to pay off his debt. Callum had been serving the king for two years now, since he was seven. He wasn't a servant…
He was a slave.
I won't be for much longer though, Callum thought, shaking away the sick feeling in his stomach. One day, I'm going to run away… one day, I'm going to be free to do whatever I please!
"Not bad, for a boy."
Callum jumped, almost dropping the sword in his shock. The child started. King Arthur was standing a few feet from him, arms crossed and eyes thoughtful.
"I…I'm sorry." Callum whispered, allowing the sword to slip from nerveless fingers. "Sire, I didn't mean to-."
"I'm not scolding you." Arthur uncrossed his arms and started across the field. Callum flinched as he realized how tall and muscular the man before him was. He had heard the legends of King Arthur… This man was one of the greatest warriors to ever live.
"Who taught you to handle a sword in such a way?" The king of Camelot demanded, picking up the weapon and twirling it thoughtfully.
"I…I guess I just picked it up here and there, sir." Callum murmed, dragging his foot back and forth over the grass covered ground. "I'm sorry-."
"Stop that, you're too young to be a bootlicker." Arthur muttered. "As Merlin would say."
"I'm sorry…" Callum grimaced. "Um, I mean… I won't touch your swords again, My Lord."
"Actually," Arthur tossed the sword at him. "That's exactly what I want you to do."
Callum caught the sword, staring at the golden-haired king in astonishment.
"My Lord?" He squeaked.
"I don't see the point in wasting such potential." Arthur grunted. "You may as well keep practicing until the knights come… Callum, is it?"
"Yes, sir." Callum breathed, too shocked to think straight. He had never before been spoken to like this, especially not by a royal. King Arthur was talking to him as though he were… an actual person. He had given him permission to hold a knight's sword!
"Callum," Arthur hummed. "Alright then, you carry on with what you were doing…" the king flicked his hand. "But instead of keeping your feet still when you thrust, step forward so your weight is balanced, boy."
Callum nodded quickly, he didn't want the king to think he didn't appreciate him taking the time to hand out advice.
"Yes, sir!"
"Be gone by the time the knights come for training… I don't want you getting into trouble." Arthur said, a softness in his tone that many never got the chance to hear. "I've heard Odin can be… hard on his servants."
"Yes, sire." Callum agreed passionately.
As Arthur turned and walked away, Callum could only gaze on in wonder. A warm feeling found its home in his chest.
Maybe… just maybe… he'd be able to serve a king like that instead of Odin.
As Arthur walked back inside, he did his best to ignore the sadness wiggling around in his chest.
The boy was a servant… What a waste.
He could be a fine knight, with the right training. Arthur mused, bitterly. He has the raw talent there… he just needs a good teacher… and he'll never have one as long as he serves Odin.
Arthur remembered when he was young. Uther had seen to it that he got the best training from all the best swordsmen in Camelot. He had started swinging a sword the moment he was old enough to hold it up. His father had been so proud as he watched his son become the warrior he was today…
Arthur hoped to one day watch his son in the same way.
But he was starting to worry that may never come to pass.
Gwen and he had been trying for a child for several years now… and not once had they been successful.
I need an heir, Arthur thought, trying to ignore how guilty and how much like his father that thought made him feel. It's not selfish… Camelot needs a prince to one day take my place as it's king…
Arthur wondered what it would be like to have a son… to have a boy who worshiped him the way he had worshiped his father… only, he would never make his son feel the way his father had made him feel…. He wouldn't hold him to an impossible standard or make him feel like a disappointment.
He'd give his son nothing but love and guidance.
"Merlin," Arthur couldn't help but ask later that day. He was sitting in his quarters, going over paperwork Merlin had told him needed to be done. "Do you ever… think about the future?"
"The future?" Merlin had an odd look on his face, like he was thinking hard about something. "Sure… but, if I'm being honest, I spent my whole life worrying about your fate. I'm content to just live in the moment these days. The prophecy was avoided, Camelot is safe… I like the present too much to worry about the future, Arthur."
"That's not what I meant." Arthur grunted. "I mean… Do you ever think about getting married, having kids?"
"Me?" A sorrowful expression crossed Merlin's face. "I was in love once, Arthur… I don't know if my heart will ever belong to anyone but her."
"Were you?' Arthur was once again painfully reminded of how little he knew about his old friend. "When?"
Merlin, who was leaning against the wall, closed his eyes.
"Years ago." He breathed. "When that man came, you remember? The Bounty Hunter? He had a girl with him… I freed her."
"You… Merlin, you were the one who did that!" Arthur shook his head in disbelief. "And here I was sticking up for you."
"Well," Merlin gave him a helpless shrug. "If it's any consolation, I appreciated the help."
"Shut up, Merlin." Arthur made a 'go on' gesture with his hand. "What happened to her?"
Merlin's face crumpled. The sorcerer's mouth moved as he seemed to be struggling to get the right words out.
"She… she died." He said simply. "She died…"
"How?"
Merlin stared at him, an unreadable expression on his face.
"In an accident." He said simply. "Arthur…. Don't think too much on that…"
Don't… Arthur's stomach dropped.
"I killed her." He murmured. "Didn't I?"
Merlin gave him a tiny smile.
"It wasn't your fault." He assured his king. "You were… just defending yourself."
"I'm sorry, Merlin." Arthur swallowed. He didn't know how Merlin had become the selfless person before him…. Lord knows if someone had killed Gwen… well, Arthur would never forgive such an act… not even if it had been an act of self-defense.
Merlin didn't answer. The sorcerer was glancing towards the window. Rain was pelting the shutters and thunder was roaring through the normally quiet dusk.
"Do you ever think about having kids, Sire?" Merlin murmured.
"It's my duty to have kids." Arthur brushed him off. "Camelot needs heirs…"
"What?" Merlin teased, a spark of amusement filling eyes that had been dull with pain. "You want to have a whole litter of little Arthurs to do all the rough stuff while you sit on your throne and get fat?"
"Merlin." Arthur wagged his pen at his friend. "I am not fat. I will never be fat."
"Not while I'm around to watch out for that waistline, My Lord." Merlin agreed cheerfully.
"Merlin… get. out."
As Merlin skipped from the room, Arthur stared after him. He didn't want to admit it, but there was another reason he wanted a son.
Almost dying made you realize how easily your life could end… and Arthur didn't want to leave Gwen with the responsibility of ruling alone.
Thomas galloped up to the gates of Camelot, his hood over his head. The guards, having spotted him, called out.
"Halt!"
Thomas pulled his gray mare to a stop. The horse snorted as she came to a halt before the two guards.
"What business do you have here?" One of the guards demanded.
Thomas smiled. The teenager's clothes were soaked and rain dripped down his face.
"Take heart." He told the guards. "I am Thomas Oak- I simply come seeking work."
The guards exchanged glances.
"What kind of work?" The second one demanded.
"Anything I can find." Thomas chuckled. "I'm not picky."
"Well…" the guards wearily moved away from the gate. "Go one then… you'd best not be lying, boy!"
"Wouldn't dream of lying to those who serve Arthur Pendragon." Thomas forced his
voice to be light and peppy. "Why would I wish to anger such a fair and just king?"
The guards nodded at his praise. Thomas hurried his mare forward. The young Druid's smile fell away as he rode out of sight.
This is it, he thought. This is Camelot… The time for Arthur Pendragon to answer for his crimes is upon us… I only have to put the final piece into play.
