The feast was as sumptuous and extravagant as Arthur knew it would be, but he wished he was anywhere other than sitting next to his father -the King- at the high table pretending to enjoy whatever meal that was placed in front of him. Even the exquisitely prepared grilled venison tasted nothing more than ash on his tongue, and the wine that he took to wash it down only gave him a bitter aftertaste.

His eyes searched for the people he was familiar with, a look for his Knights made him realize that The Round Table didn't exist yet, and his loyal Knights were either banished -in the case of Lancelot and Gwaine- or haven't been introduced yet -like Elyan and Percival-. Only his attempt at searching for Sir Leon proved to be more fruitful. The ginger haired Knight sat in the midst of his fellow comrades with a goblet full of wine, yet still vigilant for any attack or disturbance. As if feeling his eyes on him, Sir Leon looked back at the golden haired man, and Arthur offered him a genuine smile with a tilt of his head, showing both his acknowledgement and appreciation to his attentiveness.

Guinevere and her sunny, strong presence behind Morgana soothed his wandering mind. She was dressed in pretty dainty pink instead of the dark extravagant colors she wore once she became his Queen. The light colors suited her better, if Arthur was being honest with himself. Darker shades meant duty, responsibility, and he wasn't blind as to how she changed as the years passed. The weight of a crown could do that to a person.

Arthur wondered if in a way it was him who doomed his friends' lives. He had been so wrapped up with himself that he didn't see the straining friendship, how duty contradicted doing things right and how friendship collided with duty.

Oh, wasn't hindsight a terrible thing! It would've been better for them if he hadn't invaded their lives since the beginning. He was born to doom the lives of the people he loved.

The sound of shuffling feet a few paces behind Arthur signaled him of his manservant's presence, squashing his previous trail of thought. It wouldn't do any good to bring about his doubts in the middle of a banquet. Merlin shifted behind him again, probably waiting to fill his cup, which was still brimful of wine. It was as if he had somehow known that Arthur wasn't in the mood for celebration, and the servant didn't question it.

Arthur couldn't wait to get away from this place.

Finally, when the toast was done and the King had presented his gift to his ward, Arthur decided it was time to present his own, which was why he attended the feast in the first place. Instead of asking for a page to bring in his gift this time, Arthur stood up from his place at the King's right and walked over to Morgana, pulling out a smile which he hoped didn't look false.

The King's ward looked beautiful glimmering in a dress made up of silvery silk and white pearls woven into her dark curls. Arthur had a hard time comparing the pale witch who fought tooth and nail for his demise to this lady standing in front of him, and neither could he forget the similarities between the younger, kind Morgana to this traitorous woman with steel in her gaze. His heart ached painfully for the loss of his friend and his sister, and the only thing he knew he should do was to make things right. Even if he didn't know how.

The now-Prince pulled out the carved wooden box from the inner pocket of his doublet and presented it to her, his smile becoming more genuine. He gently grabbed her hand and placed the box on her grip, while noticing a bracelet that he had seen her wear before, but didn't take particular interest in. Instead, he met her eyes, sincerity pouring out of his soul.

"Happy Birthday Morgana," Arthur said smiling, and reached in to kiss her cheek. They had never shown affection to each other like that, neither in front of the whole court nor amongst themselves, and the attention that he gained and the inquisitive stares that he felt at his back made him tense. "Never forget that you have a family here who loves you." He whispered in her ear, genuinely meaning every word he said.

The now-Prince stepped back, ignoring the whispers that he could hear among the crowd, and subtly glanced at Morgana who looked stunned in place and didn't seem to have realized that Arthur had stepped back. "Don't look so stunned," he said in jest, to cover up the fact that he had proved his vulnerability to the whole court and hoping that she wouldn't be offended by what he did. Even if she was, that was too bad. "I can do nice things, you Harpy!" A smile tugged at his lips, and he could see her blinking in bewilderment as she pulled out of her trancelike state.

"How nice of you Arthur," the dark haired lady replied in kind, and the golden haired man didn't miss the undercurrent of warning in her tone. He watched as she opened the carved box, picked up the silver engraved dagger. The cut ruby embedded in the pommel reflected the light in the room. Arthur had to agree, it was a beautiful piece of work.

Despite the fact that he had faced death, somehow traveled back in time and had a loyal magical idiot for a friend, Arthur had never been much of a superstitious person. Although he had learned his lesson by respecting relics and sacred magical places with the incident of the Druid camp, he didn't put his belief on certain things that he couldn't explain. Nevertheless, he knew more about properties of gemstones than he knew about magic as a subject, so it was with deliberate thoughtfulness that he gifted his sister the ruby dagger and he hoped that she understood what he couldn't say in words.

Protection

Positive Dreams

Nobility

'Take care Morgana' Arthur thought to himself as he gave her another strained smile, and excused himself from the feast claiming to have another pounding headache.

Arthur entered his chambers with little fanfare after he dismissed Merlin for the night -when he saw how the boy had turned pale and looked spooked at the feast-, claiming that the now-Prince could take care of himself for the night. Arthur didn't know whether to be offended or not when Merlin looked dubiously at him when he said that, not minding how his heart ached at the familiar mannerisms of his friend.

"Are you sure you're not coming down with something?" Merlin had asked with a teasing lilt in his voice when Arthur had released him for the night, but despite the tone he noticed the lack of spark in his eyes. The dark haired man looked haggard and worn.

"Clearly, your eyes needed to be checked, Merlin. I am at the peak of my health. You, on the other hand..?"

"Aww are you worried about me?"

"Certainly not. I just can't afford to give you days off if you somehow fall on your feet. You're no use to me dead"

"So you do care about me!"

"Shut Up, Merlin!" And that was that.

Arthur sighed as the doors clicked shut behind him, taking a moment for himself as he placed his flaming forehead against the wood and closing his eyes. He knew that there were a lot of things he needed to talk about with Merlin, but talking has never been one of his strengths.

"Running away again?"

Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice behind him. He turned around in one swish moment, and reached to his non existing sword at his hip, only to find himself facing a familiar head of raven hair, pale skin, dressed in a ratty red neckerchief and a faded blue tunic, sitting at one of the chairs at his table.

"I thought I gave you the night off?"

"Oh? I'm sure you and I both know that thinking is never your strong suit Sire." It was said in such a monotonous deadpan that Arthur had to blink to make sure that he was actually seeing his friend in front of him. Now that he looked for it, the golden haired man was sure that he wasn't his servant. The intruder's eyes were unreadable, and he looked older, more weary than the Merlin he had his last conversation with. In fact, this one resembled more of the Merlin that he left behind.

"You're not Merlin." Arthur blurted out, stepping away from the door, and walking cautiously towards not-Merlin.

The figure merely shrugged his shoulders, and met his eyes. "It doesn't matter does it? You've always thought of me as a fool. What difference does it make?"

"What are you talking about?"

A bitter laugh was the response to his baffled question, and it looked and sounded so out of place on Merlin. It sounded harsh, unforgiving. "You don't want me to answer that, believe me." This, whoever they were, they weren't Merlin. Arthur was certain. No matter how similar they looked, Merlin would never sound so bitter.

"You- you're not Merlin" Yes- That's right. He was imagining things. As he was in the morning. Like Morgana. Like- Uther.

"I'm sure that would help you sleep at night." Not-Merlin wasn't sitting at his table anymore. He was—

—leaning on the wall next to the fireplace, head cocked to the side, looking back at Arthur with dead, haunted eyes.

"You think I'm not real? Well, go on. It isn't hard to convince you. After all, you only needed me just to serve you. Just a fool to entertain your guests."

The golden haired man felt his face drain of color. This was what Merlin thought of him? That cannot be real. "No," Arthur whispered, not wanting to disturb the eerie quietness in the room. "No! That is not true. I— I value you. You're my friend!"

Another bitter laugh echoed in the chamber. The sound of footsteps made the now- Prince look behind him. "Not enough to trust me, apparently," it was the first time Arthur heard a barest hint of amusement in the phantom's tone, but it wasn't teasing. It was just- bitter. Arthur felt a dull pain of anger.

"Neither did you, as it seems," He couldn't help but force his opinion on the phantom, for that is what not-Merlin was. Apparently Arthur was still bitter about the betrayal which he thought he got over with now that he came back from the dead.

"Defensive are we?" the phantom had the audacity to smirk at him, but the dead eyes made him much more fear inducing. "But wasn't that what you have been doing all these years? Running away, just because your little heart got hurt? Leaving someone else to clean up your mess?"

Fury engulfed Arthur's senses as he tried to control his actions. He curled his hands into fists and took a swing at the phantom, only for it to connect with nothing but thin air. He fell onto his knees, miscalculating his balance. He could feel the dull ache of his knees hitting the floor, but his mind couldn't get rid of the loud, bitter laughter of the phantom that echoed in the chamber.

"Shut up!" The golden haired man called out to the empty room, curling his hands to his ears to block out the ringing laughter. He did not acknowledge the tears that swelled in the edges of his eyes. Nothing was true. "Shut Up!"

Something metal and heavy crashed on the corridor outside of his chambers but Arthur took no care for it. He didn't have the energy to bring himself to care, not to get up from his place on the floor. If it were an assassin, let them come. Arthur could do with beating up someone.

The wooden doors crashed open, and Arthur braced himself for an assassin, only to find himself face to face with the subject of his thoughts.

"Arthur!" Merlin's eyes were wide, worried and fearful and his skin several shades paler than usual, but still looked livelier than the phantom Arthur just witnessed. Which made him let out a breath in relief. "It's Morgana! She's-"

The golden haired man said nothing as he looked blankly at his friend, who had finally located him on the floor in the middle of his chambers. "What are you doing on the floor?" Merlin asked, his brows furrowing in concern as he walked towards Arthur with steady steps, extending him a hand.

Years before, Arthur wouldn't have accepted it, not wanting to bruise his pride. But now he was tired, and simply only cared for a good night's sleep.

Arthur shook his head at Merlin's question, simply grabbing his extended callused, sweaty hand and pulled himself to his feet. His knees ached, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Arthur placed out his hand on the other man's shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "I'm glad you're my friend, Merlin" He said sincerely, meeting the raven haired man's eyes. A myriad of expressions filtered through the younger man's eyes, confusion, guilt, hope, gratefulness, guilt again, and finally settled to a mask of amusement.

"I'm sure no one else can put up with you, Sire"

Arthur hummed without objection, and rounded back to Merlin. "What was it you said about Morgana?"

The now-Prince saw another expression filter though the blue-gold irises. Guilt.

It was going to be a long night.

Hello! Apologies for the lack of updates in the last four (?) months. It has been a long half a year for me. My county is going through a Major economic crisis and we have power cuts for several hours a day, all that god stuff has made my muse to go all silent.

Anyway, yesterday was my birthday, and I didn't get get to celebrate it much, so here I am offering this chapter as my birthday gift for you.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

(I thought I had forgiven Arthur until I rewatched Arthur's Bane Part 1. And well, Arthur had a little more growing up to do)