Mithian's Hopeful Future

Princess Mithian had expected to leave Camelot with negotiations for her impending marriage settled, a politically advantageous union made solely for the benefit of her kingdom.

At best, she'd hoped King Arthur would be a pleasant sort of fellow, an ideal friend and companion she might even grow to care for in the future. At worst, she'd feared he'd turn out to be a miserable husband she'd have to grit her teeth and tolerate for the rest of her life.

But she'd never expected to find herself unceremoniously rejected by a man she'd genuinely wanted to marry... not out of any sense of obligation, but because she could easily see herself falling in love with him.

It was a cruel twist of fate; all her life, Mithian had resigned herself to the necessity of sacrificing dreams of romance so she might base her choice of husband solely on practical matters. But realizing a man existed who could've satisfied both those options, only to have him snatched away without warning...

It was almost too painful to bear.

Mithian patted her veil to make sure it was securely in place before allowing an onslaught of tears to flow freely down her cheeks. She didn't want to alert her small party of attendants to the fact that she was weeping – it went against her nature to show even a flicker of weakness in front of those who depended on her for wisdom and guidance.

"Let us make camp just ahead!" she called out a few minutes later, relieved that she somehow managed to keep her voice steady.

When they reached the secluded glade, she was forced to sit idle as the others scurried about feeding horses, building a fire, laying out bed rolls, and preparing a light supper. Ordinarily she attempted to help them, occasionally even insisting upon it despite their scandalized protests. At the moment, however, she was simply too drained to battle through their numerous objections.

She carefully arranged her skirts and seated herself on a comfortable looking patch of grass, closing her eyes in the hope that the peaceful sounds of the forest would overtake her senses and soothe her troubled thoughts.

The wind whispered gently through the trees overhead, but fainter still, she detected a sort of bubbling noise in the distance. It wasn't the stream where her knights were splashing their faces with water to wash away the dust of the long day's ride. No, these sounds came from the opposite direction, seeming to emerge from a thicket of wild roses that lay some fifty paces away.

Mithian rose to her feet, her smooth brow furrowing in curiosity as she stepped away from the others. She could feel them watching her, but naturally assuming she was merely seeking privacy to answer a call of nature, no one offered any protest as she disappeared into the tangle of vegetation.

Her eyes fell upon a lovely little spring, with crystal clear water that was rippling gently over a bed of smooth stones of various hues. Mithian knelt down and trailed her fingertips across the surface of the pool, letting out a soft sound of pleasure as she did so. The water was the perfect temperature – cool enough to rejuvenate her senses, yet not so chilly that it caused her any discomfort.

Abruptly, she ducked her head out of the thicket. "I am not to be disturbed," she called out in a firm, unyielding voice. "I intend to bathe."

"M-my lady?"

"There's a spring here just behind me. I'd like to wash."

If her attendants said anything in response, Mithian never heard them. She was already peeling away the needlessly heavy layers of clothing she wore, taking a moment to relish the sensation of the mild breeze as it caressed her bare skin before sinking down into a sitting position in the shallow depths of the pool. It occurred to her that she should've brought along some soap; she opened her mouth to summon one of her attendants, only to close it again with the realization that it wasn't necessary. She'd never felt so clean or refreshed in her life.

Yes, this was the moment of peace she'd desperately needed; Mithian leaned her head back against a soft growth of ferns, her eyes drifting closed as she absently licked a few droplets of water from her lips.

Camelot looked exactly the same as it had the last time she'd visited, though the purpose for this journey certainly wasn't the same as her first. There was no possibility of a marriage alliance looming before her, only negotiations she'd arranged in the hope of providing Nemeth with additional protection during these far too troubled times.

Then again, perhaps it wasn't so different; it seemed that Princess Mithian only made her way to Camelot when she found herself in need of a man... or men, in this case.

The thought made her giggle as she and her attendants rode into the courtyard. That was encouraging after spending many nights worrying that her visit would be awkward, even upsetting after King Arthur's rejection the year before. Surely the fact that she still had a sense of humor about the whole debacle had to be a good sign... right?

A red cloaked knight hurried down the palace steps to help her down from her horse, his large, sword callused hands surprisingly gentle as they encircled her waist. She looked up at him in surprise, then smiled as soon as she realized that she still remembered his name.

"Thank you, Sir Leon," she said sweetly.

The knight looked stunned. "Princess Mithian, you... you remem... what I mean is, allow me to escort you inside. You must be weary from your journey."

As it turned out, King Arthur had assigned her to the same quarters she'd used on her previous visit. It struck Mithian that it was perhaps a little insensitive of him to obligate her to face any reminders that weren't strictly necessary, but then she had to stop and laugh at herself. Arthur might have a lot of positive qualities, but being in tune with other people's emotions wasn't one of them. Just look at the way he treated his servant; for all that he relied on Merlin in a multitude of ways, he certainly didn't shrink from throwing hurtful insults and a lot of unnecessary work in the poor man's direction either.

Nonetheless, Arthur could never be criticized for his compassion and sense of justice when it came to matters of politics. The negotiations Mithian had worried over to excess were resolved quickly, with a heartfelt promise of assistance and an invitation to attend a banquet that night that the king had decided to hold in her honor.

Mithian felt uncharitable for the direction of her thoughts, but when she finally had a glimpse of the men side by side, she couldn't help comparing Arthur to Sir Leon. They both had golden hair, but Leon's was of a darker, warmer shade... as if she were looking at honey compared to a sheaf of wheat. Arthur did have nice eyes, a pleasant shade of blue that reminded Mithian of cornflowers. But Leon's were more like a stormy sea... one couldn't even distinguish the exact color more often than not, but it was an endless temptation to continue staring until the mystery was solved.

Lord, I'm attracted to Sir Leon! Mithian realized in self-conscious amazement. It wasn't something she'd encountered on her last journey, having been too focused on trying to make things work with Arthur to take much notice of anyone else. But now... how could she have failed to recognize how handsome he was, not to mention considerate and brave and a host of other things she found immensely appealing?

Even more to her astonishment, the feeling seemed to be mutual. She could feel his eyes following her around the room throughout the evening, despite his efforts to quickly avert his gaze whenever she made it clear that she was aware of his attention. It was blatantly obvious to her now; how long had he felt this way?

When the celebrations began to dwindle down, Leon bid the king and his fellow knights a good evening, slipping unobtrusively from the hall. Mithian followed in his footsteps, emboldened by a night full of tender looks the obviously shy knight had struggled desperately to hide.

"Princess Mithian?" Leon murmured in surprise when he turned in the deserted corridor to find her standing behind him. "Is there anything I can do for you, my lady?"

She gathered her courage, then smiled. "Yes, Sir Leon. You can kiss me."

For all his careful courtesies and quiet nature, Leon never hesitated as he reached out and pulled her in his arms. His kisses were sweet, gentle, flavored with the pleasant tang of the mead he'd been enjoying only a few minutes before. Mithian sighed in contentment as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, wondering how anything could have ever blinded her to such a worthy man.

And even though she could have compared Leon's tenderly passionate kisses to the few awkward brushes she'd exchanged with Arthur, it never occurred to her to do so.

"Princess Mithian!"

Why are they shouting like that? she wondered groggily. It's the middle of the night!

"My lady? Please, alert us to your presence if you can hear me!"

Her eyes reluctantly opened, blinking in confusion as she studied her surroundings. It was almost too dark to see; only the soft light of a crescent moon outlined the fragrant canopy of wild roses above her head. Mithian frowned, trying to remember... water, something about water. She'd wandered off to have a drink, or perhaps to answer a call of nature. Had she fallen asleep out here by herself?

Well, obviously she had, but why? Had she really been that tired?

"I'm here," she called out in a sleepy voice.

Landry, the youngest and most impetuous of her knights, came stumbling through the bushes, his dark eyes wide with panic. "My lady! Have you been injured? Are you all right? Bless my soul, we thought we'd lost you!"

Mithian extended a hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. "I do apologize. I just... I wanted a few minutes to myself, and I must have fallen asleep. I'm so sorry to have caused any worry. Come, let us return to camp and let the others know I'm safe."

"As you say, my lady." He looked relieved as he offered her his arm. "My lady?"

"Yes, Sir Landry?"

"Forgive me for saying so, but King Arthur was a fool to... to have..."

Mithian knew she should reprimand the young knight for being so disrespectful, but hearing the sincerity in his words, she simply didn't have the heart to do so. "It's for the best," she replied, surprised to discover she actually meant the words as she spoke. "Do you think I could've ever been content with being someone's second choice?"

"No, my lady."

She smiled in the darkness as it occurred to her that her journey to Camelot had indeed been successful, though not in the way she'd originally planned. King Arthur might not have chosen to become her husband, but the sense of justice she'd admired in him guaranteed that Camelot would never turn its back on Nemeth in times of need. Really, was the temporary pain of disappointed hopes so bad? Momentary humiliation had resulted in the strongest alliance she could have possibly made on behalf of her kingdom.

With that in mind, Mithian suddenly realized something else, an unspoken truth that prompted a joyous laugh as she rejoined the others. In choosing to remain loyal to his own heart, King Arthur had unknowingly granted her the freedom to follow her own.