Arthur
Six Months Later…
“Arthur! Have you heard the rumors?” Morgana asked as she rushed into Arthur’s chambers. Arthur jumped to attention, throwing the small piece of fabric he had been holding away from him.
It was a small square of red fabric Arthur had found in his rooms, hidden behind a dresser. George had found it while cleaning Arthur’s rooms, and was going to just throw it out before Arthur stopped him. Something about the cloth seemed familiar, and it drew Arthur in. He snatched it away from George, mumbling about how he would do it.
Arthur couldn’t draw himself to do it. It was addictive for some reason. Arthur could swear he had seen it before, but he couldn’t place where. He didn’t even know how it had gotten into his rooms, much less why is was so familiar.
When Arthur had first gotten it, it still smelled like whoever had left it there. The smell reminded Arthur of the woods and different herbs. The smell had completely faded by now, but it was completely burned into Arthur’s brain. He wished he knew whose it was.
Not because he thought they smelled good! Because he wanted to know who had managed to leave it in the king’s chambers. Right.
“Stop sniffing that cloth Arthur, everyone knows you bring it everywhere. Gwen saw you sleeping with it once like it was a stuffed toy. Now sit and gossip with me, Guinevere left with Elyan to visit friends and I’m bored.” Morgana whined, waltzing over to Arthur and plopping down on his bed. He often wondered what would happen if Uther had managed to marry her off.
She’d probably have taken over the kingdom or be beheaded for not respecting anyone’s privacy.
“Whatever.” Arthur murmured, slightly embarrassed at being called out. “Now what is this rumor you’re talking about?” Arthur relented, and the wicked smile on Morgana’s face almost made him regret it.
“I received a letter from Mithian this morning, about the upcoming banquet with the other kingdoms. We know that all the five kingdoms are attending, along with Caerleon and Essetir. But Mithian have heard rumors of a magical kingdom west of Camelot, on an island in the Seas of Meredoc. Apparently they have made efforts to start trade with Caerleon and Oyfed.”
Arthur was shocked. It was rare that new kingdoms were formed, typically it was a split off of a larger one, or a new king taking over. But a magical kingdom? Who ruled it? Where had it come from? How long had magical creatures been conspiring to make their own kingdom?
But a magical kingdom…it seemed dangerous. Arthur did not think magic was something to be feared like his father had, but if they had managed to start trading before word of this kingdom even reached Camelot, what else could they do? It also reminded him of when Arthur had dealt with the Sidhe. The Sidhe were vengeful creatures, what if this new kingdom was full of them as well? Arthur had barely escaped the Sidhe, and it seemed by pure luck. The details around the event were fuzzy because he had been enchanted, but he had woken up back in Camelot with the problem solved. He did not want a repeated event.
“So what magical creatures make up the kingdom? The fae? Do they not already have their own kingdoms?” Arthur asked, trying to gauge whether or not this place could be dangerous.
“Druids.” Morgana replied, a bright smile on her face. Arthur let out a sigh. The druids were a mostly peaceful people. But…
“Aren’t the druids nomads? Why settle down now?” Arthur mused. Who had brought the tribes together? It seemed pointless. “Well that doesn’t matter. In her letter, did Mithian mention what this kingdom was called?”
“Mithian called it Draoibaile. Ruled by someone the druids claim to be a god of the old religion. They call him Emrys.” Morgana said.
After days of consideration, Arthur sent a letter. He’d invite this King Emrys to their banquet,
To King Emrys of Draoibaile,
You are formally invited to a banquet to honor five years of magic returning to Camelot, along with the negotiations that will follow. The banquet will take place in one week in Camelot. I wish to see you there.
King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot
Something about this terrified Arthur. It was the same letter he sent to everyone, the only thing different was who it was being sent to. But what if King Emrys took offense? His kingdom was magical after all, would he want to come to a place where so much of his kin’s blood had been shed? Where so many people had been burned for practicing something that came naturally to them?
Nemeth arrived first, at Morgana’s request. She wished to see Mithian so they could gossip more. Arthur wanted to roll his eyes at the girls who disappeared the moment Mithian had stepped out, but Arthur was just as much as a gossiper as Morgana. He pretended not to, but sitting down to gossip with Morgana had always been fun. If only George wasn’t such a bore, Arthur would be up all night talking and ranting about what he had seen or heard in Camelot today.
Gawant arrived later that evening, and Arthur greeted Elena happily. Her father had tried to push them together when they were both much younger, but they’d made it clear to each other that they had…opposing tastes.
Elena herself was absolutely in love with her maidservant, and therefore was not too interested in Arthur, a man.
Arthur could not say the same for himself. He knew he took more of an interest in men, but he dared not say it out loud. He’d never truly felt that love directed at anyone, but women just seemed a bore after he’d seen so many knights naked in the barracks.
But they enjoyed that bit of camaraderie they had, knowing neither would be able to marry who they wished. It would be such an outrage, it made Arthur want to laugh.
King Alined and King Olaf followed over the next three days, bringing much larger parties than necessary. But the two kings were old, and were a bit conservative in their rule, not as much as Camelot had been under Uther.
Caerleon and Essetir were among the last to arrive, coming just two days before the banquet would take place. Clearly neither wanted to be in Camelot longer than necessary, and Arthur did not blame them. Camelot had had issues with the two kingdoms in the past, but nothing beyond disagreement in policies and borders.
Arthur was almost disappointed when the day before the banquet, the king of Draoibaile had still not arrived. He had talked to Mithian more. Apparently King Emrys was quite young, around Arthur’s age. He was hoping he could make a friend a new friend that was not forced to like him because he was their king, or because he was their half brother(though he didn’t think that stopped Morgana from insulting him), and was not approaching his seventies.
Arthur was surprised when the gates to Camelot opened once more, welcoming in a simple carriage and a small group of people. Could this be them? The new druid kingdom? Arthur felt a strange giddiness in his stomach as he ran down with Morgana and Leon to greet Draoibaile.
The carriage came to a stop in front of the castle, but to Arthur’s surprise, the king did not step out. Instead, a tall dark-haired man hopped off a horse and began to make his way to Arthur.
Arthur furrowed his brow in confusion, but did not argue. Perhaps this was an emissary? A king would not have ridden a horse all this way, what was the point of a carriage then? Arthur certainly wasn’t complaining, for the emissary was absolutely gorgeous. High cheekbones, and sparkling blue eyes. This man was young, looking to be around 20. His dark hair perfectly complimented his eyes, as did his dark blue cloak.
“I apologize for arriving so late King Arthur. This was very late notice, and some of my party did not enjoy being woken up early.” The emissary spoke, a smile obvious in his tone. He seemed like the type of person to find humor in everything, a soul of child. Arthur smiled back.
However, the comment had been pointed, and Arthur heard a grumble from inside the carriage.
“I am King Emrys of Draoibaile, and it is a pleasure to meet you.”
Arthur’s eyes widened. Oh he was fucked.
The banquet and negotiations were to last two weeks, longer than usual, but it was a celebration. Of course, this left Arthur royally fucked.
King Emrys was beautiful, and a good person to boot. The young king was, in simple words, fucking hilarious, and Arthur could not keep his composure. Something about him drew Arthur in, and he seemed incredibly familiar for a reason Arthur could not understand. He and Morgana got along swimmingly as well.
Oh! Perhaps that was it! King Emrys and Morgana looked similar, perhaps that was what Arthur was thinking?
But no, that did not feel right. It was something else.
On the first night of the banquet, Arthur got much too drunk, much too earlier, and made the terrible decision of pulling King Emrys aside to talk.
Of course it was more Arthur drunkenly murmured something while he stared lovingly at the other man, who in return cracked jokes and talked which only made it worse. During the banquet, Arthur did realize the king was much older than he had originally thought.
When the two finally were pulled back to the table, Godwinn asked, “Pardon my impoliteness King Emrys, but how old are you? You seem incredibly young to have put together a kingdom for your people, one that is already so successful especially.”
Emrys only smiled that heart melting smile of his, and with a hint of amusement in his tone, replied, “I look much younger than I am, King Godwinn. It’s a comment I get often. When I first began to put together my kingdom, someone believed me to be a sixteen year old boy, which I feel is a stretch.” The table laughed at the joke, but Arthur could not draw his eyes away from Emrys’ face. “I’m 27 in reality, though I do not look it.”
Arthur was shocked out of his stupor. It wouldn’t be a wildly inappropriate age gap if Emrys was 27, Arthur realized with his excitement. He immediately shut the thought down though, remembering that they were both men, and Arthur didn’t even know who Emrys favored.
He realized, with a slight bit of guilt, that he had no clue if Emrys was in a relationship.
“Oh! You’re about my brother’s age then!” Morgana cried out happily. Arthur shot her a glare. She was one of the few people who knew that he liked men, and if she started matchmaking, Arthur would put her in the stocks for a week.
“Yes, 29, as of last month, actually.” Arthur gritted out, shooting a glare at Morgana.
The rest of the evening went fairly well, actually. Luckily for Arthur, Morgana did not persist with her matchmaking.
On the third and final day of the banquet before the negotiations began, Emrys surprised everyone.
“Pardon me, everyone. But if you wouldn’t mind, my people would like to put on a show for you. A gift for inviting us to Camelot.” Emrys had announced.
Arthur, dumb, naive, stupid Arthur, had assumed it would be a play of sorts. Music. But no, he had completely forgotten that Draoibaile was a kingdom of magicians and druids, so why wouldn’t it be magic?
It was beautiful, truly. Vibrant sparks filled the air, creating beautiful pictures, playing out a story. Emrys sat with a smirk on his face as everyone else ooh-ed and ahh-ed at his court’s show. Eventually, he too stood up, to join the show.
With the flick of a wrist, his party took flight, hovering above the table. A sweet music filled the air as the show continued, druids conjuring all sorts of colors and images.
Arthur was in awe. He had no clue that magic could be so beautiful, so elegant. And even while magic filled the air, Arthur was drawn back to the king, who twirled around in the air gracefully, entertaining some children and younger servants he had found, instead of the kings and nobles who sat at the table.
It only made Arthur fall harder. King Emrys truly was a child at heart. Eventually, he pulled over a member of his council and talked in a hushed tones. The boy Emrys had pulled over was just that, a boy. Arthur heard Emrys call him Mordred.
Mordred could not have been older than 17, Arthur realized. Perhaps druids just naturally looked incredibly young? But no, that couldn't be true, for one of King Emrys’ advisors seemed older than Gaius! But who knows, perhaps the druid who appeared to be ninety was actually hundreds of years old(was it obvious Arthur knew nothing about druidic culture? He hoped not).
Mordred did not seem to be happy about whatever his King was talking about, but Emrys was ecstatic. A wide, child-like smile filled the druid king’s face. Eventually, Mordred must have relented to whatever the king had suggested, because Emrys turned to the entire banquet.
His voice must’ve have been amplified through magic, for it was louder than humanely possibly. “Now, who would like to fly?” Emrys announced, and the children he had been entertaining erupted into cheers and shouts of “I do!” and “Me! Me!”
Before Arthur could blink, the children had been lifted in the air, and the room was filled with giggles and laughter as the children tried to figure it out.
“Now come on Mordred! Show them how to fly, don’t let them flail there!” Emrys teased. Arthur looked back over to Mordred, who had joined the children in the air, muttering something that looked suspiciously like,
“I hate kids.”
Arthur smiled at the interaction. It seemed so innocent.
Slowly, more and more of the court began to float around, flying past everyone. This was probably the happiest Arthur had ever seen most of these people.
Surprisingly enough, Rodor was the first of the royalty to start flying around. It was hilarious, frankly. A man in his late sixties dancing in the air and laughing like a little kid.
Morgana, Mithian, and Elena followed. Arthur had been so caught up in Emrys, he hadn’t noticed his knights fly up as well. Arthur was soon one of the only people left on the ground. He was just sitting, enjoying the sight when a harpy attacked him, killing him instantly.
“Morgana!” Arthur screamed, grabbing a piece of bread from the table to throw at her, “What the hell!” He was absolutely soaked! God, Arthur hated his sister. She smiled and waved innocently at Arthur before flying away, the goblet she had used to pour water on him still in hand. Arthur wound up to throw the bread at her, before it floated out of his hand, onto the table, and promptly turned into a large cat.
“Now, now, King Arthur. Violence is never the solution.” A smooth voice called from behind Arthur. He felt a blush rise in his cheeks as he turned around to find King Emrys, with a mischievous glint in his eye. Arthur’s eyes flicked back to the table, seeing the only goblet missing was not Morgana’s, but had belonged to the man in front of him.
“It was you! You gave her the goblet!” Arthur cried out, his cheeks turning a deeper red. Emrys just smiled at him slyly,
“Now whatever do you mean? What goblet?” Emrys replied, and Arthur saw the evil glint in his eyes before realizing what was happening.
“The one Morgana used to soak me!” Arthur grumbled, unable to meet the beautiful man in the eyes. God, Arthur must look like a wet cat. This only meant that Arthur saw the slight movement of Emrys’ hands, casting a spell before Arthur could protest. Arthur felt a warm breeze, and a familiar smell, before all the water that had covered him was gone.
“King Arthur, we may need to get your eyes checked. There’s no water on you,” Emrys said, unable to keep a straight face, “Now. Don’t be a dollop head and come fly with me.”
Before Arthur could decline, King Emrys grabbed his hand, and launched both of them into the air. Arthur yelped loudly, clinging tightly to the other king. He was gonna die. He was gonna die. He was gonna die.
“Let go of me! You won’t fall, promise.” Emrys said, smiling at Arthur. Reluctantly(and with a lot of embarrassment), Arthur disentangled himself from Emrys. He finally gathered the courage to let go of Emrys’ hands, and he immediately started plummeting.
Arthur screamed much too loud and high pitched to be fit for a king. Before he could hit the ground, Emrys scooped him up and brought him back up into the air. Arthur’s face was bright red from being manhandled, and he clung tightly to Emrys, even though that was the same person who had dropped him moments ago.
“You know, I’ve changed my mind. I quite like it when you cling to me. No need to let go.” Emrys said, with an almost flirting tone. Arthur quite literally forgot there were other people in the room as he buried his head in King Emrys’ shoulder.
“You said I wouldn’t fall.” He murmured, trying to hide his embarrassment. Emrys let out a melodic laugh.
“But then I wouldn’t have had the chance to save the damsel in distress.” Emrys joked, only serving to give Arthur a weird feeling in his stomach. “Fine, fine. This time I actually won’t drop you. Let’s get you off me before someone accuses me of enchanting you.” Emrys teased, and Arthur immediately released him. He was horribly embarrassed, and somehow managed to catch Morgana’s eye, who winked and waggled her eyebrows at him. If Arthur turned any redder, he’d be a tomato.
Emrys let go of Arthur’s hand, and this time Arthur stayed floating in the air. He let out a sigh of relief, causing the druid beside him to snicker.
“Try and take a few steps. It’s really just like walking.” Emrys promised, but when Arthur tried, all he managed to do was spin around and make a fool of himself.
“Gods, you’re horrible at this.” Emrys teased, causing Arthur to pout. “Just come with me.” Emrys held his hand out, and Arthur took it. Before Arthur could think about the fact he was holding Emrys’ hand, they took off. Flying up and through an open window, they entered the night sky. Arthur shrieked, wrapping himself around Emrys’ arm. “You’re touchy, eh?” Emrys laughed, scooping Arthur up again. Arthur mumbled a curse into Emrys’ chest.
Emrys continued to fly until they reached the top of the castle, and set Arthur down. Arthur fell to his knees, and was tempted to kiss the ground. The sweet, sweet ground. Emrys sat down beside Arthur, his laughter still filling the night air.
“Not a flyer?” Emrys inquired innocently.
“Never again.” Arthur panted, leaning his head on Emrys’ shoulder. Distantly, Arthur realized this was incredibly inappropriate, and that he barely knew this man, but it felt different. It felt like Arthur had known King Emrys for years.
“Not even if I ask really nicely?” Emrys asked.
“Nope.” Arthur replied, looking up at Emrys. As he stared at the small pout on Emrys’ face, he could already feel his resolve cracking.
“Really, really nicely?” Emrys asked again, bringing his face closer to Arthur’s. Arthur gulped. Oh he was completely fucked.
“Maybe.” Arthur murmured, leaning closer to Emrys, until their faces were millimeters apart. Emrys smiled a sadistic, evil, beautiful smile that sparked something deep in Arthur’s gut. “I can think of something else you can do to convince me.” Arthur gulped. The way Emrys stared at Arthur made him feel like prey.
He loved it.
King Emrys slowly lowered his lips to Arthur’s, in a way that was much too gentle for Arthur’s tastes. He understood why the other man was taking this slow(if kissing someone days after you met them could count as “slow”). Arthur attempted to take over the kiss, to force Emrys to kiss him a bit harder, a bit rougher, but Emrys would not let him.
Arthur was not prepared for how controlled he could feel when barely anything was happening. The kiss was sweet and simple, but Emrys was keeping a tight grip on Arthur’s hip, reminding Arthur to just relax.
Eventually they pulled away. It was at the drunken laughter of the other people from the banquet leaving that had caused Arthur to tense, and Emrys had immediately pulled away. It was a sweet gesture, truly, but now Arthur didn’t know if he’d ever work up the courage to do this again.
After kissing King Emrys, Arthur didn’t know if he ever wanted anyone, man or woman, to touch him again. His nights would be content with just this evening in his mind.
Arthur was unsure of what to do as Emrys floated them down to the ground, and they walked back to their respective rooms.
Arthur wondered if it was obvious he had no experience courting people, much less getting…intimate. He’d assume King Emrys had no experience either, except for the fact that Emrys was the king of a new kingdom. He was humble, and the way Emrys treated his people made Arthur think there was not a royal drop of blood in King Emrys’ body.
It made Arthur admire Emrys more.
It also made Arthur feel a bit of shame. He had been born into a royal family, and hadn’t done nearly as much work as a common farmer, and he knew that. The biggest accomplishment of Arthur’s was undoing what his father had done.
King Emrys had built a kingdom from the ground up of people who had watched their kin be killed. And now he was attempting to reestablish trade with the kingdom of his oppressors. Arthur wondered if he had just spent the night defiling an angel of the Lord.
Emrys was so forgiving and so trusting, it almost made Arthur wonder if he had been using the other man. Surely no one this kind couldn’t have been manipulated this far into his life. Especially someone who looks so young. Someone must’ve hurt King Emrys.
Arthur realized that someone very possibly could’ve been Arthur’s father. He knew of stories of children being manipulated into giving up their magic wielding parents.
The thought made Arthur tense up. Arthur had a great many enemies coming after him in revenge of their family. In revenge of their people. Emrys could have been one of them.
Arthur hadn’t realized King Emrys had stopped until they collided.
“Arthur? Are you alright? You seem a bit…pale.” Emrys asked, concerned. Arthur nodded politely, and suddenly all of the things Arthur had felt for Emrys were gone. He was paranoid now.
Arthur had been placed under too many love spells in his years to be able to let his guard down now. He’d gotten out of most of them from pure luck. It had felt like a guiding hand had been there, but in this past year, that guiding hand had disappeared. What did Arthur do? Emrys had to be incredibly powerful. Mithian had said that the druids claimed he was a god. What if Arthur had been under a spell this whole time? What if none of this was real?
“Yes, quite fine. I must go, pardon me King Emrys.” Arthur didn’t miss the disappointed look on the druid’s face at the sudden formality. He did his best to ignore it as Arthur rushed past King Emrys.
He had to find someone. Who would know what to do? Morgana or Gaius were best for magical matters, but love life? Gaius would try and give him some tincture and Morgana would demand all the details before embarrassing him. Guinevere, perhaps? But she didn’t deserve to be dragged into this. The knights? Gwaine would just laugh. Leon and Percival would tense up and be unable to do anything but give Arthur a pat on the back. Elyan would immediately go to his sister.
Arthur groaned. This felt impossible. He had a grand total of seven(eight if you count the man who raised him) seven friends as the king of a grand kingdom, and none of them were any help.
Eventually Arthur decided on Morgana. Better be humiliated and laughed at with a solution than ignorant and dying.
Morgana had slammed the door open after a couple minutes of Arthur’s panicked knocking.
“What do you want?” Morgana hissed, ushering her half-brother into the room. “I’m trying to sleep!”
“I’m under a spell.” Arthur stated, trying to shove his emotions back down into the pit they belonged in. There was no room for paranoia as a king. He had to be unbiased and unfeeling. Even with his big sister. Arthur watched as Morgana’s eyes seemed to flash for a second, and she stood still. “Morgana? Are you alright?” Arthur asked, reaching out a hand to steady to woman.
“Yes, yes. I’m fine.” Morgana muttered, swatting Arthur’s hand away. “Just a bit of deja vu. I could’ve sworn…but it couldn’t have been.” Morgana continued mumbling unintelligibly to herself as she and Arthur sat down. She seemed to be in some internal battle, but Arthur knew better than to interfere. If Morgana needed help, she would ask for help. Maybe. He’d keep an eye on her, just in case. “Right then.” Morgana said, clasping her hands together. “What spell of yours is so dire you’d come to little old me, instead of your new friend?”
Arthur felt himself to turn pink at the mention of King Emrys, but he quickly pushed all thoughts of that away. Focus.
“I believe the Draoibaile court has cast a spell on me.” Morgana’s face seemed trapped between concern, anger, annoyance, and solemness. It settled to a blank slate, after some small time. It seemed like bottling up your emotions was in fact a Pendragon trait.
“What has made you think this? Please do not tell me that simply because they are magic users you thing that—“ Morgana had begun, but Arthur cut her off before she could draw the wrong conclusions.
“No! No! God, no Morgana. Do you really think me to be like that?” Arthur asked in horror. Morgana simply raised an eyebrow at him. Ahh yes. The dead man that Arthur could not escape. The evil, conniving, bigoted ass. The one, the only: Uther Pendragon. “Okay, okay, that’s fair. But no that’s not the reason.” Arthur stated, watching relief flood Morgana’s features.
“Then why? Have you found evidence of a spell?” Morgana asked.
“No, it’s just—“
“So someone told you that they witnessed something?”
“No, I only—
“You’re having magical symptoms?”
“No, not really?” Arthur said, but it was more of a question. Did falling absolutely head over heels for someone count as a magical symptom?
“Then why the hell are you bothering me about this? Go to Gaius. If you suspect something and there are no obvious symptoms, Gaius will probably have it in that extra room of his. So many books in there, it’s like the castle library.” Morgana insisted, but Arthur wasn’t sure. He wanted her help. Not Gaius’.
“I’m under a love spell.” Arthur blurted out. It was the only way he could think of to keep Morgana helping him. Lord, he wished that there was someone else he could talk to about this that wasn’t his sister, pseudo father, or a bunch of people who literally had to be nice to him(not saying they all were. Gaius could be tried for treason but no one dare touch the old man’s mixtures for worry he had booby trapped them).
“A love spell?” Morgana asked.
“Yes, with King Emrys. I believe he cast it, or perhaps one of his court, when they first arrived.” Arthur muttered, ashamed of himself for not picking up on the spell the moment it was cast. He was strangely attuned to magic, he knew when it was being cast. But something about this spell, and the king in general, felt so natural. It was just like breathing.
Instead of the rampaging witch Arthur had expected, Morgana only looked exasperated. “Arthur? Are you telling me that you woke me up because you have a crush on a pretty boy?”
Arthur felt his blood rush to his face. “No! It’s not a crush! I would know!” Arthur insisted. Morgana rolled her eyes.
“Our father did a wonderful job at teaching you to be unfeeling. You’re telling me you’ve never liked someone before?” Morgana asked.
“I had a crush on that knight once, do you remember?” Arthur argued, but Morgana shushed him.
“That was a passing thing. It wasn’t a crush. It was acknowledging the knight was handsome.” Morgana corrected. “Have you ever felt like this about anyone else? Including the girls you were spelled to love?”
Arthur considered it. Out of everyone he had ever “liked,” none of them felt the same. Morgana was right, passing acknowledgements of attraction, but it wasn’t the same thing as this. And the girls he had been spelled to like had felt different as well. It felt more of an obsession than actual affection. Arthur had to be near them. With Emrys, Arthur couldn’t be without him.
They meant similar things, but felt incredibly different.
But this felt familiar. Everything about King Emrys felt like returning home. But why? It was going to drive Arthur up a wall.
This feeling, the heavy feeling in his heart, the way all things else disappeared when Arthur was with Emrys. Arthur had felt it before. But when?
Arthur tried to dig through all of his memories, but all it was doing was giving Arthur a headache. He sprawled out on Morgana’s bed, who squawked at him for a moment, but eventually relaxed.
“So I’m not under a spell?” Arthur asked one more time, just to confirm. Morgana sighed, while stroking his head.
“No, Arthur. You’re in love.”