Albion's Days They Leave Us Wanting

What Maketh Life

The next day came like an ice pick to the brain when Cedric ripped open the curtains. Arthur had had a restless sleep the night before having to rely on a potion to rest, too well apparently. He should have heard of him come in or woken himself but until the light had come in he could be mistaken for under a sleeping curse.

“Cedric”

“Mourning your royal highness”

“You know you can turn on the lights or light a candle”

“Sorry, your royal highness” Arthur peeled the blankets off himself before swinging his legs over as the light of dawn soothed the pain it caused. “Your bath is dawn your royal highness” he looked over to Cedric who was laying out clothes for him, formal clothes. That’s not good.

He plucked the potion bottle off his bedside table before starting on his day as Cedric was placing out his formal wear. Then I have breakfast with father and Mary. Arthur already knew it wasn’t going to be a pleasant time, his father had canceled the other day’s evening council meeting, choosing instead to meet with a messenger in private. All of this was going to come back to make his life miserable and likely Mary’s as well.

He didn't want to see her and frankly, she didn't want to see him either. It was plain as day and simple to understand. As far as she was concerned, she was a captive here, just counting down the days until she could go home. He was more than willing to give her that time, to leave her alone and let her do her own thing. Unfortunately, it seemed everyone else had different plans; his father considered her to be his backup heir, someone to replace him if anything happened, and all the other Welshman in Camelot were all too happy to have another one of them to converse with. Merlin and Gawain had already gone on for several hours about how delighted they were to have someone else they could talk to about things in the old country. Arthur suspected that she wouldn't exactly be welcome to their company. As far as she was concerned, they were probably traitors. He couldn't blame her for that, he’d likely see them the same.

As he went about his room trying to get ready he actually bothered to read the label on the potion Merlin had given to him the other day. Lightless sleep. Previously, when Merlin said the name, he just assumed that it was to keep him from waking up in the night. Knowing Merlin he probable had alterer motives for giving him that potion. He would sleep when there was no light, and when there was light, like Cedric ripping open the curtains and bathing the room in it, it would wake him. This is crude but effective. And it stopped him from thinking something he wasn't exactly happy to do at the moment. So much had gone wrong the other day. It was hard to imagine that the tourney wasn't cursed, that somewhere out there was someone wanting to ruin all their good-natured fun, and in the process hurt a lot of good men that he cared for.

Knowing that yet again, his father was probably waiting for him, he only did the bare minimum when it came to his bath and had Cedric assist him in getting dressed. No point in wasting time when father is already on edge. But it would only come back to bite him either way.

“Where is my father want me?” He asked already suspecting that he knew the answer. But what was the harm in checking.

“Your father wants you in the grand dining hall, my Lord- my Royal Highness- your Royal Highness!” The flustered younger man was practically shaking in his boot at the mishap.

“It's okay Cedric, take your time”

“Thank you, Sir” Cedric was a work in progress, his former lord having demanded he address him by his full title and beating him at the slightest mistake. He knew he was just on edge, they all were no reason to get mad at him for not calling him ‘sir’.

“Now, did you say anything else?”

“No Sir- your Royal Highness”

“He says who else would be there?

“Uhh… your cousin and members of council- except Merlin, apparently he's away on business this morning” His wording and flushed expression were strange, it wasn’t a lie or a guess. Cedric, are you being a sneak? I’ll have to remember this.

“They say what business?”

“I didn't get the chance to ask”

“Alright. Do you know how the Knights are holding up?”

“Uh, well… very well”

“I meant the ones that were injured the other day”

“Oh, their conditions very well your Royal Highness. Are there any you were particularly wondering of?”

“Sir Leon do you know how is faring?”

“Merlin's assistant is to see him later. Apparently, the bone was not set properly”

“Okay and apart from that?”

“He's faring alright. The blood loss made him umm… not present. So he may still be… away if you choose to visit”

“And the others? Do we have any casualties?”

“There were several casualties, actually, more than several, if I recall. A number of the guard dogs fell ill. Sir Gawain is very worried about his hounds. You do know how much he loves them. All the livestock on the ground have also not been faring well. And seven horses, to my knowledge, are either dead or will be put down soon. The bear for the pit has also fallen ill, but it's not the same symptoms as the dogs so it may just be something bad it ate”

“Cedric, I know it is not your place and you are more than okay to not answer me, but be honest”

“Yes, Your Royal Highness?”

“Do you think someone has placed a curse on the tourney?”

“I- I- I'm not one well versed in magical affairs, Your Highness… but from what you've seen- in just the past day, we've been preparing for this tourney for months. I'm not much of a superstitious man, but yes. It does appear to be going downhill rather fast… unnaturally fast. I do worry that someone, maybe trying to sabotage the tourney”

“That's why I suspect. It's likely the business Merlin is away on”

“Alright. Cedric, I want you to retrieve my sword from the armory and keep it with you all day. If anything happens to it I- f**k- my father would have my head. I’m putting my trust in you Cedric, and I hope that that trust is not misplaced”

“Of course Your Royal Highness. I'm honored, thank you”

“I will be needing little of your services today, please accompany Guinevere and her father and attend to any needs they have”

“Yes, your Royal Highness.”

The walk to the Grand Dining hall was long and rather painful. The castle was abuzz with people whispering about all manner of things. What happened to Mary's family. What was happening to the tourney? Where Merlin had disappeared off too. Why the Council meeting was called off. Anything there was to speak of was being spoken about and by a great number of people. They at least had the dignity to hush when they heard or saw him approach, but he knew what they were saying. Some of them were thinking. A dangerous sport given some of this lot. Whispering around the castle that it was all ploy to end his life, make sure the line of Pendragon ended with him. Some even suspected it was a great plot by the Welsh, that they had killed many of their own, and made a grand show to get sympathy for Mary so that she may deal the final blow. Others believe that she was here as a way to eventually bring peace with the Welsh, saying that his father had grown tired of war. Those who said that obviously did not know Uther. He grew tired of little and war was not one of them. Longed for it, craved it like a lost lover. Every lesson he tried to teach, Arthur always came with the spilling of blood. It was honestly quite tiring, but obviously, you can't say that to the king even if you are his son.

When he reached the Grand Dining hall, he could already see people bustling about. Several chefs and waiters coming with their meals, others preparing it for something that was obviously in the works, that in itself was strange. As far as Arthur knew, there was nothing that should be in the works and to do so while people were to be eating in it was unheard of. When he finally stepped in he could see the room in all its splendor. His father, Council, and Mary were all in the middle of the room talking amongst themselves, less so her but whatever. She was with them of course, in body anyway, in spirit she was a thousand miles away, as she picked idly at her food. She didn't want to be here, she didn't want this company, and least of all Uther. She likely wasn't quite happy with the food. The Welsh had a strange way of going about things, all this ornateness, these little bits perfectly aligned to make something that looks rather like it should be the basis for a cup of stew was probably insulting to her. They were a Hardy people by nature and this was for soft belly folk, those who cared more for drama than action.

To her credit, she cleaned up rather nicely. It was obvious that she must have had her chambermaid retrieve her something more fitting and to the Walsh style. But in its simplicity, it was also quite remarkable. Many ladies at the current time prepare for layers and fluff, one of the things he always liked about Guinevere and those she kept the company of, was that they chose simple and ornate. One to three pieces of fabric embroidered and glitzed up to show how they were truly of their status, no need for frilly nonsense. Mary would quite like them and he'd imagine if she gave them a chance they could all be quite lovely friends. Her gown was simple, the Welsh green bright, ferocious, and natural, but with strips of red and seams of gold. It wasn't unlike the dress she had arrived in but obviously quite different. That one had been worn and wasn't proper for a lady of her status. Likely an emergency acquisition given the way that the castle fell, likely whatever she had left in was beyond repair.

“Thank you for finally gracing us with your presence” Lovely father's notice that I wasn't here when he wanted me to be and his tone is highly reflective.

Mary was a bit startled by Uther's tone, looking rather uncomfortable. As much as she disliked him it was obvious that her feelings toward Uther were more that of hate and malice. He knew what the Welsh think of the English and to be honest he hadn’t much to say to the matter. They are right, my father is a bastard. He longed for war and conflict, didn't care for old treaties or traditions, didn't even care for the traditions of others. He was one man at war with at least seven countries in one fashion or another. The Welsh were his neighbors, their hatred insurmountable. The Scots also neighbors, but to the north, they cared little for skirmishes, unlike the Welsh. Instead choosing to heavily man their borders with a great number of beasts to stop anyone that they did not approve of from coming in. The Irish… the Irish were another thing entirely. A proud and hearty people, they were a strong combination of both the Welsh am the Scots. Great beasts, serpents, and all manner of things. They longed for blood but also kept their borders tight. Then you had the Danes and the Dutch and the French. And the Swedish, oddly enough.

He had no idea how his father had gotten into a war with the Swedish. They cared little for others and only for themselves. The idea that he had somehow managed to get past their strong sensibilities to actually be at war. If one could call it that. Though in fairness, war is probably not the best word for it, it was more a protracted argument, occasionally with a strongly worded arrow thrown into the mix.

“Sorry, I'm late father. I had trouble sleeping and what I took was rather strong. Only woke when Cedric open the curtains. May I ask what it is we're meeting about? What all of this is?” He said motioning to the people hoisting a number of things to the ceiling.

“Your father is to be wed” Mary answered. That got him by surprise. Wed? Uther? Uther is to be wed? To a woman? There is a woman out there other than my mother willing to wed Uther Pendragon?

It was honestly astonishing and in that he instantly became suspicious. “What do you mean he is to be wed? Who are you to wed?”

“The Council meeting that was canceled the other day, it was an emissary of the Scots. They wish to come to an arrangement. Their king has several daughters and nieces all of wedding age that he believes would be a good suit. I'm still in my prime enough to have another heir and in this marriage, we can end the bloodshed. Uniting both our kingdoms and making us a more formidable threat to our enemies” Uther was smiling with every word so proud of what he had done as though it was all planned out ahead of time. That thought worried Arthur even more than this sudden announcement or his father’s insistence on collecting more heirs.

“Your enemies you mean. The Scots don't have any enemies other than you”

“That hardly matters” Standoffish, a strange sight on him. He never shares his plans with me until they're already in motion, might as well push and see what I’ll get.

“I think it does matter. I mean, you're leveraging a great expanse to our Kingdom with a marriage over a conflict that frankly you started”

“I started nothing”

“No, you did. You killed several of their Lords. This entire mess is the fault of you and your brothers'” His tutors were very… knowledgeable even just taking him to the library and archives and going over every bit of how things unfolded and how people were told it’d happened. As far as the people knew the Scots were the aggressors having raided their farms during winter for no reason. In truth, there had been Constans burning their crops under the guise of keeping a nonexistent disease from spreading. Ambrosius, after Constans left for Greece, had destroyed several old tombs and historical sights for no real reason and getting very little out of it.

“Let's not get focused on that, shall we?” Of course why focus on our faults? No good could possibly come out of that. He respected Alister but ignoring this will come back to bite them all.

“Quite right, thank you,” Sabbas said trying to get back on track “Now, the wedding”

“When is the wedding to be held?”

“That's what we're here to discuss” Mary interjected, tilting her head to the side to get a better look at him better. Her posture was strange and guarded for a woman of her status. It's was seamless, but always with those who came from nothing. She was guarded but also loose, one arm securing her plate closer to her while the other was solely for her food and drink. But like a lady, she kept both elbows off the table. It was strange, her arms weren't tightening as though she were afraid but they didn't look or act at ease like every emotion was calculated trying to find a nice balance. Like she was trying to pretend that she was alright. It was worrying.

“I find it odd that you're discussing anything” he quipped back lightheartedly.

“I want the conversation to be over. I'm not permitted to leave until it is” There it is.

“Uhhh… my apologies”

“I think it would be best if the wedding was held on the tourney. The people, from what the Whisperer has found aren’t exactly pleased with the expenditure” Whisperer? Is that what the Welsh call their secret keeper? The nameless man was good at finding out what people felt, even if they didn’t realize it. If Cedric had really listened in on his father then he might be a good replacement should one ever be needed. Never the less having someone with an ear everywhere had its uses.

“Sure”

“Having the tourney to be in celebration of a wedding would make it more reasonable to them. A celebration; death and violence to celebrate life and birth. To celebrate peace, a union. It's honestly quite lovely when done right” Sounded more Irish than Welsh in sentiment but Arthur had to agree, as much as he loved a good tourney until now it seemed pointless… but his father didn’t care for tourneys. Was this his plan all along? No. No no no, that would be insane even for him.

“The problem is we can't guarantee that they'll be here by the time of the tourney and we do need her and those who are accompanying her to make sure that everything is proper. As this is to be an English and Scottish wedding it needs to be fair to both people, less the Scots have a new reason to be angry with your father”

“Alright, any suggestions?”

“Well… frankly, no”

“I know little of the Scots. The Welsh and Scots have very little interaction with each other and given where I'm from even less so. But, uh, haggis and bagpipes are very common staples. I think that we should- oh, the Scottish flower is Thistle and their animal is the Unicorn. It might be nice for her Ladyship, should she be greeted with those. Not only upon her arrival but also when she is to be wet. Great symbols of their nation and in providing so an acknowledgment of their history and people” Mary was beaming in pride, she had come up with a great suggestion and unfortunately, Arthur knew that it was just going to be ripped from her fingers.

“Unicorns, lovely” Sighed Alister, already knowing where this was going.

“I- I'm afraid I don't understand”

“Unicorns are very isolated creatures and they have been hunted for well over a hundred years-”

“-By the House of Pendragon” Arthur confessed, knowing that he would not include so himself. His great grandfather Constantine II had stated it… and Constantine I had started dragon hunting… and Constantine III had started the war with the Fae who the Irish held in great esteem. At this point, he and his father were destined to either start a war or hunt a sacred creature to near extinction.

“Well… no wonder they hate you”

“I value your word in these matters, Mary. But please, in this, I bid your silence”

“Yes- yes, your majesty”

“Thank you. Now we come to the problem with that. I believe you may be right, a Unicorn would smooth over relations going forward”

“Unfortunately we have no way to acquire one”

“Aren't some still alive on the island of Avalon?” Had she not spoken one would be forgiven for forgetting that Nora was there. She was a healer so she could be forgiven for not exactly being well versed on the subject.

His father turned to him, his face a mix of sincerity and… something worryingly obfuscated “Do you wish to deal with the Fae who dwell there?”

“Not particularly”

“Do you know how to get safe passage” And there it was, that look in his eyes, he’s already made up his mind and is just wasting both of their own time for his own… fun? No, not fun, father doesn’t have fun. And what gives him joy should not be called “fun”.

“I know where I might be able to find some Fae willing to get me there”

“But can you achieve such a thing?”

“No, sir” Even at 23 his father could still make him feel like a child. It was wholly humiliating.

“Then best be silent”

“Okay”

“Good. Now decorations. We have less than a week to prepare for this wedding and I fear all might not be in order when that time arrives”

Mary fell silent again picking at her food and obviously wishing to be anywhere else. Arthur couldn’t blame her, in the company of his father he also wished to be anywhere else. He sat to the side of her, at the end of the table, where his plate had been set, both of them uncomfortably close to his father. Uther had gone back to bickering over the semantics of the treaty and the wedding with his advisers.

“Mary?”

“Yes?” she answered tentatively

“What do you have for formal attire? I understand that you haven't been here a full day, but I am unsure of what you traveled with”

“I traveled was nothing. Nothing remained so there was nothing to take”

“I'm sorry”

“It is what it is. As much as I wish for something to be salvaged I must accept that nothing will be. And anything that is will then come as a pleasant surprise” Tears started to well up in her eyes as she said that, looking away from him before stuffing a piece of potato in her mouth, trying to keep quiet.

That was not one of my finer moments. He needed to distract her “You know, Mary, one of my knights is actually Welshman. Son of a kennel master. From what I hear, you're quite fond of dogs. Would you like me to introduce you?” He hadn’t but if how Gawain spoke of Wales was any indication then it was a strategic risk.

"I thank you for the offer but unfortunately given that there is a wedding approaching I am just to spend my day with several seamstresses assembly in a wardrobe"

“How about tonight? As far as I know, neither of us have anything that will take us past the hour of seven and I am more than sure that the man in question will be awake. His hounds very much so”

“I must say I am curious what breeds they are”

Might as well make nice, father is enough to deal with but if he’s too wed I should at least try to have one less person to quarrel with. “Rottweiler mixed with some shaggy things, I’m not quite sure what they are”

“That hardly matters. I'm sure there will be time for it later” Anywhere to get you to meet me in the middle. Hopefully, we can make something of that.

“Quiet”

Breakfast, unsurprisingly, was an uncomfortable affair through and through. Not only were people bustling about trying to get ready for a wedding, with very little preparation but also the company. Mary was still grieving and if he had to guess, still in shock. His father cared little for her needs, for her opinions, though, in fairness, she did the same and only bickered with counsel over what to do. What to do. What to do? Or rather what is he to do? What was there even to do? He can't practice at Tourney until he knows for certain that it isn't to end his life but he can't call it off. And with so many nights out of service training wasn't an option. Now we show Mary around, but as she said, she would be busy most of the night. So it was decided for him. He would go and see those who had been injured the day before. Hope to raise their spirits and do what little he could to ease their suffering. He had too many friends in there with a broken leg, concussion, or fever that refused to break. Gods, what is happening?