Archive of Our Own

Lord Henry, son of the dreaded Lord Sarrum, who each member of the British royalty had taken arms against at least twice, was all the more disgusting when he smiled.

He had this way of baring his teeth when he smiled, teeth as white, pointy and deadly as those of a shark, and it creeped Sophia out. The only thing that would make her more prone to vomit was dried blood on his fangs, but she suspected he already had enough blood on his hands as it was.

After all, who didn’t know of the tortures Henry and his father had inflicted upon the unfortunate souls who’d posed a threat to the economical empire that the Sarrum had built with blood and fire, and of the exquisite punishments reserved for its traitors?

Some legends, legends Sophia had never wanted to think about, recounted women being tied up and abused in the Amata household, some as young as fifteen. They recounted innocent children being mercilessly slaughtered in front of their parents, their babies’ wails the last thing the parents heard before being cut to pieces.

Sophia had been forced to put up with Lord Henry’s smirks, inappropriate touches and catcalls all night, and not once had she seen him genuinely happy. All she saw in his eyes was the predatory glint as he looked her up and down, forgetting the decency he’d never been taught.

His gaze on her felt like tiny bugs crawling on her skin, filling her with the sudden impulse to cover up the enormous amount of cleavage she’d been encouraged to show.

“To bait a husband”, Aulfric had told her while her maidservant buttoned up her ridiculously tiny and revealing dress. “Our family is in need of good allies.”

Sophia had felt so uncomfortable, so exposed, that all she’d wanted to do was to rip the fabric off and cower under the covers, but she wasn’t going to make a scene in front of her harsh, demanding, once-locked-her-up-in-her-room-for-a-week father. So she’d endured.

She didn’t know how much longer she could go on without screaming, especially when Henry’s hand was so far down her back. She flinched when he reached his desired spot, and turned away from him, desperately looking for her father. She spotted Aulfric across the room, standing near the refreshments table. He was watching her and Henry’s every move, enjoying a good cup of wine that was refilled by passing waiters as soon as it emptied. By the blush on his cheeks, his unfocused eyes and his sprawled posture, she gathered that he must be pretty drunk by now. Too drunk to help her, that was for sure - not that he would have done it while sober. Instead, he met her gaze and nodded, gesturing with his head to go on. In his current condition he even had the guts to smile at her.

Henry’s hand was moving even lower, she was biting her lip to keep from shrieking, forcing them into what she hoped looked like a coy smile rather than a disgusted grimace.

“I find you enchanting.” Henry was breathing against her cheek, mouthing down to follow the curve of her neck. “Sophia.”

Fighting the urge to push him off of her and slap him hard across the face, Sophia choked out a “I have to insist that you address me properly, my Lord”, covering it up with a nervous chuckle.

“Of course.” Henry mumbled as he nosed at her collarbone, his silent laughter vibrating through her body. “My Lady.” As his mouth neared her breasts, mapping her pale skin with cold kisses, Sophia wriggled in his grasp. He didn’t seem to notice, or chose to ignore it, and tightened his hold on her even more.

“You know,” he mumbled against her skin, “I think you’d like Amata.”

“Is that so?” she managed to get out.

“Oh, yes.”

Unable to let him go any further, Sophia brought Henry’s head back to her eye level, masking it as a gesture of affection, her hand cupping his cheek.

A smirk was distorting his already less than handsome face. “Strongest security in all of England, they say. A woman like you would never be left unprotected or unattended.”

Sophia knew those words were meant to be a reassurance, but instead they had the opposite effect.

Never unattended. Always someone watching, never free.

Sophia clenched her jaw and suppressed her anger and fear. “Nor a man such as yourself, I suppose.”


He chuckled. “We’re pretty capable of defending ourselves. After all, what are guards for if not to defend those who are incapable of defending themselves?”


When she clenched her fist in rage, accidentally - or not - digging her nails into the side of his face, Henry let out a harsh gasp.

“I’m so sorry!” she lied, making a big show of covering her mouth with her hands, high-pitched voice and all, “I am so terribly sorry, my Lord. I don’t know what’s got into me.”

Henry massaged his face, as if she’d punched him and dislocated his jaw. As desperately as she’d wanted to do it, her father was still watching her. “It’s fine.” He pointed his finger at her while wearing a knowing smile, as if he knew all the secrets of the universe, that Sophia wanted to wipe off his face. “You’re fierce. I like that in a woman.”

Her eyes widened, horrified.

“You know,” he reasoned, “I’m already betrothed to someone else, so I can’t take you as my wife, but you can still come live in our manor with me if you’d like to.” As he grabbed her by the hips, he added, with yet another one of his vomit inducing smirks: “There is enough of me to go around.”

He was suddenly too close for her liking. She wouldn’t have liked him a hundred feet away from her, but she loathed him bare inches from her lips. The stench from the wine he had been pouring down his throat all evening filled her senses as he breathed on her mouth.

Her face crumpled. She took one step back, and then another, and another, until her back hit one of the tables along one of the walls of the banquet hall. Henry followed her every step and towered over her, looking confused.

Sophia stopped his advance by putting a hand on his chest. “I am sorry, my Lord.” She collected her gowns in her petite hands, offering a sweet smile as an apology. “I’m afraid I’ve had too much wine. I should retire to my rooms.”

“Would you like me to accompany you?”

“No.” Her face tightened, and this time she didn’t care if Henry noticed. “I think I can manage my way back to my rooms on my own, thank you.”

She stormed off without another word, the crowd parting like the Red Sea at her passage. The clatter of her high heels followed her, until she stopped in front of her dismayed father, whose crossed arms clearly meant he was contemplating disinheriting her.

“He is already betrothed to someone else.” She offered as an explanation, shrugging. “I’m sorry, father.” She added before she left the banquet hall with quick step, nearly tripping on her long silk dress in the haste to reach her chambers before her father could decide he wasn’t finished with her.

As soon as she opened the door, she threw away her precious jewels, took off her precious dress without a maid’s help, lay down on her bed of precious covers, and didn’t fall asleep for hours.

Sophia was in her morning gown, brushing her hair, when Aulfric opened the door. She whipped around, irritated. “Whatever happened to knocking?”

“I need to talk to you.” He said, without answering her question.

Sophia huffed and went back to looking at herself in the mirror. The bright morning light did nothing for her pale complexion, and no amount of blush could fix it. The shadows under her eyes made her look sick. Despite her ten hours of sleep, she felt more exhausted than she had ever been.

Aulfric let himself in. He walked right up to her dresser and stood behind her, both of them looking at her reflection now. Sophia saw him grimace. “Darling, is something wrong?”

Sophia put down her brush. “How kind of you to notice.”

Aulfric sighed. “I know I have been harsh on you lately.”

“Like when you pushed me into the arms of a Lord who would’ve had no problems taking me against my will?” She turned around to glare at him. “Or when you forced me to spend an entire day with Lord George while he talked to me non-stop about his horses?”

“Lord George wasn’t that bad.” He objected. “His family is powerful. Their land is twice the size of ours, you know. Ever since your mother died-”

“Yes. Yes I know.” She snapped. “We’ve been going bankrupt.”

Aulfric nodded sadly. “We need money, Sophia. If it were up to me, I would not let any man lay a hand on you.” He gently touched her cheek and laid a kiss on her forehead, cradling her face in his hands. “But we’re at risk. We’ll lose everything if we don’t do something.”

He stared deep into her eyes, pleading her to understand.

Sophia saddened. As a child, she’d always thought of her father as a hero; the anchor keeping his ship steady on the wild sea, the North Star she could turn to when she couldn’t find her way back home. In all her life, she had never seen him troubled. Yet now, where there was once was strength and determination, she only saw a broken man.

“We’ll lose our propriety.” He went on, undeterred. “We’ll have to sell the manor, all of our belongings. Where will we go, then? How will we live?”

Sophia looked down, not wanting her father to spot the tears in her eyes. “I don’t know.” She whispered.

Aulfric’s hand touched her shoulder, a wretched look on his face. “I am so sorry, child. But our survival must come before love.”

Sophia smiled bitterly, still not meeting his gaze. “Yes, father.”

He grimaced. “You should try to be more... pleasant, with the men you meet.”

She couldn’t stand to sit there anymore. Her whole room was a reminder of what she’d lose if she didn’t play by the rules. Her bedcovers embroidered with gold. Her jewels. Her elegant dresses, all of her shoes.

 She was the Lady Sophia of Tirmor. Marrying for love had never been an option for her, and she should have known that already. She’d never have a chance of falling in love with a normal man, not unless she fancied being stripped of her title and honour and wandering through villages, looking for a new place to call home.

It wasn’t all about what she wanted either. It was about her father, her poor old father who’d spent his life raising her and taking care of her. She couldn’t condemn him to such a destiny after all the hard work he’d done to support his family.

She wasn’t a child anymore. It was about time she started helping too, in whatever way she could.

She stood up abruptly, clearing her throat to hide her uneasiness. It didn’t do much for the sob threatening to escape her throat, though. “I’ll just... be in the garden, if you should need me.”

Without waiting for a response, she staggered across the room, roughly opened the door and closed it just as harshly behind her.

Aulfric had been in contact with several nobles all over the land, entertaining a correspondence or leading his most trusted men to faraway regions to come to an arrangement that were fit for a Lady and could save them from their current predicament.

Sophia had often been left alone in the manor, with only her servants and her guards to talk to. She had spent her days in the library, the dust floating up into her nostrils and making her sneeze, or strolling in the gardens, the scent of roses prickling her nose. She’d lie down under a tree and watch the clouds, pick up small pebbles and skip them across the pond.

The thing was, she wasn’t made for a quiet life. She was restless, always getting bored of toys she’d played with for too long, giving away dresses she’d worn only once or twice, hating the restrictions her father imposed to make her look good in front of nobles.

Nobody liked a woman who played hard to get and who constantly challenged her husband; what they wanted was a girl. A silly little girl who would bow her head in reverence whenever her husband passed by and who was everything a man would ever need, with her beauty, passiveness and the irrational need to please that she had been taught since before she could even crawl.

The sole thought of leaving her home to go live with her future husband, a man she knew nothing about, who would probably make her give up her freedom for good, terrified her.

It came as no surprise when a few weeks later news spread at the Tirmor manor that a marriage proposal had been accepted. But it didn’t stop Sophia from feeling sick and locking herself in her room.

What came as a surprise instead was the name of her betrothed.


“Lord Arthur Pendragon?” she trailed after her father across the main hall yelling at his back. “Have you gone mad?”

“I believe that he is the best choice for you, for this family and our future.” Aulfric replied calmly, drinking his wine while he strolled, content, in front of her.


Sophia didn’t back down. “Father, he’s even richer than Lord George. He basically owns all of England.”

Her father raised one skeptical brow. “Which is exactly why you are marrying him.”

“Father, I’m-I’m not the right girl for him.” She shook her head in desperation. “How did you even get his family to agree?”

“It wasn’t easy,” he conceded, “but his father was interested in our domains. When I told the young Pendragon about you, he agreed to meet you.”

“Meet.” Sophia sighed in relief. “Not marry. So it’s not official yet.”

“You will marry Arthur Pendragon and, upon Uther Pendragon’s death, we will inherit part of his properties. That much is official.”

A shiver ran through Sophia’s spine. She blinked back tears.

For all that she thought she’d accepted it, she really wasn’t ready for this. She would never be ready.

Aulfric’s face softened, and he touched her cheek. “I’ve met Arthur. He seems a good man.”

She chuckled bitterly. “Of course he does. They all do at first. Did you expect him to give you a detailed list of all the horrible things he’ll do to me as soon as we’re married?”

“I’ve heard many great things about Arthur, Sophia. No doubt he will prove to be great match for you.”

Complaining, Sophia knew, wouldn’t change anything. She wasn’t the first lady to be married off to a stranger, and she certainly wouldn’t be the last.

You should be grateful, people always told her, when the slightest bit of irritation and dread for her upcoming marriage slipped in a conversation. You should be grateful for the wonderful gifts you’ve been given.

That was what Sophia kept telling herself as her carriage left home, leading her far away from the Tirmor manor, her home getting smaller and smaller behind her until she couldn’t see it anymore.

You should be grateful for being rich and for marrying an even richer man, she cried to herself while staring out the window, watching maple after oak tree after beech go by, taking her further and further away from her home. You should be grateful for having protection and for being economically secure. People have it much worse than you.

That was probably true. People elsewhere were dying of starvation, working their behinds off to just barely survive the day, being tortured and abused everyday, dying slowly and painfully. There was much worse in the world than marrying a man you did not love.

But that didn’t change that she hadbid farewell to her father. She had watched the tears form in his eyes and she’d sobbed on his shoulder as she hugged him. That didn’t change that she was leaving her life behind without knowing what she would find. What awaited her on the other side may not be as bright as her father, and his string of noble, had made it out to be.

No matter how much worse other people had it, this was happening to her, and no one could tell her whether or not it was important enough to feel sad about.

So she cried, cried until her eyes were red and puffy, until her nose was running and her carefully put make-up was smeared away. If there was one thing Sophia knew for certain, it was that she wouldn’t make a good first impression with neither the older Lord Pendragon or the younger.

Sophia knew nothing about Arthur, but she knew about his father. Uther Pendragon was famous for his profuse wealth and the detached ruthlessness with which he treated any threat to his authority. Sophia guessed that included his son, too, unless Uther had been able to transform Arthur into a little puppet who Uther could control all the time. She wouldn’t put it past him; it must have been hard to grow up with a father who could throw you in the cells for questioning his authority. That is, of course, if Arthur even had a mind of his own. After meeting as many nobles as she had, she highly doubted it.

Aulfric had told her about the magnificence of the Pendragon manor, in an attempt to cheer her up. When the carriage slowed down, Sophia could say that at least her father had not been lying about that.

The manor stood high and proud in a show of golden walls shining under the sunlight with towers reaching for the sky, a red and golden flag representing a dragon flying on top of the highest one. Clear glass shielded the countless windows. A white colonnade followed the paved pathway to the wooden gate, skirting rows of white and red rose bushes on the freshly cropped green grass. In the middle of the lawn, there was what seemed to be a statue of an angel spouting crystal clear water from its mouth into the pond beneath.

The final effect was mesmerizing. The manor was at least twice as large as that of Tirmor, and much more impressive. It had an ancient look to it, as if it had been built by the land itself and had always stood there, proud and steady. Sophia was pretty sure they didn’t build places like this anymore. Manors nowadays were so much simpler and sleeker, rather than structured to convey greatness.

The carriage stopped at the gates, where a young woman had been awaiting them with a sweet smile. Black ringlets framed her face, enhancing the contrast her pale complexion brought forth. Sophia couldn’t figure out the colour of her eyes, they looked grey under the light, but as soon as the carriage cast a shadow over her she realized they were actually green. Her lips were painted a deep red, the same colour of the flower in her hair. She was holding an umbrella to shield herself from the sun, and held another in her left hand, no doubt destined for Sophia. She looked so proper and ladylike, just like Sophia would never be, that she ached.

When Sophia got out of the carriage, she was greeted by the other woman’s elegant bow. “Lady Sophia. We’ve been awaiting you.” Her hands joined together. “I am Morgana. Lord Pendragon’s daughter. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Sophia bowed too, much more awkwardly. “It’s my pleasure, Lady Morgana. I thought my betrothed would meet me here?”

“He’s waiting for you at the entrance, with Uther.” Lady Morgana’s face brightened up as she reached out to take her hand. “Come inside. You’ve had a long journey.”

The two women walked along the wide garden in a comfortable silence, while Sophia admired the manor and the beautiful flowers blooming in the field. They reminded her of the flowers she had in her own garden, that thought comforted her and quelled her fear just enough to stop shivering.

Morgana must have noticed her worry, because she smiled comfortingly. “I do hope your journey ran smoothly, my Lady.”

Sophia turned to her, forcing a smile on her face. “It did. Thank you.”

“I can see that there’s something troubling you.” She said softly. “Believe me, I know how you feel. But Lord Arthur Pendragon,” she added his title in a mocking, yet affectionate tone, “is a good man. I swear that he will be kind to you.”

Sophia swallowed and nodded. She didn’t know to what extent she could trust Morgana’s word, what with her being a Pendragon and all, but she figured she would find out for herself soon enough.

“Uther, on the other hand,” Morgana grimaced in disgust at the mention of her father, “is not worthy of any trust, understanding or loyalty. You’d do well to keep that in mind.”

“Why would you say such a thing?” Sophia screeched, before remembering she should keep her voice down. Morgana looked at her questioningly. “What’s wrong with him?”

It was a stupid question. Of course she knew what was wrong with Uther Pendragon; all of England knew. She guessed that she was looking for comfort, a hope that Uther Pendragon was not as bad as everyone depicted him.

Morgana betrayed her hopes. “You’ll find out.” she replied, moving her attention to the two men standing on the front porch. They were still too far to tell them apart, but as they approached their features became clearer.

She recognized Uther by his greying hair and sunken, older lines, his face a rough picture of long years gone by and many more hard times ahead. He was smiling, but his eyes were cold and calculating and held no spark of happiness at all. Actually, he looked more like a venomous snake waiting for his prey to fall into a trap than the nice, welcoming father he ought to be. Morgana’s earlier words ringed clearly in her head and reminded her to be wary around him.

And next to him, was Arthur.

Her mind silenced as she took him in. Her first thought was that the sun must’ve risen that day just to shine upon him. He glowed so much brighter than his father did, all golden and beautiful and welcoming. In fact, it was like his aura had sucked in all the light around him just to bathe him in it, leaving the rest of the porch dark and cold.

He had really pretty eyes. She’d never seen eyes so wide, blue as the summer sky. Those eyes were staring down at her, bright, hopeful and a little shy.

The moment Sophia set her eyes on him, she felt lighter. Unlike Uther, Arthur looked genuinely happy to see her, his grin broad and sincere.

“Lady Sophia,” Lord Uther bowed his head politely, “I am honoured to welcome you to our home.”

Arthur took a step forward and held out his hand to her. “I’m Arthur.”

Sophia reached out, laying her fingers on his palm. Arthur kissed her hand, his lips just a feather light tough to her knuckles. A lazy smile stretched on her lips as he raised his head and made eye-contact again. “We meet at last, my Lady.”

Uther moved aside. Arthur’s hand curled around her fingers as she was led inside, into a large, well-lit hall thanks to the sun filtering through the clear glass windows. The architecture was ancient, as she’d suspected – stone floors and dark brick walls and a grand staircase leading up into the manor, but it didn’t make the overview any less breathtaking.

Stacked bookshelves covered one of the walls, along with two sofas, a few armchairs and a coffee table that was so clean it might as well have been unused for ages. The fireplace was cold, but ready to be lit at a moment’s notice. Large, beautiful carpets were sprawled on the stone floor, giving a warm, homey feel to the place.

Arthur coughed smugly. “We’re sorry for the terrible mess. I hope it won’t make your stay here any less comfortable.”

Sophia could almost taste the sarcasm. This was how nobles tried to impress pretty much everyone, apologizing for the horrible state they’d dared leave their house in just in case they did meet someone who was not pleased with their work, and to further amaze someone who apparently hadn’t seen the house at its full potential yet.

Bollocks. Sophia bet the Pendragons had kept their servants at work all week just so the manor could be perfect for her arrival.

“It’s fine.” She nodded, trying to sound nonchalant and not as impressed as she truly felt. Arthur’s smile seemed to widen. Sophia saw Morgana roll her eyes a few feet away. “It looks...very old.” She added as an afterthought.

Uther probably took it as a compliment. “Oh, yes, it is. It’s been handed down from our ancestors through generations and generations of Pendragons.” He frowned in thought. “I think this manor dates back to the Dark Ages, in fact.”

“There were Pendragons in the Dark Ages?”

Arthur rubbed his forehead as if preparing for a headache. “Oh, why, why did you have to ask him?” he murmured.

Uther glared at him. “You should be proud of your lineage, son. We are the descendants of one of the most powerful royal houses in England.”

“Royals?”

“Kings!” Uther specified. “Leaders! Legendary figures! All there, on that wall.”

They all turned in unison to face a wall of countless paintings – all famous ancestors of the Pendragons, or so Uther claimed. They were knights, princes, kings, politicians. Men who had set the course of this nation. Sophia’s family, though just as long lasting, paled in comparison.

The Tirmors had never been skilled warriors or great diplomats, their power only limited to their small propriety. In fact, she and her father had pretty much always survived thanks to her mother’s wealth and reputation.

How could the Pendragons ever be interested in her? What did she and her family have to offer to them?

She suddenly felt sick and unsteady on her legs. How could she have forgotten the real reason she was here? No matter how nice Arthur seemed, he was surely no different than any noble she had ever encountered.

Arthur touched her wrist worriedly, steadying her. “Are you alright, my Lady?”

Sophia forced herself to nod. She needed to get away from that room before she threw up on one of the fancy carpets. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Arthur’s eyes widened with concern. His fingers started drawing slow circles on the inside of her wrist, which was probably meant to be soothing but that instead shook her even more. “You look pale.”

She drew back her arm, holding it to her chest, to Arthur’s apparent confusion. “I’ve just had a hard day, that’s all. I hope you will understand.”

“Of course.” Uther clapped his hands together in front of him. “Arthur and Morgana will show you to your chambers, so you can get some rest.” He deadpanned, as if repeating words from a script he’d learnt by heart.

She felt her panic arise. She didn’t want anyone around, and certainly not any of the Pendragons. “But what of my luggage –“

“My servant is already taking care of it.” Arthur assured her. “You needn’t worry.”

Uther’s facial features twisted into something that vaguely resembled a smile. “You must’ve had a long journey.”

“Indeed.” Sophia nodded gingerly. “Thank you, my Lord.”

“Very well. I’ll be in the council chambers, should you have need of me. Second door on the left.” He headed for the corridor at the other end of the room. “Oh, Lady Sophia - be ready to come down for dinner at seven.”

After turning around to smile coldly one last time, he vanished, leaving her alone with Arthur and Morgana. Sophia swallowed.

After the sound of his footsteps had long faded out, Morgana released a deep sigh of relief. Arthur whistled. “Wow. I’ve never seen him show such kindness before. To anyone.”

“He’s always kind when there’s something in it for him.” Morgana spat. “You know him.”

“I think the corner of his lips actually turned up, this once.” Arthur pretended to think about it, then shrugged. “Could’ve been the sun blinding me, though.”

Sophia felt awkward, wanting to participate to their conversation but not wanting to make fun of Lord Pendragon the second she’d arrived. Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait too long, after an exchange of apparently hilarious inside jokes about Uther’s facial paralysis between the two siblings, Morgana took her arm and led her upstairs.

“Your father seems like a nice man.” Sophia stammered, not to mock him or because she really thought Uther nice – it was really too soon to tell, and she’d learnt not to judge before knowing – but because she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

After looking at each other for a few seconds, Arthur and Morgana released the roaring laughter they’d been trying to hold, the ancient halls echoing with their amusement.

“It’s alright.” Arthur reassured her. “You can tell us what you really think.”

“I don’t know him.” She said by way of explanation.

“There’s not much to know.” Morgana shrugged. “That’s the best you will ever see him.”

“Oh, come on, Morgana.” Arthur groaned. “I’m all for making fun of his emotional constipation, but he’s not that bad, he’s just-”

“If you’re going to say that he’s ‘just misunderstood’, I will throw you out of that window.” Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He’s just doing what he has to.” Morgana glared at him. “Don’t act like he’s never had a choice, Arthur Pendragon.”

The first floor was painted in slightly darker tones and counted a huge amount of small chambers. For the serving staff, or for storage, she guessed. Sophia also spotted a music hall amongst all the bedrooms, and her fingers itched to touch the keys of the grand piano she sighted in there and play the songs her father had taught her, just to feel closer to him. To Tirmor.

“I take it you are not too fond of him?” Sophia asked Morgana.

“Uther can rot in his rooms and die, for what I care.”

Sophia was afraid to ask. “Why would you say such a thing?”

Morgana didn’t reply. She tightened her hold on Sophia’s arm and strolled forward in rage, seemingly wanting to reach the end of the corridor as soon as possible.

When she turned to Arthur for an explanation, she was met by a shake of his head and a look that said it all - We don’t talk about it. “Sophia,” he said instead, with a sigh, “I don’t want you to be scared of him. You must not feel threatened by the reputation of our house.”

“I’m not.” she lied.

“Father likes to boast about our achievements to everyone.” He explained, his head lowered in shame. “It was entertaining, at first. Now it just... scares people off.”

Sophia kept silent, unable to voice her doubts, until they reached her new chambers.

Sophia was pleased to notice that they weren’t much different from her old ones. In fact, they looked very comfortable.

A full length mirror in a corner showed her composed reflection back at her as she surveyed the room. A king size bed was covered in warm, incredibly soft duvets that made her want to sink in the mattress. The bed was big enough for two people to lie down on, but only one pillow rested against the wall.

Not that it mattered, since she would sleep there for a very short time. She had no idea when she would be married to Arthur, but once that happened they would, eventually, have to move out of Uther’s home and go live together somewhere else. The Pendragons probably had lots of manors scattered all over England.

She swallowed, trying to keep her fear from arising. Arthur was a very handsome man, and he seemed to have a good heart. It could’ve been worse, she decided, and she’d just have to get used to it.

She heard Arthur’s voice behind her. “Do you like them? I thought you would need all your comforts.” He gestured to the vanity table, ready to welcome all her jewels and cosmetics, and a large wardrobe that could hold twice as many gowns and dresses as Sophia owned.

Sophia managed a smile, despite her busy mind, and turned around to look at him. “Yes. Yes, I love them.”

She glimpsed a hint of a blush on his cheeks, but she said nothing of it, her smile turning into a slight smirk.

Their silent communication was interrupted by someone colliding with them and toppling on the floor, the carefully piled stack of bags they’d had in hand falling over them.

Arthur groaned, ruining the moment. “Merlin!”

“Arthur!” the other boy groaned back, not bothering to stand up or to pick up the bags he’d dropped.

Sophia’s bags. She hadprobably exaggerated, bringing half the manor with her, but there were too many dresses that she hadn’t been able to leave at home. They must’ve weighed a ton, all crammed together in such a small space, and the scrawny boy was obviously not strong enough to carry them.

“Look at the mess you’ve done!” Arthur knelt next to him, offering him a hand. “Come on, get up.”

Merlin massaged his sore head and huffed, sitting up to grab Arthur’s wrist. “You were in my way.”

“And you were supposed to already be here.”

“Those bags were heavy.” He whined as he was yanked on his feet by Arthur.

Arthur patted him up and down to make sure he was still in one piece before giving him a pointed look, tilting his head in Sophia’s direction. “In case you haven’t noticed, Merlin, we have a guest.”

“My back has noticed.” He grunted. But when he met Sophia’s confused gaze, he bowed awkwardly, as if he were being forced. “I’m sorry for dropping your bags, my Lady. I’ll clean this mess up.”

Sophia didn’t know how to respond. Never had she felt the need to apologize to a servant, mostly because servants rarely expressed their discomfort with performing their duties, while Merlin was on the edge of sounding disrespectful, though clearly without meaning to. And Arthur was acting as if it were a regular occurrence.

“It’s fine. Thankfully, I had packed no breakable items.” She looked around, her gaze resting on the spilled out clothes and riches all over the room. “And my bags did get here.”

Merlin thanked her profusely for her understanding and both him and Arthur seemed to relax, though Arthur was looking at him almost murderously.

Morgana was laughing in the corner. “Alright, then. I will send Bronwen up as soon as Merlin’s finished, so she can help you get undressed.”

Arthur laid another kiss on Sophia’s hand before taking his leave. His eyes were even bluer than before as he looked up at her, a glint of mischievousness and real happiness in his eyes. “I look forward to seeing you at dinner, my Lady.”

Sophia nodded as the Pendragon siblings closed the door behind them, their steps echoing in the corridor.

“Seriously, Arthur, you’re already flirting with her?” she heard Morgana say before the sound of their voices faded out.

Dinner passed pleasantly, if not a little awkwardly. Uther sat at the head of the table, munching his food in silence, but occasionally lifted his head to ask Sophia some questions about her life and her family.

When Sophia told them that her mother had died only a year ago, silence fell over the dining room and the adjoined kitchen, where you could hear the servants going about, the only sound a the clatter of silverware as cooks finished preparing their meal.

Even Gwen, Morgana’s personal maiden, froze with the flagon of wine in mid-air, the liquid barely spilling out and hanging over the woman’s glass.

It was Arthur who interrupted the awkward silence by clearing his throat. “How did it happen?”

Sophia didn’t like talking about it – she realized now that she shouldn’t have brought it up at all, but now the whole room was staring at her expectantly, so she was forced to comply. “She died of tuberculosis. She always was very weak and frail, but in the last years her health had deteriorated. She... just couldn’t take it.”

Arthur looked at her almost empathically. “I’m so sorry. Your father didn’t mention it.”

“He had no reason to.” She said curtly, going back to cutting her meat. “It’s alright.”

While Arthur seemed to understand to leave it alone, Uther only tried to add more salt to the wound. “What was she like?”

Sophia didn’t look up, but out of the corner of her eyes she saw Morgana shooting glares at her father and Arthur awkwardly adjusting himself on his chair.

She could mentally list at least a hundred things she’d rather do rather than answer Uther’s question and give him a show of her sorrow, a list that included getting thrown under a carriage and spending the rest of her days on a desert island, but she remembered her father’s words.

You must appease to them. If they don’t like you, there’s still a chance they might send you back home and cancel the marriage, and we’d be back at square one.

She pushed back the impulse to spit on Uther’s face, and forced a composed smile. “She was a wonderful woman, my lord. She was kind, compassionate and she loved me and my father more than anything. I can only hope to grow up to be like her.”

If anything, she wasn’t lying. She’d admired her mother more than anyone else, and her loss would probably haunt Sophia forever. She could have told them that she’d cried for months afterwards and her still mourning father had been forced to drag her out of her room and make her go outside for sunlight and fresh air, not to wither away in her chambers, curtains drawn shut. Sophia would never forget how incredibly thin and sickly pale she’d gotten in those months, and how foreign the girl looking back at her in the mirror had seemed.

She could have told them that. Putting on a pity show would have ensured the wedding, since no one would have risked further ruining the life of this poor girl who had already suffered enough. Only she didn’t, because it shouldn’t have mattered to them. She would not allow the death of her mother to be exploited like that.

Thankfully, Uther deemed her answer good enough, and said nothing more on the matter. Arthur sighed in relief and cleared his throat.

“So,” he began, “Father was thinking about throwing a ball to honor our betrothal. In a few days.”

“A ball.” Sophia didn’t have the heart nor the nerve to tell them she’d suffered enough balls in the past months to last her a lifetime. “That... would be amazing.”

To her surprise, Arthur picked up on her discomfort. “My Lady, if you’d rather not-“

“No. No, it’s alright. It would be impolite of me to refuse such a gift.” The weak smile she directed at him was pretty unconvincing, she had to admit. “I adore dancing.”

Arthur brightened up, but underneath the sudden happiness still seethed a well-disguised concern. “Maybe you can teach me, then.”

He shot a brief glance filled with meaning at Morgana, a meaning Sophia couldn’t interpret, but that Morgana very much did. Luckily, she was not late with sharing her deeper wisdom of her brother’s looks with the table.

Morgana laughed. “Arthur has never been good at dancing, and apparently I haven’t been a good enough teacher for him.” She explained, pretending to shoot daggers at Arthur. “Somehow, he thinks the blame’s on me for not teaching him well and not on him for being a clumsy walrus.”

Sophia couldn’t keep from laughing. It started off as a tiny chuckle, but Arthur’s outraged expression made it all worse, her giggles growing louder and lighthearted by the moment and echoing on the walls and on the high ceiling.

Even Uther, who had strived to keep the corners of his lips firm, was trembling with silent laughter. “You do dance like a clumsy walrus, Arthur.”

“I do not, father. Uncle Agravaine has always admired my dancing skills.”

“Agravaine is not exactly what you would call a good judge of skill, Arthur.”

Arthur looked like his world had just crashed down on him. “But he told me I danced even better than him-“

“Not exactly an accomplishment, dear brother.” Morgana plucked a grape from the bowl in front of her and brought it to her teeth, chewing slowly.

Sophia couldn’t even remember why she’d been on the verge of tears just a few minutes before. In fact, she was pretty sure that was the exact reason why Arthur and Morgana had put on that little show.

She spied Arthur looking at her out of the corner of his eyes, studying her reaction and then relaxing when realizing her smile was genuine.

Thank you, she mouthed when he met her gaze. Arthur nodded, and lifted his chalice to her with a grin.

Bronwen pulled the strings on Sophia’s corset too tight, almost choking her in the process. Her lungs opened up, trying to take in as much air as possible, resulting in a high squeak.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, my lady!” Bronwen rushed to loosen the laces, giving Sophia more room to breathe. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Sophia panted out a hoarse chuckle. “Someone’s excited today.”

“I’m sorry,” Bronwen repeated, the enthusiasm clear in her voice, “it’s just... the ball is in a few days, and my fiancé just promised me he’ll be there.” Her reflection smiled widely. “I haven’t seen him for so long.”

Sophia mirrored her smile, but felt a pang of jealousy inside. Jealousy, because this girl had the chance to marry for love. Bronwen probably only had enough money to pay her rent and her meals – the Pendragons, as Merlin had very eloquently explained to her a few days before, were not nearly enough appreciative of their servants – and yet she was happier than Sophia would ever be.

She couldn’t understand how people could settle for so little and still be so content with themselves, not a care in their heart to change their current situation or look for something better. Their dreams were filled with royal palaces and pretty dresses and handsome princes who could make them princesses even if just for a night, and lived only waiting for that one night to come along.

Sophia envied and admired their naïve childhood dreams, for they were the same as hers had been when she was still too small to understand the burden she would have to carry. And while those women could take joy from every tiny pleasure of life, Sophia was cursed to live under a perpetual cloud of dissatisfaction, to always want more than she had, no matter how rich and renown her family already was.

And the worst thing a woman could want was more.

 “I’m happy for you.” She whispered. “I really am.”

Bronwen’s face brightened up even more, if that was even possible. “I wonder if he’ll recognize me with my mask on. This is the first time he’s been on leave ever since he joined the Royal Navy.”

The mask. Right. For days, Sophia had heard Morgana and Uther fighting about it.

It’s going to be so great and romantic! Morgana had insisted.


It’s an engagement party, Morgana, masks are a ridiculous idea, Uther had grunted.

But in the end, Uther had unwillingly agreed to a masked ball rather than the ordinary one he’d been planning just to be relieved from his daughter’s vocie. Morgana had bragged and sang about her success for the rest of the day, leading Arthur and Sophia to leave the manor for a while just to take a break from her obnoxious victory dance.

They hadn’t gone very far, really. They had just taken a walk through the nearby streets, but it had been nice. So nice, in fact, that she’d been disappointed when he’d told her it was time to go back.

When Arthur had reached to hold her hand, she’d shied away. Arthur had looked at her bemusedly, and she’d wished she could explain that she wasn’t afraid of him – that the gesture had just come as a surprise. Sophia wasn’t used to holding other people’s hands, mostly because no one had ever tried. They pushed her around, held her too close, dug their fingers in her sides, but no one had thought of doing something as simple as holding her hand.

Arthur had lifted his hands to show that he had no bad intentions. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Sophia had nodded slowly, developing a newfound interest for her heeled shoes. They made her look as tall as Arthur, but she should’ve considered shorter heels to avoid breaking her ankle. “Yes, I know.”

When he had held out his hand yet again, Sophia had made no objections. The feeling of his strong fingers entwined through hers had been foreign, but not weird. In fact, she’d found it almost comforting.

Arthur had talked to her in hushed tones, apologizing to her for his father’s indiscreet questions. When Sophia had told him she didn’t like to be pitied, Arthur had smiled, which Sophia had found very strange at first.

“You tell me.” He’d said. “My mother died while giving birth to me. I know something about pity.”

An awkward silence had fallen over them after his words. Sophia had wanted to tell him she was sorry for his loss, but decided against it when she recalled what they’d just been talking about. So she’d just nodded, letting him know she’d understood, and changed the topic.

At first, they’d just talked about themselves and their lives. She’d found out Arthur’s favourite colour was red, and that he wished he could wear it more often, just like he wished he had more time to read. His house hosted one of the largest libraries Sophia had ever been in, and yet he was too caught up in the family business to ever take a peek at them.

He loved horses and enjoyed riding, something that Morgana had taught him when they lived in their childhood country house. Sophia had never gotten the gist of it – she’d never learnt how to ride without being thrown off the saddle at the two minute mark, and she always sweated horribly and messed up her carefully brushed hair – but she’d been told to always accommodate her husband, so she’d lied.

Then they’d talked about their impending engagement party, the people they had invited and those who could not come, Sophia had poked fun at Arthur’s clumsiness – oh my, what will people think when they see the tall and mighty lord Arthur Pendragon stepping on his lady’s feet? – Arthur had laughed openly, cashing the insult. His laugh had filled her with thoughts of sunny days, and fields of flowers, and cups of tea in a dusty library. “There’s still time to get better.”

“No, Arthur, there really isn’t.”

She’d laughed too, and she’d thought that, if things had been different, she and Arthur would probably have been good friends.

But as soon as she’d thought it, his fingers had started tracing gentle patterns on the inside of her wrist. His thumb had stroked her palm, tickling the soft skin there, and she’d felt herself melting like snow under the warm spring sun.

She had looked up at him, and had found him smirking at her. Horrified, she’d realized her accelerated breathing or heartbeat must’ve given her away. She’d shaken her hand out of his grasp, leaving him pouting, and brought it up to fix her already perfect hair.

“You’re blushing.” Arthur had pointed out.

“I am highly sensitive to the sun.” she’d snapped. “And you might never want to do that again.”

“I’m sorry.” It had surprised her how sincere he’d sounded. “I thought handholding was alright. You seemed to like it.”

I did, she’d wanted to scream. “You were making me uncomfortable.” She’d insisted.

“I was trying to court you.” Arthur had looked nowhere near irritated or offended. In fact, he’d looked annoyingly amused, as if he knew he couldn’t have failed, which had made Sophia want to retaliate. She hated feeling humiliated.

Arthur probably thought he could get whatever he wanted with a snap of his fingers, but a bit of kindness wouldn’t have made her want to run into his arms. She’d have to make that clear.

She’d smiled angelically, a mischievous glint in her eyes following her as she’d walked away. “You’re going to have to do a lot better.”

“Oh, I will.” She’d heard Arthur say, not at all discouraged. When she’d looked back at him, he’d winked.

Bronwen kept on dressing Sophia, but her mind was clearly elsewhere. Both of their minds were. “Oh, I do hope he won’t recognize me. I will wear the most beautiful dress he’s ever seen. I’ll leave him speechless.”

Sophia inspected Bronwen’s tiny frame, her maiden squirming in her skin with excitement, and took some rough measurements. Her body size was fairly similar to Sophia’s, though Bronwen was visibly skinnier. But a few adjustments would easily fix that.

Oh, she couldn’t believe she was really about to say it. “You may borrow one of my dresses, if you wish.”

Bronwen, who had been about to start brushing Sophia’s golden curls, dropped the hairbrush she’d just picked up and scrambled to catch it. “My- my Lady?” she stuttered.

“Go ahead.” Sophia encouraged her with a smile. “Open my closet and pick the one you like the most. Not the red one, though.” She quickly added, with a sort of fierce determination. “That’s the one I’m wearing.”

Bronwen was left gaping like a fish, her mouth opened in the prelude to a scream. Then she broke out in a series of bows so deep she almost fell over, her nose nearly sweeping the floor. “Oh, thank you!” her voice was throaty, as if she’d been just about to cry. Tears had already started forming in her eyes, and Sophia felt a warm feeling make its way inside her at the sight. “Thank you, my Lady. Thank you. You’re too kind-”

“Bronwen, stop.” Sophia pulled her to her feet and patted her cheeks. “You deserve it.”

“Oh, it’ll be amazing! It’ll be so amazing!” Bronwen screeched.

“Yes, it will.” Sophia glanced at her closet with a laugh, nodding her head towards it. “Now go choose. I can take it from here.”

Bronwen jumped on the balls of her feet from the dresser to Sophia’s closet, clapping her hands enthusiastically all the way. Sophia watched as she ducked her head through the precious silk dresses, the fabric caressing her face as she dug through Sophia’s gowns.

Sophia had never thought a kind deed could feel so good.

While Sophia was brushing her hair, Bronwen suddenly stuck her head out and let out a tiny yelp. In her hand was the red dress Sophia meant to wear at the ball.

Funny, how until the day before she’d been dead set on wearing pink. But she’d returned to the manor after her walk with Arthur with a deep feeling of restlessness that only settled down after she’d scavenged her closet to find the red dress she hadn’t worn in ages.

She saw Bronwen form her own conclusions, staring at Sophia as if peering through her soul, both fascinated and amused. Sophia felt a rush of panic arising, her mouth opening and closing several times, ready to call her out, without ever making a sound.

“Oh, Lady Sophia.” Bronwen sighed, looking at the dress and then back at her mistress. “Arthur is going to love you.”

Sophia was about to lie to Bronwen that the only reason she’d chosen to wear red instead of pink was because she’d realized it worked better with her complexion, but a knock came at the door before she could open her mouth.  

Bronwen went to answer, revealing a disgruntled Merlin, whose face was hidden by a huge bouquet of flowers.

“Lord Arthur sends his regards.” He held out his hands to deliver the bouquet to whoever was in front of him. Bronwen gasped, excitedly, and shut the door on his face to show her mistress the flowers she’d just received.

“Look, my lady!” she ran up to her and shoved the bouquet in her face. “They’re from Lord Arthur! And there’s a note!”

Too shocked to react properly, Sophia rushed to see for herself. Amongst all the white roses, tulips and sunflowers – Sophia couldn’t remember ever telling Arthur she loved sunflowers, but she must have – Bronwen had found a golden note.

Sophia took it between her hands, gently caressing the borders, before opening it and reading it.

Meet me downstairs. Dress nicely.

Sophia had to scoff. Did she ever not dress nicely?

Beside her, Bronwen was in awe. “He means to take you out!”

“But I haven’t even had dinner yet.”

Another knock came at the door. Bronwen didn’t even have to go get it, because Merlin just let himself in. “If you hadn’t kicked me out, my lady, you’d know Arthur is, indeed, taking you out to dine with him.”

Sophia frowned. “And what are the flowers for?”

“To soften you up, I suppose. Arthur has good reasons to think you might not like his company.”

“What? But that’s not true.” Pendragons, always so overdramatic.

Merlin shook his head. “Let me rephrase that, my lady: he wants to impress you.”

“Oh, I had picked up on that.” She bent her head to sniff the prickly smell of flowers. “They’re so beautiful.”

Merlin sighed in relief. “Good. So I can tell Arthur you’ll be there?”

“Yes, you can tell Arthur I’ll meet him downstairs.” That Arthur and his manservant were on a first-name basis never ceased to amaze her.

As Merlin walked out again, with a victorious smile on his face, Sophia heard him mutter something about Arthur and gratitude.

Sending your servant to do the dirty work for you, Sophia shook her head, slightly amused. Why am I not surprised?

Sophia was expecting to be led to a fine restaurant in London, or to one of the most elegant streets, and she had dressed accordingly. She was more than a little surprised when Arthur took a detour instead and led her to the park.

She had found out it was too cold to wear a sleeveless dress when they were already too far away from the manor to go back and get a coat, and she was so unwilling to ask Arthur for one that she’d hoped they’d at least stay inside.

She huffed, moving a shorter tree’s branch out of the way. “I thought we’d be having dinner.”

“We are.” Arthur confirmed.

“In the park? Don’t tell me we’re having a picnic.”

“Our reservation’s in two hours.” Arthur patiently explained. “Don’t worry.”

Sophia sighed. “You know, you could have told me.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “It’s not like we’re going into the wild, Sophia. Besides, it was supposed to be a surprise.” 

“Oh, you definitely did surprise me.”

“Can you just enjoy this and stop being passive aggressive?” he snapped. “We’re barely engaged and we already fight like an old married couple.”

“Fine.” Sophia only had to thank God for not wearing heels. She hugged her arms to her chest to prevent shivering and trailed behind Arthur as he led the way. “Just so you know, I loved the flowers.”

Arthur stopped to look at her. “Really?”

Sophia nodded. “Merlin chose well.”

He shrugged, as if he didn’t find anything wrong with that affirmation. “At least now we know he’s good at something.”

“What about you?” she inquired. “Are you good at anything? Like…I don’t know. Courting women?”

“I am very good at courting women.” He said smugly. “Or at least, that’s what they tell me.”

“I had no doubts.”

She had no idea why Arthur felt the need to laugh at that. He held out his hand, waiting for her to take it. When she hesitated, Arthur raised his eyebrows. “I thought we’d been over this already.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to hold hands all the time.” Nonetheless, she couldn’t keep herself from smiling.

“Of course it does. We’re a couple now, I want the whole world to know.”

“And who decided that?”

“Our parents. Don’t you remember?”

Sophia shook her head. “Yes, Arthur. Unfortunately, I do.”

But when she slipped her hand in his, Arthur’s smile seemed to glow just a little brighter.

They kept walking in comfortable silence, past several benches and a water fountain. The fresh smell of grass was starting to pervade her senses when they arrived in a small clearing overlooking the pond. The first hint of a moon rising reflected on the clear waters.

Arthur slowed down in front of the railing, and Sophia stopped next to him. They stood side by side, silently watching the water moving for a while, before any of them spoke.

“Why have you brought me here?” Sophia asked, keeping her eyes fixed in front of her.

Arthur looked down and smiled. “I just thought you should see it. It’s my favourite place. I always come here when I need to think.”

Sophia frowned. “Really?” Arthur didn’t strike her neither as a nature-loving guy, nor as the thinking sort.

“I spend my day locked in the council chambers.” Arthur reminded her. “Fresh air is a blessing to me.”

Sophia wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what. Arthur was opening up to her, and she didn’t want to ruin it. She decided to just nod and let him speak.

 “I just…feel like I’m at peace, when I’m here.” Arthur continued, a lost, dreamy look in his eyes. “Like I’m meant to be in the woods, and lose myself in the trees, and do long, long walks.”

Sophia chuckled. “How poetic.” She said, pinching Arthur’s arm.

Arthur barely flinched, but he pretended to be offended nonetheless. “Well, it’s true. You’ve never felt like that?”

Sophia shrugged. She’d be lying if she’d said no. The deep, deep desire to run as fast as she could and lie down under the sun on a bed of grass had been instilled into her ever since she was a child, and she’d never grown out of it. It was just weird to talk about it with a noble. “Can’t say I haven’t.”

Apparently satisfied with her response, Arthur went back to talking about himself. “I usually come here to read, if my father doesn’t catch me smuggling books out of the library when I’m supposed to be working. It’s the only place where I can find some quiet.”

“What do you read?” Sophia had been too scared to ask him before, but she wasn’t now.

“I’d like to read anything I can.” Arthur said. “Especially poetry.”

Sophia’s eyes widened. “Poetry?”

“I love poetry.” Arthur smiled, looking at her as if they’d just shared an inside joke Sophia hadn’t gotten. “It’s short, straight to the point, and yet deep. It’s not too time consuming, and you can read it whenever and wherever you like-”

“I have lots of books of poetry.” She interrupted him, unable to contain her enthusiasm. “I can pass you a few, if you’d like. You know…when your father isn’t looking.”

She thought she’d seen Arthur’s eyes sparkle. “I’d love to, but…it’s not only a matter of my father. I’m so caught up in our business that I really don’t have the time.”

“Alright.” Sophia didn’t back down. “We can go to the library, spend the afternoon there. I could even read something to you. Some poems I know by heart.”

Arthur raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes! Yes, really. We can go whenever you like.”

Arthur leant against the railing, his smile wide and bright like the midnight sun warming her up to the very tip of her fingers. In fact, the cold had stopped bothering her long since. “What about now?”

“Now?” Sophia looked around, searching for the big tower clock. “But our reservations-“

“There’s still time.” Arthur assured her, bringing their jointed hands to his lips. “And the library’s still open. If you’re willing to spend time with me, that is.”

She couldn’t believe she was really about to say it. “Surprisingly, Arthur, I think I am.”

Arthur came dangerously close to her, their chests pressed to each other and his hands cupping her cheeks. “Does that mean I’m trying hard enough?”

Sophia grimaced. “Maybe?”

With the excitement of a child, Arthur laid a kiss on her forehead and tangled their fingers again, pulling her towards him. “I challenge you to a race.”

Sophia burst out laughing, thinking she’d heard him wrong. “What?”

“A race. From here to the library. Whoever gets there last pays dinner.”

Without giving her the time to fully process what he’d said, Arthur sprinted forward, leaving her behind.

“But I don’t know where the library is!” she screamed at him over the wind blowing.

“Better get behind me, then!” was his feeble, faraway response.

With an exasperated sigh, she collected her gowns in her hand and trailed behind him, laughing hysterically. “I thought you were supposed to be a gentleman!”

“And you a lady! But this is what I like about this relationship!” Arthur stopped his race just to shout back at her. “It’s going to work!”

When the next afternoon Sophia sent Bronwen downstairs to call Arthur for her, her servant came back up sooner than expected, bringing word that Arthur was heading out to a business meeting. She was panting as if she’d ran all the way. Sophia highly suspected that was the case. “He requests your presence, my Lady.”

Sophia frowned. “My presence... to a business meeting?”

“Oh, it’s a great honour!” Bronwen insisted. “It means Arthur trusts you. Trust is a good basis for a relationship. And if you two are to be married, now is as good a time as any to be introduced to the Pendragon family business.”

Sophia groaned inwardly. Aulfric had mentioned something about it, but she hadn’t cared enough to actually pay attention - not about the Pendragon business, but about the whole engagement ordeal. Now she’d have to ask Arthur to explain everything, and she hated looking dumb. Especially now that they were actually making some progress.

“I don’t know anything about the family business.” She admitted, hoping it would be less humiliating for her to have a servant explain it rather than her fiancé.

“Oh, me neither.” Bronwen shrugged. “The Pendragons have strong ties with nearly every influent businessman of England – maybe even the United Kingdom. They have so many industries and affiliates all over the country it’s impossible to keep up.”

“What is their field, then?”

“What isn’t their field? The Pendragons are richer and more powerful than you give them credit for. My Lady, Arthur won’t think lowly of you if you can’t keep up. I doubt Arthur himself can.”

Sophia took a deep breath. He probably wouldn’t judge her, that was true, but she wouldn’t admit to her servant that her current goal was to impress him rather than just accommodate him. She couldn’t explain it, but she really wanted to spend more time with him, to get to know him better.

She’d gotten to the manor scared out of her mind, but Arthur had done everything in his power to put her to ease. She liked the way he looked at her; not like a piece of meat or a toy to play with, but like a human being – and a wonderful one at that.

He’d understand if she declined, of course. He would accept every excuse she’d make up. But she didn’t want to decline. After all, she did want to spend more time with him. If everything went according to plan, very good things could come out of this day.

“Alright.” Sophia nodded, composing herself. “Tell him I’m on my way down.”

Bronwen beamed widely and slammed the door closed behind her, barely containing her excitement. The sound of her footsteps echoed across the hallways and the stairs.

Sophia ran her fingers through her curls, brushing them quickly. They weren’t as glossy and bouncy as the day before and the attire she was wearing was pretty casual, but it would do. A nice, natural blush spread over her cheeks, and her lipstick really made her mouth stand out.

Before leaving her rooms, Sophia took a random book out of the shelf, making sure it was short enough for Arthur to read pleasantly, and hid it under her long jacket.

For the first time in weeks, she smiled at her reflection.

She went past Uther on her way to the front door, stopping long enough in front of the dining room where he was having breakfast to tell him that she was leaving.

Uther raised an eyebrow. “Where are you going?”

Sophia was already halfway out the door and had to take a step back to look him in the face. “Arthur requested my assistance.”

“Your assistance? With what?”

Sophia shrugged, implying that she had had nothing to do with it. “He’s just asked me to go with him to his business meeting.”

The man almost choked on his tea, and Sophia felt a pang of satisfaction at knowing that she’d been able to cause such a reaction in the calm and composed Lord Uther Pendragon. She wondered how many people could boast with such an accomplishment. “You’re not leaving the house unless I say so.” He snapped. “Especially if you’re going to a business meeting.”

“Yes, I understand.” She didn’t.

A week after her arrival at the manor, Uther Pendragon still gave her the creeps, but she’d learnt how to handle him, and it involved a whole lot of smiles, innocent shrugs, and a dose of good old manipulation. Of course, her knees still trembled whenever Uther talked to her, but she’d become a much better actress ever since she’d first arrived. She’d spent silent days studying Uther, Arthur and Morgana and even some of their servants, trying to understand how to behave around each of them. Once she’d understood the rules of the game, it had become much easier to play. “You’re completely right, my Lord. I was just going to tell Arthur that he should’ve informed you first.”

Uther nodded his approval. “Good. You go do that.”

“But then I thought,” her voice came out strangled, and she coughed to cover it up, “that your son thinks he doesn’t need your approval. I am to be his wife, after all.”

Uther looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“If I’m about to become part of your family, my Lord, I need to be fully integrated in the London society, don’t I? I genuinely think Arthur’s just trying to make it easier for me.”

“Business is not a woman’s job, Sophia.”

She froze, resisting the temptation to smash him in the face. It took her all her will power to smile and keep on being compliant. “I don’t mean to overstep, my Lord. Just learn. A woman needs to be educated to support and cater to her husband, don’t you think?”

Uther’s face was blank, deprived of any emotion. He didn’t reply, meaning Sophia was getting closer and closer to cracking him.

“Arthur knows what he’s doing. After all, in a few months he won’t have to answer to anyone about what he does.” Her grin widened angelically. “I’m sure you’ve raised him well enough to make his own decisions.”

Uther sighed and threw his head back. “Alright, alright. I don’t see how a business meeting could do you any harm.”

Sophia’s insides bubbled with happiness, her knees bowing in front of Uther. She had to bite her lips to keep herself from letting out a victory shriek. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Without waiting for a response, she slipped out the door.

Arthur was waiting for her at the front gate, leaning against the carriage while rifling through the newspaper. His eyebrows arched at something he read, his mouth turned down all of a sudden.

“Problems?” Sophia greeted him, sliding closer to him.

Arthur raised his head, startled by her arrival, and smiled, folding the newspaper. He was in full business attire – a ruffled shirt under a grey tuxedo, a corsage embellishing his front pocket and a hat covering his blonde, blonde head. “Hello. I didn’t see you there.”

“You never do, do you?” she smiled, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Not yesterday, for sure.”

“Oh, you know I slew down on purpose.” Arthur whined. “To give you the satisfaction of winning. So you wouldn’t have to pay. I was being a gentleman, remember?”

“Mmh. I think you underestimate me.”

Arthur tilted his head to look at her better. He had this way of staring, sometimes, as if looking at Sophia could tell him more and more about her the more he did it, and still manage to be surprised. “That I do.”

“Look what I’ve got you.” With a sly smile, she opened her coat and showed him the book she’d slipped into her inside pocket. “Straight from my bookshelf.”

Arthur looked around to make sure no one was watching them, as if Sophia had been trying to sell him drugs. “You know, I’m really enjoying this whole book-trafficking deal.” He reached out to grasp the hidden book, but Sophia reached it before him and held it out of his grasp.

“It’s not a deal until you give something in return, you know.” She pointed out. “And I may not be talking about books.”

Arthur gulped. “You do realize, my lady, that sounds dangerously flirtatious?”

“Maybe that was exactly my intent.”

“Maybe you should move your flirtations to the carriage already.” Merlin groaned from his coachman seat.

Sophia hadn’t even noticed him, but she should’ve known he would be there. He seemed to not only be Arthur’s personal servant, but Arthur’s coachman, Arthur’s cook, Arthur’s stylist, Arthur’s coiffeur, and on occasion even Arthur’s punching bag. At first she’d thought Merlin didn’t like her very much, but she’d learnt to see his snarky offhand comments as endearing rather than annoying. The Pendragons didn’t pay him quite enough for everything he did.

With a small chuckle, Sophia nodded towards the carriage and, in a burst of boldness, led Arthur inside instead of the other way around. Arthur let her pull him in, heaving himself on the leather seat, and closed the curtains when the horses started moving.

Sophia sprawled on her seat, her gaze to the ceiling. She was glad Arthur had thought about blocking the sunlight, because her eyelids were drooping close, the motion of the carriage lulling her to sleep. Being cheerful and kind all the time was very energy-consuming.

“Are you tired?” Arthur asked.

“A little.” She opened only one eye to check his reaction. “Your father is a piece of work. He wouldn’t let me leave the manor.”

“I know.” Arthur sighed and brought his head up to stroke his forehead. “This situation must be horrible to you.”

 “Dealing with your father?”

“No, I mean... this whole situation. You having to come here, marry someone you don’t know and pretending to be happy about it.”

Sophia knew the correct response here would be “No one is forcing me to do anything”, but it would be a lie. So she tried for a half truth. “I’m not... miserable.”

Arthur chuckled. “Should I take that as a compliment?”

“Yes, you should. It’s not you, Arthur. I mean, you could’ve been a lot worse.”

“And here I thought we were having a moment.”

“I mean-“ Sophia scrunched up her face, hating her diplomacy abilities for failing her now. “That I was expecting a lot worse. I’m happy to be betrothed to you, of all people.”

A small grin made its way across Arthur’s lips. “Me too. I’m just sorry that it had to happen like this.”

“Arthur, girls are betrothed to strangers every day. I’m no special case.”

“That doesn’t mean you should have to accept or like it.” He said. He moved his gaze to the window, shifting the curtain just a little to the side to glimpse outside. Sophia saw buildings pass by, cafés. Factories already in full swing vomiting smoke out of their chimneys, women pushing their babies in strollers, men rushing to get to work carrying heavy suitcases in one hand and an umbrella in the other, bracing themselves in case of rain.

After a long second of silence, Arthur’s voice reached her ears again. “Look, I probably should not tell you, but Morgana...she hasn’t been as lucky as you.”

Sophia turned her head, confused. “What do you mean?”

“She and Uther have always been at odds, but it has only gotten worse since Uther promised her to someone without her consent. And to Lord Henry of all people.”

If Sophia had been holding a cup of coffee in her hand, one of the wonderfully painted cups the Pendragons’ kitchen was full of, the precious china would’ve smashed to the floor of the carriage. “Lord Henry of Amata?”

“I see his reputation precedes him.”

“Arthur-“ Sophia shook her head, her eyes so wide they could’ve peered through total darkness. “You have to talk to your father. That man-“

“You don’t think I’ve tried?” Arthur growled quietly. “He’s adamant. The feud between our family and theirs has gone on for too long, and Father thought it a good idea to give my sister to the Sarrum as a peace offering.”

The eggs and pancakes she had eaten at breakfast were turning in her stomach. A surge of nausea came over her. “No wonder Morgana hates him. That’s disgusting.”

“Look, my father had no other choice.” Arthur retorted. “If the Sarrum had a daughter, Father would’ve married me off to her. Enemies are not a good thing to have in our business, sacrifices must be made.”

“Sacrifices?” Sophia seethed. She couldn’t believe his words. “It’s your sister we’re talking about. And you’re willing to...to sell her off to some abusive bastard who’s going to mistreat her?”

“I tried talking to my father, and then I realized I was just wasting my breath. ” Arthur had raised his voice. “What else can I do? Kill my father? Kill the Sarrum and his son?”

“I wouldn’t be complaining!” she shrieked back.

A knock sounded on the ceiling and Merlin’s voice came over. “Would you please keep it quiet down there? You’re scaring the horses.”

Sophia huffed and leaning back in her seat, not sparing Arthur another glance. “Why are you telling me this right now?”

After a lingering look, Arthur bent over to pick up the newspaper he’d left on the floor. Sophia hadn’t even noticed it.

He rifled through it, his worry increasing page by page as he scrambled to find an ad, or a news, or a message. Sophia had no idea what he was looking for.

“Here.” His finger tapped an article and he dropped the newspaper on Sophia’s lap for her to read it too.

The article wasn’t very long, but she had to read it carefully. There was nothing that struck her as a reason for Arthur to be so worried. “The Sarrum is buying actions.” she gathered.

Arthur nodded. “His investments have brought him a lot of money lately. In fact, Father thinks he’s on the way to becoming the most influent man in all England, if not the United Kingdom.”

“And what does this have to do with us?”

“Uther doesn’t like competition. He’s anticipating Henry and Morgana’s wedding so he can profit from the Sarrum’s business. And the Sarrum, of course, will profit from ours. It’s a win-win.”

Sophia froze, her breath caught in her throat. No. “When?”

“Next month.” Arthur said gloomily, a shadow darkening his expression. “Uther set it for next month. He told Morgana this morning, and she hasn’t spoken a word to him since.”

“She wasn’t at breakfast.” Sophia recalled. “Nor at lunch. Uther said she wasn’t feeling well.”

“That much was true.” Arthur looked at her, his eyes searching for a spark of reaction in hers. He must’ve known what to search for, because those emotions were showing all over her face. Hatred. Disgust. A murderous instinct, if that could be considered an emotion rather than common sense.

“I must talk to Uther about it as soon as we get back.”

“Didn’t you hear me? I already did. Why would he listen to you, of all people?”

She didn’t want to tell him that she had spent her first days analyzing him, Uther and Morgana. And not only them, but pretty much anyone in the house, just to understand who she was dealing with. Her observation had brought her to understand several things, like that Gwen, Morgana’s maid, had a huge crush on Arthur – Sophia couldn’t blame her – and that Uther, like everyone else, had weaknesses. Sophia had seen how fiercely protective Uther was of Arthur, and to a certain extent, of Morgana. Sophia suspected his territoriality came mainly from the need to control someone, rather than coming from pure, genuine concern for his children, but the outcome was the same.

“My father taught me well enough how to talk to powerful men. I’ve learnt how to impress the most obnoxious lords by leveraging on their tastes and weaknesses and how to parade in front of them like the domesticated bird they assume me to be. I can try.” She responded to Arthur’s shake of the head with a glare. “I don’t like this, Arthur.”

“Me neither. But Morgana can take care of herself.” He said. “I know it’s no guarantee of a good life, and if word ever comes that Lord Henry is actually abusing my sister, then I won’t hesitate to fight him. Or kill him, if necessary.” Arthur swallowed. “But all I can do right now is make sure that my future wife does not go through the same thing that Father is forcing on my sister.”

Sophia bit her cheeks to keep herself from doing something stupid, like screaming again. If Lord Henry ever mistreated Morgana, she wanted the satisfaction of killing him herself. Both him and his father, the Sarrum. And if it ever came to that, she would tell Arthur too, and they would take care of it together.

“What I mean to say is, I’m sorry this happened to you. You have a right to be unwell and I don’t want to force you into doing anything you don’t want to. So if there’s something I should know, something you’re not okay with, just tell me and I’ll do my best to fix it.”

Her shoulders relaxed. So that was all. She’d been expecting more drama, more fighting, but she couldn’t fully express how grateful she was that Arthur cared enough to ask. “You’ve done me nothing wrong, Arthur. In fact, you’ve been nothing but kind to me since my arrival.”

Arthur sighed in relief “Good.” He reached for Sophia’s hands in her lap and went to rub them, as if he were trying to warm her up. “Good.”

“I have a question, though.”

“Well, speak up.”

It was a thought that had been pestering her mind a long time. “Why did your father accept to betroth you to me? I mean, he managed to promise Morgana to his mortal enemy because he could profit from it. What does he get from me?”

“A happy son?” One of his hands went up to cup the side of her face, and the feeling of warmth pressed up against her cold cheek managed to calm her down, somehow. “My father was about to refuse, actually. I insisted.”

Sophia blinked, her mouth parting in wonder. “Why?”

“Because you’re pretty.” He joked. He smoothed over a lock of her hair, letting it curl around her ear. “And because I’d heard about you, and didn’t want you to end up in the wrong hands. Bad hands.”

She gasped as he trailed down her cheek to trace the sharp lines of her collarbones, his fingers leaving ghostlike touches that did not linger for nearly as long as she’d like.

“Oh, and yours are good?” she joked. Only then did she realize, he was sitting close to her. Very close. His forehead was pressed up against hers, their noses brushing against each other, their mouths breathing each other’s ragged breaths.

“Very.” He whispered as he tilted his head and she felt him smile against her neck, leave a trail of feather light kisses from her throat up to her jaw. So close to her lips, so close, but not close enough.

Arthur’s lips weren’t cold and slimy like Henry’s. Sophia wanted to feel them against her own. She wanted to taste them, to bite the soft flesh of his bottom lip, to have them all over her body. Instinctively, she reached for him, her hand tangling in Arthur’s hair to bring his lips level to hers, but before she could taste his lips Arthur pulled away with a smirk, leaving her dizzy and gasping for air. “In fact, I’ll be a gentleman and won’t touch you until we’re legally wed.”

“That’s alright.” Sophia held his stare. “I can still kiss you.” Without fear, she leant forward and closed the distance between them, muffling his gasp of surprise.

It wasn’t her first kiss, far from it. But her body didn’t seem to remember that. Arthur’s lips were as soft as she’d thought them to be, and she savored them, not wanting to ruin the sweetness of the kiss by deepening it further. She kept it short and chaste and brought Arthur’s head closer, gently pulling at strands of his hair.

She heard the carriage door open, the sunlight cutting in and shining upon them, almost blinding them. Sophia retreated and covered her eyes with a yelp, recognizing Merlin’s silhouette standing frozen in front of them, his back to the sun.

“My Lord. I’ve come to inform you that we’ve arrived.” Sophia couldn’t see his face, but he must’ve been sneering. Every word of his was dripping with sarcasm. “If I may give you a suggestion, you should both fix yourselves up before stepping out.”

He took an overly exaggerated bow and got out of the way, openly laughing.

Sophia could see better now, and what first caught her eye was Arthur’s disheveled hair, its ends standing up instead of being carefully plastered down, a mad look to his eyes.

Then she looked down at herself, and didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Her dress hadn’t wrinkled, thankfully, and her hair was still perfectly curled. She didn’t understand what was wrong with her that had to be fixed until Arthur happened to glance at her and burst out laughing, pointing to her face.

One finger went to wipe her smeared lipstick, rubbing in the same spot over and over until Arthur signaled that she looked presentable again.

The carriage had stopped in front of a small building that Sophia would never have thought of as the head office of the Pendragon industries. In fact, from the outside it looked like nothing more than a bar, or maybe a pool hall, locked by a solid steel door as if it were a safe. A warm light was coming from inside, as well as laughs and a few seemingly drunken slurs.

“Drunk, at four in the afternoon?” Sophia was more than a little puzzled, but she didn’t ask questions.


Arthur just looked at her hopelessly, ready to have an argument with whoever he had left in charge about it, when he knocked on the door.

They heard the sound of footsteps rushing to answer, and an overly excited voice yelling: “Who’s there?” so loud that Sophia had to cover her ears.

Arthur flinched. “Gwaine, it’s me. Open up, and pray for your lives if I don’t find everything just as I left them.”

Gwaine paused. “How do I know if it’s really you?”

“You’ll know once you open the door.”

“Nu-uh, I don’t trust you. My grandfather once told me about this one bloke who could make a perfect imitation of his brother’s voice and one day, when he thought he was opening up to him, he ended up getting shot-“

Arthur huffed, irritated. “Jesus, Gwaine, do we have to do this everytime? If this is all an excuse to buy the others time to clean up-“

“What’s the magic word?” Gwaine inquired.

“I can’t tell you, Gwaine, it’s not proper language for my future wife to hear.” He grit through his teeth.

Sophia shrugged it off. “Oh, do go ahead. I’ve definitely heard worse.”

Gwaine sounded awestruck at the revelation that Arthur’s fiancée was there too, but counted as proof enough that it was really Arthur.

“The boss’s here! With his lady!” He shouted to someone behind him, effectively shushing them. “Everybody, quiet!”

Gwaine opened the door, trying to give himself an elegant, dignified tone, and promptly failing when the light outside hurt his too sensitive eyes and made him trip on his own feet. He also looked like he was about to throw up all of the alcohol he had drunk on the precious carpet he stood on, which Arthur probably would have killed him for, judging by the look on Arthur’s face.

He was a tall, pale guy, with sunken eyes – due either to a lack of sleep or to too much drinking, Sophia didn’t know – and some amazing hair that he let flow freely rather than try to tame. He was dressed rather casually to be a businessman, she couldn’t help but notice.

Arthur walked in, exasperated, and passed him by. “Someone should carve a damn peeping hole into that door.”

Sophia took his arm. “Now, love, what did you just say about foul language?”

Gwaine stood staring at them with his mouth open, his eyes moving from Arthur to Sophia. “My, my, my, is that really the Lady Sophia of Tirmor?”

Sophia was confused as to whether she should bow in front of him or not. The man didn’t seem to care a lot about manners, so she let it go. “I most definitely am.”

A wide grin broke out on his face. “Unbelievable! You’re even prettier than what Arthur told us.”

Before Sophia could ask about it, Arthur pulled her away, muttering under his breath for Gwaine to go drink some water. Sophia was led through the hallway, overhearing Gwaine greeting Merlin with a “Merlin, mate! How are things going?”

Sophia leant in to whisper in his ear. “You told them about me?”

Arthur scoffed. “Did you expect me to keep it a secret?”

Sophia was about to reply, but she was interrupted by a wave of loud cheers and screams of people that either hadn’t heard Gwaine’s warning that their boss was coming through, or didn’t really care. A group of men raised their glasses to Arthur’s entrance and shouted their greetings.

Arthur held up a hand to shush them. “Seriously?” But no one seemed to take notice of his comment.

With a huff, Arthur pushed through the crowd and grabbed a curly haired man’s shoulder, whipping him around to face him and almost making him spill his drink in the process. “Leon, what is going on here?”

The guy didn’t even process that he was standing in front of his boss. No one in the room did. “We’re rich! We’re rich!” he kept shouting.

“What are you talking about?”

“Gold, Arthur!” Leon yelled in his face. “We found gold!”

Sophia touched Arthur’s shoulder, but he batted her hands away, completely caught up in the moment. “The mines-“

“Yes!” Leon cupped Arthur’s face in his hands in his euphoria. “Yes, they were fruitful! We’re richer than you could ever imagine!”

Leon was carried away by the partying crowd, leaving Arthur staring into space, his mouth agape.

“Arthur?” Sophia frowned. “Is everything alright?”

Arthur just nodded, keeping his expression blank. “Yes. Great, in fact. Wait here.”

Sophia opened her mouth to ask for an explanation, but Arthur had already left her on his way to the refreshment table. Sophia watched him curiously as he picked up a wine glass and poured himself a drink, filling the glass to the brim, before turning around to face his men and business companions.

A silver spoon against the glass surface drew the roaring crowd’s attention to him. Sophia didn’t think they’d hear him amongst all the chaos, but apparently she’d underestimated Arthur’s relevance.

Arthur stood tall and proud in front of them, waiting for silence to fall on the room.


“Gentlemen!” he raised his glass above their heads. A slow smile made his way on his lips. “Today, we celebrate.”

His words were met by loud cheers that gradually turned into laughs, glasses clinking and violins furiously playing in the background.

Sophia laughed out loud, recognizing the first signs of a party when she saw it. She’d been preparing herself for a boring discussion about income and actions and whatever else businessmen usually talked about, but right now, the only one who cared the slightest bit about business was one of Arthur’s men, a short, dark-haired guy with a notepad in hand and a really confused look on his face.

“Sir, I have a request here from Odin. He says he wants to invest in our technology-“

“Good! You can tell Odin he can try our new waste disposal system.”

More laughs rang in the room, and the guy was left dumbstruck, with Merlin sneaking a hand around his shoulders to tell him to “Live a little, Lance”.

For being just a servant, he looked pretty close to Arthur’s men. Servants in the Tirmor household were treated fairly well, of course, and she had come to see some of them as friends, but let them mingle with high society? It was unthinkable. She realized that Arthur either cared a great deal for that boy, or was just very open-minded. Maybe both.

She joined Arthur at the refreshments table, where he wasn’t even remotely pretending to be careful with his drinking. He drained his second cup until the last drop and immediately grabbed the bottle of wine to fill another. Sophia put her hands over his, stopping him from bringing the glass to his mouth again.

“Hey there, slow down.” She chuckled. “Someone’s a bit too excited.”

“Oh, I can’t help it.” His smile was so beautiful that Sophia struggled to remember a time when she was wary of him. Now, whenever she looked at Arthur, all she felt was warmth and joy. “We’ve put a lot of money in those mines. If we hadn’t found any gold-“

“You would’ve gone bankrupt.” she finished. “You took a huge risk.”

Arthur shrugged. “My father had already arranged Henry and Morgana’s marriage, so he decided it was a good time to take risks. Even if the mines turned out to be a failure, we’d still have economical support from the house of Amata.”

“So now you will need to share your fortune with them?”

He shook his head. “The marriage hasn’t been concluded yet. We still don’t owe them anything. But I will share the profit with your family.”

“Why? We’re not married either. Not yet.”

He took her hand, not caring what anyone thought. Not that anyone was paying attention to them anyway. “You know what I like about you?”

“My pretty face?”

“No. Well, yes. But also...”

“My dazzling personality?”

“Your determination.” His finger traced a line from her temple down to her cheekbone. “You have a fire in you. Sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one who can see it.”

Sophia shook her head, wanting to tell him that no, he wasn’t the only one. Ever since she was little, she’d dreamt of being queen of the world. As she’d grown to learn, that was an impossible dream, but her father had nothing but encouraged her, spoiling her like the princess he thought she should be, giving her a good education. Of course, there was only so much a man like him could do, especially when the rest of her mother’s family died, but now, Arthur was offering her all the tools she needed without questions. He wasn’t looking at her weirdly for wanting power – in fact, he looked proud.

“Wouldn’t you like that?” he whispered into her skin. “Being able to get what you want, making a name for yourself?”

“I don’t know how.” Sophia admitted.

Arthur smiled. “I can give you the cards, but you must learn how to play on your own. I have a feeling you won’t have any problems figuring it out. You figured out how to play my father easily enough.”

Sophia sighed. “I can do that.” She pecked his lips twice, smothering his muffled laughs.

With a final, affectionate kiss on the cheek, Arthur led Sophia to a pool table she hadn’t even noticed. Just like the round table that was probably used for meetings, it had been pushed against the wall to make room for dancing.

She’d never played pool, but Arthur wanted to start her learning from there. So she listened to him as he showed her how to move the stick to hit all the balls at once, while holding her in his embrace.

It was also a relief to find that Arthur encouraged her to drink instead of judging her for it. As she gulped down drink upon drink, Arthur only looked at her with a sort of awe in his eyes, an awe that had “Oh, you’re adorable” written all over it.

At the end of the day, Sophia was proud to say she hadn’t felt sick once. Arthur, on the other hand, had had an unfortunate encounter with the john upstairs, which Gwaine had teased him for the rest of the party. Arthur had then forced him to clean up, to Merlin’s relief, and Sophia had tried her hardest not to laugh.

The so-called “business meeting” ran until late afternoon, when the sun was starting to set and they found they were all out of refreshments. It was then that Arthur dismissed the meeting, bade everyone farewell and invited them all to his engagement party the following week. “Please, Gwaine, wear something classy, or just remotely decent. I barely convinced my father to let you in.”

Uther wasn’t too happy when he saw how sloshed both his son and his son’s wife-to-be had gotten, but once Sophia told him about the gold mines, he forgot all of his anger and ushered Arthur upstairs – to gloat privately about his success, Sophia assumed, even though he claimed to be worried about Arthur. In fact, he also tried to send Sophia to her room, but she stayed put.

“How’s Morgana?” she asked, tasting a hint of roughness on her tongue.

Uther seemed surprised by the question. “She hasn’t been feeling well all day. She didn’t even want to come with you to the meeting.”

“So she’s still locked in her room, then?”

“Yes.” Uther’s face showed no emotion, which wasn’t exactly rare for him. “Why?”

Sophia shrugged. “I’ve been worried about her. She’s my friend.” Maintain eye contact, a little voice in her head told her. And she obeyed, her blue eyes piercing into his green ones. They looked just like Morgana’s, she realized. Uther was her father, and yet he’d condemned her to such a horrible destiny with seemingly no care for her wellbeing. Sophia hated him for that, but she couldn’t show it. To get him to listen to her, she’d have to pretend the opposite.

“I know you girls have bonded.” Uther nodded his understanding. “But you most of all should understand how these things work. Morgana knew she’d have to help the family.”

Help the family. So that’s what he called it. Truth was, the Pendragons didn’t need any help. They were one of the wealthiest families in the United Kingdom - maybe even the wealthiest, thanks to the newfound gold mines. The Tirmors, of course, needed every alliance they could get, and she’d accepted it once she’d seen the man Arthur truly was. But Morgana would hardly be grateful for the kind of man her father had chosen for her.

“You’re right.” She shook her head, as if batting away those thoughts. “She will come to accept it, I’m sure she will. But as of now, all she feels is sadness. I’ve been through it, too.”

“And how did get through it?” Uther looked genuinely curious about her answer, but she couldn’t tell if his curiosity was born out of concern for his daughter or just out of his need to meddle in everyone’s private life.

“I was lucky.” Sophia admitted. “I had Arthur. He accepted me for who I was and never forced me into doing anything. But Morgana... Morgana might not be so lucky. Forgive my boldness, Lord Pendragon, but I’ve met the Sarrum and his son, and they’re both despicable people.”

“Oh, I’ve met them myself. Believe me, I know. But this is the only way to end the feud between our families once and for all.”

“The only way, my Lord? That can’t be.”

She wondered if questioning his decisions was going too far, but Uther surprisingly brushed it off. After all, there was no reason he should’ve listened to her.

“It has gone on for too long, Sophia. Morgana was our peace offering, and it was accepted.”

“Did Morgana have any say in it?”

“We had an argument about it it. A loud argument. But what’s done is done.”

“I understand.” Sophia nodded. She wanted to scream ‘Don’t you care the slightest bit about your daughter? Is your business so much more important than her happiness?’ but she kept quiet. “I’m just afraid that Arthur could turn against you. Maybe even Morgana herself.”

Uther frowned. “Turn against me?”

“Well, Arthur cares a lot about his sister. He told me he tried to talk you out of this agreement with the Sarrum, too. He was furious today.” Furious was not the word she’d have used to describe him, but it was always good to add more drama and to play on Uther’s fears. “And if you do this, Morgana will hate you. You’re giving away your best weapon to your enemy. How well do you think that will work out?”

Uther’s face darkened. “I don’t take advice from teenagers.”

“I’m not giving you any advice. I’m just worried about my safety. I wonder what will become of this family once Morgana bonds with Henry of Amata over their common hatred of you. She’s a smart woman.”

Uther grunted. “You should get some sleep before dinner, Sophia. I can assure you that nothing will happen to you.”

“Aren’t you even a little bit worried, my Lord?”

“I have faith in my children.”

“Then don’t give them reasons to doubt that.” Sophia insisted. “Your children love you. I can see that they’d give the world for you. Don’t let that love turn into hatred, you don’t want to be left alone.”

Sophia knew she had hit the mark when she saw Uther flinch. So she’d been right to guess Uther’s weakness. Underneath that strong façade, Uther did have a heart. Everyone did, deep deep down.

“Arthur and Morgana will understand that I have no choice.”

“But you do have a choice. Don’t push them to hate you, don’t risk losing their loyalty-”

“Sophia, why are you doing this?” he interrupted her, quite harshly.

Sophia scrambled to make up a good explanation. “Arthur and Morgana won’t care about being disinherited if they have the Sarrum to back them up. As Arthur’s wife, I’ll have a duty to him, and by extension to the Sarrum. I don’t want to be in that man’s grasp.”

“Sophia, you’re making this bigger than it needs to be. Now go to bed.”

“No.” Uther, who was just about to go downstairs, turned back to look at her, outraged at her decisiveness. “Don’t ever underestimate these kinds of situations, my Lord. My mother’s family was torn apart by its enemies.”

Uther looked at her coldly. “I thought your mother had died of tuberculosis.”

“She did. Her parents and siblings, however, did not.”

After a minute of shocked silence, Uther slowly nodded. “I see.” Then he looked away and went down a few more steps.

“Will you at least think about it, my Lord?” Sophia called out from the top of the stairs. Uther stopped to reply, but didn’t look back. “I like you, Sophia. Don’t make me regret it.”

Arthur looked at Sophia through his plain white mask, bordered with gold embroidery that brought his hair colour out. His eyes shined just as bright as when she’d first seen him, under the sun, and his smile just as sincere as back then. “I can’t believe it, Sophia.”

“Well, believe it.” She hit him playfully with her hand fan. “Admit it, Arthur. I am better at playing this game than you thought.”

“You definitely are. I’m impressed.”

Sophia spared a glance behind her shoulders to Morgana, who positively glowed in her cream coloured dress. Her mask was the same colour, but she’d taken it off to speak with Gwen, who was laughing at one of Morgana’s jokes. After seeing her so sad, or not seeing her at all, for the past week, Sophia thought Morgana had never looked happier. Like Sophia, she was wearing jewelry, which was supposed to tell her apart from lower classes; women weren’t allowed to adorn their bodies, but it was common knowledge that noblewomen could do whatever they liked without anyone contesting them.

Sophia caught Arthur looking in the same direction, and laughing along. “How did you even get him to agree?”

“It was hard.” Sophia admitted, keeping her eyes fixed on Gwen and Morgana. “But I offered your father a good enough alternative. In fact, I’d say he’s perfect.”

Arthur shook his head. “Why didn’t Father consult with me?”
“I guess he likes me more. You may want to move out of here faster, if you don’t want me taking your place.”

Arthur gave her a little shove. “Shut up. He only wants to make a good impression on you.”

“Well, I guess he did.” Sophia shrugged, turning her head to meet Arthur’s confused gaze. “He’s not the best parent in the world, Arthur, but he loves you both. He really does.”

Arthur made a weird half-smile, but it was enough to let her understand that she wasn’t wrong. “Yeah. In his strange, unusual way, I guess he does.”

Morgana noticed they were looking at her, and stopped talking to Gwen to go greet them. Gwen turned around too, blushing furiously when she saw Arthur standing there.

As Morgana walked, the ruffles of her beautiful dress slid gracefully across the floor. “Have you heard the news?”

“We very much did.” Sophia smiled. “Congratulations, Morgana. It seems your father isn’t that bad after all.”

Her green eyes twinkled. “Apparently, Uther had a change of mind and realized he could gain just as much and lose much less by arranging a marriage with Lord George. Which would not be my first choice for a husband, but he’s still a hundred times better than the other one.”

Arthur peeked at Sophia out of the corner of his eyes. You haven’t told her?  Sophia pretended not to see.

“So, sister,” Arthur awkwardly changed topic when it was clear Sophia wouldn’t give him an answer, “when are you leaving?”

“In the morning. In fact, I’m trying to enjoy my last night here, if you don’t mind.”

“You’re leaving so soon?” Sophia couldn’t help but feel a pang of pain in her heart at the thought of Morgana leaving. She hadn’t had nearly enough time to get to know her.

“Yes. But you can come visit me any time you like.”

Sophia noticed that Arthur was just as devastated by the news as she was. In fact, Arthur reached forward and hugged Morgana to his chest, burying his head in her neck.

“I’m going to miss you, Morgana.”

Morgana chuckled. “Oh, Arthur, I’m going to miss you too. You know I will.”

“If he hurts you, just call on me and I’ll come running straight away.” he muttered into her hair.

“I don’t think I’ll have any problem with that. But thank you.”

Arthur pulled away reluctantly, to give Sophia the chance to hug Morgana too. “Good luck, Morgana. Be happy.”

“You too, Sophia. You two, be good to each other.”

With one last smile, Morgana left them to go talk to one of Uther’s guests. The two seemed to know each other very well.

“Lord George?” Arthur whispered. “Really?”

“He’s an improvement!”

Arthur agreed with a laugh. “Well, he is rich.”

“And all he cares about are his horses. I think he and Morgana will get on very well.”

She felt herself being engulfed by his arms, and she rested her head on his shoulder. He smiled down at her. “We can visit sometimes, you know. Go horseback riding.”

Uh-oh. She had told him she loved horseback riding. Sophia had forgotten about that tiny detail. “Uh, about that-“

“No, let me guess.” Arthur interrupted her. “You don’t actually like it?”

Sophia grimaced. “Am I that predictable?”

“No, not at all. I’m just starting to understand you.” He pressed a soft kiss on her temple. “I’m still taking you to our country house, so I can show you the wonders of horseback riding. But if you still don’t like it, you can just laugh at me as my own horse unsaddles me.”

“That happened before?”

“Oh, more times than I can count.”

Sophia lifted her head from it’ safe resting place on Arthur’s shoulder and looked aroun. The ballroom was decorated with roses, lilies, tulips and every kind of flower she liked, golden spheres at every corner and so much delicious food that Sophia never wanted to eat anything else. The Pendragons had spent a large part of their new income making sure that this night was perfect, and not just for her and Arthur, but for each and every one of their friends and relatives and servants.

She saw the chandelier hanging over the ballroom, casting shadows over the hundreds of people dancing in elegant dresses or in just little more than rags, but having a good time either way. She saw Bronwen dancing with her fiancé and looking so happy, twirling in Sophia’s green dress. She saw her father happily conversing with magnates, and raising his glass to her as a sign of approval when he felt her staring at him.

“I want to go outside.” She whispered. “Let’s go outside.”

Without even waiting for his answer, she gripped his wrist and dragged him out, laughing at the baffled expression on his face when she looked back.

The cold air outside brought relief to her hot skin and breath to her lungs. Everything was so quiet that Sophia could hear her blood running through her veins.

As she stepped on the grass of the back garden, Sophia turned around to face Arthur without letting go of him, her smile still eager and wide. “Dance with me.”

“Here?” Arthur looked around, as if registering an abnormal presence of grass on what was supposed to be a dance floor.

 “That way no one will see your horrid dancing and you will bring no shame to your family.”

“Oh, what do you know?” Arthur whined, but quickly placed one hand around her hips and the other on her shoulder. “You’ve never seen me dancing.”

Sophia chuckled. “I’ll see you now.”

She bowed her head to touch her forehead to his, and they started swinging to the muffled music coming from the inside. Poignant notes of cellos and violins filled the night air, setting the pace of their slow dance.

None of them spoke for a while, not wanting to ruin the peace and quiet that had fallen between them. Sophia was perfectly content just to sway in Arthur’s arms, forehead against forehead, her hand on his heart.

The spell, of course, was broken when Arthur brutally stepped on Sophia’s feet and made her shriek in pain.

“Sorry!” Arthur jumped up and let go of her, so she could take her feet in her hands and massage them. As she groaned, she took off her shoes and kicked them away.

“Change of plans.” She scrunched up her face. “We dance barefoot.”

“Yes. Yes, good idea.”

Arthur leant down and untied his shoes, dropping them on the gravel. When he came back up, he found Sophia laughing hysterically.

“What? How do I look?” Arthur asked worriedly.

“Perfect.” Sophia kissed him, marveling at how cute Arthur’s disheveled look was in contrast to his usual business mode. “You look perfect.”

“You too.” Arthur kissed her again, holding her face in his hands. “Red looks good on you.”

Sophia sighed in relief. She was starting to think he’d never notice. “Really?”

“Yes. Red happens to be my favourite colour.”

“What a coincidence.” She smirked.

They kept swaying to the music, but this time, Sophia’s head rested on Arthur’s chest and Arthur’s arms encircled her, protecting her.

“I bet you’ve never done this before.” Sophia singsonged. “Dancing barefoot.”

“Please,” Arthur scoffed, “my father never even let me play in the mud.”

Sophia frowned. “That’s sad.” She had ruined a fair share of dresses, back in the day.

“But in the summer, we had classes outside. Morgana and I chased each other through the garden and sometimes we’d run off in the neighborhood, and my father would have a heart attack when he found out.”

“So you were happy.” Sophia noted.

Indeed, her own life had been happy. And indeed, it could get even better, now that she had Arthur at her side. Realizing how well she’d had it and how lucky she’d been to have such a supporting father and fiancé, she felt like she had reached the place where she was meant to be.

The truth was, she had focused so much on materialistic things that she had forgotten to cherish what really gave her life meaning. And she couldn’t wait to find out again.

Arthur moved in front of her. “You do realize that, when we’re married, we can do whatever we want?”

Sophia leant her forehead against his, stroking the curve of his jaw. “Does that include playing in the mud?”

“Well, I was thinking more along the lines of moving out of here altogether. I can show you the world, if that’s what you want.”

The world. She’d never travelled out of the United Kingdom, as much as she’d wanted to. There were so many places she wanted to visit, so many people she wanted to encounter, and so many experiences she had yet to have. More than anything, she wanted to see the America everyone talked about. Maybe Arthur had already been there. Maybe he would take her, too.

“We can even start over. We can make a name for ourselves, do whatever we wish, and be king and queen of the world as we know it.”

King and queen. She loved the sound of it. Oh, she loved it so much. “Yes. We can do that.”

As Arthur picked her up and kissed her, Sophia felt the ghost of a wide smile on his lips, mirroring her own.