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Chapter Text

He had been born to a common family, but Erec’s biggest dream in life was to become a knight.

It was a dream that he had, unfortunately, learned to abandon early on. Men without noble blood did not become knights, and they especially did not become knights in Mercia. So, Erec had largely pushed his dream aside, but even as he toiled through the daily hardships of a commoner’s life, it never truly left him.

It was for that reason—once he had seen many summers and autumns and harvests and reached a point of no attachments and no benefits to continuing his life as it was—that Erec cut all ties to his former home once and for all in order to set out upon his most noble quest. It was a quest noble enough to be worthy of a member of a royal family, and Erec knew he would succeed. For he planned to ride through Albion in search of a kingdom that would let him pledge his service regardless of his upbringing, and surely there had to be one kingdom—one king—honourable enough to allow him a chance to prove his worth. It was a hope and a belief that he’d carried with him since childhood, now finally finding the opportunity to be put to the test.

And so Erec set out, but although he journeyed far and wide across the lands of Albion, for many years he found nothing.

“Ah, Sir Erec! How are you enjoying the festivities, my friend?”

Sir Lancelot was nothing like the knights Erec had grown up hearing stories of. Where those knights were chivalric and noble, Sir Lancelot was roguish and insubordinate, and seemingly had little respect for the proper way of doing things. It extended to and shaped interactions with the First Knight, Sir Leon, and even to Sir Leon’s and all of their superior, His Majesty King Arthur of Camelot. Even more strangely, these seemed to be traits common to all of the Knights of the Round Table. Erec had yet to understand how such behaviour arose in the first place, but the king didn’t seem to mind very much.

Sir Lancelot was also brave, kind, and the most knightly man that Erec had ever met. It, too, was a trait shared with all the rest who held seats at the Round Table.

Presently, Sir Lancelot was laughing at the expression upon Erec’s face. He could feel his cheeks colour as he tried to school it back into something more respectable. And to pretend that he wasn’t eavesdropping on something he had no business hearing, in a place that he wasn’t supposed to be.

Granted, the place was a corridor a bit down from the wide double doors into one of the castle’s banquet halls. It was a public place—as much as anywhere in the castle was a public place, that was—so he supposed he wouldn’t get into trouble for standing there on its own. However, the loitering he was doing, listening while pretending not to, was something that he could readily admit the suspicion of.

Sir Lancelot did not seem to notice anything amiss with their surroundings, nor did he seem to be critical of Erec’s choices. While refreshing, it was not necessarily reassuring, as something of the sort was surely not the worst any of the Knights of the Round Table had done.

As of that morning, Erec had been appointed to join the very same men, so he was unsure of how this truth made him feel, as of yet.

“Worry not,” Lancelot said, oblivious to any of Erec’s inner struggles, which only worked to confirm them further, “For I assure you that attending feasts—especially feasts thrown in your honour—absolutely does not get easier.”

Lancelot clapped a friendly hand upon his shoulder as Erec began to sputter. They were standing not far from the doors to the banquet hall, and although the servants were still busy making preparations, it surely would do no good for Lancelot’s jest to be overheard.

Or, he imagined such a notion to be true regardless of the fact that the Court of Camelot under King Arthur was doubtless the most unusual court in which Erec had ever found himself.

It took several years for Erec to try for knighthood in Camelot, and it was a decision of which he was unsure even as he made it.

Camelot shared a border with Mercia, so growing up, Erec had become familiar with the reign of Uther Pendragon, and especially the way he viewed those who wished to be knighted. Camelot’s army was the best in all of Albion, everyone knew, and often in his dreams did Erec imagine serving in it. He knew, though, that it was only and would forever remain a dream.

When Prince Arthur reached an age at which he was able to take over the training of the knights, Camelot’s army only grew greater, and Erec heard stories of its conquests even as he journeyed in foreign lands. It was only once Prince Arthur had become King Arthur, though, that Erec really began to listen and consider seriously. For removing noble blood as a requirement for knighthood was one of the first changes that the new king had made. It was not the only change that Erec thought necessary in order to live in Camelot happily, but he thought that if he became a knight, maybe he could have sway in assuring those changes came about. It was a gamble, and he could only hope he didn't lose.

In fact, Erec was already en route to the Court of Camelot before he heard about King Arthur’s next declaration: the legalisation of magic.

Magic was not illegal in Mercia, so Erec approached the news with no trepidation but one. Stories of the prosecution of sorcerers under King Uther were the main legacy of his reign, and had travelled far and wide across Albion. But so had stories of the responses of the people of Camelot. Erec did not think that the local people would know how to approach this change, for many of them had been taught since birth by their leader to fear magic and those who used it. In the next few years—so long as the policies were being changed—the kingdom was bound to be choked by fear.

But then, Erec supposed that Arthur had been raised by Uther, and had an open enough opinion about magic to allow the change in the first place. Idly, he wondered what it was that had led to the king to implant such a radical shift from the regime he had been raised under. Perhaps if he succeeded in becoming a knight of Camelot, he would find out.

Regardless, Camelot was going to need a strong leader to guide them through the times ahead and ensure that magic was reintroduced in a way that kept people from immediately becoming even more fearful. And that was a job that could only be done by someone in control of magic. Erec had, thus far, heard no mention of this hypothetical person.

And so, fear and hope equally in his heart, Erec rode down towards Camelot.

“Did it bother you?” Erec cracked one of the heavy doors to peer into the lavishly-decorated banquet hall, only to quickly duck back out into the corridor. And to close the door as quietly as he could and take several steps back down the corridor, for that matter. “When you attended your own honourary feast?”

“Most assuredly,” laughed Sir Lancelot, “for I knew that even as Prince Arthur clapped me on the back and praised my skills, I was telling him an unforgivable lie.”

Erec wished that he could say that this revelation alarmed him more than it did. Lying to the king, though—even if he was the prince, back then—seemed to be an activity that the knights partook in regularly. Most of the lies were relatively harmless and none could go so far as to destroy the trust that was essential between comrades in order to keep them alive on the battlefield, but Erec was surprised by how far up the chain of command it went. The Knights of the Round Table were already the best of the best, and the only one Erec had never observed lying to the king was Sir Leon, his First Knight.

He wondered if there even was a reason.

Even still, Sir Lancelot seemed to read something of alarm on Erec’s face, for he elaborated, “It was my life’s dream to become a knight, much as it was for you. But when I first arrived in Camelot, the law barring the eligibility of those with common blood had not yet been lifted. However, Mer… that is, a dear friend, assisted me in forging documents falsifying a noble bloodline to earn me the chance to prove my worth.”

For all his attempts to keep his head, Erec was indeed a bit alarmed, now. “And it was successful enough to get you knighted? How did they find out?”

Lancelot’s laugh was bitter. “Uther discovered that the documents were disingenuous. I was banished from Camelot, and my knighthood revoked. When Arthur became king, I was lucky enough to be offered my title back.”

There it was again, that peculiar lack of respect that the knights had for their rulers. King Uther was dead, and many of the current regime resented his policies, but Erec had lost count of the number of times the knights had dropped the titles of King Uther and King Arthur both, seemingly regardless of present company. It was not the regular knights who did so, however, only the most elite of the King’s Round Table. Erec wondered if he would be expected to do so as well, now that he was being welcomed into the esoteric circle.

Erec turned to Lancelot, half of his mind warring to ask, but even as he opened his mouth, Lancelot was already gone.

Training to become a knight of Camelot was brutal, not that Erec had expected it to be otherwise. At first, he was placed in an introductory group, consisting of other peasants who had journeyed from across Albion in an attempt to prove their worth. They were instructed in the basics of combat, learning techniques across a wide variety of weapons. It was a formalisation that Erec had never gotten, as he'd spent more time journeying between kingdoms than practising. Nevertheless, the skills he had gathered in unorthodox fighting on his own quickly shone through, and it wasn't long before Erec pulled ahead of all the others in his group.

After winning battle after battle, Erec was slowly able to move up and train with King Arthur’s most talented knights. Sir Percival. Sir Elyan. Sir Gwaine. Sir Lancelot. Sir Leon. And, occasionally, King Arthur himself. Erec had seen warrior-kings in his travels, but few of them were as involved in the day-to-day training of their soldiers as King Arthur seemed to be.

From there, training only became more difficult, and Erec watched many of the men he had gotten to know be sent back home after losing a fight against the king. But Erec poured every year he had spent wishing for this into his practise, and when he finally faced down against King Arthur in the final test for his knighthood, he won. The image of Camelot’s beloved king on his back on the ground, staring up as Erec pointed a sword tip at his throat, was an image he knew he would never forget. The king's expression had almost seemed like pride.

Erec was the only prospective knight to earn a seat at the Round Table, although some of the other recruits were granted lesser positions. The small group of them had been knighted by King Arthur in Camelot’s throne room early in the morning, in the presence of many of the court's most important nobles. The king looked regal in his crown and red cloak and mail, the throne to his right decorated with elaborate purple and red silks, but standing empty.

King Arthur moved around the throne room as though he was used to that seat being filled, and it occupied a disproportionate amount of Erec’s attention even as the king’s blade touched gently upon each of his shoulders.

Rounding the corner to return only a second later, Sir Lancelot stopped by Erec’s side, now holding the hand of a beautiful woman wearing a regal blue dress. The two of them were gazing only at each other, and Erec looked between them, entirely unsure of who the woman was or what he was to be doing.

He received his answer as the duo stopped in front of him. Still only taking his eyes from the woman for the barest of moments, Lancelot said, “Sir Erec, allow me to introduce to you the fairest and best of women, the noblest lady you will ever meet in this or any court, and my wife, the Lady Guinevere du Lac of Camelot.”

Lady Guinevere looked at Erec more fully, extending her hand with a smile and a “It’s nice to finally meet you, Sir Erec. I've heard a lot about your skills.” Erec took it and kissed the back, returning her smile. She really was quite lovely, and carried herself as the noble knight’s wife in every way that Sir Lancelot was not the noble knight. (When it came to court etiquette, that was, and only when it came to court etiquette, which truly was one of the most peculiar things about Camelot.)

“It’s an honour, Lady Guinevere. Sir Lancelot has spoken extensively of your beauty and your kindness, and it appears that he was not wrong about either,” Erec said, shooting a pointed look at Lancelot as he did so. It was impossible to count the number of times Sir Leon or King Arthur had groaned and been required to turn the conversation back to relevant topics after Lancelot started talking about how wonderful his wife was. Usually, King Arthur took Lancelot’s extensive soliloquies as indication that they should be training harder, as he need not have breath for so many words.

Lady Guinevere blushed and covered her mouth to hide her giggle. “My brother, Sir Elyan, has mentioned my husband's fondness for making sure that training never gets done during training. Or, alternatively, that far too much training gets done during training.”

Regardless of the unusual dynamics found in the higher levels of Camelot's court, it was not Erec's place as a brand-new knight to critique the far more senior Sir Lancelot, so he was grateful for Lady Guinevere's response. He had, in the past, talked his way out of death from a sword pressed to his throat, but never before had he felt more uncertain than he did trying to fit in here.

Sir Lancelot gave a dramatic gasp. Erec and Lady Guinevere both turned, with identical looks of exasperation, but Lancelot looked only at his wife. “I do no such thing! I speak of you, Gwen, only the right amount that a man should speak about his wife when his wife is someone so wonderful. Besides, I am hardly alone in singing your praises. Sometimes, I'm not even the first to do so!”

Guinevere rolled her eyes, but Erec was confused. He had only just been knighted, but had still trained with the Round Table knights many times. And while it was true that some of the other knights would agree or join in when Lancelot spoke of his wife—particularly Sir Elyan (which made more sense now that Erec knew them to be siblings) and Sir Gwaine (which made sense as Sir Gwaine flirted with anything that had a pulse)—they rarely were the ones to broach the subject. By Lancelot's words, it seemed as though there was someone else to whom he referred.

“Yes, I suppose you’re not, are you?” said his wife. “Oh, I do miss Merlin. I hope everything is going well with the Druids.”

“I’m sure we would have received word if anything was wrong. And you know how fond the Druids are of Merlin.”

Lady Guinevere smiled at Sir Lancelot, and Erec was left staring between the two of them. Briefly, he considered excusing himself, but there was something about that name—Merlin—that seemed familiar. 

“Not to interrupt,” said Erec, and both of the other two looked startled, as if they had forgotten that he was standing there. They probably had. “But who is Merlin?”

Sharing another look with his wife, Lancelot hesitated for a long time before telling Erec, “Lord Merlin is Camelot’s Court Sorcerer. He’s also ambassador to the Druids, and has been at their camps for nearly two months now, negotiating a new treaty for the king.”

Erec had been training in Camelot for six weeks, explaining why he hadn’t had the chance to meet such an important noble. It could also offer explanations for other things that Erec had noticed his fellow knights talking around. It did not, however, sound like the entire truth.

Erec was knighted alongside several other men with whom he'd initially shared a training group, although since then, he'd risen above them and correspondingly received the highest awarded rank. Immediately after the act, he was congratulated by his king, the other Knights of the Round Table, and many other nobles. They did not linger long, but the entire time, Erec was unable to keep his eyes from the empty throne, nor from the highest-ranking members of Camelot’s court as they mingled around the room.

There were surprisingly few of them to speak of. First was King Arthur, of course. All that Erec had observed since his arrival in Camelot indicated that he did not have a queen. The person seemingly closest in rank to him was his half-sister, Princess Morgana Pendragon, whom Erec had heard mention of by King Arthur and seen at a distance several times but never been formally introduced to. She sat beside her brother throughout the knighting ceremony, but on a throne that was to his left and not as intricate as the one that stood empty to the right.

Obviously, it was the throne that was traditionally reserved for the spouse of the ruling monarch. As King Arthur was unwed—or so Erec assumed, as in six weeks he had neither seen nor heard mention of Camelot having a queen, or the king a wife—he briefly considered that it was left empty but decorated in anticipation for the day the king would marry. The way that he seemed constantly aware of its presence, though—like he was adjusting for the anticipated movement of someone else, someone who sat there—caused him to eventually reject that theory.

Then, he wondered if it was reserved for King Arthur's closest advisor. But surely, even if he did have such an advisor, they would sit in the throne on the left, and Princess Morgana would get the higher honour of sitting at the king's right.

Erec spent quite a long time contemplating the issue, but without reaching a satisfying conclusion.

Surrounded for most of the brief celebration by his new brothers-in-arms, he also did not speak with anyone else very extensively. There was a banquet, though, scheduled for that evening, to honour those who had been accepted into the ranks of Camelot. Erec had never had a banquet held for him before, and was looking to it with both anxiety and anticipation. Perhaps he would get the chance to meet the court’s leaders as well as the answers to some of his questions.

The reputation of Uther Pendragon had preceded him, but that of Arthur Pendragon and the current Camelot did only in that they were different from what had come before. En route to the city, Erec had heard of the legalisation of magic, but after living there for several weeks, had only seen evidence of it in the lives of everyday citizens. He wondered if the lack of acknowledgement stemmed from the fact that King Arthur was unsure of how to go about implanting his reforms, and it made him nervous for what he could expect for his future as a knight.

He would, however, probably be far more nervous than he was were it not for the fact that everything he’d seen for the past six weeks pointed towards the conclusion that King Arthur was benevolent, competent, and loved by his people. As of yet, he wasn’t entirely sure how to reconcile these two things.

Before being dismissed from the throne room so that the king could go about his business for the day, Erec had the opportunity to ask some of his fellow knights about what to expect to come that night. Leon had been reassuring, Gwaine had joked, Lancelot had been hesitant, and Erec had come away with no more wisdom than he had going in. In the king’s absence, Leon led the Round Table from the room for training, so Erec left in a huddle with the men who would become his brothers. It was the best way he could think of to begin his new life as a knight of Camelot.

As they left the throne room, there was a moment where Erec glanced over his shoulder. His gaze lingered on the red and purple silks draped over the empty chair, and he wondered if that was one of the questions that would be answered at the feast.

As he turned to face forward, there was a moment where Erec’s gaze caught Princess Morgana’s, who had been watching him closely with a curious expression on her face.

“When is Lord Merlin to return to Camelot?”

Sir Lancelot smiled in a way that, thus far, he had not yet. It wasn’t the reverent smile he gave to the Lady Guinevere, but was full of love in a different way. Erec wondered if Lancelot and the Court Sorcerer were close. “Soon, I hear. I’ve not been in contact with Merlin since he left Camelot, but surely within the next few days. Arthur mentioned to us that they were nearly done with negotiations, and I’m sure that Merlin is as eager to return as the rest of us are to have him home.”

Erec thought back to first hearing of the legalisation of magic in Camelot, and thinking that he'd not heard anything about a high-ranking magic user to help ease the transition. By how fondly Lancelot and Guinevere spoke of this Merlin, perhaps he filled that role. Erec wondered how important he had been in the process of convincing the king to change the law. No matter how tyrannical King Uther's rule had been, it seemed doubtful that King Arthur would act so quickly unless he had a reason—a person—to do so for.

“I look forward to meeting him,” was all he said.

Lady Guinevere smiled. “Oh, he is wonderful.”

“Perhaps you could tell me a bit about him?”

By the way both of their eyes lit up, Erec suspected that he had touched upon a favourite topic, and that they would be here for a while. He was grateful for it for more reasons than one. There was still quite a bit of time remaining before the banquet was scheduled to begin, and if he didn’t have something to occupy himself with before then, his anxieties would probably end up driving him insane.

More importantly, though, every word he learned about Lord Merlin spoke of his importance to the King and Court of Camelot. Erec wanted to be prepared to meet the ambassador to the Druids. Coming from a kingdom such as Mercia, where magic was not banned, he hoped to gain a station that would allow for him to provide his own wisdom in the future. Now, as a Knight of the Round Table, maybe he would be in a position to offer advice to the Court Sorcerer, to help ease the transition for the citizens of Camelot. If he could prevent even one mistake made by his home kingdom in regards to the treatment of magic from being repeated, it would be worth it.

“Absolutely. I’ve known Merlin for over ten years now,” said Lady Guinevere, but she was unable to go into any more detail than that before being interrupted by the clack of shoes on stone as someone rounded the corner into their corridor.

“Talking about Merlin again, are you, Gwen?” said Princess Morgana with a smile, coming to a stop beside Guinevere and linking their arms together. Guinevere blushed and Erec pointedly avoided eye contact, because really, what was it with the Court of Camelot and everyone’s disregard for proper titles? He wouldn’t wish to spend even a second under King Uther’s reign, but it certainly wasn’t something that would be tolerated there.

“Lancelot mentioned that Merlin would be returning from the Druids soon, and Sir Erec asked us to tell him about him.”

At his name, Princess Morgana turned her attention—and that same sly smile—to Erec. Never once in his life had he expected to be teased by a princess, especially not one as intimidating as Morgana. She dropped her arm from Guinevere's and said, “You’ve made a grave mistake, Sir Erec. If you value your sanity and your time, do not ask Lancelot or Guinevere about Merlin. Or—gods forbid—Arthur. Never, never ask Arthur about Merlin, for it will be impossible to shut him up afterwards and he talks too much as it is.”

Erec had absolutely no idea how to respond to this, and ended up going with, “R-right, Your Highness.” Idly, he wondered how long he would have to be in Camelot before he was comfortable with people calling the king only by Arthur and asserting that he talks too much as it is. Many of the Knights of the Round Table had been of common birth before being knighted, but the difference between Erec and those such as Sir Lancelot was stark.

“Oh, don't look so afraid,” Princess Morgana smirked, obviously not as unaware of Erec’s inner monologue as he would have liked. “I'm not going to bash your head in.”

This time, Erec elected to remain silent. Lady Guinevere came to his rescue, rolling her eyes and pushing her elbow into the princess's side. “Lord Merlin is the reason for many of the changes made recently in Camelot. It’s hard to overstate his importance.”

He was glad for it. It made him feel better about the changes he was seeing, and about the possibility for more to be done in the future. Erec had travelled far to come to Camelot, but it still seemed that magic had not been legalised for long enough for all of the kingdom’s citizens to have grown fully used to it, yet.

Princess Morgana cast a glance to the entrance to the banquet hall, which Erec had done very well in avoiding until the appearance of her and Guinevere and Lancelot. She hooked her elbow back through Lady Guinevere’s, and then turned her attention back to Erec. This smile—although seemingly genuine—was no less terrifying. Briefly, Erec wondered why King Arthur bothered training an army if all he needed to do to defeat his enemies was to have his sister smile at them like that. “It seems like the time of your feast is approaching, Sir Erec.”

Something about the way she said it made it seem like a death sentence.

Throughout training that day, Erec had been distracted. He'd been unable to stop his contemplation of the empty throne and also the enigmatic look from the princess, and paid so little attention that Sir Gwaine had nearly loped his head off with a battle axe. Sir Leon had scolded Gwaine for it, but the man had been minimally remorseful and insisted that if Erec wasn’t going to pay full attention to his surroundings in the midst of battle, he would be killed a lot quicker than that. Privately, Erec agreed but didn’t say anything for the self-assured look on Gwaine’s face.

After that, he pledged to put the entire matter aside. King Arthur was still occupied by the court and hadn’t yet appeared to supervise them, but Erec knew from experience the harshness of the punishment he would have received from the king for such a blunder. All the other knights knew so too, reflected in the camaraderie in the half-hearted scolding and minimal time as target practice for the other knights, issued as retribution by Sir Leon.

He pledged, that was, to put the entire matter aside until that night, when he could hopefully get the answers he needed at the banquet. It nearly cost him his fingers, this time, when he slipped into distraction again on account of wondering if that was the sort of look that Princess Morgana gave to every new knight in her brother’s court, or if she had judged him and in some way found him lacking. For the second bout of negligence, Leon’s scolding was noticeably harsher, and Erec decided not to reveal the intricacies of his thoughts.

That night, at the banquet, couldn't come soon enough. It felt to be the place wherein Erec would gain his first glimpse into what life in the upper circles of the Court of Camelot was really like. Mostly, he was honoured and excited, but a not-insignificant part of him was wary of what he might find. He couldn't imagine that the last look he’d received from Princess Morgana would result in anything good.

As the evening approached, however, the wariness was the part of him that gained more weight. An entire banquet held for him—even if it wasn't entirely for him, technically—was something he'd only been able to imagine. In the deepest parts of the harshest winters, he could picture platters overflowing with good food and goblets of mead and laughter and companionship. Even as he set upon his journey to become a knight, and even when he imagined succeeding in his quest, it was still mostly fantasy. In general, he supposed this to be one fantasy he would support the fulfillment of, but the idea of being the centre of attention for most of the night left him more than a little ill at ease.

It was a part of the reason he wished to learn the secret of the missing piece in the puzzle of King Arthur's court. The presence of the person who sat at the king's right hand would surely draw some of the attention away from Erec, even if it was a person that all his companions already knew.

When the night came, Erec dressed in his finest clothes slowly. It was not, unfortunately, as slow as he would have liked, as he'd been assigned one of the palace's best servants to assist for the night. The man's name was George, and he was detached, professional, and did nothing to make Erec less nervous. He couldn't help the desire to escape his chambers as quickly as possible.

For nearly an hour, Erec wandered aimlessly around the citadel, trying to find something to distract himself with. In the process, he encountered several of his fellow knights, both those already with positions and a few whose would be formally recognised that night. All had a smile and an encouraging word, with the exception of Sir Gwaine, who nodded somberly at the expression of Erec's hesitation, said, “Nobles,” with a healthy amount of disdain, and invited Erec to accompany him to the tavern. In trying to evade his comrade and also the busier-than-usual corridors, Erec was finally able to escape to the top of one of the parapets.

From there, he had a view of the main road through the lower town, and the bustling activity of the marketplace. He saw several people he recognised, including the Court Physician, a kindly old man named Gaius, by whom Erec had been treated several times already for injuries acquired during training.

His perch also gave him ample time to think, for which he was less grateful. The repetition of his thoughts from before were what eventually drove him to leave; he wasn't sure how long he sat before wandering back into the castle, to visit the main banquet hall and check the preparations for the feast.

At least running into Sir Lancelot there had been enough to distract him from his thoughts.

In contrast to the mildly life-threatening feeling he received from the Princess Morgana, the smile given to Erec by the Lady Guinevere was warm and reassuring. Even as her companion pulled her forward by their still-joined arms to enter the banquet room and seal Erec’s fate forever, she turned her body to keep her eyes on his.

“Don't worry too much, Sir Erec, and don't listen to anything Lancelot tells you; the banquet is—”

She cut off in the middle of her sentence, and for a moment, Erec couldn't see why. Then, her eyes drifted past his, looking at something at the end of the corridor and over his shoulder. All at once, she planted her feet into the floor and stopped any attempts on the part of Princess Morgana to pull her forward.

A smile that was wider even than the one she had given to her husband crossed her face as she exclaimed, “Merlin!”

Erec—in tandem with Lancelot—swivelled around to look behind him. Before his view was blocked, he caught sight of a tall man with dark hair, dressed in a purple shirt and a red cape and running down the corridor towards them.

Chapter Text

As the stranger—who could only be the enigmatic Lord Merlin, Court Sorcerer of Camelot and ambassador to the Druids—raced towards them, Lady Guinevere broke out of Princess Morgana's hold. She ran in a way Erec had seen few ladies run before, holding out her arms for him to catch her when she drew close enough.

He, indeed, did so, and used their momentum to spin a circle that lifted her off of the ground. Their combined laughter echoed down the corridor. Lord Merlin's laugh was deep and his smile wide across his face. Erec felt himself smile, too, just to watch. A glance to the side told him that Sir Lancelot and even Princess Morgana were doing the same.

Lord Merlin set Guinevere back on the ground and took one of her hands in each of his. One at a time, he kissed the backs of both, and in between, said, “My dear Gwen, you get more and more beautiful each time I see you.”

Perhaps, Erec thought, this is what Lancelot had meant when he mentioned that he was not the only one to sing the praises of his wife. Erec had assumed he was speaking of other knights, though, and Lord Merlin did not appear to be a knight. With the only exception being King Arthur, the knights wore chainmail nearly always, making it easy to distinguish them even from a distance. In contrast, Lord Merlin was dressed in the regal, expensive clothes of the highest order of the court. They were clothes, he couldn't help but notice, that bore an unmistakable resemblance to the colour scheme of the empty throne standing to King Arthur's right.

He didn't know what that meant. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe Lord Merlin just, in a completely unrelated coincidence, liked the combination of purple and red. For he held two important positions to the king and court, but that shouldn't be enough to earn him a rank of honour higher than that of the king's own sister.

Lady Guinevere blushed and giggled. She pulled her hands out of Lord Merlin's to lightly shove him in the shoulder. “Stop it, Merlin. Don't exaggerate.”

“But how could I exaggerate about the most beautiful, clever, and competent woman in Camelot?” he grinned. Erec saw that Lancelot was nodding in agreement. There was no animosity there, even towards a man blatantly flirting with his wife.

“Merlin's right, Gwen,” Lancelot went so far as to chime in. It, for the first time, drew Lord Merlin's eyes to something other than Lady Guinevere. He grinned at Lancelot broadly and with nearly the same reverence he'd given to her.

The two of them did not run to each other, but the speed with which they rushed to embrace wasn't very far from it, either.

“Lancelot! I've missed you, my friend.”

“And I you, Merlin. How were your negotiations with the Druids?” asked Lancelot. Their arms were still around each other, and Lancelot held Lord Merlin's face in his hands. The gesture was tender, which only confused Erec further.

So far, there was not a single detail about Camelot that Erec had learned that did not confuse him further.

“They went well.” Lord Merlin finally broke away. “We arrived at a new agreement. I think Arthur will be pleased.”

“When it comes to you, my friend, I don't see how he couldn't be.”

Lord Merlin and Lady Guinevere both laughed. The main thing Erec was able to take note of was the fact that the Court Sorcerer was also among those who called the king without his title. Was that merely a result of the still-inexplicable closeness the two of them seemed to share? It made sense for Princess Morgana to call King Arthur by his name in private. Perhaps the two situations were similar. (He didn’t know how they could be, but perhaps.)

Erec shifted his weight back and forth between his feet, feeling uncomfortable, but regretted the action when it drew his fellow knight's attention to him. Lancelot raised an eyebrow like he had forgotten that Erec was there. He suspected that they all had done so.

Nevertheless, because Sir Lancelot was a noble knight in all ways but one, he attempted to rectify the situation. Erec really wished that he wouldn't. For listening to Lord Merlin, Lady Guinevere, and Sir Lancelot speak had done nothing to clarify anything, and asking questions directly might, actually. But Erec had no idea of how to carry himself in a situation like this. How to act in front of a man that seemed, for all intents and purposes, like he ought to be a normal lord, but whose actions and words suggested a reality very different.

“Merlin, allow me to introduce you to Sir Erec. He arrived in Camelot six weeks ago and today was knighted to a seat at the Round Table. A feast is being held tonight, in his honour.”

Lord Merlin turned his full attention to Erec and smiled. The effect was nearly overwhelming. “I was wondering why everyone was rushing around! Cook banished me from the kitchen before I even got the chance to say hello. It almost felt like old times.”

Here, Lady Guinevere laughed. Lord Merlin turned to grin at her. Erec didn't have time to question it before he continued, “Anyway, it's good to meet you, Sir Erec. Congratulations on earning a spot at the Round Table. The knights who sit there are the best in all of Albion. I'm Lord Merlin, Arthur's Court Sorcerer. Or, well, I'm sure Lancelot's already told you about me.”

Lancelot and Lord Merlin smiled at each other. Erec said, “He mentioned your position, and also that you are ambassador to the Druids, my lord. Everyone I have asked speaks of you very highly.”

It wasn’t a lie, even though Erec had never heard Lord Merlin’s name before today. Both Lancelot and Guinevere spoke of him with something akin to reverence, and if he thought back onto some of the interactions he’d had in the past with other knights—Sir Gwaine in particular—he thought he could now piece together what they hadn’t been saying.

Lord Merlin blushed, smiled widely at Erec like he had just shown a high kindness, and said, “Please, call me Merlin. I've never been overly fond of titles.”

Erec could think of nothing to say except, “Oh?”

It seemed this reaction had been anticipated. Erec supposed it was; not every day did a lord go around demanding that people pay him less respect than that what was due. With another smile, Lord Merlin—Merlin—stepped back and linked his arm through Guinevere's much like how Princess Morgana had. Guinevere laid her head upon his shoulder and smiled up at him.

“I used to be a servant here, before I was granted lordship. I was Arthur's manservant, back when he was a prince. So did Gwen, in fact. She was Morgana's maidservant before she married Lancelot.”

Part of Erec wished to ask what it was that possessed King Arthur to grant lordship to a servant, but he thought that might be rude. The rest of him was more than a little shocked.

Maybe he shouldn't have been. It was a plausible leap, he supposed, from lifting the restrictions against men of common birth becoming knights. Maybe King Arthur had even made that decision based upon input from Lo—Merlin—or from Guinevere.

Fingerprints of Lord Merlin's influence, it seemed, showed themselves all over life in Camelot. Erec could see them now that he knew what he was looking for, and he supposed he understood the magnitude of what he was dealing with. But still, he did not believe it to be high enough to explain some of what he saw, nor did he understand how the prince's manservant had gained such a place of importance at the beginning.

Not entirely sure how to react, Erec decided to play it safe and gave a small bow. “Well, it’s an honour, then, Merlin.”

It was, it seemed, a good thing to say. But so far, Merlin hadn’t reacted to anything Erec or anyone else had said with anything less than enthusiasm. In this case, he grinned that same overwhelming smile. Erec could tell, though, that his attention laid elsewhere, which was fine. He was about to be the centre of attention for however long the feast took; right now, he was fine to listen to his three companions catch up. He was sure they were all more interested in each other than they were in him, and, frankly, so was he right now.

Speaking of which. Erec turned around to look for Princess Morgana, who had been standing behind him. She was gone, now, and Erec couldn’t remember seeing her since Lady Guinevere pulled away from her to say hello to Lord Merlin. She had slipped away without any of them noticing, but Erec didn’t know how long it had been.

He didn’t have to wait very long to get his answer. Lancelot and Merlin were discussing details of the new treaty with the Druids (and Erec and Guinevere were watching) when he heard the sound of footsteps coming down the corridor. All four of them turned at the sound, to see Princess Morgana smiling at them.

“Merlin!” she called, extending her arms as Guinevere had, but not speeding up her pace. Like before, Lord Merlin ran to embrace her.

He kissed her cheek in addition to the backs of her hands, but Erec didn’t fool himself into thinking that it was a mark of status. His greeting of, “It’s wonderful to see you again, ‘Gana,” was warm and familiar, but he didn't spin her in the air like he had with Lady Guinevere. Perhaps it was for no reason more than that the princess was more regal and wouldn't condone such a gesture. At this point, Erec hadn't the faintest idea about the specific dynamics between the members of this group. (With the possible exception of Sir Lancelot and Lady Guinevere, who could not make it any clearer that they were married.)

“Your visit to the Druids was pleasant, I hope? It's been so long since I was able to make the trip, but I've heard wonderful news of progress now that our two leaders have established an actual peace agreement. You must take me with you next time. I'm sure there's all manner of new spells for me to learn, and it would be a welcome break from here.”

Erec hadn't known that the princess was a magic user. He was unsure about what it meant for his perception of Lord Merlin's importance to the king. Perhaps some of the changes King Arthur had implanted had really been in the interest of his sister, not his friend.

Merlin grinned rakishly. “Careful, Your Highness. Any more talk like that and one might suspect you of being critical of the Crown of Camelot. And we all know how much you'd hate to give that impression.”

Princess Morgana rolled her eyes fondly and shoved Lord Merlin in the shoulder. “You shut your mouth, Merlin Pendragon!”

At that name—Pendragon—Erec froze. How could he not?

Pendragon. Merlin. Pendragon. Merlin Pendragon. There were exactly two Pendragons of whom Erec knew: King Arthur and Princess Morgana. Except now, apparently there wasn't. Apparently, now there was a third, and Erec had spent six weeks in Camelot without hearing so much as a whisper suggesting such.

Merlin and Morgana looked similar enough that, for a moment, he considered that perhaps Lord Merlin was another long-lost child of Uther. Twins, or sharing a mother with Morgana otherwise, perhaps. But someone would have mentioned so, surely. And surely, were that the case, Merlin would have been a prince and not a lord. And he never would have been King Arthur’s manservant.

Sir Lancelot and Lady Guinevere laughed at Princess Morgana's jest and Lord Merlin's exaggerated gesture of offense. Vaguely, Erec heard Merlin inquire something about the king. He'd so far never been more grateful for his invisibility.

He didn't know how to interpret the remaining ways by which Lord Merlin could be a Pendragon. Partly because he didn't see any way for him to be such but still have no status higher than lordship and Court Sorcerer.

He wished to ask. Would it be rude to ask? However one looked at it, Erec had just addressed a member of the royal family by his given name. Lord Merlin—Prince Merlin?—had asked him to do so, he supposed, but Erec had not recognised him. He had not recognised a man who, any way he could slice it, held a rank significantly far above his own. Erec had been in Camelot for six weeks, and although he had never heard the name Merlin before today, he hadn't even known that there was another member of the Pendragon family.

So, yes, it would surely be rude to ask.

In case he doubted—and he had to admit that he did, because it was just so outrageous—at that moment, Lord Merlin turned his back to Erec to address something Sir Lancelot said. Erec was able to glimpse the back of his red cape, and it put any disbelief he’d harboured to rest.

Earlier, Erec had noticed the quality of the shirt Lord Merlin wore. It was purple and made of silk, which were two things generally reserved for royals. The craftmanship, also, was too fine for such a tunic to belong to a peasant. It possibly might have convinced him that Lord Merlin was a Pendragon.

This cape, on the other hand, was made of a material he thought to be burlap. Erec recognised it easily; it was what much of his clothing had been made of back when he was a peasant in Mercia. Merlin mentioned that he used to be such himself, so perhaps it was more the style that he was accustomed to wearing. Erec might even have taken it as indication that Lord Merlin was not, indeed, a Pendragon, were it not for the design on the cape’s backside.

A dragon. The design was a dragon. The golden crest of a large dragon curled across the middle of the cape’s back, and it was undoubtedly the same dragon as that on the Pendragon crest. The very same crest found on banners across the castle, and on the chainmail and cloaks of all the knights of Camelot.

This, though, doubtless did not belong to a knight. The material was of poorer quality than that used to make the knights’ cloaks, giving it a personalisation. Undoubtedly, the cape had been made for its owner, and who else but a Pendragon would receive such a service?

So, now, the only question remaining was how, and Erec didn’t see any obvious answers.

Although… Lord Merlin and Princess Morgana were speaking again, and this time, Erec took a closer look. Lord Merlin had that same wide smile on his face that he had for the entire conversation, but Princess Morgana was watching him with a soft, fond look and seemed happier than Erec had seen her be with anyone else, her half-brother included. If Merlin was not a Pendragon by birth and it seemed unthinkable for King Uther to have adopted a magic user, then the only remaining method was by marriage. It seemed as likely a truth as any, Lord Merlin having married King Arthur’s sister.

He continued to watch. Princess Morgana giggled at something Lord Merlin said, and he squeezed her close in a side hug. They had not kissed, but perhaps the princess was uncomfortable with such public affection. (It did not seem like Lord Merlin was.) His theory was seeming more and more plausible.

If such an assumption were the truth, it would explain much of what Erec had seen and heard about Merlin. Being Court Sorcerer, ambassador to the Druids, and husband to the sister of an unmarried, childless king would surely offer him a very senior position in the court. He did not quite think that it would be enough to sit at King Arthur’s right hand, but perhaps it was an agreement the three of them had reached together? Either way, this was, by far, not the biggest mystery about the Court of Camelot.

Also, perhaps Lord Merlin had been granted lordship and not crowned a prince because Princess Morgana had fallen in love with a servant, and prince could be an overwhelming jump for someone who had previously held the title of manservant.

It might be rude to ask, but Erec was feeling confident enough in his assumption to guess and ask for confirmation. At the next lull in the other four’s conversation, he looked between Lord Merlin and Princess Morgana and asked, “Forgive me for being so bold, but are you two married?”

He had thought his question to be quite insightful, but it was met with a long stretch of stunned silence. Erec looked between Merlin, Morgana, Guinevere, and Lancelot, and all of them wore the exact same expression of surprise. Their stretch of corridor had gone absolutely silent, save for the distant noise of the castle staff setting up for the feast.

Even stranger than the silence was what came after. After exchanging a look, Lord Merlin and Princess Morgana burst into laughter at almost the exact same moment. Erec looked between the two of them as they collapsed into hysterics, and was unsure whether or not he should be offended. Although they did not laugh, Lancelot and Lady Guinevere wore smiles of their own.

Eventually, Lord Merlin realised the way that their reaction seemed. Slowly, he calmed himself down and turned to Erec (although he still had quite a large smile as he did so). “Please forgive me, Sir Erec,” he said, “But I can assure you that not until hell freezes over would I marry Morgana. I’m quite content with the relationship I’ve got, thanks.”

Erec could feel himself blushing.

“Like I'd want to marry you, Merlin!” Princess Morgana said, and it was Lord Merlin's turn to blush.

Now, Erec was entirely unsure about what was happening, but he thought it prudent to apologise, and maybe to finally put to rest this line of questioning.

Lord Merlin, though, waved aside his apology. “Don't be sorry; our reaction was insensitive. But, Morgana and I are not—nor ever will be—married. Now, I think the feast is scheduled to begin soon.”

Listening to the sounds coming from the entrance to the hall, behind them, Erec noticed that it seemed to be louder and filled with more voices than before. He was about to agree and bid his companions adieu to go assist in final preparations. As the guest of honour, it would only be polite.

Before he got the chance, there was the sound of another, new voice, louder and much closer than the muffled ones of servants behind closed doors. The voice of someone further down but in the same corridor as them. The sound of multiple sets of footsteps on the stone confirmed it even before Erec could hear a second voice. Instinctively, he stood up straighter.

For the first was the voice of King Arthur.

Erec was not afraid of King Arthur, not per se. He thought him to be kind, fair, and competent as a ruler, and usually enjoyed the chances he'd had to interact with the man since coming to Camelot. Usually, though, he had not shown grievous disrespect to multiple members of the king's family, disrespect that had resulted in both of them laughing in his face. So, right now, Erec felt himself to be justified in his desire to avoid King Arthur.

From the sound of the king's voice, he was walking down a side corridor and getting closer to them. As his voice grew louder, Erec could hear him instructing a servant about last-minute preparations for the feast. One such had to do with the whereabouts of Princess Morgana, and Erec turned to look at her reflexively.

She was smiling widely—as widely as she had smiled at Lord Merlin—and looking back and forth between the doorway King Arthur was sure to emerge from in a moment and Lord Merlin himself. Lord Merlin looked inordinately pleased, but also like he was trying not to show it. When he saw Erec watching him, he blushed and turned to look at Guinevere. She and Lancelot wore expressions similar to Morgana's.

“And one more thing, George,” came King Arthur's voice, now right before them, “I need you to send a message to the—”

Rounding the corner to stand in the corridor just a bit away, King Arthur cut off his sentence as his eyes landed upon the five of them. As his gaze skimmed over Erec, he made a gesture to dismiss his servant. Then, it followed to land upon Sir Lancelot, Lady Guinevere, Princess Morgana, and Lord Merlin, and he abruptly went still. His eyes went wide and his jaw slackened just a bit in the most un-kingly gesture Erec had ever seen him make.

It was unclear upon who the king was looking until Erec turned and saw Lord Merlin with a radiant grin and both hands clapped over his mouth.

Then, King Arthur breathed, “Merlin,” and began to smile himself.

Just as abruptly as it had come, the king's smile turned into what Erec might describe as a pout, had it been upon anybody else. “Merlin, you prat, you didn't say anything about returning today!”

In the six weeks Erec had been at Camelot, he had heard King Arthur be this informal a few times when scolding his knights. Even still, he never could have dreamed to hear the king call someone a prat. He supposed the two of them being—theoretically—related could explain the familiarity, but not the insult. Especially when it was preceded by a look like that.

Things got even stranger as Lord Merlin responded, “We finished early. It was a surprise, clotpole!”

Clot… pole? Erec had absolutely no idea how to react to what was happening. Or what was happening, even.

Maybe they were related, actually. King Arthur and Lord Merlin. Erec had never been close with his own siblings, but from what he'd heard from those who were, affectionate insults were sometimes a part of such a relationship. They didn't look anything alike, though. Lord Merlin having married into the Pendragon family was still the possibility that made the most sense, but if he hadn't married Princess Morgana, who else was there?

That same smile from before returned to the king's face as he spread his arms. “Idiot. You absolute idiot.”

Like he had with the others—and despite the insults—Merlin ran into them. Erec caught a glimpse of his face as he passed, and his eyes looked like they had tears in them. He was even more shocked to look to King Arthur and see the same.

Their hug lasted much longer than Lord Merlin's had with Guinevere or Sir Lancelot. Lord Merlin was a bit taller than the king, but he managed to duck his head so that it was below King Arthur's, and against his shoulder. The king turned his head in Erec's direction, and that was the only reason he heard the next words. “By the gods, I missed you.”

Whispered into the top of Lord Merlin's hair, it was very clear that these were words meant for Lord Merlin and for no one else. It had been a long time since Erec had seen someone look at another person with the expression King Arthur had upon his face right now, and such a look wasn’t even directed at anyone else. Lord Merlin’s head was still down against his shoulder, and King Arthur had his eyes closed, anyway.

Lord Merlin turned his head and spoke his reply against the skin of King Arthur's neck. “I missed you, too. So much.”

It was such an abrupt transition in tone that Erec was left speechless.

After that brief interaction, the two hugged silently for long enough that Erec began to feel uncomfortable. Although, truthfully, that may not have taken very long. He was intruding on an intimate moment that he did not understand. It was almost a relief when what Lord Merlin said next was, “You have a new treaty now. In case you were wondering.” Although he didn't pull away or even move the position of his head.

King Arthur only wrapped his arms tighter around Lord Merlin's waist. “Shut up, Merlin. I haven't seen you in eight weeks; I honestly couldn't care less about the treaty right now.”

Lord Merlin snorted, but he seemed pleased. “Some king you are.”

Just as Erec was contemplating the merits and plausibility of making a tactical escape, Princess Morgana shattered any kind of moment entirely. Her suddenly speaking up startled Erec so badly he actually jumped into the air.

“Well, this is all horribly sentimental,” she grinned like an animal with its prey in its sights. “I'm proud, Arthur. Didn't know you had it in you.”

The exasperated way in which King Arthur sighed indicated that this was not an uncommon sort of interaction between the two of them. Erec had figured such might be true, by the way she had spoken to him, Lancelot, and Guinevere. It was turning out to be quite a strange evening; Erec had learned more about the highest members of Camelot's court in the last few hours than he had in the entire six weeks he'd been at Camelot before them.

Although he did turn his attention to his half-sister, King Arthur still did not release Lord Merlin from his arms. Instead, he dropped his chin to the top of Lord Merlin's head as the two of them regarded her together. Erec almost gave a panicked sort of laugh, because their matching judgmental looks were quite overwhelmingly intimidating.

“Yes, thank you for your input, Morgana,” the king said dryly, before adopting a sly smile that looked much like her own. “Would you like a demonstration of my full ability to be sentimental?”

And then, before Princess Morgana or anyone else had a chance to answer, King Arthur turned back to Lord Merlin, placed a finger under his chin, tilted his face upwards, and kissed him square on the mouth.

From somewhere behind him, Erec heard a laugh from someone that he thought sounded suspiciously like Lady Guinevere. It was impossible to tell for sure, though, because Erec was too busy trying to pry his jaw closed from where he was sure it had dropped to the floor in his complete and utter shock.

In the midst of this, he still somehow had the wits about to notice that Lord Merlin did not seem to be surprised by King Arthur's reaction. In fact, he was kissing back with the same abandon with which a man dying of thirst might drink from a well.

Now, Erec definitely felt as though he were intruding on a private moment. One that, despite his best attempts, he still did not fully understand. Leaving, however, did not even cross his mind, as it had before. At least all three of his previous companions were still there, and King Arthur hadn't seemed to remember his presence yet.

At least, now, he could almost certainly rule out the possibility of Lord Merlin and King Arthur being blood relatives. They didn't look anything alike, anyway.

When King Arthur tried to pull away, Lord Merlin followed him with another kiss. The king, also, didn’t look startled by this turn of events, and Erec assumed that he had been right about Lord Merlin’s fondness for public affection. Perhaps some of it was because Lord Merlin had been gone from Camelot for two months, but Erec had never before seen such an overt display from a king, or any other noble for that matter. Some of it was surely because he had never been terribly close to one before, but even still, he could scarcely imagine any other of the few he'd met being comfortable with such.

Perhaps part of it was because King Arthur and Lord Merlin believed themselves to be among close friends. Once again, Erec wished he’d escaped while he had the chance.

But who was Lord Merlin, really, that he got to behave as such to the king of Camelot?

When Lord Merlin finally pulled away for breath, he leaned his forehead against King Arthur's and smiled with his eyes closed. It was almost a more intimate moment than their kissing.

Princess Morgana interrupted the sentimentality much as she had before, but precipitated as her comment was by an exasperated sigh, it did not startle Erec this time. “Yes, thank you Merlin. We get it.”

Lord Merlin hummed in acknowledgement and opened his eyes, but otherwise neither he nor King Arthur looked away from each other. “Sorry, 'Gana, but you did ask.” He paused to exchange another kiss with King Arthur, before finally facing her and saying, “Plus, I've been away for eight weeks; I'm damn well allowed to kiss my husband if I feel like it.”

King Arthur chuckled a little at his… but it was barely able to be heard over the strangled noise that involuntarily tore itself from Erec's mouth.

All five of the others—even Lancelot and Guinevere, who hadn't spoken for nearly as long as Erec—froze when they heard it. And then, and then, they slowly, slowly turned to face him. And to his eternal horror, King Arthur's blue eyes grew wide in recognition.

Had he really expected for the king of Camelot not to recognise one of the men he had bestowed knighthood upon that very morning? Perhaps a sort of desperate hope was a more apt descriptor.

Quickly, the king dropped his arms from Lord Merlin and pulled away. He even stepped slightly in front of Merlin, as if to shield him from Erec. That—and the hurt look on Lord Merlin's face, directed at King Arthur—made him feel even more horribly guilty. “Sir Erec.”

He thought he managed to stutter out a, “Your… Your Majesty.” It achieved nothing beside making everyone else standing in the corridor turn to look at him. King Arthur looked stunned, Lord Merlin looked put out, and Erec didn't really want to see the expressions on the others’ faces.

In an attempt to get rid of those expressions as soon as possible, Erec found himself rambling on. He was not entirely sure what he was saying until he heard it. “I… my apologies, Your Majesty… Your Majesties. I didn’t mean to… to intrude or, um, overhear, it’s just. I was standing here, with Lancelot and. With Sir Lancelot and Lady Guinevere and Princess Morgana, and Lord Merlin arrived, and I was curious, and then you did, too, and I didn’t know if I should, um. I’m sorry, sire, so sorry—”

“—Sir Erec!” Erec finally was able to shut himself up as King Arthur’s voice took on a—if slightly amused, and really, he didn’t know how to interpret that—stern tone. He now looked a terrifying combination of mortified and entertained.

Husband. Lord Merlin was the husband to King Arthur. Not only was King Arthur married—something that Erec had been wrong about for two entire months—but he was also married to a man. A man who had previously been a servant.

Okay.

Anything that Erec had previously feared about King Arthur's regime being too similar to that of King Uther's was, it seemed, to be completely and entirely discarded.

Forcing away his thoughts, Erec took a deep breath to try and salvage something from this rapidly-worsening disaster. He turned to Lord Merlin, still hiding slightly behind King Arthur, and bowed deeply. “Please accept my most sincere apologies, Your Majesty, for the lack of respect with which I have treated you. I did not realise your status, but I know that is no excuse and hope you can find it to give me another chance.”

Even before Erec finished speaking, Lord Merlin was making sounds of protest, but Erec still pushed through to the end before standing back up straight.

“Sir Erec!” Merlin was saying, and when he finally had Erec's attention, he paused. “Is it alright if I call you Erec?”

Mutely, Erec nodded. Lord Merlin smiled and then continued, “You don't need to apologise. You've done nothing wrong. First, I'm not a prince or a king, even though I'm married to one. I'm a lord, and you've treated me with the respect due as such. Although I wouldn't have been upset if you hadn't.”

“I—what?”

Lord Merlin shuffled on his feet and smiled wryly. “You already know I used to be a servant. When Arthur became king and found out that I have magic—which, not the most fun experience of my life, can't lie—he granted me lordship and made me Court Sorcerer. It was the lowest rank I could get him to agree to, and I didn't speak to him for almost a week after because he insisted on promoting me at all. I would have been happy staying as his manservant, and what I said before still stands. Not a huge fan of titles.”

Maybe it was something about the way he said the word this time, for he had said it before, but now something just clicked in Erec's mind, like a puzzle piece slotting into place. “Is that the reason why many of the knights and nobles address each other with just their given names? It was something I noticed but that I hadn't seen in any other court.”

Lord Merlin beamed like he was proud. “Yes, it is. When I was Arthur's servant, I would call him Arthur and prat and a bunch of other things that he should have fired me for but never did. Some of the knights—like Gwaine—caught on and eventually it became the way it is now. A lot less formal than in the days of Uther, I bet you can imagine.”

Erec had absolutely no trouble imagining it. It was slightly harder to visualise the former king accepting such blatant insubordination from his son’s personal manservant. His son’s personal manservant, who also had magic and loved and was loved by his son. Lord Merlin and King Arthur must have been very good at hiding, back when King Uther was alive, Erec thought.

He wondered what it was that had started the change. What it was that had thrown everything out into the open. Was it as simple as King Arthur implementing a slow reversal of policies once he had been crowned? Arthur had risen to the post upon King Uther's death, so at least he didn't have his father to oppose him. It seemed unlikely, though, that Uther Pendragon had been the only one of his peers to hate magic as much as he had, elsewise the persecution of magic users wouldn’t have been as widespread and feared as it became. Surely, he would have filled his council with those who believed similarly to him, and they would have been around even once he was gone. Erec hadn't seen enough of the high circles to know if King Arthur had been able to change his father's advisors' minds, or if he'd simply replaced them with people who shared his own beliefs. About magic and otherwise.

Actually, probably it was the second one. Lord Merlin had been elevated from manservant to lord even before wedding the king, it seemed. And the little quirks and strangeness in the behaviour of the court's upper circles could only come from people who had risen through the ranks along with King Arthur and Lord Merlin, and who could be trusted always to possess absolute loyalty. Upon being crowned, King Arthur had imposed radical change, and he would have been unable to do it without those he could trust most in the world by his side.

Court Sorcerer, ambassador to the Druids, and, now, husband to the king was quite enough, Erec thought, for the place at King Arthur's right hand to well and truly belong to Lord Merlin. Additionally, since it seemed that Merlin already had the trust of the kingdom's biggest group of peaceful magic users, he would be the perfect person to help bridge the gap between past and future and usher in the new age of Camelot that King Arthur hoped to build.

Not to mention the fact that Lord Merlin had magic himself. Listening to them talk, it seemed likely that Merlin had been King Arthur’s closest advisor even before the two of them married. Such a decision—to appoint someone the people already knew and trusted—surely would have made the process of reintroducing magic into Camelot easier for everyone.

Perhaps Erec should have had more faith in King Arthur’s rule than he did. Although he had been worried about what would happen to Camelot in the aftermath of such a sudden policy change, he actually had not heard all that much bad news about how the changes were going during his travels. Maybe things had happened more gradually than he had feared, or maybe he underestimated King Arthur’s competence. Suddenly, he was very glad that he had kept his thoughts to himself.

Although, by the looks Lancelot had been giving him for the past several minutes, like he was waiting for Erec to arrive at the conclusion he just had, perhaps his scepticism was more obvious than he had thought. He tried not to blush, lest he prove Lancelot right.

King Arthur looked back and forth between Lord Merlin and Erec, who were still looking at each other. “You two have met?” he asked, and sounded almost upset about it.

Erec knew he was not the only one to think so. Lord Merlin turned to the king and smirked. “I was here in this corridor before you, remember? I was having a lovely chat with Sir Erec, Lancelot, Gwen, and Morgana before you interrupted.”

“Interrupted? I am the king, Merlin. I do not interrupt,” King Arthur responded, but it was with another pout. Erec had had no idea that Camelot’s king pouted so much. He wondered if that was something about which the other Knights of the Round Table teased him; there were certainly enough other reasons for doing so that they could list.

“Of course you don’t,” Lord Merlin placated, patting King Arthur on the arm condescendingly.

“You still can’t address me like that.”

“Sorry. Of course you don’t, Your Majesty.”

By the smiles twitching at the corners of both their mouths even as they tried to keep straight faces, it was an inside joke. It did further a belief that Erec had long held, though. It was a belief that he had been developing over the six weeks he’d been at Camelot, seeing the respect and care that King Arthur held for his knights, and the kindness with which he treated the people who came to him for help. In a way that Erec had yet to see in any other kingdom, Arthur was a touchable, human king. Perhaps the most so out of any of them in Albion.

Surely a lot of it was because of Lord Merlin; because Arthur had fallen in love with a man who was a commoner and a magic user and everything that Uther Pendragon would have detested. He wondered what Prince Arthur had been like before he met Merlin, and was glad that it had happened. The way his husband tempered him—and had, probably, even when they were master and servant—was surely a part of why Camelot’s prosperity was as much as it was. Royal birth does not a good king make.

Camelot’s Knights of the Round Table were considered the best in all of Albion. Erec was honoured that his skill had been shown to be great enough to join them. But for the first time, he was glad to pledge his life to a king and court whose ideals he truly believed in, and equally honoured to play his part in protecting a great cause, and a great man.

More than one great man. The knights, seemingly, were just as loyal to Lord Merlin as they were to his husband, if the affection with which Lancelot spoke of him was any indication.

Standing in the corridor as they were, Erec had been able to hear the sound of footsteps and chatter as people arrived for the feast and began entering the banquet hall. It had been going on for several minutes, to the point where he knew the feast would truly be starting shortly and all of their presences would be anticipated. Someone would surely stumble upon them soon, in search of the three members of Camelot’s royal family. Plus, this was Erec’s feast. And he felt like he was finally ready for it.

King Arthur and Lord Merlin were still engaged in their insult-heavy form of flirting, but Erec broke it as he stepped forward and bowed to each of them in turn. They both blinked at him in similar looks of surprise.

To the king, he said, “It is an honour to pledge my life to serve you, Your Majesty. You are a kind and just king, and I look forward to supporting you as your loyal knight.”

To Lord Merlin, “Once again, my lord, please forgive me for the way I have behaved. I was surprised to learn of your positions, but it truly is a pleasure to meet you. In the future, I hope that we can work together more closely. I’m curious as to your approach to the reintroduction of magic into Camelot, and have suggestions from what I observed in my home of Mercia. The knights all think of you very highly, my lord, and I wish that one day, I will be worthy of doing the same.”

Erec was a bit surprised when Lord Merlin didn’t immediately reject his apology. As he stood back up from his bow, he saw Merlin watching him with a slight smile and an inexplicable look in his eyes.

“Well, Sir Erec,” he said, “what’s stopping you?”

King Arthur laughed and Erec’s mouth dropped open. He stepped forward and offered his arm to Lord Merlin. Lord Merlin looped his own through it, and the king turned to Erec. “It seems we have much to look forward to. Now come, Sir Erec,” and here, he gestured down the corridor, to the open double doors and the room beyond, all of it in anticipation of him, “your feast awaits.”

Erec opened and closed his mouth a few times without saying anything. Then, he dipped his head slightly to the king and turned around. He led the way into the banquet hall, King Arthur, Lord Merlin, Princess Morgana, Sir Lancelot, and Lady Guinevere trailing after him.

The room went silent as they entered, and every head turned to face them. Erec caught sight of the other recently-knighted men, and took his place among them. They crossed the room as a group and knelt in a line at the foot of the three empty thrones.

Something about the tone of the silence changed as the royal family walked straight through the centre of the hall, towards where Erec and the other knights knelt. Walking on King Arthur’s left, Princess Morgana smirked at Erec. On his right, Lord Merlin offered a smile that was more genuine. His arm was still hooked with the king’s.

And then, Arthur, Merlin, and Morgana Pendragon took their places upon the dais. King Arthur stepped forward to address the room while his husband and his sister fell back, standing just behind his shoulder on either side.

“It is my great honour to announce the newest knights of Camelot. The men who kneel before you have trained hard for the right to do so. We are here tonight to celebrate all the accomplishments they have gathered so far, and all the ones they will in the future as they fight in the name of Camelot. Let the feast begin!”

A cheer went through the room. King Arthur stepped back so that he was shoulder-to-shoulder with the other two, all three of them standing in front of their respective thrones as they looked upon their people. For the first time, Erec saw the way that King Arthur was used to moving around Lord Merlin, anticipating where he would be standing or sitting with an effortlessness born of familiarity. He was sure he’d notice the same thing to be true in regards to Princess Morgana, were she not there.

But for the first time since Erec arrived in Camelot, all three spots were filled. And the red of Lord Merlin’s cape, and the purple of his shirt, matched perfectly with the red and purple silk draped around the back of his throne.