FAS

Arthur woke up a different man. The fate and destiny of his kingdom were a burden to rest on his shoulders and to fill his dreams with horrific scenes of battles in snow. He had ridden from Ealdor a determined man, ready to follow the most winding path of his cause and to serve justice to the enemies who murdered his father. He woke up in the castle of Nemeton a worried lover, whose main concern was the well-being of a silly stupid overprotective little star. My little star.

Arthur got up and rubbed his eyes. Did I really escape a lamia? Was it true what the knight from the hunting party told about these creatures? Did she intend to drag Modron and Owaine into the caves of Balor to have their seed and kill them? Modron and Owaine.

Arthur was moving in complete darkness, trying to remember where the door to his room was. When he found the door he kicked it open, storming out into the hall with a natural window in the wall. The lush forests were dark-green and brooding, and the sea of leaves lasted until the murky towers of Isgaard mountain chain.

The maidservant of Lady Pellinore was sitting on a stone bench, busy with some needlework.

"Prince Arthur!" she gasped, jumping to her feet.

"And what will your name be?" Arthur inquired politely.

"Stessa," the girl said shily.

"Stessa, would you please tell me what hour it is? And tell me where Modron and Owaine are?"

"It's about to dawn, your majesty."

"Dawn?" Arthur didn't like it. "We arrived shortly before dawn..."

"Your majesty, you slept the whole day and the whole night."

Arthur sighed heavily. I told 'em to wake me before noon. I've wasted a whole day. The hall spun as Arthur's anger filled his sleepy mind.

"I trust Sir Owaine and Sir Modron are still in their beds?" Arthur said, pricking his toes since the chill in the hall was almost palpable.

"They are. I have been instructed to escort you to the pools once you awoke. For a bath, my lord."

"Good. Can you show me to the privy, too? And ask other servants to bring Owaine and Modron to the pools as well?"

After the visit to the privy room, Arthur descended the winding staircase that led to the improvised tower of Lady Pellinore. Stessa was leading him, with a lantern swaying in her hand. She led Arthur along writhing corridors, that were either narrowing or widening before them, and Arthur loved the way the lantern fire shimmered on the ancient blades that would grace the stone walls. He had caught the smell of kitchen chambers and wondered what would be served for breakfast. I can really eat a boar now.

This time, they descended a staircase and went a gloomy corridor that ended in a room of splendor Arthur had never seen before. It was a room with a long square pool of satin waters, high round columns holding the ceiling, and strange marble statues between the columns. In the left wall, a hole had been hammered in the mountain slope that served as a single window and a single source of light in the exquisite hall. The morning light would illuminate the opposite wall, with paintings that told the brief history of Nemeton: forest men hunting, dragons roaming the sky, flames befalling the kingdom, people firing arrows at the sky and survivors hurrying to the Watching Mountain.

"There are cloths to dry yourself after bath, my lord," the girl pointed at the corner of the hall. "I shall send some proper things for you to wear with Sir Owaine and Sir Modron, my lord."

Stessa bowed down and went out of the room. Arthur remained frozen for some time. In the castle of Camelot, servants had to bring bath tubs with hot water up from the kitchen, and often the water had to be scented with fragrant oils so that it wouldn't carry the aromas of the dinner. In the castle of Nemeton, all you had to do was descend to the bottom level of the castle, where an ancient pool had its waters blue and hot.

However, there was no Merlin to wash his hair or scrub his back or... Well, now our baths would much more fun, Arthur thought with a smile, but then the bluish glow of the pool waters reminded him of the gemstone he was wearing. The gemstone that's keeping me alive at the price of Merlin's life.

Arthur undressed himself and followed steps into the pool. The water was surprisingly hot. There must be a source of heat beneath it, right? Arthur dove and swam. The marble pool seemed as large as a lake for Arthur, and he smiled at the sight of tiny red fish that would nibble curiously at his skin. It felt so good to close his eyes and just float, knowing he had some time to rest without threats of Ryence's assassins or lamia or any other magic beasts in the span of his sight. The morning light draw his attention to the paintings on the wall, and Arthur thought about Ashkanar the Obstinate.

He had many dragons and he was able to invade Nemeth and build the Castle of Gedref... Why did he stop? He had dragons to command. He could have conquered any land he wished. Why didn't he save Sigan if he protested his execution so much he had to flee the druid land? The thoughts of dragons and conquest disquieted him, and suddenly, he felt happy about the fact that all dragonlords were gone from the world.

If there were a dragonlord to command the last Great Dragon... Then the whole kingdom would be doomed. This man would've been able to burn cities and cook lords and ladies inside castles. Were he to align with the wrong man...

A loud boom made him open his eyes. He saw Modron and Owaine jump into the pool, dive and send waves against the marble walls. They were laughing and trying to send splashes of water against each other.

"I'm going to drown you both for letting me sleep for so long," Arthur threatened them, swimming their way like a dangerous and hungry sea fish.

"Arthur, for Goddess's sake, you've spent two days without sleep. You had to sleep," Owaine did try to apologize.

"While I was sleeping..."

"Nothing happened," Modron assured him. "I delivered the message to mother. She shared it with her council, but they will not make any decision before you speak to them."

"I shall do it after breaking my fast," Arthur nodded.

"Remember what I told you. It's best they don't know you're heading to Nemeth after Nemeton."

Arthur emitted a heavy sigh. I am so mad at Merlin for lying to me. Will I start my rebellion with lies, too? "How did your mother take the whole story?"

" The whole castle’s mad about me being alive. Mother nearly fainted. Still keeps hugging me all the time, it's like she needs to feel I'm real. And I fell asleep with her sitting on the edge of my bed, as if I were a little boy."

"You are a little boy. You are just sixteen," Owaine giggled.

"Swim closer and I'll show you a little boy."

Arthur rolled his eyes at the sight of Owaine and Modron staging a folly combat in the pool. Green boys. Green boys and my only hope.

***

"Prince Arthur, feel welcome," Lady Pellinore had dressed herself specially for the occasion.

Arthur was summoned to a great round room on the second level, with walls of bare black stone. It had two narrow windows; one looked to the lesser mountain, another one - to the cobweb of a large walled town that occupied two banks of a river not far from the mountain. Seated in chairs beside a great table were the members of Lady Pellinore's council, less than a dozen men who were eying him curiously. Arthur was happy to recognize Sir Notton among them, and it appeared the bearded hunter had winked at Arthur.

"My lady, I thank you for your hospitality," it felt odd to switch to the formal court speech after spending three days in the company of lads who'd often curse and swear. "It is good to be sheltered in your castle after the tiring journey."

"The pleasure is ours. It's not every day that mothers are presented with their sons that come back from the dead," Lady Pellinore smiled. "And this lamia... We've been receiving reports about a creature of magic troubling the life of our small folk... Yet we were helpless to find her."

"The lads roasted a lamia!" Sir Notton said proudly, slamming his fist against the table. "They shall be rewarded!"

"My lord," Arthur smiled. "The only reward I require is the chance to talk to this honorable council and to the Lady of the castle, since Lord Bors is in Camelot."

A guest or a hostage?

"The chance is yours, prince Arthur," Lady Pellinore nodded and took her seat.

"My lords and ladies," Arthur began confidently. "I stand before you, even though I was announced dead weeks ago. As was the heir of this castle. And the heir of the castle of Gedref. Yet no matter what Ryence of House Gingawaine tried to tell you in his letters, we are the solid proof that Ryence is nothing but a treacherous liar. Cunning and full of envy to my late father, yet a liar nonetheless."

Arthur cleared his throat and enjoyed the moment when the looks of the councilor seemed glued to him, so engrossed were they in the words the prince was speaking.

"Ryence lied about many things. He lied about us dying in the patrol on the border with Brechfa, and he lied about the reason of my father's death. Uther didn't die of heart attack, my lords and ladies. Uther had been served poison that was destined to weaken his heart, to make sure it would collapse at the grievous news brought to him."

"Do you have any proof that would support the assumption that Uther was poisoned?" a clean-shaved man to the right of Lady Pellinore asked.

"The proof I have are the assassins that tried to kill me and my knights-to-be in the forest of Brechfa. And the ugly story Ryence tried to spread about me and my family."

"Arthur the Wraith," Lady Pellinore nodded. "I didn't believe it for a single moment. There was something fishy about it, I knew."

"Now Ryence sits upon the throne of my father, the father he had poisoned and murdered in a manner that's not worthy of a great warrior that Ryence undoubtedly was," Arthur concluded. "But he failed. He didn't kill me, and I can't let a usurper sit upon the throne of my father. This usurper tried to kill the heir of your castle as well, remember it, my honorable lords and ladies."

Lady Pellinore glanced at Modron again, as though to check the dark-haired youth had not vanished into thin air.

"You appear weeks after Ryence was elected king. Have you made anything to let Ryence and the other members of the royal court know that you, the heir-apparent of Camelot, survived?" another fair-haired man thrice Arthur's age asked.

"What for, my lord? To let Ryence know where I was? To help his assassins find way and finish what they couldn't finish in the forest of Brechfa?"

"What if Ryence was elected by mistake? What if the members of the court were led to believe that you died? Led by mistake, not by malice? Wouldn't presenting yourself to the court of Camelot help us all correct this mistake?"

"I do not wish to hand myself to the man whom I suspect of murdering my father, my lord. I am widely believed to be a wraith by most of the Camelot guards, my lords and ladies," Arthur reminded them with a smirk.

"Then what is your plan, Arthur Pendragon? And what will you require of us?" Lady Pellinore felt the tension at the council grow.

"I want you to recognize the nature of my cause. The justice of my cause, to begin with. By all the rights and laws of men, I am the rightful king of Camelot. And I mean to spread the word about it and to let people of Camelot know I am alive. I want your council to verify my identity with your seals and call your banners."

The silence that hang above the table was lasting terribly long. Lady Pellinore kept glancing at Modron. The fair-haired old man coughed and rose to his feet.

"My good lords and ladies. Usurper or not, Kin... Ryence of House Gingawaine holds the castle of Camelot, the Mercian trade road, the rich fields of Midlands and its castles. He guards both passes in the White Mountains. If he decided to ignore Arthur's claim, he would do it easily. Nemeton's population hardly surpasses forty thousand, while the Midlands alone have one hundred and forty thousand people. If Ryence raises an army in the Midlands... What other allies do you have? Other people who can support your claim? Without such allies, your rebellion is suicide."

"I have the heir of Gedref by my side," Arthur gestured at Owaine, who straightened himself and tried to broaden his shoulders.

"The castle of Gedref is as impregnable as ours, I grant you that. Sadly, our population numbers are similar, too. Gedref would bring another forty thousand to your side. If Balor rises for you, too, you will have one hundred and twenty thousand people supporting your claim, still less than the number found in Midlands. And if Ryence adds the numbers of Camelot to the numbers of Brechfa..."

Arthur glanced at Modron. I'm sorry.

"I mean to travel to Nemeth and ask King Rodor to verify my identity, too. That would make Ryence think I have the power of Nemeth behind my back."

Whispers rose to shouts behind the table, and Arthur saw Modron slap his face with his palm.

"Nemeth?! That's an outrage. The nemethians will play no part in the fate of our kingdom. The nemethians have no right to open their mouths since they abandoned us and left us open to the dragon's wrath!" the clean-shaved man proclaimed.

"My lord, the days of Ashkanar are far behind us."

"But the treachery of Nemeth is as alive as your breath," the man snapped. "Thousands perished in the Cruel War, and we are not likely to forget it for another century!"

"You have to choose, boy," Sir Notton said, angry too. "Are you the king of Camelot or the prince of Nemeth?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. Modron was right. But I couldn't lie. If I want Merlin to be honest with me, I will not build my cause upon lies. Never.

“Prince Arthur,” Lady Pellinore was trying to make her voice overpower the thunder of other male voices in the great room. “My council will never vote to raise banners for a man who is going to seek help in Nemeth. And I would advise you strongly against asking anything of King Rodor. Besides, raising banners is something only a Lord of Nemeton can order.”

“I am here to command the banners to be raised,” Modron announced to the silence that seized the council at once.

“Impossible,” the fair-haired old man shook his head. “Your father is not dead. He is alive, safe and secure in the castle of Camelot, and by all the rights it is he who is the Lord of Nemeton. You are his heir, and you don’t have the right to give commands before…”

“He is the hostage of king Ryence, you bloody silly goats! In his absence, it is me who should see that Nemeton keeps the sacred vows of the land. I am bound to Arthur by oath. I never mean to break this oath,” Modron’s voice didn’t belong with a sixteen year old lad.

“Enough!” his mother rose to her feet to tower over the council. “We shall write a letter, summoning my husband back to Nemeton. Prince Arthur, you do understand that Ryence will never let my husband travel back to Nemeton if he learns Nemeton is raising banners. I plead you, stay with us until my husband comes back. Bors is the one to hold true power over Nemeton.”

Stay? For how long? When will I see Merlin then?

“My honorable lady, I thank you for the offer. However… would it be too much if I asked you to dispatch two dozen guards to escort me to King Rodor’s palace?”

Come on, good lady, I’ve brought you your son back from the dead. It’s a small favor I’m asking in return.