Burns Too Bright, Lives Too Fast

It had taken them a day to ride from where the portal had dropped them off to the castle, and that was only fair: if nothing else, it limited the chances that they'd be caught. Having shot a deer along the way, Arthur was in good spirits, glad to be home, and perhaps a little happy to have seen his friends, after all.

That mood had shattered when he'd gotten off his horse in the courtyard - a guard had come to get him immediately, and he had been ushered into the throne room without much in the way of information as to why. Fear struck him: what if father had caught them in the lie? A thousand horrible possibilities flashed past his mind in an instant.

"Arthur."

Uther's expression was grim.

"Sire," Arthur returned, bowing deep. "You requested my presence?"

"Yes. I would ask you about the results of your journey, but a worse crisis has struck us." Arthur managed to feel relieved for all of a few seconds-- it quickly evaporated. "Lady Morgana has been taken from us. By all reports, it must be the druids. You will ride out immediately. Leave no stone unturned and no druid alive."

Arthur studiously forced down any reaction he might have had, though his eyes widened. "There are women and children in the druid camps in the area, from what our intelligence has managed to gather," he said.

"Their children will grow up to oppose Camelot, and the women are as ruthless as the men." Uther glared down at him, as if challenging him to oppose - for a moment, he thought of Sunday's conversation with Katchoo, and felt something sink like a stone in his belly. "We are not yet sure of the location of the druid camp that holds her. You will have to search the lower town, and take any druid sympathisers into custody."

Christ. He would have to make father see reason about the innocents involved-- in private. For now, though, he had a job to do. He bowed. "Sire," he said, formally, and spun on his heel, out of the throne room.

"You, you, and you," he ordered, pointing at some guards on his way out. "And Merlin. Come with me."

[[ for merlin, but ooc-okay! spoilers for Merlin 2x03 'The Nightmare Begins' in the comments. yes, we know we're doing these in crazy-order ]]

Two days, the tournament had been on now: two days, and Arthur had yet to be unhorsed. He had been in several matches already, climbing steadily up the ranks. It'd been hairy once or twice, but nothing he couldn't handle.

If he was entirely honest, he'd been terrified that he'd lost his edge during his tenure at Fandom. That he wouldn't know how to aim a lance properly, or fight against someone trained in the regular fashion, or anticipate what moves a horse might make.

But he'd done well so far. In fact, he was now facing the final; just one step away from proving to himself that his fears were wrong, and proving to Uther that months of travel hadn't lessened his son's worth in any capacity.

[[ for minor OCD, Merlin, and yet more taken and altered from Merlin 2x02 ]]

Camelot's great dining hall was vast indeed: the table that stood at the center could seat dozens comfortably. It stretched far along the hall, and currently occupying its length were many dishes - fruit, vegetables, but mostly a large amount of meat.

On one end of the table sat King Uther, pensively munching on a piece of roast pig while he considered his wine goblet. All the way on the other end, several feet of table and chandelier and food away, sat Prince Arthur, idly poking away at his own food.

He snuck Merlin a quick glance before, finally, clearing his throat. "Father," he began.

Uther paused, and lowered his goblet. "Yes?"

"We've received reports that a beast has been sighted in the woods near the northern borders," Arthur continued. This had to go over flawlessly, or they'd never be able to leave the kingdom again. (Possibly a bit overdramatic, but-- look, the need was high, all right? It wasn't like he enjoyed lying to his father, but Mat had sent out that invitation, and it seemed a bit off)

He popped a grape into his mouth.

Uther frowned. "What is the nature of this beast?"

[[ for merlin, a wee scenelet, and dialogue poached from Merlin 2x02. Watch us appropriate canon in ways not originally intended! ]]

It had been several days' walk getting here, with precious little chance to get anywhere near where anyone held horses. And Arthur hadn't had too much coin on him regardless - the villagers might have lended him a horse based by his identity alone if he'd gotten close enough, but he had mixed feelings about taking from the poorer towns along the road to the castle.

What he also held mixed feelings about were the darkening clouds that seemed to gain in number the closer they got. The euphoria of being home was starting to eb away slowly under the tide of concern for the castle and the vague worries about their ability to ever contact Fandom again - although the first was, as always, of greater priority to Arthur.

By the time Camelot's spires became visible, jutting proudly up out of the countryside, the sky had gotten black enough to go for night. It was enough to somewhat dampen the release of homesickness; Arthur's heart seemed to beat faster at the same time his stomach contracted. Anxiety, not an illness he should fall to.

Concern, instead.

And battle-readiness, as the three of them approached the gates and found what laid beyond them to be mostly silent and strewn with rubble-- the same scene as most of the lower town.

At least until Arthur listened closer, and could hear the yelling of knights in the distance.

[[ ocd up! for those who be there! ]]