A Guest in Camelot (Doctor Who/Merlin)

Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: The BBC owns everything, I just came up with the plot idea.

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Chapter Seven:

Gliding through the doors is something apparently easily done, but unfortunately for Amy she proved that no matter how easy something is it can still be messed up. And so as she stumbled in to the hall, tripping over her dress she was thankful for the knight at her side that grabbed her arm and held her upright, luckily she was early and therefore didn’t embarrass herself in front of too many people.

She was still slightly confused as to who had been wearing the helmet, it was the male who had tackled her and talked to her under the table, her first day in Camelot. Who was he? Why was he in the castle? She was baffled but the question that struck her most; if he works with the knights why did he help her? She supposed it would be difficult to get an answer off him; he probably wouldn’t have time to talk to her now.

Looking around Amy saw the seat which was allocated for her, it was at the Kings table, she was sitting one end and at the opposite end the guests they were welcoming were to be seated. She curtsied to the King who was watching her as she entered; he had most likely seen her fall, out of all the people, the king had seen her fall. She watched him nod at her display of respect and then she took to her seat ensuring that she was not sitting on her dress and then trying to maintain a good posture. She hadn’t eaten since she had arrived in Camelot, she had had many other things on her mind let alone a chance to eat, she was starving but she had to have table manners.

Watching the room fill she couldn’t help but smile, the interactions between men and women were different to those in her time, but she could notice the little glances between the younger ones in the court. Sly little smiles they hoped went unnoticed. Amy found it cute, young love, she knew the feeling. She enjoyed watching people, watching their facial expressions as they spoke or greeted each other, she tried to work out what the conversation would be about, whether it would be chitchat like she was accustomed to or whether the topics revolved around more serious matters.

She was engrossed watching the knights talking wondering whether they were discussing work or their own private lives. “Would you live some ale Amy, I mean Miss Pond?” She was startled but turned around; Gwen was holding a jug and staring at her. Amy allowed her eyes to shift and saw the King was looking at them, of course Gwen was supposed to be formal during the meal times.

“I would love some Ale, thank you Guinevere.” She responded her voice sounding quite posh, she didn’t like the way she spoke when trying to remain formal too.

Gwen leant forward to pour the ale, before leaning back she whispered, “You do know you’ll be sitting next to Prince Arthur?”

Amy shook her head, she had yet to see the prince and had not heard of the seating arrangements, she just knew she was to sit on the end of the table, where she currently was and that she was to be on her best behaviour. She was going to try and not say anything that the guests may find bizarre as she didn’t want to be accused of being a witch especially when Uther had guests invited.

Amy sips her Ale lightly, it’s quite strong and she makes a mental note not to drink too much, she could handle her wines but she doubted she could handle too much of this beverage. Looking drunk in front of the royal family might not be the best thing for her. She could see someone approaching in the corner of her eye but she continued to sip the ale.

“Good Evening M’lady” She heard behind her. Unsure as to whether it was addressed to her or not, she turned around and noticed the blonde male from earlier standing directly behind her, his one arm was leant onto the back of the seat next to her, but his body was faced in her direction.

She pulled her lips into a smile and responded with “Good Evening.” She liked it when people had manners; being dropped into medieval times really meant that they had old fashioned views on things though.

She watches him pull out the chair and sit down next to her, she smiles lightly happy that he wishes to talk to her but then remembers the chair is destined to seat the prince, she is about to comment when the gleaming crown on his head catches her eye. “You’re the Prince?”

He chuckles lightly and meets her gaze, his laughter stopping and his expression becomes puzzled, “You didn’t know?”

Amy shook her head and bit her lip, a sarcastic response could have been produced but she held it back, “No sorry, I had no idea.”

He smiled and shook his head lightly, “Why are you apologising for not knowing who I am Amelia? Prince Arthur, It’s a pleasure.” He grinned; she could sense he was playing her up.

“I tend to want to apologise a lot, I feel as though I am imposing stopping her, So Prince Arthur, What were – Oh am I to call you your highness, Prince Arthur or what? –“She questioned.

He responded “I don’t think What is a suitable name for me, you can call me Arthur. Am I alright to call you Amelia?” 

“No.” She laughed lightly and continued “I would much prefer it if you could call me Amy instead. Can I ask why we encountered the first time the way we did?”

“Amelia….”

“Will you all welcome Lord Anthony?”

The doors opened and in walked an overweight male; he seemed to be in his mid-thirties. Amy would have not have ever called him good looking, he would have been average if he wasn’t so large. It wasn’t even his weight that made his appearance strange, Amelia knew some overweight people who were good looking, but there was something about him, he looked as though he was ready to pop out of his skin. The way he walked, that too made him look strange he looked so uncomfortable as though he didn’t belong and it wasn’t as though he didn’t belong in the court it was like he didn’t belong in the skin he was wearing.

“Anthony’s out on some weight since I last saw him.” Her eyes darted to the side watching the prince who had spoken under his breath, on his mouth played a smirk and she had to supress a little grin of her own at his comment.

The Lord makes his way across the table, taking her hand and stating “My Lady” in a gruff forced voice. It was a polite greeting but she scrunched her nose as soon as she heard the sound, several seconds later her fears were confirmed when Arthur questioned “Did he just pass wind?” Yes the Lord had farted, all was not well and her stomach churned, whether that was down to doubt or the foul smell in front of her, she was unsure.