The Witch of Camelot

Forty-Two...sometime later

Forty-two

So the years melted on and before I knew it Arthur was turning fourteen. We held a celebration in his honour, inviting Troilus, Lucile, Percy and Tor, who was on his winter visit, an annual occurrence by that time.   We raised our glasses to the young prince each in the room now aware of the truth but it was never spoken of. Until Uther came to claim him, Arthur was still my cousin, my uncles ward, a boy from the highlands whose life had been rebuilt since coming to Camelot.  We had grown closer as the years had aged and us with them. The pair of us had become utterly inseparable and with the occasional addition of Percy or Tor or it was not unusual for us to been seen roaming the streets laughing with the easy joy of friendship.

                Despite my gift I did not know that before long this cheerful peace would be shattered. It would take one man and one woman to snatch all the childhood naivety away from us and throw us in to the real world of politics, warfare and royalty. It was a world, although we talked of it constantly that neither Arthur nor I was ready to enter. There would be unknown hardships ahead and even I was sent no warning. Still one will forever claim unreadyness until a situation is thrown upon them.

…..

The evening’s celebrations were a fine success, not that any other would be expected with my own organisation skills and the food was eaten in hearty appreciation just as the mead was consumed with a jubilant pace.  It was past the second hour of the next day when Arthur and I finally retired to our room having bid the rest of the company a drunken farewell. Even the young Prince was somewhat worse for wear, having never drunk so much, so strong, in his life. After all fourteen was quite the age to start acting more like a young man rather than an elder child.

                ‘Nim,’ he laughed stumbling through the door, I rolled my eyes without any seriousness as he fell slightly and I lunged to catch him.

                ‘It’s time for bed.’ I ordered mockingly, looping his arm over my head and around my shoulders so that I could lead him there, allowing him to collapse upon it with a thud that made him chortle once more.

                As I turned my back on him to move towards my own he slurred out one more mixed sentence, ‘Never want to leave Nim, ever, never, don’t want him to come.’ I didn’t need to ask who he meant, we both felt the same. Though in comparison to Arthur I knew the inevitability of it all, more of his destiny was revealed to me as time progressed, so unlike him I wasn’t allowed the unrealistic hope that none of it would come to pass.

                ‘Go to sleep Arthur,’ I ordered gently, ‘What will be will be.’

                How right I was…but how little had truly been revealed to me.