It was not the first time that he was ushered through palace hallways in such a quick manner; but it was in a much more respectful way. The last time that this had happened to him, he was exiled from the country—hopefully it was not the case again. Although his heart was thumping a bit too loudly, he tried not to think of what the worst case scenario was; his head on a pike for something he did not even know about.
The page presented him and then he was allowed into the King's private chambers. Upon stumbling inside, he noted the room to be very grand and luxurious; as was rather obvious for a King to own. He noted that there was two chambers; the main being for greeting subjects and the one to the far right for his actual sleeping chambers. A long dinner table—probably for twelve people—was placed in front of him, and there were only four chairs; three of which were being used. The king sat on the far right edge while a beautiful woman with black curly hair sat in the middle, and on the left edge was another young man.
"Welcome, Diarmuid," the King greeted as he stood and the two people did as well, out of manners, "I would like to congratulate you on your hunt," he gave a warm smile.
Alright, this is good, Diarmuid smiled and nodded, "Thank you, your majesty,"
"But," there was a change of tone in the monarch's voice and Diarmuid feared the following words, "there seems to be a slight problem," he turned to the other two people at the table.
The lady looked at him with pure rage in her pale green eyes, and then averted her gaze immediately, "You have been branded," she had tried to keep calm.
Diarmuid's eyes grew and he tilted his head.
"So you knew?" She hissed between clenched teeth, "Get him out of here! Out!"
"Morgana," the king growled her way and then turned to Diarmuid, "Forgive my sister; she is only watching out for Camelot. Merlin, if you would please,"
"Yes, your majesty," Merlin, the man at the far left bowed and then approached Diarmuid, "I am positive that it was not your intention to keep this mark from us, as I suspect you do not even know what it means."
"I do not," Diarmuid shook his head.
"Good," Merlin smiled, "could you please show us where it is?" He asked as he looked the Irishman over.
"Of course," Diarmuid nodded and then proceeded to turn around, "It is on my back, I would have to remove my tunic." He then warned after recalling that there was a lady in the room.
"Just take off the tunic, I want to claw that mark out if I need to," she growled in anger.
Diarmuid flinched and did as she asked. He heard the clacks of her heels as she approached him and he felt a chill run down his spine as goose bumps formed all over his body. He then felt a cold slender hand on his back, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose.
"I knew it! It is that annoying Irish witch!" She yelled it, and Diarmuid jumped once more as he felt the sharp nails begin to dig into his skin, "I will do the honours," she hissed as she was ready to claw the brand out of his shoulder blade.
"Morgana." At the sound of the king's voice, Diarmuid was relieved but still felt the tension of the nails on his back; she was ready to drag her nails down it but she dared not disobey the king.
"Morgana, it would be best to lure her in instead, do you not think so?" Merlin was the one to talk now and then Morgana released the pressure in her hand but still kept it over the brand on Diarmuid's back.
The lady groaned, "It is so very annoying and thus I want it out."
"But do you not want to get rid of Youth?" The young white-haired wizard added.
Diarmuid shot his head back towards him, jerking his upper body in the general direction. The movement had caused Morgana to scratch his back, but not hard enough in order to draw blood, "Youth did this to me?" He did not know why he had felt so betrayed but he did.
Morgana scoffed rather loudly and then patted the male's back, "Never trust a witch like her, son," she rolled her green eyes. He should have known what he was getting himself into. But maybe it was not even his fault, a handsome face like his could gain the look of many annoying witches; it was but his misfortune.
"If there is anything that you can do to take the brand out, please do it," Diarmuid pleaded as he did not want yet another curse on him. He had had enough of witches and spells.
"We cannot do that without inflicting pain upon you," Morgana answered, "And as much as I would love to personally skin it off, I cannot do anything but obey my brother."
"Please do it." Diarmuid looked at the king with much anticipation and plead, he was sure that he would listen.
"Not today," Arthur sighed, "I am sure that Merlin can find a way without skinning you." He then looked at Morgana and she rolled her eyes as a short-term response.
"Alright then," Morgana waved her hand in the air and made her way to the door, "just tell me when I can get it off of him, yes?"
"Of course," Arthur sighed, "We would also need your help."
Morgana smirked and then bowed before her brother and waved at the Irishman, "I promise that when that idiotic mark is out I will not ever claw your back again—in anger that is," she winked and then left a very horrified Arthur and Diarmuid behind.
Although his back was slightly stinging, he decided that it was best to head to the training grounds and keep in shape before he was sent to clean anything else. Upon arriving at the grounds, he was glad to hear the sound of clashing metals; it was most calming for him—it recalled him of the good old days.
With the sun high in the sky and the Knights—and knights-to-be—practicing, he had almost forgotten about the mark on his back as he lifted a sword in the air. It had been quite a while since he held one and it felt good on his shoulders, that it seemed to help him calm down and forget everything about witches. He rolled his shoulders and wished to swing the sword. After a knight had offered to be his partner, they begun to spar.
"I thought I would have found you here, Diarmuid," he heard the familiar voice of the King call out to him and he quickly turned around to face the royal.
"My King," He headed to bow but Arthur stopped him with a simple word.
"No," he spoke, "When we are training, we are equals and I am simply Arthur. I am only 'King' when in the throne room and wherever else I need to be, alright?" There was a genuine look on his features and Diarmuid nodded.
"Yes, si—Arthur," The Irishman was quick to recognize and fix his error.
"Good. Just remember that I am your friend right now." A smile formed on the man's lips, "I came out here because I wanted to apologize for my sister's...sudden outrageous behaviour. She is usually not like that at all, and I swore that your curse was not effective towards her as well...I must have been mistaken. Anyway, I am sure that she has made you quite uncomfortable, but I can hopefully assure you that she will not do it again."
"Do not fret, Arthur, I have gotten worse than what your sister has said to me," Diarmuid laughed a little bit light-heartedly. Yes, it was something he was ashamed of, but the young king looked much more like a scolded child that he felt compelled to lighten his mood.
"Really?" The royal furrowed knitted his brows together in some sort of wonder, "Like what?" He was clearly curious and Diarmuid had no other choice because it was his king's wishes.
Diarmuid gulped and ran a hand through his curly hair, "They are much too inappropriate to say out loud, so I must tell you in secret."
Arthur nodded quickly and leaned towards the other male. After he had heard worse than what his sister had implied, well, he brought a hand to his open mouth to cover the surprise. "Women actually said this to you?"
"Repeatedly," Diarmuid hung his head in shame, "I fear."
"Are you certain?" He was still in disbelief as they were some questionable things.
"I swear upon my honour," Diarmuid landed a hand on his heart as he spoke the words.
"My, my, my...but I really do apologize for my sister. As a princess of the blood she should not be saying such words; I too was caught by surprise with that comment of hers."
"It is quite alright, I have already forgiven her because I am sure—as you have already stated—that she thinks only of Camelot's well-being and she was only attracted to my curse," he spoke in a tone that was not at all offensive to the king.
Arthur took a breath of relief, "Thank goodness; I was afraid you would hold a grudge against her or something."
"I would never," he spoke the truth because it was the King's sister and if he disliked her it was almost like disliking the Crown, and he would not dare do something so disloyal to his king.
They continued to talk, but it was then of adventures they each had had before and the King was very intrigued with the stories that Diarmuid had to tell. It was good that they were getting to know one another because Diarmuid could see that their friendship was building and he also got to see another—much more kinder—side to the young king while it helped Arthur gain insight of his future knight's life.
It was rather evident that Arthur liked Diarmuid as a knight and any of his close knights and friends could tell you that. He had seemed like a trustworthy person from the beginning and his return from the hunt had proved him to be an even more loyal knight than he had seemed. Arthur was already looking forward to fight amongst side of him; he would prove to be a worthy soldier in the battlefield.
"Arthur," a voice called and then a blond enthusiastic male popped out from behind both Diarmuid and the King, "Morgana tells me that there's a witch upon us," he chanted as if it was a joke.
"If anything she's the witch," Arthur retorted with a slight roll of his eyes, "She always likes to tell my knights about everything," he spoke as he turned to Diarmuid, "Even if it's about the chef having constipation."
Diarmuid could not help but laugh at the comment, "Really?" He was amazed with the king's language.
"But it is a good thing she only tells my trustworthy ones. Goodness! If she told all of them, what would Camelot be like?"
"The center of other castles' gossip and entertainment?" Gawain reentered the conversation.
"My good lord! I would be the king of Cam-laugh-a-lot," Arthur shook his head and they all gave a chuckle, "Good thing Morgana knows her boundaries."
"She always does what," Gawain began,
"Is in Camelot's best interest at heart." Both Gawain and Arthur finished off with a mimic of Morgana's posh and high and mighty tone of voice, making Diarmuid titter at such cute and childish behaviour coming from a knight and a king.