Thread: In the Shadow of Camelot: A Femdom Arthurian Tale (Closed)

The wind whipped over the cliffs and crags of the rocky shore driving sea spray and long winged gulls ahead of it. It blew hale and hearty over forest and hill, rushing at last past the pennants snapping high on the towers of Tintagel Castle. The banner that flew highest was one not seen in many years the Pendragon, rampant and in glory. Beneath it danced a simpler banner of white with a red cross. The stones of the great caste had seemed to shine all the brighter since the dragon and the cross were hoisted up together proclaiming something far grander than even the dragon alone had once meant. Word, faster than even the speeding zephyr, had spread. The sword of Uther had been pulled from the stone, the Pendragon's heir was found, and claimed his birthright. Arthur, proclaimed son of Uther Pendragon and Lady Igraine of Cornwall, was by right High King of all Britain. Already lords and knights called on Tintagel, refreshed, cleaned and restored almost overnight, as if by magic, to swear fealty to the king. Rumor, faster than lightning, snapped back and spoke in whispers of lords who renounced Arthur's claim and were rallying their armies to march forth and defeat this upstart who claimed the Pendragon's throne. Urien of Rheged and Lot of Orkney led them, and their forces were strong. So it was that in the early light of morning, with the sun just cresting over the horizon, the young king was found in the council chamber alone. Arthur was tall, larger than most men by a hand or more, with broad shoulders and a powerful but flexible and quick warrior's build. His face was strong and noble, handsome, and startlingly young. No beard or moustache covered his cheeks, his clear features open to view for all. His hair was the gold of honey held up to the sunlight, falling down to the nape of his neck, and his eyes were as blue as the summer sky. His clothes were finer than any he had ever worn in memory as the foster son of Sir Ector, he had been cared for but finery went to his foster brother Kay. He seemed almost ill at ease in the rich garments decked in gold and white. A simple dagger was stuck in his belt though on the table beside him was the sheathed sword that had announced the truth of his identity to the world only weeks ago. In front of him several maps were rolled out, parchment beside them having notes scribbled upon it. a few pins decorated with ribbons of various colors were pushed into one of them. Arthur looked at it grimly. Orkney and Rheged from the north. Cornwall and Lyonesse from the south. If he stayed here, he would be caught between the two forces. The knights and lords who had sworn fealty advised him to stay at Tintagel, so store up supplies and let the opposing forces beat themselves against it's walls. And it would seem like wisdom, except that the ant knows if the spider is at the hill, it's too late. Then that lesson, at least, was well learned. The king, more a boy than a man still, jerked his head up. By the door was man taller than Arthur, but lean and wiry. He was clad in robes and a cloak ruffed in feathers, with a copper bladed sword at his side and a tall oaken staff in his hands. His eyes were never the same color twice, his face both young and ancient, his hair long and gathered back by a leather thong. Merlin. Arthur breathed out, I had thought you gone to the Wood. I was, the druid answered, and I have returned. He looked over at the table, picking up a few of the parchments. He nodded. I see my lessons were not the only ones you heeded. The young king smiled a bit, though the expression did not reach his eyes. Already many cares were on him. Kay wasn't going to read them. At least Sir Ector didn't waste his gold. He looked back at the map. ...I don't think I can win, Merlin. The magician looked out the window, his face impassive. Many of those who've sworn fealty are keeping their armies at home, waiting to see how this turns out. Those loyal...are not enough. They never are, Merlin commented. He looked over at the young man, not even in his second decade. And they always are. Arthur looked at the older looking man with a wry expression, More riddles for me to solve? A flicker of a genuine smile crossed his face for a moment. Then he walked over to the stand beside Merlin at the window. I suppose they will have to be. He looked out at the rising run. ...Must men truly die for this? So that men who swore oaths will honor them? You know the answer. It is the way of Might. The king nodded. I see the truth to your lectures on Might now. If only we men were better creatures. Merlin looked over at him, If you win, they will be. Arthur blinked at him. Now, let us break fast before the first of today's messengers and noble guests arrive. News, both good and bad, is best taken with a a full belly as well as a clear head.