REGICIDE ➳ MERTHUR

chapter five

The camp center was decorated for the night. Floating balls of shining light, almost like miniature suns, flew around slowly. The trees had been decorated similarly, with flowers and colorful rows of lights that radiated down on the elaborate table that sat in the middle of the camp. It was round, with intricate engravings and designs littered all over it; it stretched out far enough that it would seat every single person, with no one left unattended. Looking at it, Arthur thought it seemed that there wasn't even the slightest bit of space, with foods of every kind spread out over it. Freshly grown fruits and vegetables that looked ripe for the taking, cooked meats that used every part of the animal, and delicacies that Arthur wouldn't even have been able to name but looked mouthwatering and rare.

Merlin had been standing beside him when they'd entered, and everyone had clapped for the two of them as they walked in together. Arthur stood up straight and flashed a few smiles, years of similar reactions having trained him for them. When he looked at Merlin, he found him with a small, graceful smile on his face as he stood regally and looked upon his subjects. It was the second time Arthur had seen him in the true role of his position—there was no doubt he was majestic and dignified, the unerring image of a ruler. Somehow, it only magnified his beauty.

When the clapping died down, two young girls led he and Merlin to their seats—next to each other, of course. As soon as they did, music sprung up from somewhere behind them, and the sounds of the violin ringing merrily only brightened Arthur's mood. Morgana sat down beside him as everyone began to follow as well, shooting him a bright smile that permeated such a brilliant happiness that Arthur couldn't believe he'd ever doubted her. After everyone was seated, Aglain stood from his seat beside Merlin. The music drew quieter.

"We hold this feast to welcome our king, the king of Camelot, Emrys! As well as his companion and Crown Prince, Arthur Pendragon!" Aglain spoke, and the acknowledgement threw Arthur off for a moment. He hadn't been expecting any sort of recognition, being who he was amidst people who were against everything his father had fought against. But then, the Druids were clapping and hooting, looking at him with their lips stretched into glorious smiles; it couldn't be anything but a glowing acceptance. When he turned his head to look at Merlin, he found him staring straight back at Arthur as they both received the praise with grace.

"Let the feast commence with a performance from a few of our own!" Aglain said, after the applause had died down. He took a seat, and Arthur watched as four fairly young Druids stood from their positions and walked around the table into the clearing in front of it. They stood in a line, and the lighting diminished until it was completely dark. For a moment, there was nothing.

And then there were flames, sparkling like jewels in a circle above their heads. Arthur applauded along with everyone else before the circle uncurled itself and one end of the newly formed line flew out and up, gradually changing into the form of a dragon. It glided through the air elegantly, stopping above their heads to let out a roar and breathe fire up toward the starry night sky. Those flames rose high into the sky before bursting several times into every color imaginable. They created many different shapes, flowers and animals and even Merlin's face. When it happened, Merlin had become bashful, blushing and hiding his face in his hands as everyone cheered and clapped.

Afterward, the fire dragon flew through the air again, swirling through the air before stopping above the table and fading into sparkles and drizzled over them, leading into a final round of applause as the lights were heightened again. The four young Druids bowed, returning to their seats; the music began again and everyone chatted beneath the sound of it, beginning to dig into their food. Arthur could only watch, still mesmerized by the performance and how it was possible. It was beautiful in its own way, not like anything Arthur had ever seen before. He was staring at the food in front of him, still lost in his inability to believe the beauty of the lives the Druids led, when Merlin put a hand on his shoulder. The touch, the first since that night in Merlin's chambers, shook him out of his reverie.