Mithian

40 2 3
                                    

A.N.// There will come the day when I will notice just how inconsistent this story is. That day is not today. Btw, I noticed how I wrote last chapter that Arthur had been searching through the Clockroom for a couple days. That doesn't work,  since Merlin let the Dragon free that very night. That was a busy final. How did I think it was finished already? Urgh, I don't know. This story is way above my skill level. Have fun :)

--------------------------------------------------------

Arthur immediately scrambled to his feet. His hand clutched around nothing in particular and he felt .... stupid, stupid, stupid! He had poured his heart out while holding another clock! Panic engulfed him. This wasn't supposed to happen. He had no idea if this person was who he thought she was. Arthur knew the names of other princes and princesses, obviously. It had been engraved into his mind from a young age because he was meant to deal with these people, if not look out for threats and weaknesses within them.

If this was THE princess Mithian, a woman he's never met before, then he was probably in the Kingdom of Nemeth right this very second.

The throne room was empty but still recognizable as such. Arthur was not surprised to find himself alone but he did wonder where everyone was. Banners of Nemeth' kingdom hung behind the throne, a boar on green ground. The throne itself was made of gold and that made Arthur aware that Nemeth was striving. He had been fairly sure that their relationship to Camelot was strained, especially due to some financial issues.

Then Arthur remembered that this was Nemeth AFTER his own death. Still, Arthur shuddered. He shouldn't be here. Every second he spent in this clock, he wouldn't be able to live with the people he actually wanted to spent time with. He already knew he couldn't exist twice in the same timeline. So him being here, with someone he didn't know nor had any relationship with... it felt like a crime.

The double doors to the throne room opened in a swift motion. Arthur startled backwards. A wind accompanied the arrival of a small delegation of people. Two men with staffs flanked the doors. Both were wearing dark blue robes. A triskele was stitched into the fabric in extravagant silver threats. Arthur's eyes widened as he identified them as sorcerers.

After them came a bunch of royal knights, all dressed in formal armor. Arthur somehow expected them not to notice him. He was so irritated that he had forgotten his own existence was a very real thing.

"INTRUDER!" One of the knights yelled and grabbed a sword.

Arthur shrieked and he would later deny that the sound had come off him. His face was still tear stained and he was wearing little more than a casual wardrobe of trousers and shirt. He didn't wear armor, nor any sword, so all he could do was run backwards before his heels caught on the stairs that lead up towards the throne.

The other knights followed his example to draw their swords and Arthur really, really shouldn't be afraid. He knew that dying in this world just meant waking up in his own. But rational thought wasn't exactly part of his strength right now. He's been grieving for goodness sake! He was an emotional rollercoaster. He had never meant to come here in the first place!

"HALT!" A woman raised her hand to stop them. Arthur was glad to hear the sound of that order, even though he didn't recognize whom the voice belonged to. She, whom the voice had belonged to, turned out to be a woman with black hair. She was rather pale and looked wary from her many trifles as ... her crown marked her as Queen.

Arthur quickly straightened himself and bowed to her. "I'm sorry... I can explain!" He cursed himself. He sounded and acted like a coward. And how on earth was he meant to explain this anyway?

"Arthur Pendragon." The woman lowered her hand slowly. Her voice came out in a gasp. A second later she forgot her calm manner and darted forward to grab Arthur by the shoulders. She stared into his eyes, examined his face, tilted it left and right and gasped a laugh. "You're alive. You're..." She frowned. "You look awfully young." There was a sorrow in her eyes that Arthur guessed was meant for him.

The clockroomWhere stories live. Discover now