For Good

Regression

Dinner would be a bit more impressive tonight. Now that I knew that Arthur wasn't having any adverse reactions to food or drink so far, I wanted to make something with a bit more flavor. I settled on a cottage pie with corn on the side. Normally, I mixed the corn in, but I wanted my guest to get a good taste for the grain. After all, it was one of my favorites. He would likely see it on the table a good deal. I sent Arthur up to the roof to gather the ears of corn while I began cooking the potatoes. Our trip to the basement had eased something between us, as if we needed to be with the remnants of Camelot together, process everything together, for the tension to settle. It was the only way I could explain it. I had been trying to find peace for so long, and I never had. There had certainly been a good deal of closure for both of us in that cellar. Maybe now I could.

My hopeful musings were cut short by the slam of several ears of hairy corn on the countertop. "Is this enough? I peeled the leaves off, but there's quite a bit of this..." Arthur's fingers tried to brush the hairs but got stuck. "String," he finished blandly.

"Yeah, that needs to come off as well. Unless of course you want to eat it."

"No thank you. I still have my doubts about the rest of the stalk, let alone the string."

I poked my head in the freezer to double check for ground beef. "If you don't like it, I'll be very surprised." Beef went onto the counter, quickly thawing as my eyes flashed gold.

As he finished cleaning the hair off the corn, Arthur eyed my increasing pile of ingredients. "Just what is that going to be?"

"It's called cottage pie. It's a mix of all these things with potatoes on top. Classic British staple food." I paused, a thought coming to mind. "You're British now too, just so you're aware."

"And what, may I ask, is British?"

"Britain is the part of the world in which we now live. England, more specifically. So if anyone asks, you are one hundred percent English."

"I thought you said British."

"It's both."

"What?"

"Go with English. It will make everyone's lives easier. This country is England. You're English." Potatoes were taken off the burner and beef was put on.

Arthur leaned against the counter, fresh glass of water in hand. "If you say so. You'll have to draw me a map sometime." Actually, that was a fabulous idea. "Are you sure this will be good? That meat doesn't look very fresh."

"Well, I've been tweaking the same recipe for about two hundred years, so it better be. And it is fresh. Besides the fact that it's been frozen, all the food in this house is spelled to be fresh and safe to eat." The look on his face changed to wary. "Trust me. I haven't changed the food itself, just sort of... held it in its best state." He let out a "hmph" but didn't press the matter further.

I continued cooking, Arthur watching as I browned the meat and began chopping vegetables. Once assembled, the pie went into the oven, and I set water to boil for the corn. We spent the time chatting, waiting for the pie and the corn to cook. Despite Arthur's unease this morning, he seemed to be relaxing as the day continued. By the time I had the food plated and we dug in, he was smiling broadly.

"This is amazing, Merlin. And I do very much like..." He picked up a kernel on his fork, examining it closely. "Corn. At least when it's cooked."

"Don't worry. You'll never have to eat it raw." I was smiling as well, the rare expression welcome on my face. "And thank you. This is one of my favorite meals."

"I can see why." His plate was nearly empty, and it flew back to the counter to reload itself. "I do admit, I like that bit of magic. Saves me from having to get up."