“Where did everything go wrong? ” King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot whispered to himself in the dead of night as he lay in his bed. Alone. Fitting, since he felt more lonesome than ever these days. As expected, the only answer to his rhetorical inquiry was a deafening, painful silence. Staring up at the high ceiling of his bedchamber, his hands resting behind his head, the king thought back to earlier in the day when he’d picnicked with the attractive and vivacious Princess Mithian. Not only was the woman a dark-haired beauty and a royal, she was witty and a fine conversationalist.
Even though she made every effort to put Arthur at ease, the king found himself completely awkward around this charming princess who had just arrived at the castle of Camelot. That morning, Arthur’s manservant, Merlin, had come along to the wooded and scenic picnic location to help set up. Feeling edgy and nervous, Arthur had made a joke of having Merlin set up the blankets, pillows, and food in several different locations before selecting a comfortable spot. Once everything had been arranged to Arthur’s satisfaction, Merlin slunk away with a scowl on his face and sat beneath a tree a good distance away.
Arthur knew why Merlin looked so forlorn, but he did his best to ignore the man who was both his servant and friend. After enjoying some food and spiced wine (perhaps a drop too much wine), Arthur relaxed around Mithian. He opened his mouth to tell an amusing joke, but instead, a loud, deep belch burst out of the king’s mouth. Arthur sat there in shock – he’d burped like a horrid pig, right in the woman’s face! Just as he thought he might die of humiliation, Mithian let out a loud and hearty burp in return. The two of them had laughed, and the awkwardness vanished.
The remainder of the morning had been enjoyable and fun. Yet even if Arthur been miserable with the woman, even if she looked like filthy mountain troll, it didn’t matter, because she was to be King Arthur’s bride. No matter how Arthur felt, he would marry this woman. Their union would secure an alliance between Camelot and Mithian’s kingdom of Nemeth. Once King Arthur and Princess Mithian wed, their two kingdoms’ age-old dispute over the lands in Gedref would cease, and any lingering hostilities between Camelot and Nemeth would be put to rest.
That was important – the fact that Arthur’s heart still ached for his banished former love and fiancee, Guinevere, didn’t matter at all. When it came to marriage, love – or lack of it – was of no consequence. However, a surly Merlin disagreed with this line of thinking and had told the king so – the man had argued that all marriages should be for love, including royal marriages. Merlin had then been so bold to state that Arthur was moving on too “soon,” and insisted the king was still in love with Guinevere. “You still love her,” Merlin had declared with defiance. While true, those words had infuriated Arthur.
After all, Guinevere had broken Arthur’s heart. On the eve of Arthur and Guinevere’s wedding, the woman had kissed Sir Lancelot. It hadn’t been a peck, either; it was a full-on passionate kiss. And if Arthur hadn’t walked in on his knight and bride-to-be kissing and caressing one another in a dark corner of the Council Chamber, he was convinced the two would have ended up in bed together. Even now, the notion made Arthur’s stomach churn with jealousy and rage. That is why the king banished Guinevere from the kingdom of Camelot. Because after her promises of love and devotion, she had strayed.
She had broken her solemn vow to Arthur to remain true. How could he ever trust Guinevere again? How could he even look at her? She’d shredded his heart with her selfish and deplorable actions. It would have been less painful if she’d just run him through. How could Merlin fail to see that? Instead of walking away calmly from his friend and manservant, Arthur stomped toward Merlin and glared at him, seething. “You ever say anything like that again, if you ever mention her name again, I swear you’ll join her in exile forever! ” Arthur had threatened before storming off.
And he would exile Merlin, too, if it came down to that. The king didn’t need anyone else torturing him about his lingering feelings for Guinevere. Arthur tortured himself enough. Each and every day. And now, he had the words “You still love her” running through his head day in, day out. Damn that Merlin! Disturbed by his thoughts and still frustrated by Merlin’s keen observation, Arthur twisted around in his bed. He landed on his side, now facing the pale moonlight spilling in though the mullioned window. This isn’t so bad, Arthur tried to convince himself as he gazed out at the half-moon. Mithian is kind and beautiful.
After all, the princess had gently cleaned the soup he’d slopped all over the front of his chainmail during the feast to honor her arrival. And when he’d held her hand too long while bidding her a good night the previous evening, she’d been quite gracious about his blunder. That was a good thing, because he seemed to make endless silly mistakes around her. What did that mean? Why was he such a nervous clod in the woman’s presence? Perhaps it did mean he felt something for the princess. The king sat up and sighed. Yes, the princess was sweet and gentle, yet she had a mischievous twinkle in her warm brown eyes.
There was also an air of strength about her that was difficult to define. And she had boldly told Arthur she thought he was a handsome man and seemed to like him well enough. He could get used to her. No, he would get used to her. Marrying her was the right thing to do. Kings often married women they hated for political reasons, or to secure alliances and land, and Arthur didn’t hate Mithian. He rather liked the woman. Perhaps he should be grateful and stop feeling sorry for himself. However, with so much on his mind, it was clear Arthur wasn’t about to fall asleep any time soon.
He stood and lit the bedside candelabra, then began to dress. Perhaps a brisk nighttime walk in the refreshing evening air would wear him out and help him find sleep. Yet as he fastened the clasp to his cloak, he heard light footsteps and some rustling sounds near his door. He turned and saw someone had slid a note into his chamber, a peculiar occurrence at such a late hour. Curious, he strode to the door and picked up the folded parchment from the floor. He couldn’t determine whose seal secured the note, but he popped open the wax and read.
When he’d finished the last word, he dropped into his chair at the dining table. Then he read the note again. And again. And he felt panicked. “This is what Mithian wants,” he whispered, folding up the parchment after having read the careful, neat handwriting a good ten times. Regardless, he read the note yet again. My Lord, Thope you are well this evening. I thoroughly enjoyed the feast last night and our picnic together this morning. And I have a good feeling about our hunt tomorrow. So you’re aware, I happen to be an excellent shot. Shall we wager which one of us will bring home the largest animal?
I warn you, I could bring down a bear with my accuracy! All right, I should stop making jokes and get to the point. What | would really like is for you to meet me in my bedchamber. Tonight. I understand we’re to be married in two weeks, but I’d strongly prefer we have a conjugal visit before our actual wedding night. I don’t know about you, but with so much wedding-day pressure, I want one less thing to be nervous about. No one need ever know about this – it would be something just between us. As far as anyone else is concerned, our wedding night will be our first time together.
In any case, I find you very handsome, Arthur, and I really like you. Who knows? Perhaps one day we will love one another, and this might be the first step toward that. And after all, we’ll have to lie with one another eventually. Why not now? Though | must warn you in advance I am not very experienced with men, but I am eager to learn. With you. Thave carried on long enough. The last thing I want to say is that this idea makes me both nervous and excited, but I do hope you’ll come to me this evening. If you’re agreeable, please knock on my chamber door three times so I will know it is you. Yours, Mithian
