The man who slid from his horse was not his son. Not as he’d known him. Uther was still seeking answers for what had befallen Camelot, for what had become of his son, but he wasn’t certain the man before him could give him those answers.
He was changed. The man Uther had sent out to settle unrest along the northern border had been young, eager to please, there’d been a confidence in him that came from the arrogance of youth rather than confidence in his own abilities, something Uther had frequently taken advantage of.
This man bore none of that youthful arrogance. He stood tall, shoulders firm, sure in his own power and strength. The clean youthful lines of his face had given way to rougher lines of hard living, of a neatly trimmed beard.
He did not bow at Uther’s feet, rather he greeted him as an equal.
No, not an equal, Uther saw that in the way this grown version of his son eyed him.
“Father,” he greeted.
“My son,” Uther returned, longing to reach forward and bridge the gap between them and yet knowing it would not be welcomed. For once it was he who felt wrong-footed by their exchange. Something made all the worse when the ranks of knights behind Arthur, some familiar, most not, parted and another man strode up the stand beside Arthur.
Stand beside him as an equal. That at least had not changed, then. Merlin had always been an atrocious servant.
His son’s manservant had changed too, perhaps as much, if not more than Arthur. He stood tall and confident beside his master, clothes better made than he’d ever worn before, at least in Uther’s presence, a thick beard covered his jaw.
“You have returned with answers, I hope.”
“I have,” Arthur replied, his words were unexpectedly made of steel.
“We’ll speak inside.”
“Yes.”
Arthur turned to his head knight, a man Uther did not recognise and issued orders to deal with the horses and the men and then, with words that struck Uther deep he said, “And someone find Ygraine before we lose her to the sights of the Lower Town.”
“Ygraine?” Uther choked out.
“Our daughter,” Arthur replied curtly.
“A grandchild?” He uttered in wonder.
“We’ve much to discuss.”
Uther certainly thought so, no more than when one of the knights stepped forward and said, “King Arthur, the princess is with her grandmother.”
King Arthur.
Much to discuss indeed.
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Round 1: Match 47 of 64
Why they deserve to be the ultimate wizard according to YOU:
Starswirl the Bearded:
Submitted multiple times without comment :(
Merlin:
"Poptropica was my childhood. Owl Merlin is the best Merlin"
"Three words: Robot Owl Wizard"
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