“You’re a nice cat,” I told the gray cat softly.  “You can come live in my room, too, if you want, but you’ll have to share with the others.  I’ll name if you you’d like.”  The cat was a beautiful sleek gray cat, quite soft, with bright golden eyes, and I hoped she’d want to stay.  “Actually, I’ll name you now anyway.  Philomena, Phil for short.”

Arthur seemed amused at my interaction.  “So is this one of the things Johfrit was upset about?”

“He doesn’t seem to think I should bring cats into my room,” I agreed.  “And a badger.”  When he was surprised by this, I explained.  “He’s injured, I’m helping him out.  I think he has brain damage, though, so I’m not sure he’s going to be able to live in the wild.  Don’t worry, though, he won’t hurt anyone.  I asked the locksmith how to change locks, so I modified the lock on my door so no one can get in.  No one will be able to get into my room to clean or whatever and accidentally startle him and get hurt.  And anyone I invite in will be warned, plus I’ll be there just in case.  He won’t hurt anyone,” I said with absolute confidence.

Arthur blinked again.  “That’s what’s wrong with the door,” he murmured.

“Yeah, actually, you should probably ask Johfrit why he’s obsessed with getting access to a teenage girl’s room.  It’s kind of creepy.”

Arthur had to cover his mouth at this so he didn’t start laughing.  “You – okay, that’s a point.  But no one has access?”

“I do!  And I’ll let people in if I see fit.  Plus, I’ll clean it, so that should make life easier for the servants.  I even asked some of the maids how often they wanted me to given them the linens and things, or if they’d prefer I wash them.”

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut for a second, looking like he was still trying not to laugh.  “I’m betting they were confused about that offer.”

“Yeah, they were actually kind of horrified.”  I shrugged.  Sure, I knew laundry work tended to be hot and difficult, but heat didn’t bother me, and I wasn’t afraid of hard work.  Since I was technically the king’s ward, however, the servants were trying to treat me like a noblewoman, and it obviously flustered them when I decidedly did not behave like a noblewoman.

Arthur managed to compose himself and looked at him, his expression very serious.  “I’m sorry,” he told me, sincerely this time.  “I’m sorry for bringing you here against your will.  You were right, I didn’t have that authority.  Technically, I suppose, but it wasn’t the right decision, and I should have listened to you.  You knew your mother and your relationship and I presumed to do so when I shouldn’t have.  I apologize.”

I hadn’t expected a genuine, outright apology from him, so I was a bit taken aback, but recovered almost instantly.  “Then I forgive you.”

He seemed startled by my instant response, which amused me.

“You’re sincere,” I pointed out.  “You apologized.  I’m not so stingy as to not forgive when someone genuinely realizes their error.  And I’m sorry I didn’t realize you are a man of more virtue than I initially gave you credit for – your actions, although mistaken, were intended to be kind.  And I do appreciate that you were willing to talk to me and set things right.  That says a lot about what kind of man – and king – you are.”  Credit where credit was due.

“Well, thank you,” he said softly.  “But that does bring me to the second part.  I need to make things right.  If you want, I’ll return you to your cabin, or, I suppose, you’re perfectly capable of going on your own.  I can lend you a horse, though.”  He seemed almost reluctant to offer this, but I didn’t get the feeling it was about the horse.

Sure enough, he admitted it in the next sentence.  “Genevieve will be sad to see you go, though.”

I tilted my head to one side as I observed him, considering.  “I’ll stay for now,” I decided out loud, surprising him again.  “For now,” I emphasized again.  “Genevieve would be sad, that’s true, but also, there are things I want to learn here now.”

And, what I didn’t intend to tell him, I needed to stay until whatever event I’d seen in my visions occurred.  I didn’t know what it was or how long away it was, but I did know that I seemed to be necessary here in Camelot for the time being.  I’d stay until then, but after that, it would be nice to return home.

“Also,” I added on a lighter tone, “apparently a royal wedding is something most people never get to see, so I might as well wait to see you two get married and see what all the fuss is about.”

Arthur did laugh at that.  “Sure, yeah.  But it is a lot of fuss.”  He made a face.  “We have to figure out how to house everyone, and handle security since there will be a lot of visiting royalty and it would be the perfect time for someone wanting to assassinate a lot of rulers.  Plus making sure we hire extra staff, both for cooking all the food we need and for cleaning the rooms and handling laundry or other requests, all of that, and that doesn’t even get into the diplomatic side of things, figuring out which royals to invite and how to turn our wedding into the opportunity to make political alliances.  I do hope you’ll enjoy it,” he added when I made a face, “but Genevieve and I will be rather busy the closer we get to the event.  You might be on your own a lot.”

Predictably, I shrugged.  “I’m fine with that.”

“Figures,” he murmured more to himself than me.

“But you need to know,” I added, pointedly, waiting until he met my eyes.  “When I decide I’ve learned what I can from here and that Camelot is no longer my home, I will be leaving.  And I expect you to allow me to go when that happens, even if it’s been several years and you hoped I’d stay longer or whatever.  Someday I will choose to leave, and you need to let me go when that happens.”

He nodded, seriously.  “You are free to come and go whenever and wherever you like, Merlynn.  I’m glad that you’ll consider Camelot as your home for a time, but when that time ends, then I will support your decision to leave.”

I eyed him, but he seemed sincere again, so I added another term to my residence here.  “And I won’t be paired off with some noble or whatever.  Apparently a bunch of people think that’s the proper outcome for being the king’s ward – get married to a noble.  Nope, not going to happen.  If you even think about it, I swear I’ll start a revolt if I have to.  It won’t be pretty.”

Arthur didn’t seem to know whether to laugh or take me seriously, so he kind of gave a confused laugh instead.  “I – I promise I won’t do that.  I can’t promise some of the nobles won’t try, because you are about the age people would consider it, and the connection to me will make you an appealing suitor to some people, but I can promise I won’t ever try to force you to marry someone.”  He paused.  “I know what it’s like to not get to choose that,” he said softly.  “When my father first betrothed Genevieve and me, we were both upset.  We were friends, and neither of us wanted that.  I thought for a time our friendship was permanently broken because of that.  We got over it, we even decided it would work for us and be a good thing, but having someone decide for you something as important as who you will spend the rest of your life with?  I have no plans to do that to anyone.  Not to you, or my nobles, or even my own children someday.  I think that is a choice everyone deserves to get to make.”

Well, good then.  At least I didn’t have to worry about that issue coming up.  Truth was, I wasn’t interested in humans romantically or sexually, not even in the slightest, so any human attempts to gain my favor would be about as effective as trying to romance the stone floor.

But with that out of the way, and with Arthur having apologized and me choosing to stay on my own terms, maybe life in Camelot wouldn’t be so bad now.

“Well then,” I told the king, “I think we can start out our relationship new.  Maybe we can even become friends one day.  Until then,” I stood up, stepped forward, and offered him my hand to shake, which he did automatically while seeming confused at the same time, “it’s nice to meet you, Arthur.  I hope our alliance – or whatever you call it – results in good for both of us.”

He agreed with this last bit, and I had to wonder.

Somehow, I’d ended up here.  Against my will, but was it against my destiny?  My visions seemed to suggest that there was a reason I was here in Camelot, now, and the reason had to do with Arthur.  With him staying king, rising to the role my mother had hoped he would fulfill.

Maybe that meant he would be a good king to Arcane as well as humans.  I had to hope so, but for now, I’d wait and see.

If my destiny was to help Arthur, did it mean my destiny was to be at his side?  Was I supposed to help him for more than just this one event?  What if I was supposed to fulfill the role he had wanted my mother to – to be an advisor to the king, only one that would be able to represent the interests of Arcane?

Maybe Camelot would be my home long-term.

~~~~~

I tried to explain to Breone that he couldn’t walk on me while I was reading, but he didn’t seem to be the smartest of cats, so he kept trying to every time I set him down and then he turned around and spotted me again, forgetting what had happened mere seconds earlier.

I heard a muffled laugh and glanced over to see the younger scholar from the other day, watching me and the cat argue over whether he was allowed to sit on me and block my ability to see the book.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, his eyes laughing still, “it’s just – Lucan would never have allowed a cat in the library.  Some of us recommended allowing them, because they help a lot with mice, and mice are a threat to our books, but he was dead set on it.  Now that he’s retired, we started letting them in, and it’s caused new, but funny problems.”

“Breone likes me,” I explained, trying to move the orange tail out of my face.  “He just lacks a bit in the mental department.  Apparently he is good at killing mice,” according to Gilly, “but he doesn’t really…think…much.”

Gilly had told me this earlier that morning, when she had also given me a very satisfied updated on Lord Lludd and how loudly he’d screamed when he’d put his foot into a slipper only to unexpectedly find something squishy in there – something that turned out to be an, uh, “offering” from the cats.  She relished his absolute breakdown and scrubbing his feet for ten minutes afterwards, only for him to sit down at his desk and discover that a gift had also been left there.  According to her, he’d spent the entire morning screaming and running around his room, trying to clean up after one mess, only to find a new one a short time later.

She had plans for many more mice to be left for him, some in secret, unexpected places, and some so hidden they might not be found immediately and might leave an unpleasant odor on his clothes.

The cats really seemed to be enjoying this.