He also remembers the night they ran.

The Butcher King had finally come for them, the kingdom was burning, and not in the wonderous way it normally did. They left in the night, his mother trying her best not to look scared, but Merlin could tell, he could always tell. He remembers hearing his kin, his dragons, screaming out in the darkness, wings being clipped and flames being snuffed out. He remembers being carried, running through the woods, clutched tightly in the arms of his father’s favourite knight. He remembers being dropped. He remembers the scent of blood and burning flesh as he and his mother carried on alone, not looking back in fear of seeing the truth.

He ignores those memories as best he can, holding onto hope that perhaps his mother was right; that his father and his knights would come back, his dragons would come back, he could go home.

They ran when he was six, and now, twenty years later, Court Sorcerer under the son of The Butcher King who had taken his home from him, Merlin had all but lost hope.

~

It was Audience Day. The day of the week that Arthur would open his Throne Room to the public, and people would come from all over to voice their grievances.

Some would come for the King with problems of bandits or poverty. Some would come for the Court Sorcerer and his students (The highly respected Lady Morgana, Court Seer, and Sir Mordred, the Druidic Knight) with problems of malevolent spirits or failing crops.

The four of them did their best to help all who came, and with the steadfast advice of Guinevere, Gaius, the Kingdom’s five finest knights, and the wider council, they normally managed everything just fine.

It was nearing the end of an uneventful Audience Day when three knights of unfamiliar origin approached King Arthur and his court. Merlin frowned, the colour of their capes and the familiar face of the central knight triggering an onslaught of memories. He pushed them all down; the dark burgundy of their tatty and aged cloaks probably just reminded him of Camelot’s bright red.

All three of them bow, and Arthur gestures for them to rise and speak, unaware of Merlin’s sudden change in mood, and Gaius’ quiet crisis at the side of the room. The central, and eldest, of the three knights nods his head in thanks, and begins to speak:

“My Lord, we come before you to ask for aid. We are knights of the long-forgotten Dragonlands,-”

Merlin lets out a breath, finally able to place the face of the older knight. He looks slowly over to Gaius, who meets his gaze with tears in his eyes and a slow nod, confirming Merlin’s belief. They each look to Arthur as he speaks:

“I have not heard of such a land?”

The knight nods grimly as he replies:

“It was burned. The Butch- The late King Uther invaded six years into the purge, and had it destroyed and abandoned. Any and all literature on our home was burned, we were scrubbed from the map, and our people were buried. The few survivors were scattered across the remaining Kingdoms, forced into hiding as Camelot hunted us.”

Arthur’s face had slowly fallen over the man’s explanation, and he glanced over at Gaius, who had managed to school his face into neutrality, and Leon, who would’ve been around twelve at the time of the so-called invasion.

Gaius nodded gravely, and Leon quietly admitted:

“I vaguely remember sire; it was all very... hushed, it wasn’t spoken of. I had thought it to be rumour, that such a land had once existed, though it doesn’t surprise me that it’s true.”

Arthur nods. It doesn’t surprise him either. Invading a land of magic and destroying it before erasing it from history sounds like exactly something his father would’ve done.

He turns back to the knights:

“-I was unaware, though I take your word, and my council’s word, seriously. I extend my deepest apologies for the actions of my predecessor, and ask what it is that you require of me? I will help in any way I am able.”

The knight gives a weak smile, not looking away from Arthur (which is good really, he probably would’ve recognised the older brother of the Queen) as he continues:

“We were told that our King would find us when The late King Uther passed, and it would be then that we would go home and attempt to rebuild. Uther’s death came and went and our ruler did not reappear, we... we fear the worst has happened. Though we have hope that his wife and son, the Queen and our Prince, have survived. We-”

He gestures to the two younger knights behind him:

“-have been gathering together for years, since the death of Uther. Many more of us than I had ever dared to hope for have survived, though we have yet to find any trace of our Queen or Prince. We ask that you help us track them down, so that we may return them to their rightful thrones, and rebuild our home.”

Merlin gulps, looking to the floor to hide the myriad of expressions on his face: fear, excitement, guilt, shock, among others. It’s Mordred’s voice he hears next, echoing through his head:

“Emrys? Are you ok?”

Merlin looks up to see the knight staring at him out the corner of his eye, and the Warlock nods in his direction, before refocusing back on the conversation in front of him, Arthur speaking with furrowed brows:

“Of course, anything. Perhaps you might tell us their names?-”

(Merlin gulps again, shuffling uncomfortably in his seat. He had been waiting for this for twenty years, but equally, he wasn’t ready; he was desperate for time, even just a few hours would be better than nothing.)

“-I can have word spread far and wide that Camelot is safe, and that their knights are here waiting for them; though we might have to include some sort of code, I can’t imagine they will be trusting of rumour coming from Camelot.”

The knight nods, smiling slightly as he allows himself to hope, for the first time in many years. He opens his mouth to speak, but Merlin stands from his chair at Arthur’s side, and walks down the steps to stand in front of them. Gaius smiles tearfully at him and nods, and Merlin returns the gesture before looking back at the confused knight:

“How many of you are there? You said you had been gathering...?”

None of the Camelot court, including Arthur, say anything. They trust Merlin, he was rarely wrong, and never wasted time or asked pointless questions, even when they themselves couldn’t figure out why he wanted to know what he wanted to know.

The knight tilts his head slightly, furrowing his brows at Merlin’s odd expression:

“Hundreds, My Lord-”

Merlin takes a deep sudden breath, and he’s vaguely aware of Gaius covering his mouth with his hand. The Warlock nods slightly as he stares at the floor, blinking tears away, before looking back up to the knight and quietly saying:

“The Queen and the Prince live on, as does the King’s brother-in-law, the Queen’s elder brother, though the King himself is dead. He passed many years ago.”

The knight nods, and Merlin doesn’t bother turning to see the looks of confusion on the Arthur, and everyone else’s (bar Gaius of course) faces:

“I had feared as much, though news of the remaining three’s survival is much welcomed. May I ask how you know this, Lord...?”

Merlin takes another deep breath when the knight asks for his name, and clears his throat, looking back at Arthur:

“I’m sorry, Arthur. I have... I have one more lie to set straight.-”

Arthur frowns in confusion but Merlin turns back before he can respond, clenching his hands tightly as he stares at the knight and speaks, ignoring the request for his name:

“-The Queen lives as a peasant farmer in a village just the other side of the Essetirian border, it’s name is Ealdor, you’ll find it on any map.-”

Merlin pauses, but doesn’t look back when he hears Arthur gasp, and Morgana mutter “The Dragonlands, of course.” under her breath. He takes another deep breath, drawing himself to his full height and squaring his shoulders before he continues; he notices Gaius stand and take a few steps towards him out the corner of his eye:

“-Though I present myself as her son, Prince Merlin Emrys Ambrosius, last blood descendent of the Ambrosius House, last of the true Dragon-Lords, and-”

Merlin glances back to Arthur, seeing the shock on his face. He stutters slightly before looking back to the knight and continuing in a strong, though shaky voice:

“-and heir to the throne of The Dragonlands.”

The Throne Room is deadly silent after Merlin’s confession, and the Dragonland knights stare at him, the younger two in awe, the elder in carefully concealed hope as he all but whispers:

“Can you offer us proof of your claim?”

Merlin gulps and smiles weakly, eyes filling with tears as he stares back at the knight:

“I remember you. You let me ride on your shoulders when I got bored during meetings, and you let me hide under your cape during storms because I was scared of the thunder. You snuck me sweets when my parents weren’t looking, and you carried me from the castle, promised you would protect me when The Butcher King came for us. You wept with me when I could hear my kin screaming out across the night, and you let go of my hand and told me to run when our hunters closed in.”

Merlin sniffled, not even noticing the tears slipping down his cheeks as the knight, now in his late fifties, took a shaky step forward, wiping the tracks from Merlin’s face with an ungloved hand. The knight gives a weak smile, tears of his own escaping as he mumbles:

“It’s good to see you, Little Falcon.”

At the long forgotten nickname, Merlin threw himself at the knight, wrapping him in a tight hug that the older man eagerly returned, running a hand through Merlin’s hair as the Warlock clutched his cloak tightly. The other two knights knelt down on one knee, bowing their heads at their long-lost Prince.

Merlin steps back, but the knight keeps a hold of his shoulders, a wide smile on his face as he mumbles:

“You’ve grown, Little Falcon.”

Merlin laughs and nods, before sniffling slightly and holding a hand out to Gaius. The Physician walks forward, tears of his own gathering in his eyes. The two knights rise, and all three of them finally look to Gaius. The oldest two of the five men stare at each other, the knight gasping as he recognises him. Merlin grins:

“May I present Lord Gaius, Brother of the Queen, my uncle.”

The three knights bow their heads once again, in respect, and Gaius smiles widely, gripping the central knight’s forearm as he says:

“It’s good to see you again, Sir Thornway, we had feared the worst.”

Thornway (the name strikes something deeply reminiscent in Merlin’s mind, and he’s ecstatic to be able to once again put a name to the face of his father’s (and his) favourite knight) smiles, winking as he says:

“Ah, takes more than Camelot steel to strike me down, My Lord.-”

Gaius and Merlin chuckle slightly, nodding their heads, but a subtle cough from Leon has the five men remembering where they are, and turning their heads quickly to stare at Arthur, still sat on his throne, unable to cover his shock.

Thornway clears his throat, muttering a quiet:

“-No offense, your majesty.”

Merlin meets Arthur’s gaze and bites his lip nervously. Arthur schools his face, giving Merlin a small, reassuring smile before nodding and standing, announcing:

“Guards, leave us. Council is adjourned for the day-”

He looks pointedly to members of the wider council, and they and the guards file out of the room, leaving only the central eleven, and Merlin’s three knights:

“-Sir Leon, organise a small party to escort Sir Thornway and Lor- Prince Merlin to and from Ealdor, as soon as possible. Someone bring a map to the Roundtable, and inform Lord Geoffrey to meet us there.”

Gwen rushes off to find a map and Lord Geoffrey, and Leon’s “organising a party” involves giving a pointed look to Sir Lancelot and Sir Mordred, receiving two nods in return, and promptly saying:

“Myself, Lancelot, and Mordred, can make the journey with Merlin and Sir Thornway,-”

He looks to Merlin, who hasn’t quite processed how quickly things are moving, and gives him a smile:

“-We can leave whenever you’re ready, Merlin.”

Merlin nods slightly, smiling shakily when Thornway claps him on the back, and speaks in his stead:

“The rest of our cohort are camping in plain-clothes a mile or so beyond the city limits. I shall leave Sir August, and Sir Maxim here;-”

He gestures to the young knights behind him:

“-they can tell you of our Kingdom’s history and borders as well as any of us older folk.”

Arthur nods, quietly asking Sir Percival to let the Steward know to prepare guest rooms for the two knights, and for Thornway and Hunith when they arrive back. Once Percival has rushed out of the room, after giving a wide, supportive smile to Merlin, Arthur turns to Leon, Mordred, and Lancelot:

“You three head down to the stables, ready the horses. Everyone else, to the Roundtable.”

Everyone files out, this time leaving only Arthur, Gaius, Merlin, and Merlin’s knights in the Throne Room. 

Arthur approaches them, a soft, though slightly confused smile on his face, but before he can say anything, Merlin bursts, unable to hold it in any longer:

“Arthur I am so sorry, I know I promised there were no more lies but... -”

He looks to Thornway, the Warlock’s eyes once more gathering tears, before he looks back to The King again:

“-I thought me, Gaius, and my mother were the only ones left. I thought everyone had... I thought everyone had died.”

Arthur just shakes his head, pulling Merlin into a tight hug that is quickly returned:

“Don’t apologise Merlin. Gods above, the list of terrible things my father did to you just keeps getting longer and longer,-”

He pulls back, but his hands remains on Merlin’s shoulders as the Warlock looks at him with wide eyes:

“-why on earth are you still here? Court Sorcerer under the son of the man who burned your home, your people. My father took your birth-right, Merlin, why are you here?”

Merlin blinks his shock away, before huffing out a gentle laugh and shaking his head:

“I already told you. My birth-right, where I came from, doesn’t change the fact that I stayed because I am loyal to you. I may be... uh-”

Merlin flushes in embarrassment, and Arthur raises an amused eyebrow at him as he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly:

“-I may almost be a King in my own right, but that doesn’t mean that you aren’t my King.”

Arthur lets out a breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding before pulling Merlin back into another tight hug. The Court Sorcerer lets out a weak chuckle as he eagerly returns the hold, rubbing a soft hand up and down the King’s back, and Arthur curses to himself silently, angry that Merlin was the one comforting him.

Still, Arthur holds on, whispering in Merlin’s ear:

“I will do everything in my power to get your home back Merlin, I promise.”

He feels the Warlock nod against his shoulder, whispering back:

“I know.”

Arthur takes a deep breath, pushing down the heartbreak at the subtle confirmation that Camelot had never been Merlin’s home, and now never would be.

~

Leon, Lancelot, Mordred, Merlin, and Thornway left within half a candle-mark.

The two-day journey to Ealdor was mostly silent, Merlin and Thornway sticking close together despite there being nothing but a tense, though somehow comfortable silence between them. Leon didn’t mention to the others how he’d he woken Merlin from nightmares during both of his watches.

When they finally rode into the village, Sir Thornway let go of a deep, mournful sigh, looking around with a disbelieving shake of the head as they all dismounted:

“This is where you’ve been? All this time, Little Falcon... we were looking for you Kingdoms away, and you were here all along.”

Merlin nodded, the other three knights walking behind them as the Warlock led the way to his mother’s hut. The group received waves and smiles from anyone they passed: the villagers had grown used to Merlin’s visits (more often than not accompanied by at least one knight), but they returned them no more than politely, and didn’t stop their slow pace.

Finally they came to a stop outside the door, and noticing his tenseness, Merlin gestures for Thornway (and the others, who had basically been forgotten at this point) to wait outside. He went in, hesitating only slightly at the door, before taking a deep breath and shutting it behind him, calling out for his mother.

The knights couldn’t hear anything from outside, but they all jumped when the door flew open and Hunith burst out, a wild look on her face. Thornway gave her a brief, weak smile, tears slipping down his face as he murmured “My Lady” and knelt down in a bow. A sob escapes Hunith’s mouth, and she rushes forward to kneel in front of him, hands cupping his face briefly as she mutters his name, before pulling him into a tight hug.

The two kneel in the grass, hugging and crying, and Merlin walks slowly out of the house with tears of his own. Lancelot and Leon (who, like all of the knights, had become more and more fond of their Warlock’s mother the more they saw of her) stare upon the scene with empathetically teary eyes. Mordred once again finds his gaze drawn to his mentor, frowning in concern at his tears and sending a quick question across their mental link:

“Would you like us to leave you for a little while?”

Merlin looks up at him suddenly, as if only just remembering that they had company, but gives him a weak smile and shakes his head. Mordred returns the smile, nodding in understanding before looking away again. He and Merlin had gotten close over the years, but the older man had a habit of keeping any strong feelings close to his chest; it was odd, though not unwelcome, for Mordred to be audience to such a show of emotion.

Hunith and Thornway finally rise from their place on the floor, and the woman looks to her son with a blinding grin, tears still slipping down her cheeks. Merlin returns her smile weakly, walking towards them and laying a shaking hand on her shoulder:

“It’s time to go home, ma.”

~

The six of them make very good time on the journey back to Camelot, Hunith having nothing to pack bar a few old possessions, dug up from the bottom of a chest and tucked lovingly (and with a few more tears) into a saddle-bag.

Merlin is too preoccupied with his racing thoughts to notice that Thornway had taken a slight detour, but a muttered conversation between the Dragon’s knight and Leon had them continue to follow the same path. It’s when they slow to a halt a few metres beyond the edge of a large camp that Merlin finally takes notice of the slightly less familiar surroundings. He frowns slightly, but follows Thornway’s lead as he dismounts his horse, walking slowly between the tents.

Merlin lets out a deep breath as the realisation washes over him wordlessly handing his reins to Lancelot’s offered hand. Thornway had said there were hundreds of them, waiting in a plain-clothes camp a mile or so away from the city. He subconsciously reaches for his mother’s hand, and the two of them follow Thornway into the centre of the bustling camp, the Camelot knights bringing up the rear and leading the horses.

No one seems to have noticed them yet, but that quickly changes when Thornway breaks away from the group to stand on the platform that sits in the middle of the large clearing in what seems to be the middle of the camp. The inhabitants of the clearing quickly crowd around him, not paying attention to Merlin, Hunith, or the knights as they wait for Thornway to speak. He lifts the horn that had been strapped to his belt to his lips, taking a deep breath before blowing harshly through the instrument, the booming sound echoing across the whole camp.

The crowds grow quickly bigger, hundred of people, young and old, gathering as tightly as they can in the clearing to hear their leader’s announcement. He glances to Merlin briefly, giving him a quick smile before his eyes begin raking across the crowd again. He speaks loudly, his voice echoing over the silent but captivated audience:

“My people! I apologise for my lengthy absence, though I come back to you with both sad news, and news more incredible than I ever dared hope for. The King is dead-”

A murmur ripples out across the crowd, a few of the elders even letting out quiet cries of anguish at the news:

“-though our Queen, her elder brother, and her son, live on, and have been safely found!-”

At this, the crowd break into outrageous applause, and Merlin finds himself emotional once again as he looks around at his people, seeing the tears and shouts of joy as they celebrate. Thornway waits for them to settle again before looking to Merlin and Hunith, holding a hand out to them and gesturing them up to the platform. Merlin gulps and tightens the hold he has on his mother’s hand, giving her a questioning look. Her nod is shaky, but her smile is sure, and he pushes through to the front of the crowd, stepping up onto the stage with his mother in tow. 

Thornway takes his other hand as a hush falls over the crowd. They had been expecting the knight to come back with little news, and for it to be at least several months before any information on their royal family reached them, but here they stood, only a few days after their arrival.

Thornway gives Hunith and Merlin one last reassuring smile,  before he raises Merlin’s hand in the air, shouting:

“-I present Prince Merlin Ambrosius, and Queen Hunith Ambrosius!!”

The crowd erupts once again, not a dry eye in the audience as Merlin and Hunith look to their people, their own tears slipping down their faces as they swear to themselves that they will never leave their people again.

Lancelot, Leon, and Mordred look upon their friend with pride, each of them resolutely ignoring the cracks in their hearts, knowing that this was the start of Merlin’s departure from Camelot.

~

The group returned to the city a few hours later; Merlin and Hunith were desperate to be among their people, to find old friends and greet new descendants, but they also knew that the quicker they got back to the castle, the quicker they could lead their people home.

The remainder of the camp stayed put under Thornway’s orders (neither Hunith or Merlin felt comfortable giving out orders quite yet, despite the peoples’ insistence on calling them Majesty and Highness and Lord/Lady), and the six of them entered the bustling Throne Room an hour or so before dusk.

Everyone’s eyes immediately found them and a hush fell about the room, tears gathering in Hunith’s eyes for the umpteenth time as Sirs Maxim and August fell to their knees in a bow. They rose quickly at her word, and the Camelot knights swapped places with them to be beside a wide-eyed Arthur; red with red, and burgundy with burgundy.

The King looked away awkwardly under the guise of asking Leon how the journey went when Merlin, his three knights, his mother, and Gaius gathered together in a huddle.

Leon of course saw right through it and kept a hand on his shoulder through the recount. He gives him a weak smile before dropping his hand, knowing that there was no comfort he could offer other than trying to convince his friend that his sadness at Merlin’s inevitable departure wasn’t selfish, though even that would have to wait until they had some privacy.

Merlin and Hunith finally approached the cluttered table (maps and maths and potential routes), returning all of the wide smiles sent their way by the gang, finally coming to stand in front of Arthur. The King bowed good-naturedly at Hunith, who swatted his arm with a blush at his words:

“And you always got annoyed when I called you My Lady, really I should’ve been down on one knee and calling you Highness.”

Merlin grins at his words and Arthur turns to him finally, eyes softening as he refuses to acknowledge any feelings other than pride and happiness for his... friend:

“Leon tells me you visited your camp briefly, you know you could’ve stayed with them a little longer.”

Merlin shakes his head slightly, the smile not leaving his face:

“We stayed for a few hours to take stock of things, but I wanted to get back here as soon as possible; the quicker we can organise things, the quicker me and ma can take everyone home.”

Arthur nods, clenching his hand only slightly before clearing his throat and gesturing to the map spread out in front of him:

“Your knights told us that your main city, and all outlying settlements, had been practically overrun by bandits and criminal organisations. They’re a worry, but nothing too serious; we’re hoping a small army and a dragon or two flying overhead will scare most, if not all of them off. You’ll of course have to keep an eye on said outlying settlements, it’s likely the criminals will try to sneak back in and take over slowly, but again, it’s nothing some scare tactics and a good defence won’t solve.-”

He pauses, gulping and praying to deities that he doesn’t even believe in that Merlin won’t notice the shaking in his voice:

“-It should take us only a few days to organise who is going and who is staying, we could probably start the march before the end of the month. Organising resources and building supplies might be a little trickier, but Camelot has had a good few years, we can offer a good amount to get you going at least.”

Merlin looks to Arthur with a wide smile and pulls him into a tight, but brief hug, before pulling back, leaving his hands on his shoulders as he speaks:

“That’s more than I ever could’ve asked for, Arthur, thank you. I’m going to show my mother and Thornway their rooms, why don’t you pack up for the day? We can continue this in the morning.”

Arthur nods, and the two exchange smiles before Merlin leaves, leading Hunith and Thornway deeper into the castle, to where he knows the guest chambers have been set up. Arthur’s face falls the moment the door shuts behind them but no one in the room acknowledges his change in demeanour, tidying everything away in neat piles and trickling out of the room until only Leon and Arthur remain.

Once again the First Knight puts a hand on his King’s shoulder, this time pulling him around to meet gazes when the younger man’s eyes don’t leave the door:

“It’s not selfish.”

Arthur tilts his head in confusion and Leon squeezes his shoulder, giving him a sad smile:

“For you to be sad.”

For a moment, Arthur considers denying it all and shrugging Leon off, but instead his sags, perching on the edge of the table as he lets out a deep breath and drops his head to his chest, Leon’s hand not once leaving him, even when Arthur’s voice comes out a rasp:

“He’s leaving.”

Leon finds himself desperate to lie, desperate to comfort his friend, the man he would willingly ride into Hell for, but finds he can not, knowing it would only lead to more pain later on:

“Yes, he’s leaving. But the Dragonlands are right on the border of Camelot, a week’s ride away at most. You’ll still be King, and he’ll be Crown Prince, or even King himself depending on whether Lady Hunith wants the throne or not; you can do whatever you want, visit whenever you want.”

Arthur huffs and shakes his head, looking up to Leon with tears in his eyes:

“Yeah, to begin with. Everything is going to change, Leon. We’ll see each other all the time for the first year, maybe even the first few years, but then it’ll slow, and then it’ll stop. One day I’m just going to be one of his neighbours, a political alliance. I... I would never complain, I would never even think of taking this from him because Gods know he deserves it, that his people deserve anything and everything I can offer to make up for the sins of my father, but... I don’t want to lose him.”

Leon sighs, but gives him another weak smile:

“And you thought the exact same thing when he went from servant to Court Sorcerer: you knew you couldn’t deny him the position because he deserved it, but you were scared that you’d drift apart and one day be nothing more than political colleagues, and look at you. He still somehow manages to serve you breakfast five days in seven.-”

Arthur offers up a weak chuckle and nods, and Leon considers it a small victory, chuckling himself before continuing:

“-You two mean a great deal to each other. You are devoted to each other in ways that I have never seen anywhere else, your relationship will not fail, will not fall. Tell me, seriously, how did you become friends?”

Arthur furrows his brow in confusion, but answers honestly:

“A lot of bloody effort, trying to understand each other because we were from such different worlds. A lot of swearing and insults and forced conversations.”

Leon nods, a knowing smile on his face as he asks his next question:

“Exactly. And how did you stay friends, even through the terrible things that have happened? The terrible things you could argue that you have done to each other?”

Arthur’s frown deepens, not understanding where Leon was going, but answering honestly again:

“Even more effort. Forcing ourselves to... not act rashly, to understand the other’s reasoning and trust that neither of us meant any harm. Leon, where are you going-”

His question is cut off as Leon nods, more vigorously this time and interrupting him with a forceful:

“Exactly. The two of you came from opposing classes, opposing ideals, opposing everything. And you formed an unbreakable bond through empathy and understanding and effort; doing the same with a little distance between the two of you is no different. All relationships take work, Arthur, it’s something everyone one must learn as they grow older. You just have to ask yourself, how much effort will you put in, what lengths will you go to, to keep Merlin in your life?”

Arthur stands up straight, glancing to the map behind him at the top of the paperwork-pile and nodding to himself resolutely, mumbling his answer almost to himself:

“The ends of the earth, just to see him happy.”

Leon smiles, patting Arthur on the shoulder a few times before finally lowering his hand, satisfied with his work:

“Then you’ve nothing to worry about.”

Arthur gives him a grin, grateful that he decided to open up to the older knight; he mutters a quiet thank-you, and Leon just rolls his eyes fondly in response, before leading the way out of the room.

~

THE END OF PART 1!!

I know it’s a little short compared to some of my other stuff, and I don’t think I’m entirely happy with it, but I figured this was a good place to stop otherwise it was going to be MASSIVE😅.

There will either be one or two more parts, depending on how long it gets. I’ll likely work on the next parts at the same time as I work on other stuff, so it won’t be forever, but it won’t be super quick either.