C H A P T E R VI

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DURING THEIR VISIT, Semelé's initial resentment of Muriel and Estella swelled into disdain, and suspicions about their intentions in Camelot stirred her conscience. Whether it was Muriel's pale, sunken eyes or Estella's quiet, shifty demeanor, Semelé's opinion was decided. There was something markedly untrustworthy about the pair, and Semelé was hell bent on proving it.

"I don't trust them, Gauis." She muttered as she paced his chambers, Gauis himself rifling through a collection of dusty old medical books, "Why would they visit Camelot without an ulterior motive, hm?"

"This is simply the business of royals." Gauis hardly looked up from the yellowing pages of text, "Pass me that vile, would you?"

Retrieving the small, transparent tube of musty liquid for Gauis, Semelé's mind spun with imaginary accusations of Muriel's ill intentions. There was nothing Semelé believed that crone wasn't capable of, given she had completely persuaded herself of the woman's malicious nature.

"There's something else going on, I'm sure of it." Semelé flexed and unflexed her fists, pensively, "I don't want Estella around Arthur, she could be dangerous." She concluded, firmly.

Gauis' gaze was still secured on his reading, but his brows vaulted in amusement at Semelé's words. The passion and conviction gritting her tone assured him she was completely serious, and this somewhat troubled Gauis.

"Be careful not to let your personal feelings cloud your judgement, Semelé." He cautioned.

"What do you mean?"

"Perhaps," Gauis finally tore his gaze from the antique book, "You find Arthur..." He paused, selecting his next words with caution, "...attractive, and these delusions are something of a coping mechanism."

Semelé choked back a laugh. What on earth was Gauis implying?

She then considered her relationship with Arthur. Perhaps she was a little too intimate with him, though it'd never been a conscious decision. Truthfully, Semelé didn't see Arthur as a Prince or as her employer, but simply as a young man.

Yes, he was a handsome man too, Semelé admitted. And not only handsome, but courageous, principled and fierce. Fierce in the arena and on the training grounds, yes, but crucially, Arthur was fiercely loyal to Camelot. His devotion to his kingdom wasn't some secret to be shunned or hidden in the depths of his heart, but a badge of honour and passion that he flaunted, unabashed.

And, well, Semelé couldn't deny the attractiveness of that.

"That's ridiculous, Gauis." An impish smirk twisted her lips.

"What's ridiculous?" came another voice from across the room. It belonged to Merlin, who entered the room rather hurriedly, a frail satchel of supplies slung over his shoulder in an alarmingly haphazard manner.

"Your hair." replied Semelé, wryly, gesturing vaguely to his mattered bed-head.

Merlin rolled his eyes, combing his fingers through the raven strands in an attempt to settle them. "Arthur's making me come with him on a picnic in the woods, apparently it's my job to sort the whole thing out."

"A picnic?" Semelé whipped around a little suddenly, taking Merlin aback, "With Estella?"

"...Is that a bad thing?" Merlin enquired, innocently.

Semelé loosened her shoulders a little, becoming aware of how unnecessarily tense she had become. "I suppose not," She admitted, before adding with a darkened tone: "But just keep an eye on her, okay? And make sure Arthur is safe."

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ARTHUR AND ESTELLA rode into the forest by midday, with Merlin trundling slightly behind. Though the summer season was now dwindling into Autumn, it was a gloriously humid day, reminiscent of the sweltering heat of the Summer Ball, where the Prince had first been acquainted with Estella.

Though his meeting with Estella had been as pleasant and dignified as any other that evening, Arthur remembered his later discussion with Semelé with much greater fondness. Unbeknown to Semelé herself, he had seldom let his gaze stray from her form that entire evening.  Her gown had earned the adoring glances of many princes that night, and Arthur certainly hadn't been immune to it's charm. Though, Arthur pondered, the gorgeously designed dress was simply a mere embellishment to the infinitely more gorgeously designed Semelé.

"Should I bring the food over, Sire?" came Merlin's voice, shattering Arthur's reverie, and leaving him slightly perplexed as to why he was even thinking about Semelé at all.

The three of them dismounted their horses, and Merlin prepared a rather impressive spread of fresh fruit, meat and cheese for the picnic. Arthur hardly seemed to notice, which irked his manservant a little. The Prince courteously led Estella over to the most even, uniform patch of grass they could find and settled.

Dappled sunlight fell down between the leaves, the golden haze clouding their vision. Arthur looked over at Estella, who's form was illuminated in the sunlight. When considering exterior beauty, Estella would not have looked out of place among angels, with the halo of golden haze shining down on her.

But Arthur's mind was elsewhere. He cursed himself for allowing his thoughts to drift, knowing his father would reprimand him gravely for it. But, alas, it was beyond Arthur's control.

The path of least resistance would've been to simply allow himself to fall in love with Estella. This would be a wise, strategic choice, which would be favoured by his father. It would also award Arthur with a beautiful wife, a companion to rule Camelot alongside.

But Arthur didn't love Estella, and doubted he ever would.

She was perfectly agreeable, superbly versed in etiquette and as pretty as a painting. But their conversation was stilted and strenuous work for Arthur to upkeep. It was impossible to establish any sort of even, comfortable rhythm in their chats. Though Estella's manners were exemplorarary, she wasn't much of a raconteur. Nor did she respond particularly well to Arthur's jokes or jesting remarks, leaving Arthur feeling a little stifled and discomposed. The chemistry between the two was far from tangible, and Arthur struggled to see Estella as his wife.

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A THICK BLANKET of dusk enshrouded Camelot, and Semelé walked the cloisters with a candle to forge a path in the darkness. Through the warm glow, her journey back to her chambers was illuminated.

Allowing herself to take the long route, Semelé passed the quarters of the royals. Morgana's, Uther's, and finally Arthur's. Reminiscing briefly upon their first encounter, she found herself with many fond feelings as she passed his quarter's (despite how abrasive their initial meeting had been).

Approaching the guest chambers, Semelé noticed a thin, rectangular stream of light spilling out from one of the rooms. The door was open a crack, allowing outsiders a view in. As she passed, Semele halted, seeing it was Muriel and Estella's prescribed chambers.

"I don't know if this is going to work, mother." she heard Estella say, followed by the thump of her falling back against the bed, dejectedly, "The Prince didn't seem that enthusiastic. Infact, he looked like he was in Cloud Cuckoo Land for the majority of the picnic."

Like a burst of confetti, a generous sprinkling of joyous relief overcame Semelé upon hearing the picnic had not been a success. Perhaps this was a little cynical, but Semelé was so convinced of their wicked motives that she hadn't felt any remorse in celebrating. Furthermore, she only celebrated on the inside; it was a natural, instinctive reaction, beyond her own control.

"Well, you're going to have to make it work, Estella." came Muriel's cutting reply.

Estella sighed, "I don't want to use sorcery on him, mother. It doesn't feel right."

Sorcery?!

Semelé's eyes snapped wide open. Had she heard them right? Despite her stubborn verdict on the intentions of the guests being wicked, Semelé had never quite expected sorcery to aid their schemes. She didn't hold any personal grievance against the use of magic, but knew as well as night and day that Uther certainly did. The king would definitely have something to say if he'd known a sorcerer was a guest in his beloved Camelot. Semelé edged closer to the door, straining her ears.

"I know you don't want to, but if you are unable to convince him through natural means then sorcery is our only option." Muriel declared, "Besides, you shouldn't be ashamed of your magic, Estella. After all, this is what we're fighting for."

But then, there was a noise. Hearing light footsteps approaching the door, Semelé scarpered, darting round the nearest corner and trying to suppress the sound of her heavy breathing, her chest rising and falling erratically as she made herself scarce. Her mind was racing along with her heart, reeling in the newfound knowledge and conspiracies of sorcery.

What were they planning? Why did they need Arthur? How could they be stopped?

The night of sleep that Semelé endured after was among the most fragmented and restless of her life.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

tHe PLoT tHiCkEnS...

i was so sure i wouldn't be able to get this published today but (somehow) i've managed it 😌🤚🏻

hopefully you're understanding that semelé is just a little impulsive and definitely follows her heart above all else. like jheeeeez she decided muriel and and estella were evil in like one second flat-

heh i still love her