C H A P T E R II

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WEEKS BREEZED BY like seconds within the kingdom walls, and before long the annual Summer Ball of Camelot had arrived. The season was particularly humid that year, and much was to be made of the sweltering heat, particularly by the knights who endured the sun's wrath beneath heaving layers of chainmail. Of course, Semelé found humour in their suffering, and had taken a far more light-hearted approach to the temperate climate. She had been anticipating the ball with much enthusiasm, and the humidity certainly wouldn't dampen her mood. Upon the morning of the occasion, Semelé had stepped out of bed with a spring and welcomed the morning with a smile, as she practically skipped her way to Gauis' chambers to begin the day.

"You seem to be in high spirits for the ball." observed Gauis, lifting his gaze a fraction from a remedy he had been concocting since dawn. It frothed and bubbled and demanded his attention, until he soothed the fierce mixture with a few stirs and a gentle shake. The remedy seemed to forgive him after this, as it then settled under his ministrations.

"Well, I've got to make the most of it while I'm here." came Semelé's reply, once she could be certain the remedy had been tamed.

"Why do you always talk as if you intend to leave soon?"

"That's how I've always lived." Semelé shrugged, averting her gaze to the nearest mirror and smoothing over a few loose brunette curls with her fingertips, in an oblivious manner, "Always travelling, never stopping, never staying..."

"Everyone settles down eventually, Semelé."

This cautionary statement silenced Semelé, feeling something twitch in her gut at that unsettling truth. For the first time in recent history, her mind was blank for any wry witticisms that could've served as a light-hearted reply. Thankfully, it wasn't long until Gauis spoke up again, freeing them both from the manacles of silence.

"Prince Arthur came down with a mild sickness last night. It didn't appear too serious but I'd be grateful if you checked his condition this morning." said Gauis.

"Me?"

"Yes you! You shall check Arthur's condition whilst I attend to the king. How does that sound?"

Of course, Semelé agreed to this arrangement (though, not without some humorous banter between herself and Gauis, at the Prince's expense). Giving her one last trusting nod, Gauis departed for Uther's chambers, their paths bisecting as Semelé prepared for her visit to the Prince.

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WITH MUCH ANTICIPATION, Semelé arrived at the unfamiliar chambers of Arthur Pendragon. To say herself and the Prince were even acquaintances would be a gross exaggeration. In the few weeks she had been in Camelot, Semelé she had only ever observed Arthur from a distance or heard his name uttered in a passing conversation. Either way, the two had certainly never been formally introduced. Semelé gave a few hollow knocks on his door, before hearing a grumbly, sleep-strained voice from answer from within. Receiving the signal to enter, she stepped inside.

Upon Semelé's entrance, Arthur raised himself up on his elbows in a snap. The satin covers bunched awkwardly around his torso, mirroring the steady rise and fall of his heaving chest, as he looked over at this stranger in alarm. The rosey flush atop of his cheeks spread to his jutting collarbone; he was still a little hazy-eyed from his slumber.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Good morning to you too, my Lord."

"I'm serious." Arthur returned, cuttingly, pursing his lips and bridling like a child, "I'm supposed to be examined by Gauis, who are you?"

"I'm afraid Gauis is already occupied with the king. So he sent me instead: his apprentice."

Arthur lifted a thick brow, a spark of curiosity flashing across his features, as he scooched back on the bed a little. He cleared his throat abruptly, composing himself.

"Apprentice?"

"Yep, you heard right." Semelé nodded, before adding, wryly and sotto voce: "At least we know your ears are in working condition..."

With one arm outstretched and primed to check her patient's pulse, Semelé marched up to Arthur's bedside with swiftness. Such swiftness, infact, that the young Prince had barely even realised he was being approached until she was already at his side. He scrambled back against the covers, like a bewildered cat who had suddenly been stirred from slumber.

"Hang on a minute!" snapped Arthur, "I want to be treated by a professional, someone who knows what they're doing!"

"Charming."

"Come on, though! I think I deserve a certain caliber of physician." He almost snorted, braiding his arms over his chest with an air of entitlement that left a bitter taste in Semelé's mouth, before going on, "After all, I am the future king of Camelot."

"You won't be the future anything if this fever gets any worse." returned Semelé, looking archly down at her patient until he finally yielded. Arthur gave a defiant groan, huffing as he threw himself back against the covers theatrically and slumped against them.

A fairly standard check-up routine ensued. It proved difficult to remain focussed as Semelé checked Arthur's temperature, pulse, and swept back his tawny hair to feel the heat of his brow. Sure enough, the Prince's skin glowed with a frail sheen of sweat that suggested he had not entirely recovered from his sickness. But his snarky remarks and general impudence assured Semelé that he was far from bedbound. She deduced that he would certainly be fit enough to attend the ball, despite the vibrant flush on his cheeks, as she searched his cobalt eyes for signs of dilation.

How can someone so proud be so pretty? She pondered, frustratedly.

To Arthur's apparent relief, expressed in a gratuitous huff as he flopped back against the bed once more, the examination was concluded. Semelé took one last backwards glance at the Prince, who lay outstretched on the covers, as if he was sinking down into them like quicksand, before swiftly leaving his chambers. She couldn't help but feel as if a weight had been relieved from her conscience, once she was no longer under the irksome criticism of young Arthur Pendragon.

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ACROSS THE FAIR planes of Albion, the richest handfuls of the neighbouring kingdoms prepared for the great Summer Ball of Camelot with bright eyes and eager hearts. Young Princes puffed out their chests in the mirror, anticipating how the princesses would swoon upon their arrival. As for the princesses themselves, many were pondering on how they may win the affections of Prince Arthur, who was well-renowned for both his battle prowess and beauty.

However, not every attendee came to the dance with pure intentions. As you might expect from the nobility of Albion, there was no shortage of crooked folk with crooked motives and schemes to twist this occasion to their advantage. It is a certain truth, known to all who are fiercely ambitious, that risks need to be taken in order to attain what you want.

For some, a risk such as treason is merely a stepping stone to greatness.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

aa sorry it's a little short but at least we got our meet-cute with arthur and semelé, right?

these two have a LOTTT of development to go through, but i don't think their teasing of eachother is gonna go away anytime soon 😈